by Jenny Lane
She had been throwing herself into her work to keep herself occupied and had socialised very little since she and Brett had split up. She didn’t want time to think.
As if aware of what was going through Sophie’s mind, Aunt Rose said, ‘Once we’ve sorted out dinner, I think I’ll finish off one or two pieces of dolls’ house furniture. Who knows, you might like to help me.’
It wasn’t quite what Sophie had in mind, but she was prepared to give it a go. Despite Aunt Rose’s protests, after Sophie had finished clearing up in the kitchen and making the beds, she dusted round.
‘Now I’m here Mrs Briggs will expect to be back at Rowanbank and anyway, I doubt if she’ll be able to get here for a day or two.’
‘Oh, I don’t like the thought of you doing all this, but it’s lovely having a young face around the place. Now, I think we’d better have those lamb chops for lunch — is that OK with you?’
They discussed the rest of the menu and then Sophie peeled the potatoes and prepared the carrots. She wasn’t heavily into cooking, but didn’t mind helping out. Her mother had sent her with a cherry cake and a bacon joint, along with a several other provisions.
‘So thoughtful, but then Anne always was a caring person and it’s obvious you take after her, dear,’ Rose commented.
Sophie coloured. ‘I’m afraid I’m not such a good cook as my mother, but I have looked after myself for a few years. Anyway, just you let me know what needs doing. You must rest that ankle as much as possible and, now that I’m here, you can do just that.’
‘Oh, but I need to keep myself active or I’ll get stiff. Arthritis, you know. Anyway, you’ve made a good job of tidying the kitchen and my room so, if you care to get me the box from the cupboard under the stairs I’ll make a start on the furniture.’
Sophie found the required box and all the other items that Aunt Rose needed for her morning’s work. Aunt Rose reached for her spectacles.
Sophie perched on the edge of a kitchen stool and gazed transfixed at the array of miniature furniture Aunt Rose placed on the table. Besides tiny tables and chairs, there were Welsh dressers and bookcases and even a grand piano.
‘Do you make them all yourself, Aunt Rose?’
Rose shook her head. ‘It was Tom who used to be so clever at fashioning and staining them. Patience of a saint he had. Nowadays, I buy in kits, but I add individual touches — quilts, curtains, tiny cushions — all those are made by my fair hands. Sometimes I make a batch of dolls as well. I still get orders from time to time, you see.’
Sophie was fascinated, just as she had been when she’d been a child and Rose’s husband, Tom, had allowed her into his workshop. He had been a carpenter by trade and had produced the furniture as a side-line. It had been Rose’s brainchild.
Much as Sophie would have loved to linger, she made her excuses and went upstairs to tidy her own room and clean the bathroom.
When she came down again, Keir was sitting at the kitchen table helping Aunt Rose to pack some of the tiny items of dolls’ house furniture in tissue paper.
‘We wondered where you were — good job the back door was on the latch or Rose would have had to get up to let me in.’
Sophie, normally an even tempered person, bit back a sharp retort.
Rose smiled at her, oblivious of any tension. ‘Why don’t you put the kettle on, Sophie? We can have an early elevenses.’
All the time Sophie assembled the coffee things on a tea tray and fetched the biscuit tin, she was aware of Keir’s presence. He seemed to have a great deal of patience with Aunt Rose, taking enormous care of the miniature furniture. Sophie wanted to giggle as she heard him exclaim, ‘My goodness that’s the most perfect example of a Regency chair I’ve seen for a long time. Anyone would be proud to own that.’
Aunt Rose chuckled. ‘My fingers are not quite so nimble as they used to be, I’m afraid, but I still love doing all this. It keeps me occupied. I miss Tom, and Hugh and Mary so much.’
‘What about your neighbours in the next cottage? What happened to Mr and Mrs Herbert?’ Sophie asked, as she placed the tray carefully on the table.
‘Oh, they moved away to be nearer their daughter and grandchildren. They’ve got a lovely bungalow in Eastbourne. They sent me some photographs with their Christmas card. You should see their garden. It’s an absolute picture, although I expect it’s under snow like here at the moment. They’ve invited me to stay, but I don’t know if I will. Sometimes things seem a bit of an effort these days, you know.’
