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‘Right,’ Katie got to her feet. ‘Let’s both go into the kitchen. I fancy another chunk of cheese and you can help yourself.’
‘OK,’ Arlo said, sounding relieved. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
The grandfather clock struck eleven and she and Arlo were still talking. He’d declined a glass of wine but had had two helpings of picky bits from the fridge and a mince pie and coffee. He’d unwound sufficiently to settle into a wing-back armchair with one long leg crossed over the other.
With Katie’s encouragement, he’d told her about the history of the Island House and some of its former inhabitants and how it had come into the possession of the Crabtree family.
‘My great-grandfather bought it from a descendant of the family who built it. It had fallen into disrepair and had become a liability. Great-grandad had known it during the Second World War when it was a hospital for a time. He’d caught malaria in Burma and ended up recovering here. He never forgot the place.’
‘I can imagine,’ Katie said, picturing the soldiers being brought from the horrors of war to the tranquillity of the Island House.
‘So when his own father died not long after the war, he bought it and he and my great-grandmother lived in it for a while. It then got handed down to my grandfather and eventually, my dad, who started running it as a business. My parents live down south and don’t want the hassle now, so I took it on a few years ago and rent it for holidays or one-off events.’
He stared into the fire before smiling wryly at Katie. ‘But you don’t want to hear my life story.’
She leaned forward. ‘Oh, but I do. I love people’s life stories. It’s my job to listen to them.’
‘Oh? Are you a detective? A psychologist?’
Katie burst out laughing. ‘A bit of both and neither. I’m a novelist.’
Arlo’s jaw did drop a little but Katie was used to a wide variety of surprised reactions when she revealed her profession. A few people were indifferent but most were intrigued.
His ‘oh’ of surprise turned into a wry expression. ‘I bet your heart sinks when someone tells you they’ve got a book in them.’
‘Yes, though people’s real-life stories honestly do inspire me. A dramatic experience or a tale of woe. If that doesn’t sound awful.’
‘What type of books do you write?’
‘Romance,’ Katie said.
‘Wow.’ His eyes widened a fraction; then he said, ‘I’m afraid I’ve led a very dull life.’
‘Well, you’ve ended up running a beautiful old house on an island in the middle of Derwentwater. I call that pretty unique and I’m sure you have so many tales about your guests. All those milestone events: birthdays and weddings and anniversaries. Great material. Not that I’d expect you to be indiscreet.’
‘Well, I suppose I could tell you plenty …’
About other people, thought Katie, sensing he probably wasn’t going to elaborate on his own circumstances any further. ‘Doesn’t staying here at Christmas mean you’ll miss your own family celebrations?’
‘Yes. Such as they are.’ He stared into his glass.
‘Oh? Is Christmas not a big deal in your family?’
‘Not much of one. My parents worked in the diplomatic service until they retired and they’re used to my brother and me being all over the world too.’
‘That sounds exciting.’ If he’d worked all over the globe, why was he now confined to this isolated, quiet patch of land in the Lakes?
‘They’re bemused by my choice of lifestyle full stop. They think I should be in London rather than running the house and helping out my mate, Greg, with his farm. My brother thinks I’m a dropout.’
‘A dropout?’ She laughed, yet her curiosity was piqued even further. ‘Why’s that?’
‘I think they think I’ve run away up here. Besides, they have my brother and his family this year. Sam and his wife are both in corporate finance. They have two young boys and, believe me, that will be enough excitement for my parents without me rocking up as well.’
‘It sounds like everyone could have done with their Uncle Arlo’s help,’ said Katie, intrigued by the idea of Arlo running away. If he had – then what from?
Arlo laughed softly and a smile of pride and tenderness softened his features and made her tingle with recognition. It was how she felt about her new twin nieces, even if she hadn’t met them yet.
‘I’m an aunt now,’ she said. ‘My sister had twin girls a week ago. It’s why my mum and dad can’t come up here for Christmas. I’ll miss them but I understand.’ They’d been torn between Katie and Lou but Katie had made their decision easier by saying she didn’t mind at all. She did, a little bit, but not enough to make her parents and sister feel awful.
