Preview
Watch for Me by Candlelight
by Kirsty Ferry
Prologue
Her foot was twisted at an unnatural angle and she had a deep cut on her forehead. He prayed it wouldn’t scar – she was too beautiful to be scarred like that. She was too wild and adventurous, too perfect for this world she lived in, but she couldn’t leave it like this – she couldn’t.
‘I’ll get you to the cottage,’ he told her, ‘I’ll look after you. Only please wake up, please wake up. I can’t bear it if—’
A bark from behind him, his dog running in mad circles in the snow.
‘I know, I know. We’ll get her warmed up. She’ll be well in no time. No time at all.’
His heart pounded and his breath came in little puffs of air as he hurried back to the cottages.
He had to believe that all would be well or else …
Chapter One
The streets of Hartsford village were always at their best this early in the morning. Kate Howard stepped out of her front door and headed away from the Folk Museum, a long, low building made up of a row of old stone cottages. She was the museum manager and also lived upstairs, in a flat made up of a couple of attics knocked together.
If she headed towards the bakery, she’d just be in time to get a batch of fresh rolls, still warm from the oven. Then she could fill one with hot, sizzling bacon for her breakfast.
She walked along the old streets, with Hartsford Hall a backdrop to the Suffolk village which took its name from the stately home. As she turned a corner, lost in her thoughts and anticipating the smell of bread that always greeted her when she entered the bakery, she walked straight into someone. A man clutching a paper bag printed with the name of the bakery. He’d obviously had the same idea as her, and quickly put his hand out to steady her as she barged into him.
‘Oh! I’m so sorry!’ Kate blushed and side-stepped him.
He smiled down at her, his dark eyes flashing with mischief. ‘That’s okay. My breakfast is safe, that’s the main thing.’
Kate laughed. ‘Definitely. There’s not usually many people around at this time in the morning. Again, I’m so sorry. I must still be half asleep.’
‘I know that feeling well. Have a good day, anyway!’ His smile widened for a moment, and he paused, looking as if he was about to say something else; then he nodded and walked away.
Kate stared after him – he wasn’t local; his accent told her that, and she would have known him had he lived in the village. Still, there was something oddly familiar about the way he strode along the main street and disappeared around a corner. Something about the set of his shoulders, and the way his light-brown, sun-streaked hair was tousled and a little too long, that had her wanting to call after him and ask where they’d met before.
She definitely seemed to know him – her body told her that with a little fizz of excitement or recognition, as if she’d seen him quite recently, or maybe not – perhaps it was a long time ago? She waited another moment, then shook her head. How strange.
Then she turned back towards the bakery, and continued on her way, still feeling the gentle touch of his hand on her arm.
Later that morning, the front door of the museum slammed open. Kate, her fingers poised over the keyboard of her computer in the reception area, found herself staring at her best friend, Cassie Aldrich. The museum wasn’t due to open for about half an hour, but unfortunately, Cassie knew Kate kept the door unlocked from the moment she set foot in the place. And obviously, Kate was never late.
‘I’ve got to get something vintage for the weekend!’ Cassie was bright red in the face and clearly panicking.
‘Vintage as in …?’ Kate asked, amused. ‘Clothing? Wine? Motor vehicle? And which weekend are we talking about? It’s Friday already. Or is it the very special weekend you’ve been working towards for Elodie?’ Cassie’s brother Alex – the current Earl of Hartsford – and sister-in-law Elodie owned the Hall. Cassie was organising a Living History weekend for them, to take place in August. It was currently the very beginning of June.
‘Yes. That weekend. And a vehicle. Yes. I think a vehicle might describe it.’ Cassie threw herself onto one of the old church pews in the entrance and sighed dramatically. ‘Goodness knows why I took this on.’
Kate smiled at her friend. They’d had this conversation before. ‘You had a moment of weakness and volunteered to help Elodie. You’re just too nice. Cuppa?’ She swung her legs around and jumped off the stool.
‘You’re such a doll. Thank you. Tea would be marvellous.’
‘A doll? In what respect?’
Cassie shrugged. ‘Well, you know. As in kind. Nice. Sweet. Sorry.’ She leaned forward and tucked her chin in her hands. ‘I’m living and breathing this flipping Country House Party Weekend and some of it is rubbing off on me.’
‘Oh, you’re getting there.’ Kate dipped her head so Cassie didn’t see her smiling. The whole village had heard about Cassie’s trials and tribulations. By all accounts she hadn’t done very much actual organising yet. It was usually Elodie’s task, but as Elodie was heavily pregnant with twins it hadn’t quite panned out the way it normally would. So Cassie had decided she would help out.
From what Kate understood, Cassie was beginning to realise organising an event on that scale wasn’t quite as simple as she’d thought it would be.
‘I’ve been doing some research,’ Cassie told her, ‘and I believe that men on ice-cream bicycles were rather popular in those days. My grandfather always used to talk about one that he chased when he was a boy. There was one that used to go around the village and I think it was old even then.’ She accepted the steaming cup of tea with a grateful smile. ‘So basically, I want a man on an ice-cream bicycle.’
‘A bicycle actually made out of ice-cream? Or one that sells ice-cream?’ Kate sat down at the other end of the pew and Cassie gave her an accusatory glare.
