‘Nothing.’ Luke put down the spanner he had in his hands and came towards her, wiping his fingers on the seat of his overalls. ‘Come here, you gorgeous, clever lady and let me give you a kiss.’
He put his wrists on her shoulders, drawing her towards him, dangling his oily hands behind her head so as not to touch her with his fingers. ‘Don’t take it wrong that I worry, Joss. It’s because I love you so much.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Now, I’ve got some good news for you. This old bus is just about finished. She’ll be off home next week, if all goes well, and I’ve had two new enquiries, one of which is a definite, for full restoration jobs.’
Joss laughed. ‘That’s brilliant!’
‘And what about you? How is the book going? Are you getting any work done at all with both our families encamped in the place?’
‘No. Of course not.’ She gave him a playful cuff on the side of the head. ‘But I think I’m allowed a few days off while my favourite parents and in-laws are in residence. Plenty of time to write again once they’ve gone.’
He grinned. ‘The trouble is we might not get them to go away. They love it here so much.’
‘I’m glad.’ Walking back to the door she stared out into the yard where Jimbo was industriously polishing two great disembodied head lamps. ‘He’s a godsend, isn’t he.’
‘Certainly is. Who knows. Next year I might just look for another one like him.’
Joss frowned. ‘With all this talk about me, no one has said anything about you looking tired, Luke.’ She reached up and touched his face. He was pale and thin, his eyes reddened from lack of sleep. ‘No one sympathises with the father, do they. It’s tough.’
‘Very.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘Don’t you worry. I’m playing for all the sympathy I can get from my mummy and daddy right now.’ He laughed. ‘It’s nice having them here.’
In the yard, as though sensing their eyes upon him Jimbo had turned and looked at them. He raised a hand and Joss waved back. ‘I’d better go and find Tom. No one seems to know who’s looking after him.’
‘He’s loving all the attention.’ Luke shook his head fondly. ‘We’ll have trouble when they all go.’ He hesitated. ‘Have you heard when David is leaving?’
Why – can’t you wait to get rid of him? Joss was about to reply, but she swallowed the comment. David was going anyway. ‘He’s driving up to town this evening. It’s still term time, don’t forget.’
‘Well, as long as he doesn’t decide to come down here for the whole summer.’ He softened the words with a smile.
‘He won’t.’ She reached out and touched his hand. ‘It’s you I love. Never forget that, Luke.’
There was no sign of anyone indoors. She hurried through the rooms, calling, but the house was deserted. From the study window she could see Elizabeth and Alice strolling across the lawn. Elizabeth was pushing the pram, an expression of intense concentration on her face while Alice was talking nineteen to the dozen, gesticulating as she walked. Joss smiled fondly and turned away from the window. Tom could be with Mat or with Lyn or Geoffrey or Joe or even David. Someone would be keeping an eye on him. So why was she so uneasy? She knew why. Because they could all so easily be thinking the same thing.
‘Tom!’ she whispered his name. Then, ‘Tom!’ louder. Heading for the staircase she ran up into his bedroom. It was deserted and tidy, as was Ned’s. There was no one in her room or Lyn’s or David’s. She stood at the bottom of the attic stairs and stared up. The Grants’ bedrooms were there, and little Tom had plodded up at least twice to find them.
Slowly she climbed the flight and stood on the landing listening. The attics were very hot; they smelled strongly of rich, dry wood and dust, and they were quite silent.
‘Tom?’
Her voice sounded indecently loud.
‘Tom? Are you up here?’
She went into Elizabeth and Geoffrey’s room. It was strewn with clothes; the small chest of drawers was littered with items of make up and Elizabeth’s strings of beads and Geoffrey’s tie, torn off as soon as possible after the christening guests had left the day before and not replaced. The bed was a low divan – nowhere under it to hide. There was no sign of Tom. He wasn’t in Mat’s room either. She stood in the middle of the floor looking round, listening to the scuffling from behind the far door, the door which led into the empty attics which stretched the rest of the length of the house.
There were footsteps, the sound of a piece of furniture being moved, a suppressed giggle.
‘Tom?’ Why was she whispering?
‘Tom?’ She tried a little louder.
Silence.
‘Georgie? Sam?’
The silence was so intense she could feel someone listening to her, holding their breath. Slowly, almost as though she were sleep walking she moved towards the far door. She put out her hand to the key and turned it. The silence deepened. As she pushed open the door it became something tangible, opaque, heavy with threat.
‘Tom!’ This time her shout was loud, high pitched, bordering on panic. ‘Tom, are you there?’
Pushing the door back against the wall she stepped into the empty room and looked round. The light was shadowy, full of dust motes. A bee, trapped against the glass of the window, buzzed frantically, yearning for the sunlight and flowers of the garden. Another door on the far side of the room stood half open. Beyond it the shadows were thick and warm.
‘Tom?’ Her voice was shaking now, the panic heavy in her throat. ‘Tom, where are you darling? Don’t hide.’
The giggle was quite near this time; a child’s giggle, half stifled, very close. She swung round. ‘Tom?’