All That We Are Heir To: Criminal Conversation, #3

By Laura Lyndhurst

LIFE IS ALL WE HAVE ... ONE CONVERSATION AT A TIME.

Her mother died when she was a little girl. She has never known her father. Katie is growing up with her adoptive family and is surrounded by a world full of love. However, she is older now and she has questions. You know that thing where you walk into a room and the conversation stops? Or when you ask a question and the subject is changed—Katie knows them all too well. To confront the past—she has to know it. One day a strange man comes to the house. He asks to speak to her. And he has a story to tell. Will he have the answers she needs?

"I recommend this novel for its daring to flow against the current. For its unique perspective on what makes somebody a criminal." — Amazon Reviewer

 

21 reviews on Goodreads.

 

246 pages approx.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Lyndhurst
• Release date: Jun 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798224349845

Laura Lyndhurst

Laura Lyndhurst was born and grew up in North London, England, before marrying and travelling with her husband in the course of his career. When settled back in the UK she became a mature student and gained Bachelor's and Master's degrees in English and Literature before training and working as a teacher. She started writing in the last few years in the peace and quiet of rural Lincolnshire, and published her debut novel, Fairytales Don't Come True, in May 2020. This book forms the first of a trilogy, Criminal Conversation, of which the second is Degenerate, Regenerate and All That We Are Heir To the third. Innocent, Guilty, the first of another trilogy, continues the story told in these three books and leads on to The Future of Our House, which is followed by Uphill, Downhill, Over, Out as the sixth and final book to end the series. Laura also developed a taste for psychological suspense, which led to the writing and publication of You Know What You Did, to which What Else Did You Do? is the sequel. Laura has also published four small books of poems, October Poems, Thanksgiving Poems and Prose Pieces, Poet-Pourri and Social Climbing and Other Poems.

Book preview

All That We Are Heir To

Criminal Conversation, Volume 3

Laura Lyndhurst

Published by Laura Lyndhurst, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

ALL THAT WE ARE HEIR TO

First edition. June 17, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Laura Lyndhurst.

ISBN: 979-8224349845

Written by Laura Lyndhurst.

PART 1

CHILD

the present

What should I do?

What am I to do?

I don’t know what to do.

I do know. I just can’t bring myself to do it.

I’m in love, but I’m also fearful.

Why is this happening?

I know why.

I just can’t bring myself to accept it.

What am I to do?

THE PAST

1: aunts

She was seven years old when he first came to the house. There were no men living with them, which made his visit interesting to say the least. She hadn’t been concerned about the female-only population of her home until she’d gone to school and found that some of the other children had men in theirs. Most often this was a father-figure, along with a mother and one or more children, siblings, or step-siblings in some cases. There were other homes without a father, though, with a mother as single parent to children, and in one case there was a father with one child. There weren’t any like her home though, with Auntie Laura, Auntie Celia, Cousin Vivie and Emily, Cousin Vivie’s baby. Emily must have a father, a daddy, Katie thought, but he didn’t live with them. She asked Vivie once, which was brave because, loving and caring though Vivie was, and more like a big sister than a cousin, she didn’t welcome questions on the subject.

Katie knew this because she was in the room once, when Emily had just come to live with them, out of Vivie’s tummy Katie had been told, when she asked. Vivie was feeding Emily, and Katie was playing behind the sofa with her doll. She was imitating Vivie, giving Tina the doll her breast, or pretending to, given that she didn’t have real, grown-up breasts like Vivie, just a flat chest.

Auntie Celia had come in and spoken with Vivie, then took Emily from her and talked to her in that baby-talk way they all used. Afterwards, when Vivie was putting Emily into her little carry-cot, Auntie Celia had made some comment referring to Emily’s daddy. It was something like, ‘She doesn’t get that from you, does she? She must get it from her father, whoever he is.’ Vivie had reacted in an angry way, telling Auntie Celia to mind her own business, that she was in no position to talk about children born out of wedlock—which intriguing phrase Katie had stored for later investigation. But Auntie Celia stood her ground.

‘I told my parents who your father was, and I told you about him, when you were old enough. You’d have met him, if he’d been interested in you and stayed around long enough.’

Vivie laughed then, but she didn’t sound amused. ‘Fat lot of good it did you, didn’t it? Anyway—,’ and she sounded weary then. ‘Look Mum, I don’t want to fall out with you, I don’t want to disagree with you, I know who her father is and I’ll tell you when I’m good and ready.’

She looked over towards the sofa, and Katie knew she’d remembered her little cousin playing behind it and was glad to change the subject. ‘Katie’s here,’ Vivie told her mother, ‘look, she’s got her baby with her too, haven’t you, love?’ So Katie came out, and Vivie and Auntie Celia made encouraging noises about how well she looked after her own baby, Tina. Katie played along, but she felt it was all a bit silly. They knew Tina was a doll, not a real baby, even though Katie had played at giving birth to her, here behind the sofa, after she’d questioned Vivie about the exact way Emily had come out of her tummy.