‘Stop mocking me, Kate. You know exactly what I mean.’
Kate laughed. ‘I’m just teasing. Sorry. Anyway, it just so happens I’ve got the very thing in the museum for you to borrow. Come on, I’ll take you through. You can bring your mug, it’s fine.’
‘Seriously?’ Cassie’s face split into a huge grin. ‘I knew I could count on you.’ She stood up. ‘Which house are we going to?’
‘It’s not in one of the houses, it’s in one of the barns. But we’ll take a short cut through the cottages. I know how much you love them. Just don’t spill the tea. I’m trusting you with my exhibits, okay?’
Cassie nodded, clasping both hands around her cup. ‘Ready when you are.’
‘Fine follow me.’
Kate led the way through the terrace, Cassie chattering about the fabulous weekend she envisaged and the inordinate amounts of cream scones and strawberries she thought might be required.
‘They are so popular,’ she said, but Kate wasn’t absolutely certain whether ‘they’ referred to the snacks or the weekends. From Cassie’s perspective, it might have been either; she loved her cakes and loved dressing up to fit the theme of the Living History weekends too.
‘Oh,’ Cassie continued, ‘and if there’s anything else you think I can borrow, I’m hoping to revamp the pool area as well. And the tennis courts. Our things are dropping to pieces.’ Kate sensed her friend had slowed down and she turned around to see where she was. She was correct. Cassie was ogling one of the museum displays – a pair of Edwardian tennis racquets in a press. ‘They are so much nicer than the ones we’ve got,’ she said covetously.
‘I’ll consider it,’ Kate said.
‘And those! Can I have those? Please?’ She was hovering by Kate’s favourite things in the entire museum; a pair of Victorian ice-skates, made out of soft white leather which laced up around tiny pearl buttons. Inked on the smooth leather interior of each boot was the word CAT.
Kate had no idea what the word meant, although she suspected it was a name. Perhaps they’d belonged to someone who had to write their name in so they didn’t get confused with anyone else’s skates. That was the beauty of living so close to the museum collection – if the real story wasn’t available, Kate liked to make up one that suited, just for herself. In this case, she quite liked the idea of perhaps a “Catherine” owning those skates; which was possibly another reason why she was so possessive over them.
‘No, you absolutely cannot have those!’ Kate was adamant. ‘For a start, the weekend celebrates the 1920s and 30s, doesn’t it? And the skates are Victorian. As well as that, it’s going to be August Bank Holiday, so the very last thing you want is enough ice and snow to be able to use the skates.’
‘The very last thing I want is a health and safety incident around the pool area,’ said Cassie wryly. She sighed, gazing at the skates. ‘But they are beautiful, aren’t they?’
‘They are, but your bicycle is out here. Ta da!’
Kate threw the front door of the last cottage open and gestured for Cassie to take a walk to the other side of the pond and head over towards the barns, which faced the terrace.
‘The big barn?’ she asked.
‘No, the little one. The one we keep all the odd bits in. I’m afraid the bike’s not in the best condition, but we’ve got time to sort it out.’
‘What, so it’s got a couple of flat tyres? Needs a coat of paint? No problem.’ Cassie was practically bouncing along beside her. The tea, Kate noticed, slopped over the top of the mug and down the side but they were outside so it didn’t matter that much. The resident ducks and geese ran over to them, curious to see if they had any bread, but Kate shooed them away.
Cassie wasn’t far wrong when she suggested the bicycle needed a coat of paint and a tyre pump, but as Kate climbed over the rope and eased it out of the corner, she knew that it really wouldn’t take much to sort it out.
‘Oh, that’s perfect!’ Cassie unhooked the rope and pulled it to one side so Kate could wheel the bicycle out – well okay, bump it fairly roughly out – and soon they had it in the courtyard, in daylight, and could study it properly.
‘I think it’s probably the original bicycle your grandfather talked about.’ Kate ran her hand lovingly across the old wooden box on the front. A splinter came away and embedded itself in her finger. She frowned and sucked at her fingertip, trying to remove the thing but it wouldn’t budge. ‘But I didn’t realise the wicker basket was so rotten.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ Cassie balanced her cup on the wooden box, then swiftly removed it as she saw Kate glare at it. ‘Whoops. Sorry, just imagining what it’ll be like with ice-cream in it.’
‘Always the food products.’
‘With clotted cream on the cones, I think,’ continued Cassie. She was practically drooling.
‘With clotted cream.’ Kate had to admit that it did sound rather appealing. ‘I’ll need to see how we can refrigerate the ice-cream.’ She lifted the lid of the box up and inspected it. A money spider scurried across her hand and she shook the tiny arachnid off. ‘I guess we can use one of those little plastic cool boxes or something. I’ll have a think about it. Technology has moved on a bit now and as long as it’s hidden, we shouldn’t have anyone complaining that it’s not authentic enough.’
‘You know, Kate, you’re far too practical,’ sighed Cassie. ‘All I’m thinking about is what colour we can paint it.’
‘I disagree. You’re thinking about how many flavours we can squeeze in.’ Kate grinned.
‘Maybe.’ Cassie laughed. ‘Are we going traditional with the colour scheme then? I mean the colour of the bike; not the ice-cream.’