Keir moved the dolls’ house furniture out of range of the coffee cups.
‘So who lives in Laburnum Cottage now?’ Sophie persisted.
‘Oh, a young couple who work in London during the week. I hardly ever see them, but they’re pleasant enough. They were away all over Christmas and New Year too.’
‘Fiona and Ian Knight,’ Keir supplied. ‘I’ve seen them around the village from time to time at the weekends.’
‘Didn’t Dad tell me that you and your family used to live in Laburnum Cottage at one time, Aunt Rose?’
‘That’s right. I was brought up there and Tom was brought up here. When I got married I moved into this cottage. Tom said it was intended with it being called Rose Cottage. By then, Mary was already married to Hugh and living in Rowanbank. Eventually, when Hugh’s parents died he inherited the house.’
Keir looked thoughtful. ‘I’d no idea you’d lived in Laburnum Cottage, Rose. How interesting.’
‘Well, this was a close knit community once upon a time. It’s a pity things have to change, but there it is. We’ve got a lot of incomers nowadays.’
‘Myself included, eh?’ He laughed at the look of horror on Rose’s face, as she realised what she’d said. ‘Don’t worry, Rose. I know exactly what you meant, but how long does it take before I stop being an incomer, I wonder?’ he added teasingly.
Poppy suddenly appeared through the cat flap and to Sophie’s surprise made a beeline for Keir who tickled her under the chin with his free hand.
‘Hello, old girl. So what do you make of all this white stuff then?’
Much to Sophie’s amusement, Poppy meowed.
‘She definitely doesn’t like it,’ Keir decided. ‘Oh, well, I suppose I’d better be on my way. Schools closed due to the heating breaking down, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with in the way of paperwork.’
‘Sophie’s a teacher too,’ Aunt Rose informed him.
His expressive eyes surveyed Sophie intently. ‘Really, there’s a lot of us about. So I take it you’re in between jobs, being as it’s term-time.’
Sophie nodded, hoping he wasn’t about to ask her any awkward questions.
‘I’m registered with an agency, but I’ve decided to have a few weeks off in between posts.’
‘Good idea. Everyone needs a sabbatical. We must have a chat sometime. Now, if you’ll excuse me. If there’s anything you need, Rose, give me a shout ... By the way, I’ve put a tarpaulin over your car, Sophie.’
Sophie murmured her thanks.
Padding across the floor in his thick socks, he stood by the back door and pulled on his Wellingtons and then realised he’d left the dolls’ house furniture on the table.
Sophie picked up the box and handed it to him, catching her breath as her fingers brushed his and she again experienced a tingling sensation, sending a little shiver along her spine.
‘Stay in the warm,’ he advised her, hand on the door latch and, a moment later, he was gone.
Aunt Rose smiled. ‘He’s such a delightful young man. I’m so pleased he’s moved in to Rowanbank.’
Sophie was suddenly curious to know more about him.
‘Does he live there on his own?’
‘Well, so far as I’m aware, there’s no wife or partner living at Rowanbank, but I don’t stand at the window and monitor his comings and goings,’ the older woman chided gently.
Sophie busied herself at the sink, washing up the coffee cups. It was obvious she wasn’t going to
learn much from Aunt Rose.
‘I’m just glad Keir’s taking an interest in putting Rowanbank to rights. The garden was in a bit of a mess, although Erica did get someone in to mow the lawns and tidy it up periodically.’
‘Do you ever hear from Erica?’ Sophie asked, thinking of Uncle Hugh’s young widow, as she dried the cups.
‘No, not even a Christmas card. Of course, Erica and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye on one or two things. Actually, I did hear she’d gone to Spain to stay with friends. She’s welcome. I wouldn’t like the climate or the food!’
Sophie had only met Erica on a couple of occasions, but from what she had gathered, knew her to be a rather hard, ruthless sort of individual. She had cleared Rowanbank of virtually every memory of Aunt Mary, and had made it clear that Aunt Rose was no longer welcome to call, except by invitation. According to Sophie’s parents, Erica had barely spoken to Aunt Rose on the day of Hugh’s funeral.
