widely. “Yes, I rang the bell, I was going to ask if you fancied a cup of tea. But I thought you must have gone out.”
“No . . . no, I was . . .” I paused, unsure what to say, then, in view of my sleep-crumpled face and draggled clothes, decided maybe the truth was best. “I’d fallen asleep actually. Petra’s down for her nap and I must have drifted off. I— Well, I didn’t get a very good night’s rest last night.”
“Oh . . . were the girls playing up?”
“No, no it’s not that. It’s . . .” I paused again, and then screwed up my courage. “It’s those noises I was talking about. From the attic. I got woken up again. Jack, you know those keys you mentioned . . .”
He was nodding.
“Aye, sure, no problem. Want to try it now?”
Why not? The girls were at school, Petra would probably nap for at least an hour longer. It was as good a time as any.
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll have to hunt them out, give me ten minutes and I’ll be with you.”
“Okay,” I said. I felt better already. The chances were, there was a simple explanation for the noise, and we were going to discover it. “I’ll put the kettle on. See you in ten minutes.”
* * *
In the event, he was back sooner than ten, a tangle of rusty keys in one hand and a tool kit in the other, a big bottle of WD-40 sticking out the top. The dogs followed him in, panting excitedly, and I found myself smiling as I watched them sniffing diligently around the kitchen, Hoovering up all the scraps the children had dropped. Then they flopped down on their beds in the utility room as though the whole trip had exhausted them beyond measure.
The kettle had just boiled, and I poured out two mugs and held one out to Jack. He shoved the keys in his back pocket, took it, and grinned.
“Just what I needed. D’you want to finish the teas down here or take them up?”
“Well, Petra’s still asleep actually, so it might be a good idea to crack on before she wakes up.”
“Suits me,” he said. “I’ve been sitting in the car all morning. I’d rather drink on the go.”
We carried everything carefully upstairs, tiptoeing past Petra’s room, although when I peered in she looked like she was out for the count, sprawled like someone dropped from a great height onto a soft mattress.
Up in my bedroom, the curtains were still drawn, the bed rumpled, and my worn clothes were still scattered across the soft wheat-colored carpet. I felt my cheeks flush, and putting down my cup I hastily picked up my bra and knickers from the night before, along with a blouse, and shoved them into the laundry basket in the bathroom, before opening the curtains.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not normally such a slob.”
That was totally untrue. Back at my flat in London the majority of my underwear lived in a pile in the corner of the room, washed only when the clean pairs in my drawer ran out. But here, I’d been trying to hard keep up the image of meticulous neatness. Apparently it was slipping.
Jack, however, didn’t seem bothered and was already trying the door in the corner of the room.
“It’s this one, is it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you’ve tried all the other cupboard keys?”
“Yes, I tried all the ones I could find.”
“Well, let’s see if any of these match.”
The ring he was holding held maybe twenty or thirty keys, all of varying sizes, from a huge black iron one, which I guessed must be the original key to the gate, before the electric lock had been installed, through to small brass ones that looked like they might be for desks or safes.
Jack tried a medium-size one that fit through the hole but rattled around loosely inside, plainly too small for the lock, and then a slightly larger one, which fit but did not turn all the way.
He squirted the can of lubricant inside the lock and tried again, but it still turned only a quarter of the way, and then stopped.
“Hmm . . . it could be jammed, but if it’s the wrong key I don’t want to risk forcing it and breaking the shank in the lock. I’ll try a few more.”
I watched as he tried maybe four or five others of the same size, but they were worse, either not fitting in at all, or