‘Of course, you do,’ Kate replied insincerely. ‘I suspect it would be white, with swirly bits in blue and pink.’ She stood away from the bicycle and surveyed it.
‘Yes. It’s a bit grubby at the moment, isn’t it?’ Cassie also surveyed it. The paintwork was in a sorry state, now they had it in the sunshine. The white was flaking off and there were scratches everywhere.
But: ‘It’ll be fine!’ they said together.
‘Fantastic.’ Cassie patted the bike affectionately. ‘Who can we sub-contract to do it up then?’
Kate gave her a funny look. ‘Well, me of course. It’s not going to take much to up-cycle the thing, is it?’
‘If you think you can do it,’ said Cassie in awe.
‘What do you mean, think?’ Kate said. ‘I can.’
Kate wheeled the bicycle back to the reception area as best she could. She didn’t go through the cottages, obviously, but Cassie did.
‘Don’t pilfer my ice-skates!’ Kate yelled after her as she disappeared through the end cottage.
‘Tra la la!’ Cassie called back. But when they met again in the reception area, she didn’t have them with her, so Kate was grateful for small mercies.
‘You can borrow the racquets,’ Kate told Cassie as her friend put her cup in the tiny sink and, she noticed, pinched a Kit-Kat from Kate’s biscuit stash, ‘but I have to insist you keep them out of the public’s way. Nobody can be touching the exhibits, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Cassie agreed. ‘Let me know how you get on with the up-cycling. Oh, no!’ She slapped her hand across her mouth in horror. ‘I need to organise the ice-cream, don’t I? And the actual man. Who’s going to drive it? Who’s going to be my ice-cream bicycle man?’
Kate looked at Cassie and slapped her hand across her mouth, copying her. ‘Oh, no! What on earth happened to equal rights and women’s suffrage and feminism? Who says a man has to drive the bicycle?’
‘Please! Don’t rip off your bra and burn it!’ cried Cassie. ‘Nobody. Nobody says a man has to drive it. But it’s traditional!’
‘Yes, well. Sometimes we have to stuff tradition. I’ll get the ice-cream and the clotted cream and I’ll drive the thing. Don’t you worry about it.’
‘Thanks,’ said Cassie. Suddenly she looked very young and very terrified. ‘Really. I mean it. Thanks. I think,’ she admitted, ‘I may be in over my head.’ A wobbly sigh and a shrug of the shoulders. ‘If it all falls through the floor, I shall let you know so you don’t waste your time or your paints.’
‘Ah, it’ll be fine.’ Kate gave her a quick hug. ‘You just get on with organising everything else. If it doesn’t come off, then at least I get a nice bicycle out of it. It might come in useful for here anyway. We could do with some refreshments.’
‘Don’t let Delilah hear you say that.’ Delilah owned the tea shop in Hartsford village and her cakes were splendid.
‘I’d never even contemplate taking that crown off her. My refreshments would go no further than ice cream. And as far as I know, she doesn’t sell that, does she?’
‘No. Only as an accompaniment to puddings and crumble and things.’ Cassie would know that fact, if anyone would. ‘Okay. I must go. I have tons to do.’ She sighed and trailed off towards the door. ‘See you later. Hope you have a busy day.’
‘Likewise,’ Kate told her. It was always good to see tourists in the village – and the day promised to be warm and sunny, so she hoped their predictions would come true.
And maybe, just maybe, that man she’d bumped into earlier would decide to visit the museum. The thought sent a delicious shiver of anticipation through her.
Yes, anything could happen on a lovely day like this.
Chapter Two
Kate’s day was indeed busy. She had quite a few people through the door all morning, and by the time Jenna, her part-time assistant, came in at eleven, she was just finishing off dealing with the latest queue.
‘Oh, my,’ Jenna said, blinking big brown eyes and sliding in beside Kate at the reception desk. ‘What’s going on here?’ She had one of those throaty voices that some men find really attractive. Kate suspected it was more the result of her social smoking, and the fact that she spent most nights shouting over music in bars, than anything natural.
‘It’s the end of the half-term holiday. People making the most of it before school and work on Monday, I guess.’
‘I suppose,’ Jenna said, switching a smile on as she relieved the final couple of the entrance fee. They had two small children with them and, by the looks of it, another one on the way. ‘You’ll want a guidebook as well, won’t you?’
She directed her question to the man; knowing, Kate suspected, that the woman’s mind was already on herding her children up and that she would have more to do than read a guide book when she was on her way around the museum. The man, however, had no such qualms and eagerly handed the money over.
Kate shook her head after them as they made their way into the first cottage. ‘You’re unbelievable,’ she told Jenna. ‘Like they’ll have time to read it?’ The man had already scooped his little girl up and the guide book was now sticking out of his back pocket like a baton.
Jenna shrugged and swept her glossy dark curls over her shoulder. ‘Not my problem.’
‘Yes, but you’re not on commission.’ In fact, she was only working with Kate because her usual assistant, Maeve, was doing some sort of research project in Scotland. Apparently, they’d found a stone crannog – an ancient man-made island which people used to live on – in the Outer Hebrides, and she was up there helping to excavate it.
