by Jenny Lane
Rose knew from experience that time was a great healer and hoped that, eventually, Sophie would feel able to confide in her.
‘Well, what shall we have for supper?’ Aunt Rose asked. ‘Mavis Briggs has made me a rather nice beef casserole so, if you’d like that it’s only a question of heating it up and doing a few additional vegetables.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ Sophie assured her. ‘Tell me where the vegetables are and I’ll prepare them.’
***
Over at Rowanbank, Keir sat in Hugh Mercer’s comfortable old armchair in the study and thought about Sophie Burnett. She was quite an ordinary-looking girl with an oval face and a quantity of light-brown hair casually tied back, but it was her eyes that had caught his attention. She had the most beautiful eyes, clear grey and long-lashed.
There was obviously a reason why she was free to come to Penbridge in January. He found himself wondering what it was and realised it was the first time he’d shown an interest in any woman since Nina.
Now he came to think of it, Hugh had mentioned a cousin living in Hertfordshire. Keir had a feeling he might have seen Sophie’s parents at Hugh’s funeral. They had been sitting with Rose Harding. Erica hadn’t introduced them to him, but it had been a difficult day for her and she’d had a lot on her mind.
Erica had told Keir about the two mysterious letters that had been left with the will that no-one could make any sense of. He knew one had been for Rose, but Erica hadn’t said anything about the recipient of the second one. He made a mental note to ask her.
He smiled and turned his attention to the sheaf of papers in his hand. He’d no doubt find out more about Sophie Burnett in due course, but for the moment, there were assignments to mark.
***
‘Are you still selling the dolls’ house furniture in the gift shop?’ Sophie asked Aunt Rose over supper.
Aunt Rose nodded. ‘Most weeks I do a stint behind the counter too — on a voluntary basis. It keeps me occupied and takes me out of the house. I’m not sure if I’d like to work in a charity shop, so this is just right for me. You’d be surprised how many grown-ups love dolls’ houses, quite apart from the children.’
‘I remember when I was a little girl and we came to stay at Rowanbank one summer. Aunt Mary brought me round to have tea with you and Uncle Tom. You showed me the furniture then and I was absolutely fascinated. Actually, I’ve still got one or two pieces on the shelf in my bedroom at home now.’
‘Have you really, dear? That must have been a few years ago now.’
‘It certainly was — I’m thirty-two now!’
‘And I’m well in my seventies so, to me, you’re just a mere child!’
Sophie laughed and found herself wondering exactly how old Keir was. Nearer forty than thirty, she would have thought.
After they’d finished supper and Sophie had cleared the dishes away, they went into the sitting room to watch TV, but the reception was very poor due to the weather conditions, so they played a game of Scrabble instead. Sophie realised that Aunt Rose was quite an accomplished player.
‘Tom loved his game of Scrabble and Hugh and Mary too. We had some good times the four of us. And then, when our partners died within such a very short time of each other, Hugh and I continued to spend some evenings together until he remarried.’ Aunt Rose suddenly looked sad. ‘Sometimes Keir pops round and we have a game or two. It’s hard to remember he’s only been here such a short while.’
‘So what does he do? You mentioned an evening class.’
‘He’s a teacher, like yourself, works part-time in the local senior school, besides taking the classes in the evening. He’s a very talented potter and devotes the rest of his time to his own projects. He sells his stuff in the gift shop too. That reminds me he’s promised to take some of my dolls’ house furniture next time he’s passing. I don’t expect the shop will be open today in this bad weather.’
***
Sophie lay awake for a while, surprised at the sudden turn of events that had brought her to Kent. She wasn’t clear how long she’d stay, but supposed it would be for at least a couple of weeks.
She had thought that the months she’d spent in Hertfordshire, staying with her parents, would have healed her aching heart, but she still missed Brett so very much. She’d met him on a course and they’d discovered they were living and teaching in the same area. Before long they were in a relationship and Sophie was blissfully happy and contemplating a rosy future.
And then the previous Easter, Brett had told her he’d arranged to have a reunion for a few days with some pals from his university days. She said she’d understood and they’d have plenty of time to be together afterwards.