After lunch, Sophie settled down to helping Aunt Rose with the tiny quilt and pillows for the dolls’ house beds. She found it surprisingly satisfying and therapeutic.
‘All we need now is a small girl to play with them,’ Sophie said, studying their handiwork with a sense of pleasure.
‘Yes, that was my one sadness, not having any children, but when my niece, Daphne, comes, she’ll bring her little girl. Do you remember the dolls’ house Uncle Tom made for you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper?’
‘Of course, I do! It was one of my treasured possessions for years and the envy of my schoolfriends. We gave it to the vicar’s children a few years back.’
‘It’s nice to know it went to a good home. Time for a cuppa I reckon — no let me. I’m not an invalid and, hopefully, my ankle will soon be fine.’
‘Do you have to go back to the hospital?’
Aunt Rose shook her head. ‘I’ve just to see the nurse, if this weather ever bucks up sufficiently for me to get to the surgery.’
‘Oh, it will and I’ll take you,’ Sophie said, thinking how pleased she’d be to take a look round the village when they could get out.
Living at Rose Cottage seemed as if it was going to be one perpetual round of coffee and tea, Sophie thought. But, she had to admit, that she’d enjoyed the relaxing afternoon.
Perhaps it was what she needed. Time out to reflect on what to do next with her life.
Chapter Two
It was several days more before the weather showed any sign of improvement and then there was a sudden thaw and the snow turned into slush. Eventually, after a night of rain, Sophie was able to don her Wellingtons and anorak and set off for the village. Aunt Rose told her to take her time and that she’d be perfectly all right until lunchtime.
She was struggling with the tarpaulin on the car when Keir Ellison appeared.
‘Hi, I was intending to give you a ring. If you’re going into the village I could give you a lift in the Range Rover.’
She hesitated fractionally and then took up his offer and scrambled in beside him.
‘So you’re not at work today then?’
‘No, it’s my day off. I’ve got one or two things to do in the village and then I’m spending the afternoon working on my ceramics. I suppose I ought to call into the gift shop to check whether I’ve had any sales.’
‘You don’t sound very hopeful.’
He shrugged. ‘Firstly, it’s the wrong time of the year and, secondly, the gift shop is looking tired these days and doesn’t attract many customers. Of course, Peggy Munn, who runs it, must be over eighty. I can’t imagine how the place pays.’
‘Are you telling me Mrs Munn still works there? Her late husband, Ron, was a great friend of my Uncle Hugh’s.’
‘Yes, I’ve gathered Ron was quite a character. Look, why don’t you come with me? Then you can find out if Rose has sold anything.’
‘OK, just to say hello. I’ve got a list of things to do, and I’ve promised to be back around lunch time, although it’s all prepared.’
***
Peggy Munn’s face creased into a smile as they entered the shop.
‘Well, what a surprise! It’s Sophie Burnett, isn’t it? Rose told me on the phone you were staying with her. It’s lovely to see you again — and Mr Ellison too. So what can I do for the pair of you?’
Sophie crossed to the counter and took Peggy’s gnarled hand.
‘Oh, I’ve just called in to say hello, and to see if there’ve been any sales for Aunt Rose recently.’
‘Likewise, for myself,’ Keir added, ‘although I should think it’s highly improbable with all this bad weather.’
Peggy bent down and took a couple of worn notebooks from a shelf under the counter. She thumbed through the top one and shook her head, white curls bobbing, and then picked up the second.
‘I’m sorry, but there’s been nothing since the middle of last week, unless wait a minute, I seem to remember ...’
Peggy disappeared beneath the counter again, and Sophie and Keir exchanged amused glances. This time she emerged holding some dog-eared scraps of paper.
‘My son stood in for me for a couple of hours and wrote everything on here.’
They waited patiently as she scrutinised the writing. ‘Oh my goodness. He’s got such appalling handwriting!’
She passed the paper across to Keir and together he and Sophie managed to decipher the scrawl, deciding that Keir had sold a vase and two pendants whilst Aunt Rose had sold three sets of dolls’ house furniture.