Jenna’s father was the museum board’s Chair and had pulled strings in order to secure this temporary assignment for his twenty-year old daughter. She hated the job with a passion – ‘old stuff is, like, so boring!’ – but was doing some sort of penance there for defrauding her father’s credit card. The girl was, in Kate’s opinion, a silly, spoiled brat; extremely pretty and used to snapping her fingers and getting whatever she wanted. But this time, Daddy had been pushed too far – and as Kate was desperate for some help in Maeve’s absence, Jenna was sent to fill the gap.
Jenna had no compassion for people. Kate would never try to hard-sell a guide book to anyone. They were on the table and if visitors wanted one, fine. There were plenty of information boards up if not. What she often found was that customers came back to get a book afterwards as a souvenir because they’d enjoyed the museum so much. Jenna didn’t see it that way, sadly. Kate thought she was doing business or marketing and was, she supposed, very good at the mechanics of turning a profit. But she had no people skills, unless the people in question were men.
‘No. I’m not on commission and I think I should be,’ Jenna said, looking dead serious.
Kate frowned at her. ‘I think not.’
They barely tolerated one another until about one o’clock, when Kate simply had to get out of there before she said something she regretted. Jenna had sold seven guide-books and flirted with twice that many men. Kate didn’t quite know how she did it.
‘I’m off to find some lunch. Would you like anything from Delilah’s?’ It was Friday, after all. Kate reckoned she deserved something from Delilah’s.
Jenna pulled a face. ‘No. I’ll just have a coffee and a ciggie later. I’m not hungry.’
‘Okay.’ Kate didn’t bother to try and persuade her. ‘Catch you later.’
Kate squeezed out behind Jenna and headed out of the cosy little reception area. The cottages were stone-built and the entrance to this first one was all nice and white-washed, and Kate liked to keep it as welcoming as possible, even though it could be a little dark and crowded at times. There was a lovely collection of clocks around the walls, from wall-clocks to a big grandfather clock which had come from the Hall. Most of them told the right time. Two didn’t. One was stuck at 11.15 and the grandfather clock was stuck at 3.27, holding memories of long-forgotten hours on long-forgotten days. A beautiful phrase was written in gold on the bottom of the grandfather clock’s face, under the Hartsford coat of arms; Hodie est tempus nostrum. Today is our time.
But, as Kate told herself, at least those clocks were right twice a day. And she loved the co-ordinated ticking of them all. It was such a comforting sound; but thank goodness she’d disabled all the chimes, bar that of the cuckoo clock. She adored that cuckoo. He reminded her of her Great-Aunt’s house when she was small; Kate and her older brother Tom sitting in the less formal ‘back room’ and Kate hoping she’d be there long enough to see the cuckoo peek his head out and say hello.
She wandered through the village to Delilah’s tea-shop and saw that it was pretty busy too. Hartsford was doing well today. For such a small place, they were certainly on the tourist trail. It helped, she knew, that the Hall was on the list as one of the ‘Top Ten Tourist Attractions of Suffolk.’
Once inside Delilah’s, Kate spotted a box full of scones and cakes labelled up with the word ‘Hall’ and suspected that they had put a call in for extra treats up there. Delilah supplied the Hall with food for the Garden Kiosk and the Gypsy Tea Caravan and it all worked perfectly. Cassie had been right – she could maybe get away with ice-creams at the museum, a vending machine serving coffee and tea at the very most, but no way could she or would she even try to compete with Delilah.
Kate shuffled her way to the front of the queue, trying to decide on a jacket potato or a toasted Panini.
‘Hello Kate!’ said Delilah as she approached the counter. ‘It’s nice to see you.’
‘Well it’s Friday.’ Kate smiled. ‘Can’t resist a treat on a Friday. I’ll have a ham and cheese Panini, please, if that’s okay.’
‘Takeaway?’ asked Delilah, making a note.
‘Yes – I’ll have to dash back with it. I can’t leave the place for too long.’ Kate pulled a face.
Delilah mirrored her expression. ‘Is she still up to her tricks?’
Kate nodded. ‘Yep. Seems like she’s here for the duration. I’m hoping Maeve’s Scottish project doesn’t take too long’
‘I completely understand. Look. I’ll toss in a fairy cake for you as well. Make you feel better, eh?’
Kate laughed. ‘Oh, Delilah. This is why I love Hartsford so much! You lot are just awesome.’
‘“You lot”?’ repeated Delilah, her eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘And by that you mean …?’
‘The locals.’ Kate leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper. ‘You know. Because I’m not one.’
Delilah laughed and shook her head. ‘I know!’ It was a standing joke between them that one rather unpleasant tourist on a bus trip had asked Kate, quite snippily, how she could even run a Suffolk folk museum, when she wasn’t a Suffolk girl – because she didn’t even sound like she was a local. Kate had lived in Cambridge most of her life and didn’t think she sounded that odd, or that alien to the area, but to some people she must, clearly, sound un-local.
‘Thanks for this, anyway.’ Kate held up the little paper bag. ‘I’ll just wait along here for my sandwich.’ She paid and sidled to the edge of the counter. But yeah, she couldn’t help it. She opened the paper bag and scoffed the cake while she was waiting.
It had been her hair that caught his attention at first – and one of the main things that had struck him about her this morning, when they’d collided on the main street. The other thing that had struck him was that he knew her from somewhere. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking; he’d always had a thing for red-heads and this particular red-head was also very nicely packaged up in a pair of skin-tight jeans.