Sophie had been stunned when she’d discovered Brett had been deceiving her and that he’d actually spent the time with a former girlfriend.
‘I’m sorry, Sophie,’ he’d told her. ‘We’ve had some good times together, but now I’m back with Laura.’
Somehow Sophie managed to get through the next few weeks at school, but then she’d handed in her notice and left at the end of term. Returning to live with her parents in Hertfordshire, she’d enlisted with a teaching agency.
Sophie had been on automatic pilot since then. She supposed she’d have to get round to thinking what she wanted to do with the rest of her life before long. Perhaps coming to Penbridge was a fortuitous interlude. She suspected her mother would have filled Aunt Rose in with the bare outline of what had happened.
As Sophie plumped up her pillows, her thoughts turned to Rowanbank and its new occupant, Keir Ellison. It was good for Aunt Rose to know that there was someone living there at last. It was a big house for one person to live in, but there’d been no mention of a wife or partner. A good-looking man like Keir Ellison was bound to have someone in his life, wasn’t he? Not that it was of the slightest interest to Sophie.
The next thing Sophie knew it was morning and it seemed very bright in the room. She checked her watch. It was barely seven o’clock. She realised it must be the snow that made it seem so light. Shrugging on her dressing-gown, she crossed to the window and flung back the curtains. All she could see was a blanket of white. She showered and dressed then sped downstairs.
Ten minutes later she had made the tea and fed the cat, who had eyed her warily and then shot out of the cat flap. Aunt Rose hobbled into the kitchen in her dressing-gown.
‘Hello, dear, did you sleep well? It doesn’t look any better out there, does it?’
‘No, but at least it’s stopped snowing.’
As they sat over cups of tea, Sophie made a list of things she could do. It seemed as if they would be snowed in for a few days yet.
‘Well, there’s no rush,’ Aunt Rose said, as they ate breakfast round the kitchen table in comfort. ‘I just hope you’re not going to be too bored, dear. You must be used to a busy life.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll find plenty to do here,’ Sophie assured her.
She had been throwing herself into her work to keep herself occupied and had socialised very little since she and Brett had split up. She didn’t want time to think.
As if aware of what was going through Sophie’s mind, Aunt Rose said, ‘Once we’ve sorted out dinner, I think I’ll finish off one or two pieces of dolls’ house furniture. Who knows, you might like to help me.’
It wasn’t quite what Sophie had in mind, but she was prepared to give it a go. Despite Aunt Rose’s protests, after Sophie had finished clearing up in the kitchen and making the beds, she dusted round.
‘Now I’m here Mrs Briggs will expect to be back at Rowanbank and anyway, I doubt if she’ll be able to get here for a day or two.’
‘Oh, I don’t like the thought of you doing all this, but it’s lovely having a young face around the place. Now, I think we’d better have those lamb chops for lunch — is that OK with you?’
They discussed the rest of the menu and then Sophie peeled the potatoes and prepared the carrots. She wasn’t heavily into cooking, but d
idn’t mind helping out. Her mother had sent her with a cherry cake and a bacon joint, along with a several other provisions.
‘So thoughtful, but then Anne always was a caring person and it’s obvious you take after her, dear,’ Rose commented.
Sophie coloured. ‘I’m afraid I’m not such a good cook as my mother, but I have looked after myself for a few years. Anyway, just you let me know what needs doing. You must rest that ankle as much as possible and, now that I’m here, you can do just that.’
‘Oh, but I need to keep myself active or I’ll get stiff. Arthritis, you know. Anyway, you’ve made a good job of tidying the kitchen and my room so, if you care to get me the box from the cupboard under the stairs I’ll make a start on the furniture.’
Sophie found the required box and all the other items that Aunt Rose needed for her morning’s work. Aunt Rose reached for her spectacles.
Sophie perched on the edge of a kitchen stool and gazed transfixed at the array of miniature furniture Aunt Rose placed on the table. Besides tiny tables and chairs, there were Welsh dressers and bookcases and even a grand piano.
‘Do you make them all yourself, Aunt Rose?’
