Julie pressed her foot to the bottom step then withdrew it. ‘It’s weird,’ she whispered. ‘Him not wanting to see anyone. I’d hate that.’
‘He has his own reasons for demanding his privacy,’ Sophy replied. ‘He’s been very ill and is still recuperating. We must respect his wishes at all times. Come on, let’s check out the downstairs rooms. We have two bedrooms. Decide which one you want to take and I’ll use the other one.’
‘Does that mean I’ll have to sleep with Julie?’ Isobel sounded outraged.
‘The rooms are large. There’s plenty of space for the two of you.’
‘Three of us,’ warned Julie. ‘Cordelia also needs her own space.’
Sophy sighed as she opened the door of the larger room. The dark, cumbersome furniture was such a stark contrast to their bedrooms in Park View Villas and Isobel, staring in horror at a four-poster bed, its canopy speckled with blue mould, shuddered.
‘That’s disgusting.’ Her finger shook as she pointed at the bed. ‘No way will I sleep in that… that thing.’
‘It’ll have to do for now,’ Sophy replied. ‘I promise I’ll organise separate beds once we’ve settled down.’
‘Settled down—’ Isobel began but Sophy was already entering another room. The high ceiling was discoloured yet faint, intricately designed mouldings of musical instruments and musicians were still discernible on the cornicing. Sophy imagined the Hyland family gathered there in the evenings to play music but all that remained of its former purpose was an out-of-tune grand piano and an elaborate piano stool. The overgrown courtyard was visible through two long windows at either end of the music room. The frames of their six-over-six sashes were flaking and encrusted with mould.
‘Cordelia thinks this house is really eerie.’ Julie opened the lid of the piano and struck a few chords. She winced at the discordant notes and carefully closed the lid. ‘But she’ll get to like it soon.’
‘How do you feel about your new home?’ Sophy asked.
‘It’s… okay. Kind of nice, I guess?’
‘Nice.’ Isobel rolled her eyes. ‘It’s only nice if you like living in hell. You can’t possibly expect us to live here, Mum. You can’t.’ Her truculence had disappeared and she sounded on the verge of tears.
‘We made a promise to be brave and share this new adventure,’ said Sophy. Understanding her daughter’s distress was not the same as acknowledging it. To do so would undermine her composure. What purpose would it serve if she wept and huddled into a mass of anxiety? Her daughters needed to see her strength, not the weakness that threatened to overwhelm her at times.
Once past the staircase the hall narrowed into a corridor that led them down three steps into a spacious kitchen. A long, wooden table ran along the centre of the room and an old-fashion dresser filled with crockery stood against one wall. The fridge, washing machine and dishwasher were new but a wood-burning stove seemed to be her only means of cooking. A dusty space with wires hanging from the wall showed where the original cooker had stood. She spotted a note on the table and read it. Charlie Bracken apologised for the delay in the delivery of the cooker and hoped she could manage with the stove until it arrived.
Jack Hyland had mentioned Charlie in his correspondence with her and referred to him as his friend. He had been asked to organise the delivery of electrical goods and had succeeded in doing so except for one of the most important items. After they had carried in their luggage and chosen their bedrooms – because of its size, the girls agreed to sleep in the four poster bed – they returned to the kitchen to eat.
‘The stove shouldn’t be too difficult to light…’ Sophy pointed resolutely to a stack of old newspapers on the floor. ‘Roll the pages up as tight as sticks and we’ll have a fire going in no time at all.’
The girls did as they were told. As the spirals of paper piled up and began to burn, she added logs from a basket. The fire went out immediately. She set more newspapers alight and shrieked when flames lashed across her fingers. As she splashed cold water over her hands, she realised that smoke was billowing from the chimney and filling the kitchen. She coughed and ushered the girls outside into the backyard.
The setting sun cast an eerie glow over the blackened remains of the burned-out stables that had almost killed Jack Hyland. They reminded Sophy of pyramids; the