He told me that his best friend had a house in the woods.
‘Yeah.’ His voice sounds rough.
So he didn’t lie to me about that.
It’s cold inside – colder than outside – but Ash goes straight into a small living room off the hallway and passes me a thick blanket hanging over the back of the sofa. It’s knitted from grey wool and is so soft – warm, too, as I discover within seconds of sitting down and snuggling under it.
He gets to work building a fire in the fireplace.
‘How was Chirk Castle yesterday?’ he asks over his shoulder.
‘Good,’ I reply. We’re doing small talk now? ‘It’s beautiful around here,’ I add.
‘It is,’ he agrees, hesitating before asking, ‘So you went with Evan?’
‘Yep.’
‘You know him from Wisley?’
I nod. ‘He trained me.’
I sense he wants to know more about the nature of our relationship, but I don’t enlighten him.
I’m not entirely sure how to explain it myself. Yesterday was nice, and the grounds of Chirk Castle were stunning – the topiary there is even more impressive than ours. It’s just hard to feel anything right now. I’m far too on edge.
‘Tea?’ Ash asks, straightening up.
‘Have you got any milk?’
He nods.
In his ordinary T-shirt and jeans, he looks more or less the same as he did in Lisbon. But he still sounds like Ashton Berkeley with his posh English accent. It’s more than a little disconcerting.
‘Thanks. No sugar,’ I add, steeling myself against him.
He walks out of the room, seeming oddly rattled himself.
I sit there, taking in my surroundings as I listen to the sounds coming from the adjoining kitchen: the kettle filling, cupboards opening, the clink of cutlery and crockery.
There are bookshelves built into the wall cavities on either side of the fireplace and they’re full of books, from fat, tattered paperbacks to tall hardbacks. I squint, trying to read the spines, and then I get up to take a closer look.
There are a lot of books about space here, and in front of the window is a brass telescope sitting on a wooden stand. It looks vintage.
I turn around to face Ash as he returns, drawing the blanket tighter around my shoulders. He meets my eyes briefly and sets down two mugs onto coasters on the low wooden coffee table.
‘Did you really study astronomy and physics at university?’ I ask, sounding wary.
He recoils. ‘Of course I did.’
‘So the stuff about Taran having a telescope and getting you into the stars …?’
He stares at me, alarmed. ‘Everything I told you was true.’
I scoff at that and he winces.
‘Who lives here now?’ I ask, returning to the sagging, faded sofa.
He sits down on a threadbare red armchair. All the furniture in here looks antique.
