what she could see: a cloakroom, a WC, a sitting room, a study . . . All of them with whitewashed walls and rugged floors, sparsely decorated with dark country furniture and fringed table lamps.
They climbed a narrow, creaky staircase that fed off to the right two-thirds of the way down the building, turning back on itself as it wended up to the first floor. Agnetha led them left and into a large bedroom at the back. It had two windows, looking down – she imagined – towards the water. A metal bedstead was draped with old linen sheets and a crocheted blanket, deep fluffy pillows that Lee could tell would balloon around their heads when they lay down. An almost-black chest of drawers had a blue-and-white jug and bowl on the top, red-and-blue-striped ticking curtains hanging from a metal pole. A large sheepskin rug was deeply piled and softer underfoot. Some camel-coloured towels were folded neatly at the end of the bed and on the far side of the room was a small blackboard on an easel, some chalks, and a yellow-painted wooden toy chest.
‘What a beautiful room,’ Lee said warmly. She could feel the history of this house; it was like getting into a bed moments after another had left it, still warm with memories.
Sam walked to the far end of the room and opened up the yellow chest. ‘What have we got in here then, Jasper? Anything you think you’ll like to play with?’
Jasper scampered across the floor, his footsteps no doubt reverberating through the house and making Evert downstairs scowl as the floorboards rattled. Lee watched him peer in and then reach down for something.
‘He spent at least an hour this afternoon up in the attic, finding all these old toys, choosing the right ones, cleaning them . . .’ Aggie whispered, as they both watched.
Lee blinked, feeling another complicated rush of feelings – excitement and happiness, but also panic . . . Sam was running ahead and she couldn’t let Jasper get too attached. She had to make sure there was some sort of boundary, a buffer zone for his heart. If anyone was going to end up with a broken heart, it had to be her and not her son. But as she watched Jasper hold up a wooden plane, spinning the propeller whilst Sam made Spitfire noises, she knew she might already be too late for buffer zones.
‘The bathroom is just here,’ Aggie said, leading her back to the door and pointing to the next room down the hall. ‘It isn’t an en-suite, I’m afraid, we don’t have much call for that here, but only you two and Sam will use it. We have another one we use at our end down there.’
Lee wondered where Sam’s room was. Not that there would be any corridor-creeping going on tonight; between her son and his parents, they were well and truly snookered.
She saw a large framed photograph on the wall opposite, of a man skating. He was in that familiar hunched pose, body bent forward, hands clasped behind his back. The colours were faded but still bright.
‘Is that your husband?’ she asked, peering at it more closely.
‘Yes, 1997, the year he competed. He came second.’
‘Second? It’s an incredible achievement.’
Aggie made a funny low sound. ‘To be honest, it was a curse in many ways, coming so close. It might have been better if he’d come last: at least then he wouldn’t have tortured himself with all the If Onlys. For years afterwards, he told himself he’d get it at the next race, he’d prove himself then. He would train and train and train, no matter the weather. But of course, there never was another race. Not until now – and now he’s too old.’
Lee bit her lip, remembering Pabe’s words – a bad-tempered loser – and now well able to imagine the hardening effect on the abrasive man downstairs, his bitterness to have been denied the chance to rewrite history, fulfil his destiny. Lee couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Aggie, being married to him as his ambition and desperation finally ceded to the sour acceptance that there would not be a next time. All his efforts were in vain. He’d had one chance and he’d blown it.
‘He must be so pleased then that Sam’s got an opportunity to compete as well?’ she said instead, trying to find a positive.
‘Sam?’ Aggie looked blank for a moment, as though her mind had momentarily