Some considerable time later, Michael said, ‘Did we establish if you’re coming on the Porringer hunt with me tomorrow?’
Nell had been sliding into a warm, deeply contented sleep, but she came out of it slightly. ‘I’d like to. It’s half-day closing, so I could shut the shop at midday.’
‘Half-day closing. What a quaint old-fashioned custom.’
‘I suppose if you become an investor, you’ll demand a twelve-hour day and no holidays. Wasn’t it Scrooge who said, “It’s Christmas – take the day off”?’
‘I’ll install a system of clocking in and piece work,’ promised Michael.
‘And wear one of those sexy Victorian frock-coats, and glower over the ledgers?’
‘Yes, but I draw the line at a stovepipe hat.’
‘Pity. Even so, I’d like to Porringer hunt with you,’ said Nell.
‘In that case I’ll cancel the order for the time sheets. Are you going back to sleep now, or what?’
‘Is there anything else on offer?’
‘There might be,’ said Michael. ‘Yes, I believe there might be.’
‘Oh, good …’
As Michael drove them out of Oxford the following day, a thin soft rain was falling. Everywhere smelled fresh and new, and despite the rain Nell’s spirits rose.
‘I remember seeing quite a nice village pub,’ said Michael, ‘so we’ll have some lunch there, shall we?’
‘I do like the way you always incorporate eating into ghost-hunting.’
‘It can be a hungry occupation.’
‘Is that the sign for Willow Bank Farm?’ asked Nell, a little while later.
‘Yes. You can just see it across the fields. I noticed it the first time I was here, although I didn’t know it was relevant then.’ He pulled the car on to a grass verge for a moment. ‘It’s over there – it’s a bit misty through this rain, but you can make out the shape of the buildings.’
‘The rain makes it look slightly unreal,’ said Nell, after a moment. ‘Veiled and blurry, and as if it really does belong to the past.’
‘Do you ever feel that this kind of rain has a sort of immortality about it?’ said Michael, starting the car again. ‘As if it might be the same rain that fell a hundred years ago or a thousand years ago? Or even as near as yesterday.’
‘You’re such a romantic. But I know what you mean. That if you only knew the exact right place to reach through that rain, you might find you were touching another era.’
‘Except that with my sense of direction I’d probably miss the twentieth century altogether,’ said Michael, glancing in the driving mirror as they left Willow Bank Farm behind. ‘I wonder who lives there now? If it’s still the Hurst family.’
‘It’s probably being enthusiastically chopped up into flats or single dwellings by Jack Hurst, even as we speak,’ said Nell. ‘And speaking of Hursts, Godfrey suggested I ask Jack to provide some figures for knocking the two shops into one.’
She sounded slightly diffident, and Michael said, ‘That’s a good idea. It looked as if he was making a very nice job of Deadlight Hall. If anyone could make a nice job of such a monstrosity.’
‘I was going to phone him later to ask him to come in. You could be there as well. I’d tell you what he said in any case.’
‘I’d quite like to be there for the meeting,’ said Michael. ‘But you don’t have to think you’ve got to – to consult me or anything.’
‘I know, but I’d like to. Actually though,’ said Nell, ‘something did occur to me. Is being part-owner of a business likely to be against Oxford’s rules for its dons?’
Michael sent her a surprised look. ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose they’d look very kindly on a part-share in a brothel or a porn-film shop, but antiques are very respectable, and what I do with my money is up to me. Why on earth did you think there might be a problem? Oh – you didn’t think that at all, did you? You’re giving me a polite way out in case I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Well, yes, all right, I am.’