Free Kate's Progress by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

stared. ‘Um – is Darren in, then?’
    ‘They’ve gone to the darts final. I’m babysitting,’ Kate explained.
    ‘Oh, yeah. I forgot the darts.’
    ‘Anything I can do?’
    ‘No, you’re all right. I just wanted a word.’ He didn’t seem inclined to go, or to come in. He leaned against the door jamb, looking at her with interest. He was in his mid-twenties, she guessed, lean but strong around the shoulders as a farm worker should be, clad now in his leisure wear of clean jeans, plain white T-shirt and leather jacket. His hair had been dressed into spikes with gel, and the smell of aftershave was competing with the smell of beer as he breathed through his mouth.
    ‘Been to the Royal Oak?’ she asked conversationally, to fill the silence.
    ‘Yeah. Haven’t seen much of you there lately.’
    ‘I’m working hard – too tired at the end of the day to do anything but fall into bed.’
    ‘Oh, yeah – you said that to Phil Kingdon when he asked you out.’ A sudden grin. ‘Didn’t like you saying no, did he?’ She assumed this was a rhetorical question. ‘So how’s it coming along, then?’
    ‘The house? Oh, slowly. But I’m getting there.’
    ‘Doing it all yourself,’ he said. ‘Funny thing that. Don’t expect women to be any good at that sort of thing.’
    ‘My father was a builder,’ she said, wondering how she could get rid of him politely.
    But her last comment had sparked something. His face was lighting up with a dawning realization. ‘Not Jennings of Exford?’ he asked excitedly. ‘Dave down the Oak said your name was Jennings.’
    ‘That was my grandfather’s business. My dad set up on his own, but he worked for his dad for a bit when he was younger.’
    ‘My Uncle Tim worked for Jennings,’ Ollie said delightedly. Gyp, sensing the excitement, got to his feet again with an eager look, wagging and staring from face to face. ‘He was a roofer. Tim Bentley, his name was. Did you know him?’
    ‘My grandparents died when I was a kid,’ she said, and then, hating to disappoint him, ‘but I bet my father knew him. I’ll ask him when I write to him next time.’
    ‘I bet he did,’ Ollie said happily. ‘Everyone knew Uncle Tim. Well, fancy that! Makes you nearly family.’
    Kate didn’t know what to do with this sudden kinship, but she smiled, and wondered if she ought to invite him in – though it was not her house, which made it a bit awkward. ‘Look …’ she began.
    But at the same moment a thought seemed to cross Ollie’s mind and he also said, ‘Look …’
    They both smiled, and she said, ‘You first.’
    ‘Well, I was going to say – about Phil Kingdon asking you out.’ He chewed his lip awkwardly. ‘None o’ my business, but you did right to turn him down.’
    ‘Did I? I must say, I wasn’t really tempted. Not my type.’
    ‘Well,’ Ollie said hesitantly, ‘he’s kind of my boss, in a way, so I shouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t want it to get back to him …’
    ‘I won’t say a thing. Promise. But why shouldn’t I go out with him? Is he married?’
    ‘Not that I know of.’ Ollie seemed startled by the idea. ‘Could’ve been before, I s’pose – before he come here. I wouldn’t know. But he’s not – well, not a very nice man, not for a girl to get mixed up with.’ He seemed embarrassed by having to say this, and she put on an interested face and made helpful noises. ‘See him in Taunton and Minehead, different girl all the time, and not nice girls like you, if you get my drift. And he’s a hard case. Mixes with some dodgy characters. I shouldn’t be saying this, but you’d do best to steer clear of him. I mean he’s all right as a boss, if you don’t get on the wrong side of him, but …’
    ‘He’s not the type of man a girl would take home to meet her mother?’ she said lightly, to get him out of the pickle he seemed to be in.
    His frown lightened. ‘That’s it. Just thought I’d mention.’
    ‘I appreciate it. But like I