I pulled into the driveway of the address Mel had given me. I glanced up at the windows of the detached house and switched the engine off. From the outside, it looked as though nobody was in. It wasn't a cold day out. In fact, it was surprisingly warm for an English summer. Muggy and humid, enough to want the windows open, that was for sure.

Once I was out of the car, I made my way to the porch and pressed the doorbell. I couldn't hear the chime that usually followed and figured it had likely run out of batteries. My parents always seemed to forget to change the ones at home. Usually it was Taylor and me that sought to fix it.

Wrapping my knuckles against the door, I crouched down, lifted the letter box and peered through. I couldn't see any lights on, or any sign of movement inside, so I pulled the key Mel had given me from my back pocket and debated whether or not to let myself in. She said to use it if there was no answer, but this felt all kinds of wrong. I barely knew the old lady. What if she was naked? Or worse, dead?

Fuck! Mel should be the one doing this. Whatever invoice Leanne had Mel doing, I was certain it could've waited. She’d done it out of spite and I couldn't help but feel like it was partly down to me. If I hadn't grabbed Mel’s hand, desperate for somebody to know she was mine, Leanne might've gone easy on her and then she'd be here now. I hated knowing she was back at work, worrying over Bessy’s safety, no doubt taking more shit from Leanne.

I shook my head, pushed the key in the lock and turned it. Once I was inside, I called out, hoping that she'd make herself known.

“Hello? Bessy? You in here?” I called again as my eyes shifted nervously around the hallway.

Nothing.

Fuck.

Please don't be dead, I thought to myself as I made my way down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. Other than a few dirty dishes and a half-eaten biscuit, there was nothing. No sign of Bessy at all.

I pulled my phone out, ready to text Mel, and continued through the house to a door I guessed was the living room. I quietly pushed it open and braced myself for what awaited me behind it.

I lost my grip on the door handle…

There was pain…

And suddenly everything went black…

I awoke to a heavy throbbing pain on the side of my head. I tried to pry my eyes open but the excruciating pain I’d felt upon doing so forced them to stay closed. What the fuck had happened to me? Had I blacked out and knocked my head during the fall?

It was only when I felt something cold and soft press against the side of my head that I was finally able to open my eyes.

The first thing I noticed was Bessy’s concerned face as she held something—a flannel, maybe—close to my head. The second thing I noticed was the baseball bat clutched tightly in her other hand.

I guess that explained the pain on my fucking head.

“You hit me?” I tried to sit up, but the pain shot from every angle, forcing me back down.

“Oh, goodness. I guess I did.”

“You reckon?” I frowned.

“I thought you were a burglar.”

“Do I look like someone that rocked up here to steal your damn teapot?” I squinted up at her.

“Now you mention it, no, I guess you don't.”

Fuck. An apology would've been good right now. Instead, old lady Bessy just continued to stand there, clutching the damn bat in her hand as if I was about to ransack the joint.

“I guess you can never be too sure these days,” she continued. “Do you know how many burglaries we've had in this area in the last three years?”

“No. But I’m sure you're about to tell me.”

“Three. And that's just the ones we know about.”

“Really?” I asked, unamused.

“I keep telling Deirdre—she lives across the street with her grandson. Lovely chap he is—I keep telling her that Mrs. Baker next door wouldn't stand a chance with these hooligans. Deaf as a door handle, she is.”

“Doorknob,” I corrected her.

“Sorry, dear?”

“Don't worry.” I frowned.

“What on earth were you doing here anyway? Sneaking up on me like that. I could've had a heart attack. If you've come to rob the joint, I wouldn't waste your time. Nothing here but a pile of junk and Arthur's old socks dating back to the sixties. Not even a decent biscuit in this place. Tesco…” she continued, rolling her eyes.

This lady was batshit crazy. And why the fuck was she talking about Tesco.

“I told them on the phone…” she trailed off before continuing, “As long as I get my garibaldis, I don't care for anything else. Apples? Who wants to spend hours chewing on a darn apple? Do they not realise how much these false teeth cost me?”

“I didn't come here to rob you, Bessy.” I sighed and pushed the flannel away from my head. “Mel was worried about you.”

“Melanie? Why would she be worried about me?”

“She's been trying to call you all morning.”

“Is she okay? Oh, I hope the poor love is okay.” The corners of her ageing eyes wrinkled in concern, and I shook my head.