There didn’t look as if there was a lot of room inside those jeans for the cake she was demolishing, but apparently there was enough. She finished the little pink thing in a couple of bites and it was quite impressive to witness.
She looked around as if checking to see if anyone had seen her; and that’s when she spotted him, looking at her. She blushed and Theo Kent couldn’t help but laugh.
The girl hesitated a moment, then smiled and shrugged. ‘I recommend the fairy cakes.’
‘I’m glad to hear it! How did you get on at the bakery?’ She was standing next to the bureau where the spoons and the sugar were. Theo moved towards her with his takeaway coffee and she made room for him.
‘Oh! Fine thank you. Again – I’m so sorry for almost mowing you down.’
‘As you can see, there was no lasting damage.’ He ripped the corner off a packet of sugar and tipped it in the drink. ‘Enjoy your day.’ He nodded at her. Then he grinned suddenly. ‘I hope we bump into each other again.’
She crumpled the bag up and laughed. ‘It’s a small village. We’re bound to. You have a good day too!’
‘Your Panini’s ready my love,’ called the lady behind the counter. She held up a polystyrene container and the girl hurried over and relieved her of it.
Theo stirred his coffee and watched until the red-head dashed out of the coffee shop and across the road. He wondered where she was heading and also, idly, whether she was single.
Not that it really mattered; he had other things to worry about.
He adjusted his backpack. He needed to finish his lunch, head back to the campsite and get sorted. Then he was hoping to make it to the Folk Museum before it closed. Maeve had said he’d find it interesting. He only had a few days in Suffolk, but he was hoping to squeeze a lot in. And he wouldn’t get much squeezing done if he loitered here instead of re-reading his map to find out where the hell he was supposed to be going.
Kate had her lunch at one of the picnic tables next to the duck pond. Her feathered friends squawked over to her, gabbling incessantly about how starving they were, and she tossed some crumbs down for them, lobbing the scraps as far away as she could. Those ducks had been known to clamber up onto the tables before now and terrorise the visitors.
It really was a beautiful day. Not too hot, but just right. Kate stretched her legs out in front of her and wiggled her toes in her sandals. It wasn’t hot enough for her to shed her jeans yet, but at least she had lost her trainers. It was progress.
Kate looked up at the first cottage where the reception was and again cursed Jenna. It was just as well Jenna wasn’t that interested in the rest of the museum, as Kate would have been particularly offended to have her anywhere near the ice-skates – or, even worse, the last house. The one that was done out as an estate cottage. It had been the blacksmith’s home once upon a time; there was a horseshoe on the front door and a pile of crumbled stones not very far along the road. Within the ruin, they had located evidence of a possible furnace and it all made sense. It was, according to some old maps of the area, his forge. Kate liked horses and she thought that being a blacksmith would have been quite a nice job. It would have been a fairly steady one as well, seeing as the Hartsford family had always loved their racehorses.
Anyway, it was two o’clock and Kate’s lunch break was over. She couldn’t dwell on how lovely it must have been to work with horses; it was time to get back to the museum. She weaved her way between the rabid ducks and wondered if she could get rid of Jenna a little bit early. She couldn’t be bothered with her for the next few hours anyway and she was pretty sure Jenna wouldn’t object. Maybe if she just covered until the lunchtime rush had abated? Which – Kate checked her watch – would be about now.
In fact: ‘Jenna, do you want an early finish?’ she asked as she walked back in. ‘I’m sure it’ll die down now and I’ve got nothing else planned. You might as well take advantage.’
The girl was twirling her hair around her fingers and posturing somewhat. ‘Oh. Kate. Hi.’ She had the courtesy to look away from the man leaning on the nearest wall. ‘He was just waiting for you.’
‘Oh. Hi, Chris,’ Kate said, thrown a little.
‘Hey, Kate,’ her boyfriend said.
Chris leaned over and kissed her. ‘Surprise!’
‘Indeed, it is a surprise. I thought you were busy this weekend.’ Kate kissed him back. Chris lived and worked in London as a management consultant and they didn’t get to spend a lot of time together. Kate had lived down there with him, and worked at the British Museum for a while, but she’d never really settled into the City life at all. Then the job at Hartsford came up, and they’d made the decision that she should go for it, and see how it went. It had been successful so far – she enjoyed Suffolk, and Chris, apparently, enjoyed devoting more of his time to work. He’d never complained too much about her not being there. The long-distance thing seemed to be working, and they had more or less settled into a routine – of sorts, anyway.
Occasionally, he made noises about a virtual world and how you could work anywhere and how it might be interesting to branch out into Suffolk – but the noises never seemed to come to anything more. There was always a new contract to work on, or a different customer to please. Kate had begun to doubt it would ever happen.
‘I put my bags upstairs. That’s fine, right?’ He smiled at her, knowing she’d never normally object to that. He had a key after all and it made sense.
‘Yes, no problem all.’ Kate smiled back. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘And you. Dinner tonight at the Green Dragon?’
‘Don’t see why not.’
‘The Green Dragon’s for old people,’ interjected Jenna. ‘I think you’d be better off at the wine bar, to be honest.’ She was, Kate noticed, addressing Chris, not Kate.
