The Antique Love by Helena Fairfax Page B

effect in the estate agent’s brochure.”
    “No,” Kurt agreed with a laugh. “Estate agents don’t usually state the full effect.”
    He led the way out of the master bathroom and onto the landing. Here, the beautiful floorboards were still intact, but the original oak grain was suffocated by too dark a shade of varnish. The space should have been magnificently light and airy since an enormous arched window lit up the stairwell, but the walls were painted a depressing combination of hunter green and cream.
    Penny made her way with care down the first uncarpeted stairs to a bend in the staircase, and stopped to gaze out of the window. Below was a large, rather untidy garden, bordered by a stone wall. Beyond the wall lay all the glory of Richmond Park. A faint mist rose from the park’s grasslands, and a pale yellow sun was attempting to dispel the damp. In the distance, she could see a huddle of deer, their antlers waving regally. It was a bucolic country scene. Hard to believe they were only a few miles from the City.
    “I don’t think anyone could ever tire of this view,” Kurt said.
    He had moved behind her, and when Penny turned her head, she found her eyes more or less level with his chin. His gaze was fixed on the scene below. Trapped as she was between Kurt’s broad chest and the window, there was nowhere for Penny to retreat. She turned her head to examine the view outside, trying to ignore the warmth of his body at her back and pressed herself closer to the glass.
    It had been mostly easy that morning to avoid getting too close. There was plenty of room in the empty, cavernous house for Penny to take a few steps away whenever she needed. But although it was easy to put physical space between them, no matter where Kurt was in the house, Penny had been aware of him. He said very little, his movements slow and self-contained, and yet he possessed a solid presence which filled the very air around her. Alone in the empty house, Penny was finally forced to recognise the strength of her physical response to him.
    She concentrated on the scene below, watching the mist weave and settle over the beech trees. She had thought Kurt, too, was lost in the view, but when she stirred beside him, lifting a hand to rest against the window-frame, he surprised her by responding instantly.
    “Guess you must be tired.” He touched her shoulder. “Seems like you’ve written a whole novel this morning.”
    * * * *
    Kurt had found Penny’s copious note-taking amusing as she darted round the house. He told her she was like a little bird, eager to see everything. Now she lifted her face to his with a smile.
    “I’ve got loads of ideas running through my head. But it’s been fun. I’ve loved it.”
    “Yeah, it’s been fun.” He looked down into her smiling face, surprised at how much fun it had actually been. He hadn’t been looking forward to the drudgery of having to fit out the interior of his new house, but since spending the morning in Penny’s company, he’d found just how enjoyable it could be.
    In every room, there had been something for her to enthuse about. She drew his attention to little details he would have never noticed, making the empty, echoing place come alive. Her descriptions were so vivid, he could swear in Penny’s mind the former Victorian owners were almost real. When they first arrived in front of the arched stone doorway, she mentioned it was part of an architectural style called Gothic Revival. As proof she grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him round to the side of the building to show him a gargoyle he’d never noticed, half-hidden as it was by wisteria. She even enthused later about a filthy old oven she’d discovered in the cellar, telling him it was a quality cast iron Edwardian range which, with time and attention, could be restored to its previous glory. He’d teased her by telling her he thought it was ready for the trash, but she was outraged. She brought a freshness to every