‘About Grandad?’ Harriet hitched her tote bag over a shoulder. ‘Not much, Freddie was more interested in hearing about what we think of this place. Asked me to send him some photos.’
Freddie, the youngest of Jonny’s children and at eighteen, only four years older than Harriet; the two of them had always got on well and were more like cousins than uncle and niece.
‘He did?’ Pippa halted on the drive, squinting at Harriet beneath the flicker of a security light which couldn’t seem to make up its mind if it should be on or off. ‘Why?’
‘Dunno. Didn’t say.’ Harriet’s eyes were glued to her phone and Pippa didn’t expect to get much more from her. ‘Why?’
‘No reason,’ Pippa replied casually. She’d have to find out what her brother might be up to later. Property was something her dad had accumulated over the years and his offspring had been promised one each eventually. Maybe that was where Freddie’s interest in Hartfell lay.
They crunched along the drive and reached the studded, heavy wooden door of the farmhouse, set between more mullioned stone windows,Home Farmlettering pale against a dark slate sign on the right. Pippa stuck the largest key from the set into the lock and turned it. The wooden door creaked alarmingly, and she gave it a hefty shove, sending it flying open into the dark recesses of what she assumed was a hall. The air was cool after the summer evening outdoors and her hand, still grasping the key in the lock, seemed to have vanished.
‘Harriet, can you put your phone torch on please?’
‘Why are you whispering?’
‘Was I?’ Pippa tried to laugh away her nerves, imagining unseen eyes staring. The solicitor had mentioned getting someone to meet them on arrival and she’d refused the offer, unwilling to face a welcome committee. She fumbled for Harriet nearby, thrusting a protective arm in front of her.
‘What are you doing? Get off!’
‘Just keeping you close.’
‘What, are there like, ghosts or something?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Pippa aimed for brisk this time as Harriet shoved her arm away. ‘Torch?’
‘Can’t you? I’m nearly out of battery. There’d better be electricity in this place.’
‘Of course there is.’ Pippa hadn’t dared tell Harriet yet that there wasn’t actually Wi-Fi in the house; she’d never have got within fifty miles if her daughter had known that before they’d set out on their reluctant road trip. The solicitor had dropped that into the email as well, and she hadn’t found the right moment to mention it to Harriet.
Harriet’s exaggerated sigh was followed by a narrow beam of light, and they both let out a scream. Sitting beneath a dark panelled staircase was a dulled suit of armour staring straight at them, one arm clutching a lance with a sharpened point. Pippa’s heart rate settled a smidge as she realised it wasn’t actually clunking towards them.
‘Looks lovely, Mum, the house. Very welcoming.’
‘There’s no need to be quite so sarcastic. The state of it is nothing to do with me, and anyway, it doesn’t matter how rough it is, we’re not staying long.’
‘Is there any furniture?’ Harriet pointed her phone at the suit of armour and there was a flash as she took a photo.
‘I’d certainly like to think so. Someone apparently looks after the house, and they are expecting us.’
‘Yeah, right. Looks like it. It’s warmer outside than in.’ Harriet stomped off and thrust open a door to her left, leaving Pippa in a pool of darkness and trying to remember from her brief glance if there were any trip hazards between the stairs and where she stood. ‘There’s a sofa in here, Mum. It’s orange, like someone threw up on it and left it to dry.’
Ugh, that sounded revolting, and Pippa resisted another shudder. ‘At least there’s somewhere to sit. It doesn’t matter about the colour,’ she replied brightly.
‘Wait until you see it.’ Harriet emerged, light from her torch flashing off the walls as she raised her phone to look around. ‘There’s probably still bits of carrot stuck to the cushions.’ She stuck her head through another door. ‘Dining room. Grim.’
The front door was still open, and Pippa turned in the direction of warmer air and other thoughts. ‘Let’s just get our luggage and go to bed. We can sort everything out tomorrow, right now we need sleep.’
Harriet’s torchlight disappeared and she seemed to vanish in the gloom as well. ‘My phone’s dead. Thanks for that.’
‘It’s hardly my fault, the amount of time you spend on it. Charge it in your room.’ Pippa was on her way back to the car and she returned moments later, lugging a case in each hand. ‘I’ll go up first. Take my phone and use the torch so I can see where I’m putting my feet.’
‘Or we could just use the lights, like normal people.’
Harriet hit a switch and Pippa let out a relieved breath as the rest of the hall was revealed. The woodwork was yellowed; the only other door Harriet hadn’t yet opened stood straight in front of them, past the stairs. Pippa couldn’t decide if the orange-and-brown pattern of the carpet was even more repulsive than the oversized green flowers on the wallpaper. The stairs turned up and out of sight, that same pattern on the walls inviting them up to the first floor. Her heart sank as she thought longingly of their lovely London home with all its familiar comforts.
‘Bed,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m absolutely beat. That journey was brutal.’
‘Okay.’ Even Harriet’s usual confidence seemed dented by the view, and she trailed after Pippa, giving the suit of armour a wary glance. Upstairs the landing was square too, similar to the hall, with the same wallpaper and a bulb without a shade hanging in the centre of the ceiling. A large, square blue rug in place of carpet felt thin and didn’t quite reach any of the five plain doors, exposing ancient and uneven wooden floorboards.