‘Ah, Kate likes the Dragon.’ Chris shrugged apologetically. ‘Says the meals are nicer.’
‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ Kate said. ‘And it’s not a meat market, which is why I happen to like it.’ She couldn’t quite believe she’d said that – but she was right. People like Jenna went to the wine bar. People like Kate went to the Green Dragon. Did that make her old? She was twenty-eight, which was hardly ancient.
‘Have it your way,’ said Jenna with a shrug. She stood up and stretched. ‘Well, that’s me done for the day then. My lunchtime cover has covered. I’ll be off now. And,’ she turned to Chris again, ‘I’ll be at the wine bar later. Guaranteed.’
‘We’ll be at the Dragon,’ Kate confirmed. ‘Because we’re old. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jenna.’
‘Yeah. Tomorrow. TTFN.’ She wandered out and Kate felt the atmosphere lift.
‘Thank God for that,’ she muttered and slid into her place behind the desk. ‘She’s too much at times.’
‘Ah, she’s fun,’ said Chris with a smile at her retreating back. ‘Not to worry. Anyway, I hope I’m not interrupting anything this weekend by coming up?’
‘No, I have nothing planned but work. Did you see the bicycle outside? I was going to do something with that. Cassie wants it for an event she’s doing up at the Hall, but it needs some TLC first.’
‘A bicycle? No, I didn’t notice. Sorry.’ Chris smiled his half-lazy, half-arrogant smile, and leaned against the edge of the reception desk, his hands in his pockets, his legs crossed at the ankles. ‘God, I need a break after this week. I have to tell you about this client …’
Chris clearly had a gem that he wanted to share with her, but as his professional life was a world away from Kate’s and Kate was anxious to get to the bicycle, her attention started to wander a little. Her eyes drifted towards the door and she wasn’t proud of that fact; but she really, really wanted to start on that bike.
‘… so like I said to him, it was never going to happen.’ Chris was still talking. ‘In fact, I just need to check the emails to see what they said about it. I’m pretty certain the figures they quoted were wrong. Forgive me, Kate?’
He pulled his mobile out and started messing with it.
‘No worries; take your time. Give me a shout when you’re sorted. I just need to look at that bike, okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Chris’s attention was taken by something on the screen, his brows knitted together over his sharp, grey eyes. ‘You sort the bike out. I just need to …’ He was lost to her.
Kate sloped out, sneakily happy that she could check the old bike. It really was in a sorry state.
Chapter Three
Theo found the campsite: a field was probably the best way to describe it. It was a decent enough field and pretty flat so it was easy to pitch his tent and get unpacked. But it was, at its heart, just a field.
He’d been in worse places. Fields with bunged-up portaloos and shower blocks inches deep in scummy water. Or fields with no portaloos and no showers. But this one, at least, seemed to have some proper facilities. Not that he minded a bit of roughing it. He’d travelled all over the world as a student – backpacking, hitch-hiking, camping. Everything had been an adventure to him and he appreciated it all.
One trip, rather more recently, had taken him to the Outer Hebrides; and that had led to meeting a group of people from Suffolk, among them Maeve. Maeve told him about Hartsford and the Folk Museum; and when they said goodbye, Theo decided to visit those places.
He had a feeling he’d love them. Maeve had told him about the pace of life in Suffolk; the little villages, the coastal areas, the heaths. From what he’d seen, the place had delivered on those promises already. It was all good, and exactly what he needed, just to take some time and get away from everything.
Theo checked his watch. It was two thirty. The Folk Museum wasn’t too far away. He could walk there in about fifteen minutes and scope it out, so he shrugged on his backpack and set off.
He was right. It didn’t take him long to get there, and soon he was standing outside the museum. It was a novel little place, a whole row of neat, stone cottages, just as Maeve had described.
There were some mangy-looking ducks running around a pond, and a circular green, and, opposite the terraced houses, a collection of barns which looked to contain old-fashioned farm equipment and tools. There was also some sort of vintage bicycle marked ‘Ice-cream’ outside the cottages. The bike was a bit of a sight, the sunlight showing up every little scratch and flake of the paintwork. It was what you might call a fixer-upper.
A girl was kneeling by the side of it. Her red hair was pulled back in an elastic band now, but there was no mistaking it was the girl from the café.
Theo walked up to her and stood beside the bicycle. ‘Is that how you transport fairy cakes around here?’
She looked up, startled; but then she laughed. ‘Hello again. Yeah. I could fit a few in there, couldn’t I? Delilah does make the most awesome fairy cakes.’
‘I was quite impressed with my own lunch, I must say. I went back for a slice of red velvet cake. You’d gone by then, so it was nice not to worry about anyone walking into me and wrecking it.’
‘Good choice. It’s lucky that nobody spoiled that experience for you.’ She stood up and wiped her hands down her jeans. ‘Sorry, did you want to come into the museum?’
Theo was thrown for a moment. ‘Yes. I do,’ he replied.
‘Okay. Come on then. I’ll get you a ticket.’
He was still slightly confused, but he followed the red-head and her jeans into the reception area.
She went behind the counter and Theo suddenly realised. ‘Aha! You work here.’
‘I do indeed. It’s a bit late, you know. Are you sure you want to come in? We close in about an hour. It’s four o’clock on a Friday.’ She looked up at the multitude of clocks that surrounded her.
