House of Echoes by Barbara Erskine

kitchen. The room had in many ways not changed at all since the first day they had seen it. The range was still there, and to their joy had been found to be fully functional after an overhaul; the plates and cups on the dresser had been washed and were sparkling. The heavy table, decorated now with a scarlet poinsettia, a gift from John Cornish, had been scrubbed almost white by Joss’s mother, Alice. The crates of their own china and glass stood piled along the wall. Tom’s high chair was pulled up at the head of the table.
    Alice was bending over the pan on the stove, stirring something which smelled extremely appetising as they walked in.
    ‘Removal men gone?’ Her husband, Joe, was unwrapping saucepans with his small grandson’s help, making a huge pile of newspaper in the middle of the room.
    ‘Gone at last, thank God.’ Luke threw himself down in one of the chairs. ‘That smells wonderful, Alice.’
    His mother-in-law smiled. ‘You know, I’m really enjoying cooking on this range. I think I’m getting the hang of it at last. This is real cooking!’ The range had been one of the urgent things they had had repaired before the move. She glanced at Joss. ‘Why don’t we all have a glass of wine, while I finish this. Let Lyn take Tom, Joe. She can give him his tea.’ Comfortably she stood away from the stove, wiping her hands on the front of her apron.
    There were two bottles of wine in a Sainsbury’s carrier on the table and a six pack of beer. ‘Corkscrew?’ Joss extricated thebottles and stood them in line with the poinsettia. After the weeks of worry and packing and organising the move she was so exhausted she could hardly stand.
    ‘On my boy scout knife.’ Luke grinned at her. ‘Do you remember the removal foreman telling us: “Leave out the kettle and the corkscrew or you’ll never find them again after.”’ He fished around in the pocket of his jacket and produced a corkscrew which had obviously been nowhere near a boy scout in its life. ‘Beer for you, Joe? And I think I’ll join you. It’s thirsty work, moving house!’
    Sitting at the table, watching her sister cut up an apple and put the pieces in front of Tom Joss felt a sudden wave of total contentment. It would probably take them years to sort out the house; months to unpack, but at least they were here properly now. No more London; no more office for Luke as he tried to sort out the last-minute details of his former life. And here they had enough room to put up Joe and Alice and Lyn and anyone else who wanted to come and stay for as long as they wanted.
    Helping herself to a glass Alice sat down next to her. ‘I’ll leave that to simmer for a couple of hours. Then we can eat. You look done in, love.’ She put her hand over Joss’s.
    ‘Done in, but happy.’ Joss smiled. ‘It’s going to work. I know it is.’
    ‘Course it is.’ Joe had gone back to pushing the crumpled newspaper into a black plastic sack, considerably hampered by Tom who was pulling out the pieces as fast as Joe was putting them in, and tossing them around the room. ‘You’re all going to be very happy here.’ He reached for his beer. ‘So, let’s drink a toast. To Belheddon Hall and all who sail in her!’
    The sound of the back doorbell was almost drowned by their raised voices. It was Luke who, with a groan, levered himself to his feet and went to answer it.
    They had met Janet Goodyear several times since she had introduced herself on their first visit to the house almost three months before and Joss was beginning to like her more and more. Her first impression of an interfering and nosy neighbour had been replaced by one of a good-hearted and genuinely kind, if not always tactful, woman, who, far from being pushy was in fact diffident about intruding on her new neighbours. In her basket this time was a bottle of Scotch (‘For emergencies, but I can see you’ve thought of the alcohol bit already’,) and, what turned outto be a corn dolly.