Cricket by Anna Martin

trying to balance the books in my head.”
    “Ah. Are they particularly… unbalanced?”
    “No,” he said. “It would be nice if a big wad of cash fell on my lap, though.”
    Ryan snorted. “We all know that feeling.”
    “I think I might take out a loan. To cover the rest of the renovation work.”
    It was a bold statement, and he knew that when he said it. Bold statements worked well when he wanted to gauge someone’s reactions.
    “Oh.”
    That wasn’t very helpful. Henry told him so.
    “Sorry,” Ryan offered. “I suppose it’s not a terrible idea. It depends on how much you need.”
    “A few thousand,” Henry admitted. “At least.”
    “Well… if you used Stretton House as collateral….”
    “I’m not sure if I can do that.”
    “Talk to Shenal,” Ryan advised. “You can’t go far wrong from there.”
    Talk to Shenal…. Talk to Shenal…. All he’d done since landing in this back end of nowhere town was go to Shenal for every little fucking stumbling block. It was irritating, mostly because the woman really did hold most of the answers he needed, and he hated having to ask for help.
    Self-sufficiency was something that Henry had learned late in life, the result of an overbearing mother who had a hard time cutting the ties. He’d started tugging at those ties while in college, pulled harder once he reached his midtwenties and found a relationship with another man, one that lasted until he was on the cusp of thirty. Still, the smothering feeling of being watched never quite left him, and the thought of another female watching over his shoulder was more than a little forbidding.
    Even if that female was younger than him. And nothing at all like his mother.
     
     
    “F UCKING hell, Henry, don’t you have your own work to do?” Shenal asked as he let himself into her office.
    It was nice to be appreciated.
    Shenal didn’t have a receptionist. She claimed she could keep her own diary and had an answer phone that diverted to her cell when she was out. The office itself was squidged in between the only bank on the village’s high street and a small greengrocer that he was sure Ryan supplied.
    Inside, there was a small seating area and an enormous dark wood desk that was possibly an antique, several filing cabinets, and a fish tank with brightly colored fish swimming in lazy circles. Henry lifted the takeaway cup of green tea he’d picked up from the café, and Shenal’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she took it.
    “What do you want?”
    “A favor,” he admitted, taking the seat opposite the desk.
    Shenal opened the cup and took a tentative sip, then waved for him to go on.
    “I’m not sure if I’ve got enough cash to finish the house,” he said in a rush.
    “Ah.”
    “All the renovation work will get done,” he hastened to add. “I’m just worried about the last little bits. Furniture and candlesticks and linens and….”
    “Finishing touches?” she supplied.
    “Yes,” he said, relieved that she understood.
    “Okay. So what do you want me to do about it?”
    “I was wondering”—he took a deep breath for courage—“if I’d be able to take out a loan. And secure it against the house.”
    Shenal pulled a well-chewed Biro from behind her ear and tapped it against her lower lip.
    “Probably not,” she said lightly.
    Henry’s heart sank.
    “But Nell might be able to on your behalf. Or I might be able to, as a trustee.”
    “How… what would I need to do to make that happen?” he asked.
    “Convince me that it’s a good idea,” Shenal said with a smirk.
    “Convince… you? I don’t have anything prepared, you know.”
    “Yeah. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll say no. If I do, you can just go to Nell and ask her. She’ll override any of my bad decisions.”
    Her words gave him confidence, even if he wasn’t really sure what he was asking her for. Well, money. He wanted money.
    Henry took a deep breath. “Renovation will be complete in the next four to