Another customer entered the shop just then and Sophie took the opportunity to take a look round. It was like an Aladdin’s cave, she decided, brimming with knick-knacks ranging from tiny pottery animals, to select pieces of china and glass for the more discerning eye. There was, however, a slight air of neglect these days. Sophie supposed the elderly lady couldn’t keep abreast of all that was needed.
Keir’s ceramics and Aunt Rose’s dolls’ house furniture were displayed in a glass cabinet. Sophie loved the vibrant colours of Keir’s work — rich purple and turquoise, apple green and cerise.
As they left the shop, Sophie carefully stowed the envelope containing Aunt Rose’s cash in her handbag and Keir placed his in his wallet.
‘There’s something I’d like to run past you. I could do with a coffee and I’m sure you could too, so shall we meet back here in around twenty minutes?’
Sophie agreed, feeling a little thrill of pleasure that he’d asked her to join him, but wondering what on earth he could want to discuss with her.
Having completed her tasks, she arrived back at the gift shop just as Keir came round the comer. Taking her arm, he steered her into a small cafe which was at the side of a bakers. It was warm and welcoming and there was a wonderful aroma of spicy buns and newly baked bread.
‘Sit yourself down. I’ll get these,’ he told her, and she found a corner table and looked about her at the bright walls adorned with flower prints and the oak beams and the original fireplace which now sported a gas fire with leaping flames. She didn’t remember there being a teashop here before.
Sophie watched Keir as he stood chatting for a moment to the girl at the counter thinking again what an attractive man he was. He’d got a charming personality too and obviously fitted well into the village community.
He’d certainly won Aunt Rose’s vote and it was comforting to know that she had such a caring neighbour living nearby.
Keir came across with the coffee and a couple of the spicy buns. She reached for her purse, but he waived the offer aside.
‘No, this is on me. As I’ve said, I want to sound you out about something.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked curiously, reaching for a napkin.
‘What do you make of the gift shop?’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘How do you mean — what do I make of it? It’s roughly the same as it’s always been perhaps a little more cluttered and a little dustier.’
He nodded. ‘Exactly what other people have said. Don’t you think it could do w
ith a bit of a makeover?’
Sophie frowned. ‘But then it wouldn’t be the same, would it? And that’s what people like — continuity. Anyway, I’m not sure if Peggy Munn could afford it.’
‘Mmm, but at the moment it seems more like the old curiosity shop some of that stuff must have been knocking around for decades.’
‘But if that’s what keeps Mrs Munn busy and happy, why should it matter to us?’ Sophie asked sharply.
‘That’s not really any way to run a business, is it?’ he chided gently.
‘Oh, I see, you’re thinking of how it affects you and your work, is that it?’ He met her grey eyes steadily with his own brown ones — the colour of sherry, she decided again.
‘Well, obviously I’ve got a vested interest and so has Rose, together with a few other people in the area. Fortunately, the gift shop’s not my only outlet, but if it were, I’d be very concerned.’
‘But if Mrs Munn is good enough to display your goods then surely you shouldn’t complain,’ she said feeling a little prickle of anger rising in her as she sprang to the defence of the elderly lady.
Keir had the grace to bow his head, but not before she’d seen the twinkle in his eyes.
‘Have I said something amusing?’ she demanded, stirring her coffee vigorously.
‘Well, no it’s just that you sound a little like the head of department at the school where I work. Seriously though, Sophie, we are in the twenty-first century, so we’ve got to move with the times.’
Her cheeks turned pink. ‘If you say so. Well, you know what, Keir? You could always take your stuff out of the shop, if it doesn’t suit you, and display it somewhere else.’
Much to Sophie’s surprise, he meekly agreed with her. ‘It might come to that, but I like Mrs Munn and she doesn’t ask for too much commission. I suspect she waives it all together for Rose.’
‘Actually, Aunt Rose sometimes helps out in the shop on a voluntary basis, but, anyway, I doubt if her dolls’ house furniture sells for the sort of prices your ceramics do,’ Sophie pointed out.
‘True,’ he conceded and put a hand over hers. The contact was electric, sending a little shiver quivering along her spine. This man was seriously attractive, but she wasn’t looking for a romantic entanglement so soon after parting from Brett.
