Give Yourself Away by Barbara Elsborg

thought you were going to say.”
    “I don’t look like a carpenter?”
    “More like a singer.”
    Caleb laughed. “That would only last until you heard me sing.” He nodded at the plate. “This looks great.”
    “Anything else I can get you?”
    “No, I’m fine, thanks.”
    The omelet and chips were okay. Caleb would have added a few herbs and double-cooked the chips, but they filled a hole in his stomach.
    Again he went through the places to let and put aside the ones he wasn’t interested in. When Caleb ran out of something to do while he waited, he went through the rejects a third time.
    Someone dropped into the seat beside him and his stomach lurched until he realized it wasn’t March. The guy was probably in his forties with short gray hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee.
    “I hear you’re looking for work,” he said. “And a place to stay?” He nodded at the pile of papers.
    “Yes,” Caleb said warily.
    “You any good with your hands?”
    Caleb’s heart began to beat faster. “I can call the guy I’ve been working for and he’ll vouch for me.” This guy is talking about carpentry, right?
    “Okay.”
    Caleb phoned Ricardo, praying he’d answer.
    “I’m sorry,” Ricardo said. “I know you hoped I’d need you again.”
    “It’s okay. Would you mind telling…?” He looked at the guy next to him.
    “Jed Morris.”
    “Would you tell Mr. Morris what you think of my work? He might have a job for me.” Caleb handed over his phone.
    After a few minutes’ conversation, Caleb had his phone back. He knew Ricardo had sung his praises because Caleb was good at what he did and worked hard.
    “Right,” the man said. “I’ve bought Sandbery Cove Holiday Village and I’m renovating the lodges, but one of my guys broke his arm yesterday jumping off a picnic table—the prat. If you prove to me you know what you’re doing and promise not to jump off any tables, you can have the job and live in one of the unrenovated places while you’re working.”
    “A job and somewhere to stay? That sounds great. Thanks, Mr. Morris.”
    “Ten pounds an hour. Almost everything’s been stripped out of the lodges so it won’t be much more than a roof over your head and you’ll have to pay for your gas and electric.”
    “Okay.”
    “And call me Jed, not Mr. Morris.” He held out his hand and Caleb shook it.
    “I’ll meet you there first thing on Monday. What’s your mobile number?”
    Caleb rattled it off and Jed called him.
    “Now you have mine in case there’s any problem.” Jed pushed to his feet.
    “What does ‘first thing’ mean?” Caleb blurted.
    “Soon as it’s light. I have a long drive from here to the office.”
    After Jed left, Caleb sat with a big smile on his face. For once, something was going right. He stood to get himself another drink and glanced through the window to see March’s Peugeot pulling into the car park. His heart rate rocketed. He’d wait and buy a drink for March too.
    Caleb settled back in his seat, a warm glow in the pit of his stomach, and hidden by the curtain, he stared out of the window.
    This is a bad idea. A really bad idea. But March climbed out of his car and headed across the car park, only to go into reverse and get back in again. A moment later he was heading home, furious with himself, though whether that was because he’d showered and changed and driven to the pub in the first place, or because he was going home without setting foot inside, he had no idea.
    Liar. March gulped. Yeah, he was a liar. His whole fucking life was a lie. He wondered if it was possible to be more miserable. Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself.
    He pushed down on the accelerator even though the road had narrowed, skidded onto his drive probably faster than his best time, town to home, and felt no satisfaction whatsoever.
    An empty house awaited him and it was his own fault. It was all he deserved and it matched the hole in his heart. He slammed the door, staggered to