“She's fine. She tried to call you and when you didn't answer, she was worried that something had happened.”

I glanced up at Bessy. She frowned, a confused look settling across her face. “I’ve been here all day, I have. No one's called.”

I lifted my eyes and scanned the room for the house phone. I located it in the corner of the room, the old fashioned cord dangling from the table. When I followed the cable to the receiver, I almost groaned in frustration. “That'll be why.” I pointed out and pressed a hand to the side of my head before sitting up slowly. “It's off the hook.”

Bessy noticed it and covered her mouth to hide her amusement. I was glad she thought this was funny. I’d just been assaulted by a crazy old lady with a bat who was convinced I was there to rob her house, all because she forgot to put the damn phone back in place properly.

“Oh, so it is. I must've forgotten to put it back last night. Bleeding salesmen trying to sell me darn Hoovers all the time. I keep telling them I’m seventy-eight. I’ve got three of the beggers stuffed in the airing cupboard gathering dust. Why do I need a new one? Makes me mad, it does.” Bessy shook her head, clearly annoyed.

I rolled my eyes and scooted across the carpet towards the sofa and lifted myself up. I sat down, continuing to nurse my damaged head and the throbbing pain that came with it. Luckily, there wasn't any blood, but judging by the feel of the bulge on the side of my head I knew it wasn't pretty.

Bessy left the room and came back a few moments later with a glass of water. She held it out and I shook my head before taking it from her outstretched hand. I took a swig and dragged my thumb across my mouth. “You can put the bat down now, Bessy.”

Her eyes cautiously searched mine and, satisfied I wasn't going to rob the joint, she tucked it behind the red, worn out couch.

“I need to let Mel know you're okay,” I told her, reaching on the floor for my phone that I’d obviously dropped when the crazy lady had taken a bat to the side of my head.

“I’ve told her to stop worrying about me so much. I’m perfectly fine on my own. I quite enjoy the peace and quiet, actually.”

“She cares about you.”

“Sweet girl, she is. I wish her own mother was as caring as young Melanie is. Always looking out for me, that one.”

I couldn't argue with her on that one. I took another sip of water and quickly typed out a message letting Mel know that Bessy was fine.

“What are your intentions with her?”

“Sorry?” I blurted out, almost choking on the water that I hadn't swallowed. Fuck, my jaw ached like a bitch. I rubbed my hand across it to soothe the ache and squinted across at her.

“She doesn't love easy. Her whole life she's been let down. It's no wonder she turned out the way she did. Poor girl never stood a chance. But she's getting there. She's stronger now. I see it in her eyes. That doesn't mean that she can handle any more heartache.” Bessy raised her grey brows high and shot me a knowing look.

“She's special,” I found myself saying.

Bessy smiled, seeming pleased with my answer. “I’m glad you've finally realised that.”

I nodded, unsure what else to say. After a few moments of awkward silence, I pushed up from the couch. “I should get going.”

“Are you sure you're well enough to move? It can't be safe driving in your condition.”

My condition? It was sure as shit a lot safer driving with a tennis ball sized lump on my head than sticking around this crazy lady for another second. I didn't say that, though. I shot her a grin and said, “I’m fine. Besides, I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing.”

“Reading.”

“Huh?” I frowned.

“I was reading a book I picked up from the charity shop in town.”

I nodded.

“Yeah. Right saucy it is. It's a struggle to put it down, that’s for sure.”

“Right…” I shook my head, smirking. “Make sure you put that phone back on the hook. Mel finishes work soon so make sure you give her a call. I’ve let her know you're okay and not… that you're okay. But I’m sure she'll want to hear your voice.”

“She'll want to give me a lecture, I’m sure of it.” She smirked.

“It was good to see you again, Bessy.”

“You, too, Jake. And next time you decide to come and burgle my house, make sure you bring those garibaldis. Darn Tesco drivers. I’m sure they eat them before they get here, telling me that they don't have them in stock.” She tsked.

I laughed. “I’ll remember that for next time. And Bessy? Try not to kill anyone while I’m gone.” I grinned and pulled open the door. I glanced behind me as I made my way to the car and lifted my hand. Bessy waved back, closing the door behind her, and I sighed. Crazy. Batshit fucking crazy. I swear, Mel must have the patience of a damn saint.