‘An hour is fine,’ Theo told her.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure.’ Theo noticed a man sitting on an old church pew to the side of the room, his legs stretched out in front of him, inspecting a smartphone.
‘The signal doesn’t get any better here, does it?’ the guy said, directing his comment to the red-head.
She shook her head, concentrating on the till. ‘Nope. It doesn’t. You can use the laptop if you want.’
‘Thanks Kate. I’ll nip up now.’
‘Yep, you know where it is. There.’ She looked up at Theo and stapled his receipt to a little fold-out leaflet with a map on it. ‘If you follow the markers you can’t get lost. And if you don’t see it all, come back tomorrow. I should be on the desk until lunchtime at least. If I’m around, I’ll just let you back in.’
‘Thanks.’ He took the ticket from her. ‘You’re positive the boss won’t mind?’
She laughed. ‘I am the boss. It’s all mine. Well, I look after the place. It’s not mine, actually physically mine. You know?’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Well if you’re the boss and you say it’s okay, it clearly is. So I start through here?’ He indicated the door to his left. It seemed to take him into the cottages and, he assumed, would lead him through the whole terrace if he kept on going.
‘Yes, start there. I’ll be out front if you need anything, just next to that bicycle. A friend wants to borrow it, but it’s in no fit state at the moment.’ She stared at the doorway thoughtfully. ‘I have plans for it though.’
‘Great. If I can’t find you, I’ll just ask your colleague.’ Theo nodded to the side-door where the man had disappeared.
The girl – Kate – laughed. ‘You can ask him, but he probably can’t help you. He doesn’t work here. He’s my boyfriend.’
For some reason Theo felt a bit miffed at that. She had a boyfriend. Oh, well.
‘Okay. I’ll just look for you.’
‘I’m not hard to find,’ she replied with a grin. ‘Oh! Can I ask you to leave your backpack behind the counter here, please?’
He had to agree with the “not hard to find” comment. He’d found her three times already today and he hadn’t even been trying.
‘Sure.’ Theo swung the backpack off. He handed it over to her and she dropped it onto the floor.
‘Like I said, just find me when you’re finished.’
‘No problem,’ he said and smiled at her.
Kate watched as the visitor disappeared through the door into the first cottage. Theo Kent. She’d read the name on his credit card. It was an automatic thing she did. Her poor customers; she knew more of them by name than they probably realised.
She looked at his backpack and saw it was pretty well-used and battered. He was definitely outdoorsy; the sort of guy you could envisage running up a mountain before breakfast and kayaking across an ocean after lunch. Kate couldn’t quite comprehend that level of physical activity for herself, but some people apparently thrived on it. And she had to admit it did wonders for their physique. Not that she should have been noticing such things, but still …
She headed back outside and squatted down by the bicycle. She had acquired some sandpaper from the tool store and thought she might as well try to take some of the flaky paint off. She’d need a bit more time and some proper equipment to stabilise the chassis and deal with the tyres though.
As it turned out, Theo Kent was the last customer of the day. Kate was a little startled when one of the clocks from the reception area struck four and she looked up. None of the clocks ever went off except the cuckoo clock; that bellowing ding dong ding dong was anything but her little wooden bird popping his head out. She dashed into the reception area and saw Theo looking as confused as she was.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I just came back through to get my bag. And your clock went off.’ He nodded over at the big grandfather clock from the Hall.
Kate frowned. ‘It shouldn’t have done. I’ll have to check it later.’ She reached down and retrieved the backpack. ‘There you go. It’s not as heavy as it looks, is it?’
‘Thanks. Yeah, it’s not too bad. I’ve left most of my stuff at the campsite. I’ve only got the weekend in Suffolk, but I’ll try and get back tomorrow if I can. I promised myself I’d do Sutton Hoo, though.’
‘Sutton Hoo is wonderful. If we don’t see you tomorrow, enjoy the rest of your weekend, okay?’
‘Will do!’ he said and flung the backpack easily over his shoulder.
Kate followed him to the door, ready to lock up. He walked across the car park towards the main road and turned briefly to face her. He raised a hand in farewell, then continued on his journey. She found herself waving back.
Something bothered her about that whole scenario and she puzzled over it as she brought the bicycle into the reception area for the night. It bothered her as she went across to the barns where the indoor picnic area and the smaller, antique farm equipment was displayed, and made sure everyone had left before she closed the doors. And it bothered her as she retraced her steps through the cottages, casting a glance at the ice-skates hanging up in their case. She half-smiled, remembering Cassie’s avarice this morning.
It bothered her until she stepped outside the blacksmith’s cottage to do a head-count of the monstrous ducks.
Kate looked in the direction he had gone and the road was empty, snaking off towards the countryside. And she realised that she’d seen that gesture before. Him – or someone very like him – had waved her farewell before.
‘You’re quiet tonight,’ said Chris. They were sitting in the Green Dragon, an empty bottle of wine between them.
‘Just enjoying the old people’s pub.’ Kate grinned. ‘At least we can get a seat here. And the portion sizes are much better. Bob’s a sweetie too, deep down.’ Bob was the barman – his reputation went before him. If you got a free drink at the Dragon, you were fortunate indeed.
