21
It’s a Wednesday, five days after we moved in, and it still feels like we’re just visiting. The house still very much feels like Dorothea’s, especially as it’s filled with all her furniture. Josh has an app so he can assess the camera footage, and he’s promised he’ll show me how to set it up on my phone as well – not that he’s done it yet. He has snuggled right up to where I’m sitting on one of Dorothea’s velvet sofas, the dogs laid out on the faded Persian rug, and he’s getting closer despite me angling my phone away.
‘What you looking at?’ he asks, moving even closer.
‘Oh, just scrolling.’ I try and sound nonchalant, not wanting him to know I’m researching Rosemary because of the initials on the lighter. I’ve already found her address and now I’m looking into her background. I’ve discovered her on Companies House – she’s had numerous small businesses since investing in the art therapy centre with Dorothea, Annette and Maisie, but there are no red flags. If it was her secret Dorothea wanted to expose, then it doesn’t look like anything financial judging by what I’ve seen. There are no CCJs against her name, no criminal convictions. She’s never been marriedbut there is another name on the electoral roll under her address. Someone called Peter Bryce.
I close the page I’ve been reading and move away from Josh. He flops back against the sofa. ‘Anyway, I’d better take the dogs out for their evening walk,’ I say. ‘Want to come?’
‘Nah, I’ll make a start on dinner. Remember the security firm is coming back tomorrow to check a few things, so I’ll work from home.’
I try not to look disappointed. ‘Twice in one week! What will your boss say?’ Josh never worked from home when we lived in the flat and neither did I. There was only one bedroom and just not enough space. I hope he’s not going to suddenly make this a regular thing now we live here. He’ll only get under my feet while I’m trying to investigate what happened to Dorothea.
‘He’s on holiday this week, so what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.’ He chuckles. ‘I bought a book on Agas as I have no idea how to use one.’ He stands up too and loosens his tie. ‘I was going to do something on the hob. One-pan chicken and rice okay for you?’
Things I love about Josh: his caring nature. How he cooks so I don’t have to.
‘Thanks,’ I say, kissing him quickly and then heading out the room. I can hear him follow me into the hallway.
‘Don’t be too long.’ He hands me the dogs’ leads. ‘It’s getting dark already because of the bad weather.’
‘Okay. See you in a bit.’ I throw on my raincoat and head outside, being pulled roughly by both dogs.
‘Maybe I should come with you …’ he says from the doorway.
‘No, it’s fine. I won’t be long,’ I call back. I give Josh a little wave and leave through the side gate, the dogs pulling ahead.
The lane is pretty and tree-lined with hedgerows on one side and detached and semi-detached Georgian properties lining the pavements on the other, all in the same creamy Bath stone. At the end of the lane is a small church and then beyond that fields with views of the Royal Crescent and the city of Bath. I take the dogs to the field via a kissing gate and let them off their leads. I stand looking at the view as a fine rain dusts my hair and jacket. The rain stops but the sky gets darker and I’m aware I’m out here alone. I call the dogs and head back down the lane. As I pass Mick and Sue’s house, I see someone in the driveway. The gates are open and a man around my age walks towards me.
‘Imogen? Is that you?’
‘Harry!’ My heart twists. He’s taller and even better looking than I remember since I last saw him all those years ago, his dark curls stylishly tamed, and the roundness of his teenaged face has disappeared into a well-defined jaw and prominent cheekbones. But he still has that toothy grin that I’d once fallen for. He is wearing a knee-length overcoat over jeans, a maroon scarf tucked into the collar. He has a college student air about him. He’s holding a pile of books in his arms and I’m pleased to see his love of reading hasn’t changed. I rememberhow many hours we spent in the woods that summer discussing books and arguing over whether we preferred His Dark Materials to Harry Potter.
His smile is broad yet I instantly feel like that awkward, gawky fourteen-year-old I’d been the last time we saw each other. So much has happened since.
‘Mum said you’d inherited Dorothea’s house,’ he says. ‘So tragic what happened to her. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you’d stayed in touch.’
‘We didn’t. It’s a long story. Do you still live at home, then?’
‘Only temporarily. My girlfriend and I split up, and Bath’s so bloody expensive and the rent on my flat was costing me a fortune.’ He shifts the books to his other arm.
‘Sorry to hear about your relationship ending.’
He shrugs. ‘Thanks. Just one of those things. So, what have you been up to over the years? Mum said she saw your byline a couple of times. So you ended up in journalism after all? I remember you said you wanted to be a writer.’
‘Yes. I’ve been working for a news station in Bristol but I’m … well, I’m on leave at the moment.’ I look down as I dig the toe of my boot into the gravel, guilt tugging at the lie.
‘Oh, is that a good thing? It doesn’t look like it from your expression.’
I’d forgotten how direct Harry could be.
I glance up at him. ‘Not really. I suppose I was a bit ofa workaholic and now I hate having all this time on my hands.’
‘I can understand that. So, um … are you living at Dorothea’s villa alone, then?’ He’s definitely fishing. ‘Apart from the dogs, that is?’ he adds with a laugh, glancing at Solly and Cady at my feet. ‘Wait, isn’t that Dennis’s dog?’
‘Yes. I’m looking after her.’ I’m grateful to change the subject. I realize I don’t want to talk to him about Josh. ‘Did you hear what happened to Dennis? He’s in intensive care.’
His face falls. ‘Oh, yes, Dad told me. It’s awful. Is he going to be okay?’
