There’s a young, vibrant energy about Sarah, the kind that rubs off on others.
‘I can’t wait for the reading nook to be done,’ I say, as she sets her things down in the kitchen. ‘I know you haven’t started it yet, but still …’
Sarah laughs, a light, easy sound that makes the room feel warmer. ‘Promise it’s top of my priority list, soon as I’ve tackled this beast.’ She waves a hand at the kitchen wall. ‘I’ll prime it today and apply undercoat to cover up the red, and I’ll put the new colour on tomorrow.’
I lean against the doorway, watching her unpack brushes and rollers from the bag with the kind of precision that suggests she takes this seriously. ‘How long have you and Jack been together?’ I ask, thinking about what he’d confided in Dev at the pub.
She glances up, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. ‘Five years, but he only proposed last summer. He booked us a weekend in Wales – he’d got the ring and everything. I’m still not sure how he managed to keep it a surprise … He’s terrible at keeping secrets usually.’
I can’t help but smile back. Her warmth and honesty are infectious. ‘He sounds like a good one.’
‘He is.’ She dips a brush into the paint with practised ease. ‘Hardworking, too. Always covered in grease from Mower World, but he’s got the biggest heart. And he makes a mean cup of tea. But … I wish he had more faith in himself.’
‘In his own abilities, you mean?’
She nods. ‘Jack is a content person by nature, which is lovely. But I think he’d be happy just staying as he is. I don’t think he’d bother if we rented the same crummy flat for our entire lives. I feel like I’m always pushing him to stretch his expectations. Probably not fair of me.’
I feel a bit guilty for the suspicion I’ve harboured for Jack. Maybe it’s just the protective part of me that’s wary of strangers. But hearing Sarah talk about him like that softens something inside me. She’s obviously very fond of him. But seeing her out having a good time on Friday night has given me a bit of insight into her zest for life, too.
As Sarah works, I set about choosing some new bedding online. Our conversation flows as easily as the white undercoat she’s started to apply to the wall. There are no awkward pauses, no sense of having to fill the silence with forced chatter. It’s comfortable. Easy.
At some point, while she’s balancing on a stepladder, I mention that Dev and I are useless at decorating.
‘My dad showed me how to do it. He had his own decorating business. I was adopted, but my parents were both brilliant,’ Sarah says. ‘They made me feel I could do anything I put my mind to. I couldn’t have asked for better people in my life. I really like doing this in my spare time, but teaching is my passion.’
I feel an unexpected tug in my chest and I’m inspired to share a little something of myself. ‘I was fostered,’ I reply quietly. ‘Didn’t have quite the same luck, though.’
Sarah doesn’t push. She simply nods, her gaze steady but not intrusive. It’s a rare thing, finding someone who knows when to leave space for silence.
‘Sounds like you landed on your feet though, meeting Dev,’ she adds, with a bright, genuine grin that makes it hard not to like her even more.
The time drifts on, marked by the rhythm of brushes against plaster and the soft hum of conversation. We talk about books, naturally – it’s impossible not to with the reading nook looming in my mind, like a promised treat. Turns outwe both have a soft spot for short stories, especially the ones that linger long after you’ve closed the covers.
‘Nothing beats getting lost in a good book, does it?’ Sarah wipes a smudge of paint from her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘Except maybe finding someone else who you can talk to for hours about it.’
By the time she packs up mid-afternoon, the kitchen is brighter, fresher, like it’s starting to become part of the home I imagined when I moved in. I walk Sarah to the door.
‘See you tomorrow, Merri,’ she says, picking up her toolbox.
‘Looking forward to it,’ I reply, and I mean it.
As the door clicks shut behind her, I stand for a moment, the quiet of the house settling around me. It doesn’t feel quite so heavy in here now. And that, I decide, makes all the difference.
36
Tuesday
As I start my morning around the house, I remember Paige hasn’t been in touch since I sent my text message asking if everything was OK at the house. I feel like she’s drifting somewhere just out of reach while I’m distracted up here in Windermere.
I pick up my phone and scroll through our last exchange to check I haven’t somehow missed a new message. But there’s nothing.
I find her number and press call. It rings for longer than I expect before she picks up.
‘Merri,’ she says carefully, like I’m playing the landlord and checking up on her.
‘Hi, Paige. I’m just checking everything’s good with you. How are you settling in?’
There’s a short pause. ‘Everything’s fine my end,’ she says. ‘Well, things here are great, really. The house is lovely. I’m getting so much more studying done with the peace and quiet. And work’s been … well, you know. The usual. Busy.’
