The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,119

at the fence.’

‘Yes, I was visiting a couple of weeks ago.’ I patted the nearest dog which I suspected, by the insistent way he nudged at my hand, was probably the much-maligned Hugo, his tail going like the clappers against my leg. Another small white dog wove in and out of the boys’ legs, its stubby tail wagging with excitement, while the third dog, a dark-grey velvety whippet, watched me with a mournfully sad little face.

‘I’m Toby. I’m eight-and-a half and I can ride a bike and play Minecraft.’

‘Are you Jessica?’

‘Yes, although my friends call me Jess.’

‘We’re your brothers, what shall we call you?’

‘Jess would be just fine.’

‘Good. Now we can have the pancakes,’ said Ben with feeling. ‘I’m starving. We’ve been waiting for ever.’

‘I want sausages,’ added Toby. ‘We’re having brunch today. I like breakfast better because you don’t have to wait so long.’

With that, the two of them turned tail, the dogs darting after them, disappearing in the direction of where the delicious breakfast smells were coming from, almost knocking over Alicia who appeared, wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘And do come in,’ she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes at the sight of me abandoned on the threshold. ‘Honestly, pair of heathens. I’m sorry. Welcome. Come on in. You’d think I’d starved them the way they carry on. They’ve both had a bowl of cereal.’

I looked around the hall as I stepped through the low doorway. The narrow, dark hallway had been brightened up by the careful positioning of a big gilt mirror and a vase of bright cottage flowers on a wrought-iron semi-circular table. ‘This is lovely,’ I said. ‘Have you been here long?’

‘Thank you.’ She moved off, expecting me to follow her along the uneven flagstone floor. ‘We moved in not long after Toby was born. We were in Exeter, but Adrian sold the business, staying on as a consultant, so he works from home and doesn’t need to go to the office more than once a week.’

‘Music publishing,’ I said, plucking the knowledge from last evening’s conversation.

‘That’s right. Sheet music. Still something people need to buy. Thank goodness. It keeps the boys in shoes and ponies.’ She paused and, looking back over her shoulder, said, ‘Sorry, that sounds very flippant. I do appreciate that we’re very lucky.’

‘I think you’ve worked hard, too.’ From what she said the night before, she ran her own successful online haberdashery business, supplying buttons, ribbons and all sorts of interesting bits and bobs to crafters. I’d taken a look on my phone while we were at dinner and been both impressed and inspired. ‘I wish I could knit, or sew, or something.’

‘So do I.’ She laughed. ‘That’s how I got started. I’d see all the lovely bits – buy them with the best of intentions to make something amazing – and then never get around to doing it. Or I started and it didn’t look anything like the pattern. I amassed a huge collection and became more interested in the trimmings.’

I followed her into the kitchen, which was a complete contrast to the front of the house. Several sets of bi-fold doors on two walls opened out onto a cottage garden, overflowing with colour and shape, bringing a flood of light into the unexpectedly contemporary room. ‘Wow. It’s like the Tardis.’

‘I know.’ She gave me a gleeful grin. ‘It’s beyond my wildest dreams. The only thing I didn’t like about the house when we looked at it was the kitchen. Too small, dark and poky.’

‘Not anymore.’

‘I know.’ She hugged herself. ‘I love it. Sorry, I’m sure I should be more modest or something, but it’s just transformed the house and I love it in here.’

I could see why. The kitchen had smart cream units with walnut-topped counters and an array of top-of-the-range appliances. In the centre of the room was a walnut table with three overhead copper-shaded lights, and beyond that a comfy area with two sofas around a big rug with a small wood-burning stove on the back wall.

‘We tend to live in here, all year round.’

‘I can see why.’

My dad rose from the table, where he had something in pieces on a sheet of newspaper. ‘Morning, Jess.’

‘Now you can tidy that lot up and lay the table for breakfast.’

‘Yes, dear,’ said Dad, coming over to give me a shy hug.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked intrigued.

‘I like to buy and repair old radios. Most of them still work, although they don’t pick up