Emily looked up from her laptop to see Alice standing in the doorway, smiling uncertainly. It was mid-afternoon and they’d already had their morning coffee. This was definitely not part of their routine.
“Umm…yes, I suppose.” Emily closed her laptop and scooted away from the desk. “What is it?”
“I wondered if you’d mind giving your opinion about something upstairs?”
“Upstairs?” Emily had never actually been upstairs. She’d heard the occasional clatter or rumble from another part of the house, and generally tuned it out. She knew they were renovating the manor to get it ready for the holidays they hoped to offer that summer, but she hadn’t given it much consideration beyond that.
“Okay. Although I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”
“I just want a second opinion, really. I don’t know if I’ve got the tone right.”
“The tone?”
“Of one of the bedrooms. Come see.”
Dutifully Emily followed Alice up the sweeping staircase, past a life-sized portrait of an austere-looking woman—Henry’s great-grandmother, apparently—and around the corner onto the first floor gallery, a wide hallway that had been stripped of its formal paintings, the walls now painted a cheerful light green. Alice opened the first door on the left, and then beckoned Emily inside.
“What do you think?” she asked, as Emily took in the renovated room.
It was lovely, airy and bright, with no hint of moth-eaten wall hangings or fusty old furniture. The walls were a light blue, with white, puffy clouds stencilled along the ceiling. Matching curtains framed the view of the gardens outside, and there was a set of twin beds with matching tables and bureaus, along with a bookcase along one wall filled with children’s books of varying ages and descriptions.
“It’s lovely,” Emily said sincerely. “Truly lovely.”
“It isn’t too…bland?” Alice asked anxiously. She perched on the edge of one of the beds, reaching for a cloud-shaped pillow that she clutched to her chest. “It doesn’t look too institutional?”
“Not institutional,” Emily said after a moment’s consideration. “Not at all. But I might not be the right person to ask. I sort of like institutional.”
“Do you?” Alice let out a huff of laughter. “I hate it. After growing up in it, I want everything to be wonderfully messy and cluttered and real. Henry says I’ll turn into a hoarder, but at least we have the space.”
Which made Emily want to shudder, even as she understood it. Perhaps everyone was a result of their upbringing, whether they wanted to be or not.
“Was it very hard?” she asked after a moment. “Growing up in care?”
Alice sighed and clutched the pillow more tightly. “It could have been worse. I’ve always known that.”
“That doesn’t sound very promising.”
“No, it was…well, it was lonely, really.” She managed a slightly wobbly smile. “Even when my foster parents were nice. And then I was transferred to a care home—teens usually don’t get fostered, because of their age. No one wants them and it’s just easier to lump them all together in a home. That was easier, in a way, but lonelier, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, because she didn’t know what else to say. It sounded awful, worse than anything she’d experienced, certainly, and she felt guilty for feeling sorry for herself even once.
“I don’t talk about it all that much,” Alice confessed. “It’s in the past, and I really am so happy now. I don’t want to dwell on it.”
“I can understand that.”
“Can you?” Alice looked at her rather keenly, and Emily knew it was a perfect opportunity to share a bit about her own past. It was an opportunity she chose not to take. “Anyway,” Alice said, brushing at her eyes, “I think redoing these rooms is bringing it all back a bit. Reminding me of my own childhood, the rooms I lived in. And I want them to be so much more than that.”
“But they will be, because you and Henry will be here,” Emily pointed out. “And you’ll be lovely and welcoming to all the kids who come—I’m sure you will be. And that’s what will make the difference, not what colour the walls are, or what the curtains look like.”
“I hope so.” Alice let out a sigh. “If we even get approved. Henry’s had umpteen meetings with local councils, and we’ve got to have even more checks because of safeguarding and all that. I just hope this whole thing actually works.”
“It will,” Emily said firmly. “If Henry has anything to do with it.”
Alice laughed at that. “True. He can be scarily determined.” She smiled as she replaced the pillow. “Thanks, Emily. I brought you up here for your opinion on the room. I didn’t expect to have a mini meltdown on you.”
“It’s all right.”
Alice rose from the bed and walked towards Emily. For a second she thought she might hug her, and she didn’t know how she felt about that, but then Alice just touched her hand. “Thank you. You’ve been a big help.”
“Have I?” It was a new sensation, to have helped someone with their sadness. She didn’t know whether to believe Alice, but in any case it felt surprisingly nice to think that she might have been helpful. Needed.
“Is it too early to put the kettle on again?” Alice asked. “Or do you have to get back to work?”
Emily hesitated. She did need to get back to work, but she could see that Alice still wanted some company, even if it was just hers, and she didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Why not?” she said, and Alice’s wide smile was like a wave breaking on the shore.
The kitchen was just as comfortable as ever, and as always Andromeda leapt into Emily’s lap the moment she’d sat down. She still kept the lint brush in her desk drawer for that reason.
“I’m not usually so emotional,” Alice said as she poured boiled water into a big, floral-patterned teapot. “I think it must be because I’m on my period.”
“Oh, right.” Emily had nothing else to say to that.
“We’re trying, you see,” Alice said softly, and for a
