‘Jesus Christ!’ Annabel looked at Grace. ‘You don’t have any ghosts in the cottage, do you?’
‘I … I don’t think so,’ Grace replied. She didn’t think she believed in ghosts, but she was momentarily very aware that Adam’s grandmother had died there – probably in the bedroom Grace was sleeping in.
‘Hawthorn Cottage is one of the older dwellings, been here since before the brickworks,’ Meredith told them. ‘But I’ve heard most of the local tales and I don’t remember a ghost ever being mentioned there. I think you can both rest easy.’ She picked up a napkin and gave her lips a dab.
‘Ghosts wandering everywhere out there, though.’ Claire gestured at the moors beyond the picture window. Grace saw that the corners of her mouth were turned up, and there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
‘Really?’ Annabel sounded excited, and Claire’s enjoyment seemed to wane a little. Grace smiled to herself – they didn’t know Annabel yet. While she complained and squealed a lot, her fascination with ghoulish tales overrode any fears she might have. Annabel was more likely to organise an exorcism and then clutch at everyone throughout the event rather than run away.
‘There’s plenty of folklore, that’s for certain.’ Meredith got up from her seat and held her hand out for Grace’s plate. ‘Now, would you like some dessert?’
Once Meredith had left the room, Grace stared out of the picture window, only dimly aware of Claire and Annabel’s conversation. There was nothing out there, she reassured herself, except a bare expanse of nature. Ghosts made good stories, that was all.
Meredith returned bearing an apple pie, which she deftly sliced up, placing portions into bowls. She offered around a jug of cream, and they all tucked in again. Grace’s stomach was uncomfortably full, but the pie was too delicious to resist. As they ate, the only sounds were the scraping of their spoons against the bowls and the whining of Pippa, hoping to be let into the room to join them.
‘So how long are you staying, Annabel?’ Meredith asked when she’d finished eating.
‘A couple of days,’ Annabel said, a spoonful of dessert halfway towards her mouth. ‘Then back next week for Christmas. I’ve been helping Grace pull down boxes from the attic all morning,’ she told them, making a face at her sister.
Claire rested her wine glass against the tip of her chin. ‘I hope we never have to sort this place out. Nightmare.’
‘You will when I die,’ Meredith replied.
Grace didn’t know how to react to that, and neither did Annabel by the look of her, but Claire laughed. ‘I think we’ll probably all die before you do, Mum.’ She pushed her empty bowl away with a sigh of satisfaction and rubbed her stomach. ‘She’s made of extremely tough Northern stuff, my mother,’ she explained to the others.
Meredith smiled, and Grace thought it was perhaps the most genuine response she’d seen from the woman all afternoon. Then Millie began to wriggle in the pushchair. Without even a query to Grace, Meredith walked across and unbuckled the child, lifting her up. Millie stiffened, then stared around the room at them all. Grace smiled at her, and Millie held her arms out to her mother, her little face crumpling as she began to cry.
‘There, there,’ Meredith said, jiggling her up and down as she walked across to Grace. ‘No need for that.’ She handed Millie over. ‘They’re so clingy at this age, aren’t they? I much preferred mine as they got a bit older.’
Grace felt defensive but didn’t reply. Meanwhile, Millie leaned into the hollow of Grace’s arm and looked around at them all from her place of safety.
‘Can we help you clear up? Grace asked, as she rocked Millie gently.
‘Not at all.’ Meredith began collecting plates. ‘You have your hands full there. Claire and I are more than capable.’
Annabel got up to help anyway, and Grace went to sit in one of the armchairs with Millie. The little girl had woken up irritable, and squirmed to be free. As the women filed back in from the kitchen, Grace stood up. ‘I might have to take her home, Meredith. I’m sorry to rush off after such a lovely lunch.’
‘I understand,’ Meredith replied. She went across to a tall dresser, rummaged in a drawer, then strode over to Grace. ‘Here’s your spare key back. Now, why don’t you come again during the week – I have a portable cot I keep for the grandchildren that Millie can use. Or why don’t you come at five, when she’s up? I’ll make you another meal and we can get to know one another better.’
Grace took the key as she considered the offer. She was unsure whether she and Meredith would find much more to talk about, but she didn’t want to be rude – especially not after Meredith had done her such a huge favour by taking care of the cottage.
Claire added, ‘Yes, come and eat here, Grace, don’t sit in that cottage by yourself.’
‘Thanks,’ Grace said. ‘I’d love to.’ But as she said it, she sincerely hoped that Tiny Tim wouldn’t be making one of his rare appearances that night.