Rose shook her head. ‘It was Tom who used to be so clever at fashioning and staining them. Patience of a saint he had. Nowadays, I buy in kits, but I add individual touches — quilts, curtains, tiny cushions — all those are made by my fair hands. Sometimes I make a batch of dolls as well. I still get orders from time to time, you see.’
Sophie was fascinated, just as she had been when she’d been a child and Rose’s husband, Tom, had allowed her into his workshop. He had been a carpenter by trade and had produced the furniture as a side-line. It had been Rose’s brainchild.
Much as Sophie would have loved to linger, she made her excuses and went upstairs to tidy her own room and clean the bathroom.
When she came down again, Keir was sitting at the kitchen table helping Aunt Rose to pack some of the tiny items of dolls’ house furniture in tissue paper.
‘We wondered where you were — good job the back door was on the latch or Rose would have had to get up to let me in.’
Sophie, normally an even tempered person, bit back a sharp retort.
Rose smiled at her, oblivious of any tension. ‘Why don’t you put the kettle on, Sophie? We can have an early elevenses.’
All the time Sophie assembled the coffee things on a tea tray and fetched the biscuit tin, she was aware of Keir’s presence. He seemed to have a great deal of patience with Aunt Rose, taking enormous care of the miniature furniture. Sophie wanted to giggle as she heard him exclaim, ‘My goodness that’s the most perfect example of a Regency chair I’ve seen for a long time. Anyone would be proud to own that.’
Aunt Rose chuckled. ‘My fingers are not quite so nimble as they used to be, I’m afraid, but I still love doing all this. It keeps me occupied. I miss Tom, and Hugh and Mary so much.’
‘What about your neighbours in the next cottage? What happened to Mr and Mrs Herbert?’ Sophie asked, as she placed the tray carefully on the table.
‘Oh, they moved away to be nearer their daughter and grandchildren. They’ve got a lovely bungalow in Eastbourne. They sent me some photographs with their Christmas card. You should see their garden. It’s an absolute picture, although I expect it’s under snow like here at the moment. They’ve invited me to stay, but I don’t know if I will. Sometimes things seem a bit of an effort these days, you know.’
Keir moved the dolls’ house furniture out of range of the coffee cups.
‘So who lives in Laburnum Cottage now?’ Sophie persisted.
‘Oh, a young couple who work in London during the week. I hardly ever see them, but they’re pleasant enough. They were away all over Christmas and New Year too.’
‘Fiona and Ian Knight,’ Keir supplied. ‘I’ve seen them around the village from time to time at the weekends.’
‘Didn’t Dad tell me that you and your family used to live in Laburnum Cottage at one time, Aunt Rose?’
‘That’s right. I was brought up there and Tom was brought up here. When I got married I moved into this cottage. Tom said it was intended with it being called Rose Cottage. By then, Mary was already married to Hugh and living in Rowanbank. Eventually, when Hugh’s parents died he inherited the house.’
Keir looked thoughtful. ‘I’d no idea you’d lived in Laburnum Cottage, Rose. How interesting.’
‘Well, this was a close knit community once upon a time. It’s a pity things have to change, but there it is. We’ve got a lot of incomers nowadays.’
‘Myself included, eh?’ He laughed at the look of horror on Rose’s face, as she realised what she’d said. ‘Don’t worry, Rose. I know exactly what you meant, but how long does it take before I stop being an incomer, I wonder?’ he added teasingly.
Poppy suddenly appeared through the cat flap and to Sophie’s surprise made a beeline for Keir who tickled her under the chin with his free hand.
‘Hello, old girl. So what do you make of all this white stuff then?’
Much to Sophie’s amusement, Poppy meowed.
‘She definitely doesn’t like it,’ Keir decided. ‘Oh, well, I suppose I’d better be on my way. Schools closed due to the heating breaking down, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with in the way of paperwork.’
‘Sophie’s a teacher too,’ Aunt Rose informed him.
His expressive eyes surveyed Sophie intently. ‘Really, there’s a lot of us about. So I take it you’re in between jobs, being as it’s term-time.’
Sophie nodded, hoping he wasn’t about to ask her any awkward questions.
