Epilogue

There was thick snow on the ground when the Land Rover pulled up outside Elvesden Manor.

Two people got out of it: a man with long, gray-streaked dark hair and a tall, thin teenager. From the back of the vehicle, the man pulled out a battered brown suitcase, and then, together, they walked up the gravel path to the front of the house, hunched up against the biting cold.

The hallway smelled a little musty as they went in, the way most old places do, and it was quiet and still except for a matted ginger tail slinking beneath the telephone table, keen to keep out of sight.

Farther back through the house, voices and the smell of roasting food wafted out from the kitchen like an invisible invitation. As the kitchen door was pushed open and the new arrivals went in, the voices inside quieted, then erupted into a chorus of shouts and cheers. Chairs scraped as their inhabitants jumped out of them, and the teenage girl who had entered with the man was enveloped into hug after hug, a large brown dog jumping up at her and a parrot cackling in excitement all the while.

Only one person remained seated at the old oak table: a woman with a pointed and pale face, and long red hair worn loose. She looked up at the girl, her eyes searching.

“Your hair has grown,” the woman said. “It suits you.”

Rowan lifted a hand to her head, where her hair, an identical auburn to that of the woman who had spoken, now skimmed her jawline in a neat bob. She gave a shy smile. “Thanks.”

Rose stood up, and for a moment they regarded each other awkwardly before embracing.

When they released each other, Tanya stepped forward and tugged at Rowan’s sleeve. “I’ll show you your room,” she said, her eyes shining. “It’s next to mine, so we share a bathroom—”

“And a drain-dweller!” Fabian crowed. “It’s already had a necklace of Nell’s—”

“And a thimble from my sewing kit,” Florence put in, with a smile. “It’s a particularly troublesome breed.”

“I don’t mind,” said Rowan, laughing as Tanya and Fabian dragged her from the kitchen. She followed them as they ran up the stairs, past the grandfather clock, and stopped outside a door on the first-floor landing.

Hanging from an iron nail in its center was a wreath of green leaves and masses of dried red berries.

Rowan took a deep breath, closed her eyes… and went in.

 

 

 

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