‘Cora has gone to the spring fayre at the village hall and is going to be a little while,’ Holly said when David popped round to finish off a few DIY jobs on Sunday.

She handed him a mug of tea. ‘I’ve been thinking about what I can do to show my appreciation to her for letting me stay here.’

‘That’s nice of you,’ David said blandly. In the time since she’d seen him last, he seemed to have developed a tic in his left eye, and it occurred to her he seemed rather distracted.

‘This house is lovely, but in my opinion, it’s well overdue for a little TLC,’ Holly said, looking around the room.

‘TLC?’

‘Tender loving care?’ She stared at him. How did he get to be so consistently clueless?

‘Oh yes. I see now.’ David sipped his tea and his bony knuckles shone white with the force of his grip. He seemed to be making a great effort to act normally, but it was clearly proving a challenge. Holly wasn’t at all sure David really knew what acting normally actually was.

Still, she pretended not to notice and carried on chatting, thereby avoiding any difficult silences.

‘Cora’s bedroom is a little tired now, and I thought it would be nice to pep it up a bit without changing anything major. I think she’d like that.’

David nodded.

‘I wondered if you’d just help me measure a couple of things while she’s out?’

‘Of course,’ David said, putting down his mug. ‘I’d be happy to help.’

Holly grabbed the tape measure from the kitchen drawer and David followed her upstairs. He lingered awkwardly at the door of Cora’s bedroom.

‘I do hope Mrs Barrett won’t mind us coming in here without her permission,’ he said doubtfully. ‘It feels a bit… underhanded.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Holly rolled her eyes, pulling the curtains back as far as they’d go. ‘It’s for her benefit, and I know you think a lot of her.’ She pressed her index finger to her chin and looked around. ‘I’m thinking some new bedding and soft furnishings and… a new headboard.’ She tossed him the tape measure. ‘Can you do the honours and measure that, please, David? I’ll record the figures.’

They worked amicably together. David read out the measurements in a very precise manner and Holly duly wrote them down.

‘Some pretty new curtains and perhaps a velvet padded headboard instead of that hard old thing,’ Holly murmured, looking around again. ‘Then I’ll get some sparkly cushions and things to pretty the rest of the room up.’

‘I think you’ll find that hard old thing is a solid walnut headboard,’ David said doubtfully. ‘I’d imagine it would cost a fortune these days to get one of comparable quality.’

‘But it’s so ugly.’ Holly pulled a face. ‘And old-fashioned. I’m afraid it’ll have to go.’

‘Well I’m sure she’ll appreciate your efforts,’ David said uncertainly. Holly suspected he wondered why she was making changes to a perfectly functional room.

She’d like to explain, but David would never understand.

---

In the afternoon, they went to the cinema as planned.

David seemed to fancy himself rather an authority on the Hitchcockian style. He chirped constantly about how the famed director had used the camera to mimic a person’s gaze, so you watched the film like a voyeur. He went on and on about Hitchcock’s use of metaphors and his ability to foster anxiety and fear in the viewer.

He also complained tirelessly that the wheelchair-bound photographer in the movie simply wouldn’t be able to see as much as he did of his neighbours from his spying vantage point. How he knew that sort of thing, Holly couldn’t imagine.

She had to stop herself yawning several times. She felt glad she’d already seen the film, as she’d missed a good third of it listening to David’s ramblings in her ear.

David’s anxiety levels had seemed to peak once they got inside the cinema. Holly couldn’t help noticing how he scratched constantly at the inside of his wrist, leaving great red welts that stood proud from his pale skin.

He had approached the ticket clerk first and asked for one seat for himself, which he’d paid for in cash. Holly had been slightly taken aback but had said nothing. She’d bought her own ticket after his transaction was completed, and that was when he’d seemed to realise his error.

‘I’m so sorry… I should have got yours too. I’m an idiot. I wasn’t thinking, I—’

‘David,’ she’d said. ‘It really doesn’t matter. Please, forget about it.’

They hadn’t bothered with snacks or drinks. The option didn’t really come up, for as soon as he had his ticket, David rushed towards Screen 5, where the film was to be shown.

It was clear to Holly that he found even the most cursory decisions difficult, and his social skills were bordering on non-existent.

Holly had chosen their seats and had made a bit of harmless conversation while the lights were still on, asking David about his job. As usual, he seemed more than happy to speak at length about Kellington’s.

‘You seem to be getting on very well too,’ he’d said finally, as though belatedly realising that she might have something to say herself.

‘I think I am,’ she’d said, pleased. ‘Everything is going nicely, considering.’

‘I’m glad Emily Beech has gone,’ he’d said suddenly. ‘She deserved to be thrown out. I couldn’t stand her.’

His outburst had surprised Holly enough that she stayed silent.

Throughout the film, she managed to cast a few glances his way. He barely moved, she noted with some amusement, sitting for the full one hundred and eighty-six minutes bolt upright with a hand on each knee.

Periodically he’d lean sideways and enlighten her with some learned observation about Hitchcock’s directing methods.

He wouldn’t take off his anorak, and frankly, Holly wondered how on earth he could feel comfortable so togged up and rigid.

Nick Brown had been right. David was an odd one.

But Holly didn’t mind that. In fact, now that she was clear in her mind about her plans, it suited her just fine.