The room was chaotic, messy, with far too many things in it, and normally the disorder would make Emily’s toes curl as she struggled not to start straightening everything into neat and pleasingly parallel lines.
Yet for some reason, right then the sight of all that lovable mess caused a painful ache of longing to pulse through Emily that she couldn’t understand. The Aga…the cat…the tulips…it was all so unbearably homely, a cross between Downton Abbey and Little House on the Prairie. She didn’t think she could stand it, and she wasn’t even sure why. She’d never encountered such a room, or such a feeling, before.
“It’s a lovely room, isn’t it?” Henry said, taking in her single “oh” at face value. “Alice did it all. She’s transforming this lonely old house room by room, aren’t you, my love? Turning it into a proper home.”
Henry kissed Alice on the cheek, and Emily forced a smile. Her heart felt as if it were tipping over, and she needed to right it again. Quickly.
“Oh, Henry, really.” Alice laughed as she batted him away. “I didn’t do much. Glass of wine, Emily?” She nodded to a bottle of red breathing on top of the Aga, just another element of the cosily domestic scene.
“Yes, thank you.” She didn’t normally drink much at all, but she felt she could use the fortification tonight, which looked to be an interminably awkward evening of Henry and Alice’s well-meaning benevolence and her decided third wheeling, not to mention the jumbled-up feeling she had inside that she didn’t understand and definitely didn’t like.
“So are you all settled in number one?” Henry asked as he poured her a glass of wine. “I hope it suits?”
“It’s lovely.” What else could she say? Besides, it was. There wasn’t a single thing wrong with it.
“And I hope you’ll get used to life in Wychwood-on-Lea. I know it’s a far cry from London, but people really are friendly. You won’t be short of a social life.”
“That’s what I was saying,” Alice chimed in. “I’ve already texted Harriet to arrange a drinks night out…perhaps next weekend? Then you’ll be able to meet everyone in one go.”
Emily nearly shuddered at the thought. “That’s lovely, but don’t put yourself to any trouble—” she said, only to have Alice shake her head quite firmly.
“Not at all! I’m happy to do it. It’s always fun to get out and have a drink and a laugh.”
Emily wouldn’t actually know. She smiled in reply and took a sip of wine, savouring its velvety warmth.
“As I recall, you weren’t much of one for night life, were you?” Henry asked as he poured glasses for him and Alice. “Most evenings you were working late.”
“I had a demanding position,” Emily returned a little stiffly. She had no idea if her position here would be as demanding, but she hoped it would. She didn’t know what she’d do with herself, without a job to suck up all her emotion and energy.
“Well, I can’t wait to unleash your incredible organisational skills on Willoughby Holidays. That’s what we’re calling the charity—did I tell you?”
“I think you said something…”
“Wait until you see the office space.” Henry’s eye glinted with humour that Emily didn’t understand. What about the office space…? “Anyway,” he continued, “the first thing we want to do is to plan a fundraiser here, showcasing local businesses, for June. A really fun, friendly, but splashy affair. Do you think you can manage it?” The question seemed rhetorical, but startled, Emily nearly spluttered her wine.
“June?” It was already the tail end of March. “That’s only two months away.”
“End of June,” Henry said comfortably. “So more like three. I’m sure you can manage it, Emily. You’re the most capable person I know.”
But she wasn’t a PR person. At Ellis Investments she’d managed Henry’s diary, typed his letters, answered his phone, and taken dictation. Skills she’d come to master and take pride in. And yes, she’d arranged flowers to be sent to certain clients, and had booked a bi-annual golf weekend for others, and made sure the meeting room was always stocked with bottled water, pens, and paper, and she’d done that all very well indeed, but organising an entire fundraiser? The prospect filled her with alarm but also excitement. This job might turn out to be even more demanding than her old one, and that surely could only be a good thing.
“And of course you won’t have to do it on your own,” Henry added cheerfully. “Alice wants to help. She’s been involved in the charity from the start, and she’s got loads of good ideas.”
Alice met Emily’s gaze with a shy smile; Emily had a feeling she looked fairly horrified. “Oh, good,” she managed, and then quickly took a sip of wine to hide her expression. The thought of working together on such a big project in close quarters made her skin prickle. Henry had always been content to leave her to her own devices, and she far preferred working alone. But maybe Alice would offer her ideas and then toddle off. Surely she had other things to keep her busy.
“I think it’s ready,” Alice announced, and she withdrew a bubbling shepherd’s pie, the mashed potato crust perfectly golden, out of the Aga.
Soon all three of them were seated on one end of the big table, and Henry was doling out the pie while Alice passed around the salad. Outside the shadows were lengthening, the sky deepening to a dark violet. It felt homely and welcoming and yet Emily still felt uneasy. She really didn’t do stuff like this, and she still felt weirdly mixed up inside.
“It’s so quiet,” she said after a moment, and Alice laughed.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? When I first moved here, I was a bit spooked. You could hear the windowpanes rattle and the pipes creak…”
“Alice lived at Willoughby Manor with my great-aunt,” Henry explained, “until she died.” He and Alice exchanged looks that managed to be both loved up and sorrowful.
“She