‘I’m registered with an agency, but I’ve decided to have a few weeks off in between posts.’
‘Good idea. Everyone needs a sabbatical. We must have a chat sometime. Now, if you’ll excuse me. If there’s anything you need, Rose, give me a shout ... By the way, I’ve put a tarpaulin over your car, Sophie.’
Sophie murmured her thanks.
Padding across the floor in his thick socks, he stood by the back door and pulled on his Wellingtons and then realised he’d left the dolls’ house furniture on the table.
Sophie picked up the box and handed it to him, catching her breath as her fingers brushed his and she again experienced a tingling sensation, sending a little shiver along her spine.
‘Stay in the warm,’ he advised her, hand on the door latch and, a moment later, he was gone.
Aunt Rose smiled. ‘He’s such a delightful young man. I’m so pleased he’s moved in to Rowanbank.’
Sophie was suddenly curious to know more about him.
‘Does he live there on his own?’
‘Well, so far as I’m aware, there’s no wife or partner living at Rowanbank, but I don’t stand at the window and monitor his comings and goings,’ the older woman chided gently.
Sophie busied herself at the sink, washing up the coffee cups. It was obvious she wasn’t going to learn much from Aunt Rose.
‘I’m just glad Keir’s taking an interest in putting Rowanbank to rights. The garden was in a bit of a mess, although Erica did get someone in to mow the lawns and tidy it up periodically.’
‘Do you ever hear from Erica?’ Sophie asked, thinking of Uncle Hugh’s young widow, as she dried the cups.
‘No, not even a Christmas card. Of course, Erica and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye on one or two things. Actually, I did hear she’d gone to Spain to stay with friends. She’s welcome. I wouldn’t like the climate or the food!’
Sophie had only met Erica on a couple of occasions, but from what she had gathered, knew her to be a rather hard, ruthless sort of individual. She had cleared Rowanbank of virtually every memory of Aunt Mary, and had made it clear that Aunt Rose was no longer welcome to call, except by invitation. According to Sophie’s parents, Erica had barely spoken to Aunt Rose on the day of Hugh’s funeral.
After lunch, Sophie settled down to helping Aunt Rose with the tiny quilt and pillows for the dolls’ house be
ds. She found it surprisingly satisfying and therapeutic.
‘All we need now is a small girl to play with them,’ Sophie said, studying their handiwork with a sense of pleasure.
‘Yes, that was my one sadness, not having any children, but when my niece, Daphne, comes, she’ll bring her little girl. Do you remember the dolls’ house Uncle Tom made for you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper?’
‘Of course, I do! It was one of my treasured possessions for years and the envy of my schoolfriends. We gave it to the vicar’s children a few years back.’
‘It’s nice to know it went to a good home. Time for a cuppa I reckon — no let me. I’m not an invalid and, hopefully, my ankle will soon be fine.’
‘Do you have to go back to the hospital?’
Aunt Rose shook her head. ‘I’ve just to see the nurse, if this weather ever bucks up sufficiently for me to get to the surgery.’
‘Oh, it will and I’ll take you,’ Sophie said, thinking how pleased she’d be to take a look round the village when they could get out.
Living at Rose Cottage seemed as if it was going to be one perpetual round of coffee and tea, Sophie thought. But, she had to admit, that she’d enjoyed the relaxing afternoon.
Perhaps it was what she needed. Time out to reflect on what to do next with her life.
Chapter Two
It was several days more before the weather showed any sign of improvement and then there was a sudden thaw and the snow turned into slush. Eventually, after a night of rain, Sophie was able to don her Wellingtons and anorak and set off for the village. Aunt Rose told her to take her time and that she’d be perfectly all right until lunchtime.
She was struggling with the tarpaulin on the car when Keir Ellison appeared.
‘Hi, I was intending to give you a ring. If you’re going into the village I could give you a lift in the Range Rover.’
She hesitated fractionally and then took up his offer and scrambled in beside him.
‘So you’re not at work today then?’
‘No, it’s my day off. I’ve got one or two things to do in the village and then I’m spending the afternoon working on my ceramics. I suppose I ought to call into the gift shop to check whether I’ve had any sales.’