‘Yeah, that wine bar has a completely different sort of clientele.’ Chris laughed.
‘You’ve been there?’ Kate asked, curious. He certainly hadn’t been with her. She despised the place.
He smiled. ‘Your Jenna likes it.’
‘She’s not “my” Jenna,’ Kate corrected him. ‘I tolerate her because I have to.’
‘Okay. Jenna likes it.’ He smiled again, and Kate had the fleeting idea that he hadn’t really answered her question.
She dismissed that thought and frowned. ‘She certainly seems to enjoy it there. Chris, have you ever fancied camping?’ She didn’t know where that came from, but there it was.
‘Camping?’ Chris stared at her as if she was mad. ‘Why on earth would I want to huddle under canvas when I can have a nice warm bed in a centrally heated hotel? Or a centrally heated flat, even …’ He left the sentence hanging rather suggestively and reached over. He trailed his finger down her cheek. ‘We should make the most of our weekends, you know.’
‘I know.’ Kate forced a smile. ‘Forget it. Camping’s rubbish.’
‘Yep. So – fancy a slow walk back to the cottages?’ asked Chris. ‘We could go via the wine bar if you like?’ He winked.
‘I don’t like. Let’s just head home.’
‘Great. Tell you what, I’ll buy another bottle of wine here and we can take it with us.’
‘Sounds good,’ Kate said. ‘But don’t expect a discount from Bob.’
It was one of the beautifully quirky things about her flat that Kate had the use of two staircases – pretty logical as it was comprised of two attics knocked together. One staircase led into the museum’s reception area and one into her little walled garden at the back of the terrace.
And on that particular evening, as Kate might have imagined, one thing led to another. She had let them into the cottages by the garden entrance and went up the back stairs to her flat. They had stumbled and staggered, a little bit giggly, into the flat and headed straight to the bedroom, Chris grabbing two wine glasses on the way.
It was as they lay there, Chris in a deep sleep, his dark hair tousled on the pillow, that Kate heard the cuckoo clock from downstairs signal it was midnight.
It signalled it was midnight, and then some; closely followed by a set of matching chimes from the Hall clock. She let it go until they had cuckooed and chimed fifteen times before she swore and dragged herself out of bed and down the stairs into the museum.
She padded through the reception and was just about to fiddle around with the damn things when they stopped, with a very clangy and resonant echo. The echo bounced off the walls of the room as she stood there, completely baffled. Unfortunately, the little cuckoo had stopped outside his door and Kate moved over to push him back inside as she always felt sorry for him when he dangled like that.
There was still a sound of chimes coming from far away though. She stopped and listened carefully. The musical tone was dancing through the terrace and she realised it was from way along the corridor – perhaps from as far away as the blacksmith’s cottage.
The thing about where the museum was located in Hartsford, was the fact that it was such a dark and quiet area. It was at the far end of the village, with nothing but fields backing onto it and the River Hartsford tumbling along at the edge of those; so noise carried. It didn’t bother Kate that the terrace was fairly lengthy and full of exhibits that belonged to long dead people. It didn’t bother her wandering through there at night. The most shocking thing was suddenly hearing the rabid ducks start a midnight argument.
But in the three years she’d been there, she’d never heard anything chime in the blacksmith’s cottage. It was cause for further investigation and she was heading along there before she’d even stopped to think about it.
It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear and the stars were bright. The moon wasn’t quite full, but it was full enough to light her way, picking out a trail through the leaded casements. One particular beam of moonlight shone right onto the ice-skates, making them glow and almost come alive.
There they were, on a rocking chair in the blacksmith’s cottage, twinkling invitingly and Kate smiled. She reached out for them, thinking she’d return them to the display case on her way back and—
Her fingers closed over the skates, just as she realised they had already been in the case when she’d done her lock-up at four o’clock.
And while she was there, what on earth was going on with that little clock on the mantelpiece? That was the one she’d heard chiming; but it didn’t belong there. She’d never seen it before.
Kate spun around, the skates in her hands and the room wavered in and out of focus. There was heat on the back of her knees from a low fire and a chill swept through her as the back door opened. A blast of icy air swirled in and took her breath away. A sharp pain shot up from her ankle and her leg buckled beneath her.
‘I told you to sit down,’ said a man who looked extraordinarily like Theo Kent. He grinned at her. ‘I’ve just fetched some more wood and I’ll have the fire going better in a moment. Please – rest awhile. I told you it would hurt if you stood up, didn’t I?’
Theo woke up with a start, his heart pounding. He’d had the weirdest dream.
He knew that red-headed Kate was in it, and he thought they were in the Folk Museum. She was in the middle of a room – it looked a bit like the one at the end, but different, if that made sense? He knew it was winter because it was damn cold and they had a fire going.
The thing was, it was so bloody cold, it woke him up. He realised at that point he was still in the tent and although it was June he was shivering. He lay on his back for a while and stared at the roof. There was an incessant drip drip drip on the fabric and he wondered if it was raining.
But the more he heard the noise, the more it resolved into an irregular tap tap tap; perhaps how hammering on metal would sound?
It was a very weird dream. He turned over and closed his eyes. He had a busy day tomorrow.
He realised just as he drifted off that of course he’d heard tapping – he lived right next to the forge, didn’t he?
