‘Tea or coffee?’ Gideon asked, opening a cabinet door.
‘Is that the best you can do? Look at her!’ Agnes snorted. ‘White or red, Sophie? Or how about a G and T?’
‘White wine would be fantastic.’ I smiled, already feeling some weight sliding off my shoulders as Gideon busied himself in the kitchen and Muffin settled herself around Agnes’ feet.
‘Taking its toll, then. The secrets in the attic?’
My smile faded. ‘Some days are longer than others.’
‘It’s not the ghosts, stopping you from getting a good night’s sleep?’
‘There are ghosts?’
‘Well, if any departed spirits had reason to linger, it’d be Verity Langford. Who knows what you’ve stirred up, poking around up there.’
I felt a prickle of unease scamper up my spine. I didn’t officially believe in ‘departed spirits’ hanging about, but I’d spent enough time with their families to know that atmospheres were more persistent, and peculiar things did happen.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Has Hattie told you about her?’
I gave a non-committal shrug, but she carried on anyway, shuddering as she pulled the blanket tighter.
‘We didn’t even know she died, at first. Missed the funeral completely. Then we were passing one day, and decided to call in. Leonard was drowning his sorrows with whisky. We were shocked to hear Verity had suffered heart failure. Weakened from a nasty pressure-sore infection. When Chester asked why she hadn’t gone into hospital, Leonard explained how she’d locked herself away in the attic and refused to allow him entry. He was devastated. Distraught. We’d have worried about leaving Hattie with him, but he’d hired a housekeeper, and she seemed very pleasant. Still, it was a terrible business.’
‘What was?’ Gideon asked, returning with three glasses and a plate of cheese and crackers.
‘Your Auntie Verity’s tragic death,’ Agnes said, accepting a glass. ‘No doubt all will be revealed in due course. Or sooner?’
‘Sophie’s here for a change in subject, not to go over it even more,’ Gideon said, assembling two platefuls.
‘Fair enough,’ Agnes said, taking a slurp of wine. ‘How about a game of Buckaroo?’
We ended up playing a board game that didn’t require a steady hand, only an ability to impersonate people, compose poetry on the spot and lie through your teeth. I’ve no idea who won, but I laughed so hard, my face still ached when Gideon walked me back to the house a good while later.
‘Better?’ he asked, taking my hand as we wound through the shrubbery, his torch lighting the way.
‘That was perfect.’
He paused for a second. ‘Perfect? Me, Mum and a silly board game?’
‘Friends, an open fire,amazingcheese and the funniest evening I’ve had in ages. The only downside being I’d forgotten that laughing too hard makes me snort.’
He bumped into me playfully as we resumed walking. ‘I thought it was very cute.’
‘Cute? Sounding like a pig? Is that your inner frustrated farmer talking?’
He beamed, teeth and eyes glinting as the lights from the main house loomed up ahead. ‘For what it’s worth, I thought it was pretty much perfect, too. The snorting was just the icing on the cake.’
‘Seriously,’ I said, once we’d reached the boot-room door. ‘That might be normal for you. But apart from my brief visits to Ezra’s farmhouse, I spend far too many evenings with only a book and Muffin for company. And it feels weird laughing at a book when you’re sitting on your own in a motorhome.’
I’d told him about Ezra, Naomi and the kids, but not yet shared anything about my own family, or lack of other friends.
‘Well, then I’m glad you came.’ He tugged on my hand, so at home in his, I couldn’t imagine letting go. ‘Come again. Whenever you like. I think we’ve got Twister in the back of a cupboard. Mum’s great at it.’
‘I will come again.’ I hesitated, trying to find the right words. ‘But not too often. And it won’t be for long. Another two or three weeks and I’ll be finished here, moving on to a new client.’
‘Hmm. But will this new client, who I hate already, give you such great cheese?’
‘Some of them do, actually. But that’s not my point.’ I emphatically removed my hand from his. ‘I’m really enjoying your company. YoursandAgnes’. I’m really grateful for a welcoming place to decompress after a tough day. But that’s all it is. This is how I live. I complete a project, move on to the next. That’s it.’
