the window. Yes, he too had the ubiquitous view of the river; his hedge had been trimmed low so he could just see the moorings below the trees. She could see his boat and the
Lady Grace
tugging gently at their buoys, swinging with the tide. The fire was unlit and she could see an old rubbed leather Gladstone bag on the floor just inside the door. ‘I am sorry. Were you just going out?’
‘I just came back.’ He folded his arms. ‘How can I help you?’ There was no smile to alleviate the slightly irritated tone and she felt an instant reciprocal bristling of irritation.
‘I have come at an inconvenient moment. I’ll come again when it is a better time.’
‘I doubt there will be a better time,’ he said. ‘Please, spit it out. Whatever you came to say was presumably important, or are you merely here to pass the time of day?’
She reined in a flash of temper. Had she given him a reason to be so rude? ‘I wanted to ask you about the ghosts, if you must know. The house is getting to me. But I will phone first next time and make an appointment.’
‘What makes you think I know anything about them, beyond the fact that they scared your predecessors away? At least, they scared her; he was an insensitive clod who wouldn’t have noticed if the entire angelic host had descended on his house.’
She found herself biting back a smile. ‘I wasn’t actually here to talk about the barn. Rosemary said you had a book with a picture of the ship.’
He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment and she saw the tension in his jawline. It accentuated the scars slightly. ‘You’ve seen the ship?’
She nodded. ‘I think so. Twice.’
‘Ah.’
He continued to study her face for several seconds, then he turned towards the bookshelves which lined the wall opposite the window. In front of them there was a long shabby sofa, covered by an old tartan rug. The room was nice, Zoë decided in the silence that ensued. Scented with an all-pervasive smell of woodsmoke, it was furnished with some decent antiques, and some attractive paintings, both modern and old. It felt lived in and comfortable and far more homely than the huge space which they called the great room at home.
He stood in front of the shelves, his eyes ranging left to right; his books were not arranged in order then. She watched silently, folding her arms as she shifted her weight, aware that she was not going to be asked to sit down. ‘Here,’ he said at last. He pulled out a small volume with a rubbed red cloth cover. ‘It’s in here.’ He handed it to her. ‘I’m in no hurry to have it back, but look after it. I will want it eventually.’
‘Thank you.’ Taking it she moved towards the door. She reached out for the latch, then she turned. ‘Have you seen it?’
‘The ship? Yes.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘Mean?’
‘Yes. Is it a sign of some sort?’
‘That one is barking mad, for instance?’
‘No, that there is something wrong. Is it a portent of evil?’
He smiled. ‘Who knows? Read the book.’ He moved towards her and reached past her for the door, pulling it open and waiting for her to leave. ‘Are you a religious woman, Zoë Lloyd?’ he said as she stepped out into the porch.
‘No.’
‘So evil is for you a philosophical concept rather than a religious one?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘And what you really meant to say is, is it a sign of bad luck? Impending doom.’
‘I meant what I said,’ she retorted coldly. ‘Thank you for the book. I shall take care of it.’
She was tempted to hurl it at him.
Back at home, she made her way through the kitchen into the living area which she and Ken had by common consent come to call the great room. It had seemed appropriate in every sense on the first day they moved in and the term had stuck. She went to stand by the huge window, staring out towards the river. It was deserted, the sunlight glittering on the water. From here all she could see of the two boats were their masts.
Lady Grace
tugging gently at their buoys, swinging with the tide. The fire was unlit and she could see an old rubbed leather Gladstone bag on the floor just inside the door. ‘I am sorry. Were you just going out?’
‘I just came back.’ He folded his arms. ‘How can I help you?’ There was no smile to alleviate the slightly irritated tone and she felt an instant reciprocal bristling of irritation.
‘I have come at an inconvenient moment. I’ll come again when it is a better time.’
‘I doubt there will be a better time,’ he said. ‘Please, spit it out. Whatever you came to say was presumably important, or are you merely here to pass the time of day?’
She reined in a flash of temper. Had she given him a reason to be so rude? ‘I wanted to ask you about the ghosts, if you must know. The house is getting to me. But I will phone first next time and make an appointment.’
‘What makes you think I know anything about them, beyond the fact that they scared your predecessors away? At least, they scared her; he was an insensitive clod who wouldn’t have noticed if the entire angelic host had descended on his house.’
She found herself biting back a smile. ‘I wasn’t actually here to talk about the barn. Rosemary said you had a book with a picture of the ship.’
He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment and she saw the tension in his jawline. It accentuated the scars slightly. ‘You’ve seen the ship?’
She nodded. ‘I think so. Twice.’
‘Ah.’
He continued to study her face for several seconds, then he turned towards the bookshelves which lined the wall opposite the window. In front of them there was a long shabby sofa, covered by an old tartan rug. The room was nice, Zoë decided in the silence that ensued. Scented with an all-pervasive smell of woodsmoke, it was furnished with some decent antiques, and some attractive paintings, both modern and old. It felt lived in and comfortable and far more homely than the huge space which they called the great room at home.
He stood in front of the shelves, his eyes ranging left to right; his books were not arranged in order then. She watched silently, folding her arms as she shifted her weight, aware that she was not going to be asked to sit down. ‘Here,’ he said at last. He pulled out a small volume with a rubbed red cloth cover. ‘It’s in here.’ He handed it to her. ‘I’m in no hurry to have it back, but look after it. I will want it eventually.’
‘Thank you.’ Taking it she moved towards the door. She reached out for the latch, then she turned. ‘Have you seen it?’
‘The ship? Yes.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘Mean?’
‘Yes. Is it a sign of some sort?’
‘That one is barking mad, for instance?’
‘No, that there is something wrong. Is it a portent of evil?’
He smiled. ‘Who knows? Read the book.’ He moved towards her and reached past her for the door, pulling it open and waiting for her to leave. ‘Are you a religious woman, Zoë Lloyd?’ he said as she stepped out into the porch.
‘No.’
‘So evil is for you a philosophical concept rather than a religious one?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘And what you really meant to say is, is it a sign of bad luck? Impending doom.’
‘I meant what I said,’ she retorted coldly. ‘Thank you for the book. I shall take care of it.’
She was tempted to hurl it at him.
Back at home, she made her way through the kitchen into the living area which she and Ken had by common consent come to call the great room. It had seemed appropriate in every sense on the first day they moved in and the term had stuck. She went to stand by the huge window, staring out towards the river. It was deserted, the sunlight glittering on the water. From here all she could see of the two boats were their masts.
Similar Books
