‘Feel free. And if you’re desperate to send an email, you can come to my place. Turn right at the gate and cross the lane to the other side. There’s a sign for “Home Farm” a few hundred yards along on your left. It may not be grand, but at least it has Wi-Fi.’
‘I should be fine.’
‘And if you did manage to find that figurine, I really would like to see it. There are a number of holes in our family’s past that I’m keen to fill in.’
‘I’ll have another hunt through my bag.’
‘I hope you find it eventually. Goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight.’
I let him out of the door and then locked it firmly. Then I went to the kitchen, picked up the telephone and dialled CeCe’s number.
‘Hi, it’s me.’
‘Sia! Where are you? And why are you calling from a strange number?’
I explained as best I could, and there was a long pause.
‘So, this family is not just paying you a pittance to work long hours in a bookshop, but they’re now also using you as an unpaid nanny and chef?’
‘Orlando said I’d still get my wages, and Marguerite will pay me extra on top too.’
‘The problem with you is that you’re too soft-hearted.’
‘It was an emergency, and I was the only one who could help. And I really don’t mind. I love it here,’ I replied honestly.
‘You just make sure they pay you what you’re owed. I miss you, Sia. This apartment is far too big for just one person.’
‘I’ll be home soon, and if you need me, I’ll be on this number.’
‘I’ll skip the last class at college on Wednesday so we can have dinner together. I feel I’ve hardly seen you in the past few weeks.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. Sleep well, Cee.’
‘I’ll try. Bye.’
The call was ended abruptly at the other end and I sighed as I made my way into the drawing room to make sure the fire was not likely to set us alight in the night – another golden rule of Pa’s. I switched off the lights and made my way up to bed. Checking on Rory, who was blissfully asleep, I thanked the heavens that I had been granted two more nights in this wonderful, wonderful house.
21
I was up early the next morning, woken by Rory, who pounced on me in bed and said he was hungry. By the time Mouse arrived in the kitchen to collect my shopping list, we were sitting down to breakfast.
‘Something smells good,’ Mouse said, to my amazement. It was rare to hear him utter a positive comment.
‘Would you like some? It’s only eggy bread.’
‘I haven’t had that since I was a child. Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.’
‘There’s fresh coffee in the pot on the table,’ I indicated.
Rory patted Mouse’s arm and signed to him. ‘Can I come out on the tractor?’
‘What?’ Mouse had barely glanced up to look at him.
‘Rory wants to know if he can come out on your tractor,’ I said as I put down the plate in front of him with slightly more force than necessary.
‘God, no,’ he said as he began to devour the eggy bread with a hunger that had been noticeably lacking the past couple of times I’d cooked for him. ‘This is so good, I love nursery food. Right.’ He swigged his coffee back, stood up and grabbed the list from the table. ‘I’ll be back to drop this off when I can.’
And with that, he was out of the door.
‘No tractor?’ Rory looked up at me with a plaintive expression that tore at my heart.
‘Not today, Rory, no. But how about you get dressed, and then you can have a cycle on that bike of yours?’
Rory cycled to the orchard and there we collected as many apples and damsons as we could carry. The ancient trees were in desperate need of pruning, but I knew it would have to wait until late winter.
‘We’ll never eat all this,’ Rory signed as we trundled the fruit back in a squeaky wheelbarrow I’d found.
‘No, but they’ll taste good in pies and jam.’
‘You make jam?’
‘Yes,’ I laughed at his surprise, realising he must have grown up believing that most things he ate came from an invisible supermarket fairy.
I spent the afternoon making pies, and Rory asked for his habitual Superman movie. Having put in the DVD for him, I went back to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and check the progress of the pastry in the range. My fingers itched to reorganise the pantry and cupboards, but I desisted, knowing it wasn’t my place to do so.
I looked at the clock and saw it was nearing six, and time for Rory’s supper. Given there was no sign of the promised shopping, I went to see what I could find.
I was just taking the last pie out of the oven when the back door opened and Mouse appeared with two plastic bags full of shopping.
‘There you are,’ he said as he dumped them on the kitchen table. ‘Are you planning a party here?’ He pointed at the pies.
‘Just using up the windfall from the orchard.’
He took out a beer from one of the bags and opened it. ‘Want one?’ he offered.
‘No thanks.’
‘Rory okay?’
‘Fine,’ I said, as I dived into the shopping bag and pulled out some sausages. I tipped them onto a baking tray and put them in the oven to cook. ‘I’m making homemade chips,’ I added as I opened a bag of potatoes and fetched a peeler from the drawer. ‘I hope Rory likes them.’
‘Given that he and Marguerite live mostly on eggs and cans of baked beans, I’m sure he’ll be fine. As would I, if there’s enough.’
I smiled a secret smile at his sudden enthusiasm.
‘Of course.’ I indicated the big bag of potatoes. ‘I’ll go and tell Rory you’re here.’ I made towards the door.
‘Just before you do . . .’ His tone held me back, and I turned to see his face suddenly sombre. ‘I want to ask you truthfully whether you have that Fabergé figurine here with you. Either you really haven’t, or you simply don’t want to show it to me. I understand why you may not feel you can trust me,’ he continued. ‘After all, I’ve hardly been very welcoming. I wouldn’t worry, Star, everyone thinks I’m a shit. And they’re not wrong. I am.’
So now we were back to self-pity. And if he expected me to contradict him, he was mistaken.
‘Anyway,’ he continued in the face of my silence, ‘how about we make a deal? I’ll tell you the rest of what I’ve found out about our family history, and you show me the cat. Because if it is a Fabergé, I’ve got a good idea of who gave it to Flora MacNichol.’
‘I—’
‘Mouse!’ Rory arrived in the kitchen and the moment was gone.
Over supper, Mouse was definitely cheerier than I’d seen him before: whether he was doing his best to lull me into a false sense of security before snapping back into his usual morose self, or it was the homemade chips that had done it, I had no idea. But I was happy for Rory that Mouse was at least making an effort to engage him. I suggested they play a game of noughts and crosses, which Rory had never heard of. After I’d shown him how to play, he took to it with gusto, shouting with happiness every time his crosses won. I knew Mouse was letting him win, and that too was an improvement.
‘Time for bed,’ Mouse said suddenly.