“Oh…” She glanced at the single sofa and coffee table stood in the centre of the room on their own. It did look a bit like a downmarket Airbnb, but her flat in London had been tiny. “Well, I don’t know if I’d need them, really. It’s just me here.” She hadn’t meant that to sound as woebegone as it did, but Jace just nodded.
“All right, then.”
He made to move, and something—Emily had no idea what—made her blurt, “Actually, I suppose I could take a look at them. If you don’t mind. Just in case.”
“I don’t. Now a good time?”
It was only ten o’clock in the morning, the day stretching emptily in front of her in a way it never had before. “Okay,” she said.
Five minutes later they were in the front of Jace’s messy truck, several paper coffee cups crammed in the drinks holder, and a week’s worth of junk mail on the floor of the passenger side.
“Sorry,” Jace said with a lopsided smile, sounding rather unrepentant. “It’s a bit of a mess.”
“That’s okay.” Emily knew she sounded stiff, but the truck was a tip. She edged her foot away from a browning banana peel and after a few seconds of agony she righted a coffee cup that had been slotted into the drinks holder at a terribly awkward angle. How did people live like this?
“Bit of a neat freak, are you?” Jace remarked as she bent down to put the junk mail into an ordered pile.
“I like order,” Emily allowed, and he laughed.
“All that post is going right in the bin. I just haven’t got round to it yet.”
“Obviously.” He laughed again, and Emily smiled. It felt surprisingly nice to chat like this. It almost felt like banter, although she supposed it wouldn’t for most people.
Jace had driven away from Willoughby Close, towards the manor, but then he turned off to the left, down a dirt track that cut through the wood. After a few bone-juddering moments, he pulled up in front of an old stone barn that looked as if it had been there since the Middle Ages.
“This is all the bits and pieces from the manor that nobody has wanted,” he warned as he unlocked one of the big wooden doors and began to push it open. “And most of it isn’t in the greatest shape. But you can have what you like.”
“Thank you.” Emily doubted she’d take any of it. She was more about modern, clean lines, things that were new and bright and dust and germ-free. She didn’t know why she’d agreed to come at all, except perhaps for the company. Because for the first time, a day spent on her own had seemed just a little bit lonely.
Still, she thought she ought to give the furniture a good look, for Jace’s sake, although the pieces stacked willy-nilly in the dim, shadowy barn looked far too big and ornate for her cottage.
She wandered through the jumbled stacks while Jace waited by the doors, arms folded, one booted foot crossed over the other.
“Alice and Henry didn’t want any of this?” she asked, and Jace shrugged.
“I don’t think so, but actually this lot was put in here long before they came. This was from back in Lady Stokeley’s time.”
“Henry’s aunt.”
“Madam.” There was a wealth of affection in Jace’s voice. “She died over a year ago now. She was the lady of the manor, all right.”
“You make her sound like a character.”
“She was. Knew her own mind, shall we say, right to the end.”
“And she didn’t want any of this?”
“I suppose not. So, anything take your fancy?” Jace asked and Emily was about to apologise and say she didn’t think so, when she stopped in front of an old rocking chair. Although it was covered in dust, she could still see the fine grain of the wood, the delicately carved swirls and scrollwork on the handles and back. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, a chair meant to be sat in and savoured, and it made her strangely sad to think of it languishing out here.
“You like that one?” Jace asked.
“Oh, I don’t know…” She didn’t have any need of a rocking chair, certainly, and it was so dirty. And yet…an old memory, like a frayed string, tugged at her mind. Goodnight nobody…
For a single second, like a time warp, Emily was a child again, her mother’s arm warm and solid around her shoulders. They were sitting on a chair—had it been a rocking chair? Or had it just been in the story? And a quiet old lady who was whispering “hush.” And Emily had felt warm and safe and happy.
“Emily?” Jace’s voice, a low murmur, had her blinking. She had one hand resting on the rocking chair, mindless of the dust for once.
“Sorry. I was away with the fairies there for a second, I think.”
“So I’ll bring the chair?” Jace was already reaching for it. The memory had gone, dissolved like morning mist, and all Emily saw was a dusty old chair that needed some serious cleaning.
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“I’ll bring it,” Jace said decisively, and with one expert tug he’d released it from the tottering pile of furniture without dislodging anything else and was carrying it out to the truck. Emily followed him hesitantly. The chair really was very dirty. She’d clean it, of course, but still…
She’d just reached the door of the barn, Jace ahead of her, when a small, pathetic meow stopped her in her tracks.
“Oh…” A tiny kitten, black with marmalade stripes, was crouching at the bottom of a stack of furniture, its ears pricked, its expression wary. “Jace,” she called as she bent down to it. “Did you know there’s a kitten in here?”
Andromeda aside, she’d never been much of an animal lover, but the kitten looked so small and helpless. She wasn’t going to touch it, of course, although its fur did look rather soft.
“That must be one
