‘Oh. Ezra.’ He pulled a face, and a small, curled fist glanced off his bottom lip, as if the baby picked up on his father’s disdain. ‘I probably deserved that.’ He rubbed his mouth ruefully.
‘I’m Kirsten. Let me take him for you.’
‘What?’
‘Let me hold him, I’m good with babies.’ Lifting one eyebrow, she added, ‘And he’s getting distressed.’
Ezra’s face was turning red, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he gulped and gasped air between shuddering cries.Waaahhhhh.
The man raised his voice. ‘You think I’m going to let someone I don’t know?—’
‘We all live in the manor. Where do you think I’m going to take him?’ Holding her arms out, she coaxed, ‘You need a break. Let’s take him out of the sling. And after we’ve toured the village and talked about the technical stuff, we’ll go up to the library and eat cakes.’
‘Cakes?’ He looked tempted. ‘They any good?’
‘Yes. Handmade, and what I do for a living. You’ll see, once you taste them.’
‘I’m not sure?—’
‘Wahhhhh,’ Ezra yelled again, as if shouting his dad down.
‘Bloody hell, would you just hand her the baby?’ Harley muttered. ‘We’ll all go deaf at this rate.’
‘Fine.’ With a searching look at Kirsten, he unfastened the clips, freed his sobbing son from the sling and handed him over.
Scooping the baby into a firm hold, she rocked him back and forth, the wailing ceasing as if by magic. Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
‘How did you…?’ He was astonished.
‘Practice, experience and confidence.’ Kirsten smiled. ‘Once a mum, always a mum. Now, you?’
‘Exhausted, demoralised and frustrated,’ he admitted.
Her smile widened, and someone sniggered. ‘Nice to know, but I meant what’s your name?’
‘Oh.’ Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, ‘Sorry, my brain’s not too sharp these days. Lack of sleep. People call me Dawson.’
‘As inDawson’s Creek?’ Ariel blurted.
‘No!’ His lip curled. ‘As in, my name’s Kit Dawson.’
Tilting her head, Kirsten replied, ‘Well, I’m calling you Kit. You don’t look like a Dawson.’
‘You can call me whatever you bloody want if you keep Ezra happy.’
‘How old is he?’ Ariel breathed, curving a gentle hand around the baby’s downy head and leaning in to inhale his milky baby scent.
‘I lose track,’ Kit shrugged, ‘around three and a half months?’
‘You don’t know?!’ Ariel looked up, ready to explode.
‘Shall we get started?’ Albie interjected calmly. ‘We need to understand the tasks and prioritise them, I think. There’s a pot of money, but we don’t know how far the funds will stretch.’ He produced an old-fashioned key from his pocket. ‘We can get into my cottage, but I’d recommend only touring the ground floor, as we don’t know what the floorboards are like upstairs. We’ll probably need to do some research…’
Theo raised his hand. ‘Um, I spent this afternoon online, and then contacted Ethan for a chat. He’ll be here shortly to offer advice on restoring the village to its original character but with some modern internal modifications.’
‘That’s helpful, I was planning to invite him to the next meeting, but thank you for calling him.’ Nodding as Theo fell into step, Albie ambled over the road towards his cottage, aware the others were following, Ezra transferred onto Ariel’s hip.
Nudging through the peeling wooden gate, he held it open for them to file into the overgrown front garden. The rectangular patch of land was choked with weeds and vegetation; twistedroses climbing over everything in hues of powder blue, blush and ivory. Looking down at his feet, he scrubbed a toe over the worn stone path, broken and caked with moss. ‘Oh, dear. It’s beautiful, but what a mess,’ he murmured, as everyone pulled dismayed faces. Moving over to a crooked grey slate sign attached to the decaying cottage wall, he pushed an ivory rosebush aside, reading the words aloud for their benefit. ‘Friendship Cottage.’
