They were in the playroom, huddled in a corner, whispering something, but both heads turned when I clapped my hands.
“Right! Come on, girls, we’re going to go for a picnic. We can take sandwiches, crisps, rice cakes . . .”
I had more than half expected them to refuse, but to my surprise Maddie got up, dusting down her leggings.
“Where are we going?”
“Just the grounds. Will you show me around? I heard from Jack you have a secret den.” That was completely untrue—he hadn’t said anything at all, but I’d never met a child who didn’t have some kind of hidey-hole or cache.
“You can’t see our den,” Ellie said instantly. “It’s secret. I mean—” She stopped at a glaring, furious look from Maddie. “I mean, we don’t have one,” she added miserably.
“Oh, what a shame,” I said breezily. “Well, never mind, I’m sure there’s lots of other interesting places. Put your Wellies on. I’m going to put Petra in the pushchair so she doesn’t wander off, but then let’s set off. You can show me all the best picnic spots.”
“Okay,” Maddie said. Her voice was calm and level, even a little triumphant, and I found myself glancing at her suspiciously.
Even with Maddie’s cooperation, it took a surprisingly long time to make the picnic and get everyone out of the house, but at last we were done and heading off round the back of the house, along a bumpy pebbled path that crested a small hill and then led down the other side. The views from this side of the grounds were just as spectacular, but, if anything, even bleaker. Instead of the little crofts and small villages scattered between us and the distant mountains, here there was nothing but rolling forest. In the far distance some kind of bird of prey circled lazily over the trees, looking for its kill.
We wound our way through a rather overgrown vegetable garden, where Maddie helpfully showed me the raspberry canes and herb beds, and past a fountain, full of a slightly brackish scum. It was not working, and the statue on top was cracked and gray with lichen, and it occurred to me then what a strange contrast the house made with this rather wild, unkempt garden. I would have expected outdoor seating areas and decking and elaborate planting schemes, not this slightly sad, crumbling neglect. Perhaps Sandra wasn’t an outdoor person? Or maybe they had spent so long working on the house, they hadn’t had time to tend to the grounds yet.
There was a set of swings tucked behind a dilapidated kitchen greenhouse, and Ellie and Maddie leapt on them and began competing to go higher. For a moment I just stood and watched them, and then something in my pocket gave a buzzing, jangling leap, and I realized my phone was ringing.
When I pulled it out, my heart gave a funny little jolt as I read the caller ID. It was the last person I’d been expecting, and I had to take a deep breath before I swiped the screen to accept the call.
“Hello?”
“Heeeeey!” she shrieked, her familiar voice so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “It’s me, Rowan! How are you? Oh my God, long time no speak!”
“I’m good! Where are you? This must be costing you a fortune.”
“It is. I’m in a commune in India. Mate, it’s amazing here. And sooo cheap! You should totally resign and come and join me.”
“I—I did resign,” I said, with a slightly awkward laugh. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“What?”
I held the phone away from my ear again. It had been so long since we’d had an actual phone conversation, I’d forgotten how loud she could be.
“Yup,” I said, still holding the phone a few inches from my ear. “Handed my notice in at Little Nippers. I left a few days ago. The look on Janine’s face when I told her she could stick her stupid job was almost worth all the hours there.”
“I bet. God, she was such a cow. I still can’t believe Val didn’t give you that job when I left.”
“Me too. Listen, I meant to call you, I wanted to tell you—I’ve moved out of the flat.”
“What?” The line was crackly, her voice echoing across the long miles from India. “I didn’t hear you. I thought you said you’d left the flat.”
“Yeah, I did. The post I’ve taken up, it’s a residential one. But listen, don’t worry, I’m still paying