“How are you finding everything?” Alice asked as she poured them both mugs of coffee. “Do you miss London and all your friends?”
What friends? “I do miss London,” Emily said as she sat down at the kitchen table. “I’ve lived there for a long time.”
“You grew up there?”
Briefly Emily thought of the semi-detached house in Reading she’d called home for six years, and then the parade of places she’d rested her head since. “I spent a lot of time there,” she said. She had absolutely no desire to go into her complicated childhood with Alice. She didn’t go into it with anyone. Which reminded her…she still needed to call her mum.
“What about you?” she asked Alice. “Where did you grow up?”
“Oh, around Oxford, mostly.” Alice let out an uncertain laugh. “I was in care for most of my childhood, so I bounced around a bit.”
“Oh.” Emily stared at her in surprise. She’d assumed somehow, as she realised she always assumed, that Alice had had the sort of normal, stable upbringing most people seemed to have and Emily hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. That must have been difficult.”
Alice shrugged as she took a sip of coffee. “It was what it was.”
Still…Emily couldn’t imagine it, even as she sort of could. At least she’d always had her mum—and her dad as well, in the background. “Does the manor feel like a proper home?” she asked.
“It’s starting to. And I hope it can be a home away from home for a lot of foster kids, perhaps the only one they’ll have.”
Emily nodded slowly. “The charitable foundation makes a bit more sense now.”
“I’m surprised Henry didn’t tell you about my background,” Alice remarked. “Although actually I’m not. I think he feels it’s private, or that I’m embarrassed about it or something, but I’m really not.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Emily returned. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No.” Alice looked thoughtful. “Although children have a habit of blaming themselves, I suppose. But I made a deal with myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t become bitter or hardened by how I grew up. I’m determined always to see the best in people, and I think I do. Mostly.”
Which was probably why she was so determined to be friendly with her, Emily realised. It both humbled and exasperated her. She really didn’t do friends. Didn’t know how. And yet Alice was going to keep trying—of that she could be sure.
“I’ve put the feelers out for an evening out this weekend,” Alice said. “I think everyone’s up for it, if you’re free on Friday?”
“Oh…” Unfortunately Emily couldn’t think of a single credible excuse, and yet the thought of going out with a bunch of strangers who all knew each other made her want to back away, palms up. “I’m not sure…”
“No one is at all scary,” Alice assured her. “Except perhaps Harriet, but she doesn’t mean to be. She’s just one of those take-charge sort of people. And Ava is absolutely gorgeous and knows it, but you just get used to it. Ellie is sweet, and so is Olivia…”
They all sounded positively terrifying. Emily’s stomach clenched with nerves and she reached for her coffee. “Mmm,” she said, because she couldn’t think of any other response.
“It’ll be fun,” Alice said firmly.
The cat rose elegantly from the chair and gave a languorous stretch before jumping neatly down and stalking across the kitchen floor. It was a beautiful animal, a soft, deep grey with eyes the colour of smoke.
“Oh!” The exclamation erupted from Emily as the cat jumped up onto her lap in one sinuous movement, turned around twice, and then settled down to sleep.
“She clearly likes you,” Alice said, amused, before she leaned forward, concerned. “You’re all right with cats? You’re not allergic?”
Was she all right with cats? The answer was not really. She wasn’t an animal person, and the thought of the cat’s fur and dander and what have you getting all over her made her feel itchy inside, even without a cat actually on her lap.
“Um, well, I haven’t actually had much to do with animals,” Emily managed. She tried to nudge the cat off her but the feline wasn’t having it. Her claws dug into Emily’s Marc Jacobs skirt and she let out a purr that sounded like a car motor.
“Andromeda, down,” Alice said not nearly sternly enough, and the cat merely blinked at her.
“Andromeda?”
“Henry named her. He’s got a thing about Greek mythology.” Alice shrugged apologetically. “Give her a shove if you really don’t like having her there.”
She didn’t, and yet at the same time Emily couldn’t deny there was something weirdly pleasing about the living warmth of the creature on her lap, the purr that thrummed through her so Emily could feel it in her bones. And yet the fur…and the dander…and the germs…
She gave Andromeda a little shove, as half-hearted as Alice’s command, and predictably the cat didn’t move.
“You’re stuck here,” Alice said, sounding pleased. “While I’ve got you, why don’t we talk about the fundraiser? I had a few ideas…”
“All right, then,” Emily said, doing her best to inject an enthusiastic note into her voice. She could hardly believe she was stuck in a kitchen with a cat and a woman who seemed intent on being her friend. It was so strange, so utterly unlikely, and yet…
It was just the tiniest bit nice. Amazingly. As long as Alice didn’t ask her any personal questions, and they kept it about work, and the cat didn’t do something disgusting.
“I’ve got some notes here.” Alice took a stack of papers from the Welsh dresser and brought them to the table. “We’ve been thinking of a village fete sort of atmosphere, very friendly and open, perfect for a family day out.”
“Yes…”
“And Henry in particular is keen for all the local businesses to take part, providing the catering, entertainment, et cetera.”
“Are there enough local businesses for that?”
“I think so. There are the two pubs—The Drowned Sailor
