Page 79

Chapter 79

July 2021

Tess is in the scullery, tossing olive oil and balsamic vinegar into a bowl of allotment lettuce and grated carrots with her bare hands.

She turns when she hears the footsteps on the gravel.

About five feet eight, she thinks.

Reddish hair and beard, going grey, the bits she can see at the side of his turquoise mask, anyway.

Skinny, under his linen jacket.

Glasses. He is flanked by two little girls with equally red hair, each holding on tightly to one of his hands.

‘Hello, I’m Tess, and you must be Benjamin.

’ She looks at her hands and then back at him.

‘Sorry, I’m covered in salad dressing, just let me wash my hands before it gets all over everything.

’

‘My friends call me Ben,’ he replies.

‘I’ve never much liked Benjamin.

’ He looks down at the children.

‘This is Lucy, she’s nine, and Joanna is six.

’

Tess hesitates. ‘Would you like to look at the rooms before lunch or afterwards?’

‘May as well look now, if that’s not inconvenient?

’

She takes a couple of steps back into the room.

‘OK. There’s a sink in here and you can all wash your hands before you come in.

I’m not usually quite so fastidious when it’s just me, but I don’t want to put anyone at risk.

’ She soaps her own hands first to get rid of the oil and vinegar, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in her head and wondering if the song will ever be sung again without being associated with hand-washing and viruses.

‘I’m done, it’s all yours.

There are facecloths to dry your hands on next to the sink, just throw them in that basket beside the washing machine when you’re done.

’ She pulls a mask from her pocket with finger and thumb and waits for them to finish, internally questioning if the tidying she had done the previous evening is sufficient.

Whatever, she thinks.

It’s not a show home.

If it puts him off then he isn’t right for the place anyway.

She beckons him through.

‘We shouldn’t really be spending too much time indoors so I’ll just walk you around quickly and you’ll be able to see what it’s like.

If you’re interested then you can join us for lunch in the garden and we can decide if this is going to work.

’ He nods, and the girls follow him inside, now holding hands with each other.

‘That’s the scullery, all the usual things, washing machine and stuff, and the cooker and fridge and the larder at the back.

This is the old kitchen.

’ She points at the black range.

‘Sadly, we aren’t really supposed to use that but we have been known to put some smokeless fuel on it on a wintry afternoon.

Haven’t done it for a while, though, what with the lockdown and everything; not much point when I’m here on my own.

’ She waves a hand around the kitchen.

‘This is where we eat, whoever is staying here, I mean. Meals are always eaten together, downstairs, never in the bedrooms.’ She points to the narrow wooden staircase that leads off the kitchen.

‘My office is up there.’

They troop into the hall.

‘That’s my room, next to the kitchen, and then there’s the downstairs shower room, I use that one.

And this is the big drawing room; we’ve had some great parties in here.

’ She catches the older girl whispering something to her younger sister.

She leads the way upstairs.

‘Up here there are three bedrooms and a bathroom and the parlour, which is the poshest room in the house. In normal times we usually keep the parlour as a guest bedroom so there’s plenty of space for people to stay if the lodgers want that.

I usually have two lodgers at a time but there are sometimes three.

There’s no one at the moment, though.

’ She turns to look at him.

‘And that’s it.’

The girls have disappeared into the parlour and she can hear their voices, but not exactly what they are saying.

‘I’ll leave you to have a think without me peering over your shoulder.

Take your time and have a proper look.

Just come up to the end of the garden when you’ve finished.

The owner and her husband will be here shortly, I think.

I’ll introduce you when they arrive.

’

It will be strange to share the house again after almost a year, she thinks.

To begin with she had struggled with the emptiness and the echoes.

But she had begun to enjoy the silence, and the fact that she didn’t have to consider anyone else.

She alternates between relishing the peace and careering from room to room so quickly she thinks her bones are rattling.

At times she fears her voice might dry up with lack of use.

But the house is not meant for one person.

She remembers Georgia saying that.

The silence is nice, but it isn’t the purpose of the place.

It’s time for whatever comes next.