She was glad Vivie had told her the truth. Auntie Laura had come up with some ridiculous story about a stork bringing Emily, and Auntie Celia had laughed and said that Katie would find out in the fullness of time. This was the time, as far as Katie was concerned. Did they think she was stupid, just because she was little? But Vivie was always truthful with her, well, most of the time. She was a nurse, and a realist, and didn’t believe in telling the little girl a load of guff just to soften the truth, and which would confuse her when she became older. So Katie knew that Emily had found her way out of her mummy through the front hole between her legs.

‘Wasn’t it for pee,’ she asked, ‘like the back hole’s for poo?’

‘Yes,’ Vivie assured her, ‘but you don’t have a baby at the same time as you have a pee.’ Katie digested that information.

‘But isn’t it too small for a baby?,’ she queried, after thinking about the matter for a while. Vivie was bigger than she was, so her hole must be bigger, Katie reasoned, but not that big, she was sure.

‘No,’ Vivie agreed, ‘but a mummy’s hole stretches when a baby has to get out through it, like the way tights stretch to fit women’s legs.’ Like for Auntie Laura and Auntie Celia and Vivie herself, Katie realised. That made sense, she supposed, and later she was found behind the sofa, with Tina between her legs, making movements with her body. ‘What are you doing?’ enquired Auntie Laura, who came to investigate the little noises which accompanied the movements.

‘I’m having a baby,’ Katie told her, and Auntie nodded in a knowing way, and tried to look nonchalant, like it was the most natural thing for a little girl to be playing at, and left her to it. Katie heard her telling Auntie Celia later, and both laughing over the matter and commenting about what a grown-up little thing Katie was. So no more stupid then, Katie thought with satisfaction and, armed with the knowledge of her grown-up-ness, she asked Vivie about Emily’s daddy. Vivie, true to form, gave her an honest answer, of sorts. ‘He has other children, with another mummy, and he has to live with them.’ But she didn’t say why he never came here to see Emily and her mummy Vivie. She left the room before Katie could ask that, and Katie felt that Vivie didn’t want her to ask.

She’d asked Auntie Laura about her own mummy and daddy, though. She could ask Auntie Laura anything, and Auntie Celia, although they wouldn’t always tell her the truth, not like Vivie, grown-up little thing though Katie might be. This exasperated her, so she’d got into the habit of asking questions of Vivie as her resource of choice. Despite the fact that Vivie gave truthful answers, though, Katie had learned that there were things she’d prefer not to be asked, such as this big question of mummies and daddies and children. Katie was indeed astute for only six years old.

‘Do you not remember your mummy?’ Auntie Laura had asked in return, when Katie made her big enquiry, and then answered her own question. ‘No, I suppose you might not, you were only three or four when it happened.’ And Auntie Laura had explained how Katie’s mummy loved her very much, and didn’t want to leave Katie, but she’d been ill, very ill, so ill that she couldn’t live. So she died, and went up to Heaven, and to God, who made her better, and made her an angel as well.

Katie knew about God, and Death. They’d been told at school about God, and how He made us all, and lived above us, in heaven, with the angels, and Katie knew that her mummy was one of these angels now. She’d learned about Death when she saw a film on the television, The Lion King, and the daddy lion Mufasa had been pushed off a hill by his wicked brother Scar, and fallen into a lot of wildebeest. When the wildebeest had all gone little Simba, his son, had tried to wake him up, but Mufasa wouldn’t wake. ‘Why won’t he wake up?’ a puzzled Katie had asked her aunties, who were watching with her. Then Auntie Laura had taken great care in explaining it to her, so then Katie knew about Death.

She didn’t know if she remembered her mummy or not. Sometimes she had fleeting pictures in her head of a pretty lady with long, almost white hair, shining like an angel’s hair would, in Katie’s imagination. She’d been talking to Katie, cuddling her and holding her tight. But the pictures had gone out of her head, and the lady had gone out of her life, if she’d ever been in it. Katie told Auntie Laura about this, and her aunt had confirmed that this was Katie’s mummy, before she had to leave Katie because God needed her to be an angel for him.

That night, when Katie was all tucked up in bed, she’d lain awake, thinking about her mummy and God and the angels. The house was quiet. Auntie Laura and Auntie Celia and Vivie and Emily were all asleep, as Katie should be. But instead she climbed out of bed, being quiet, so as not to wake anybody, and tiptoed to the window, where she pulled the curtains back, just enough so she could see the sky.

It was a clear night, and the almost-full Moon shone bright in a corner of the sky. The stars were visible, little pinpoints of brightness gleaming in the darkness around them. Vivie had bought pretend stars which glowed yellowish, and stuck them all over the ceiling of Katie’s bedroom, so they shone for her when it was dark and the lights were off, but the real things were so much better. Katie didn’t know about the constellations yet, apart from Orion the hunter, which Auntie Laura had pointed out to her one night, and she’d promised to tell Katie about more of them soon.

The little girl wondered about Heaven. Where was it, exactly? And God, and the angels. Did they just fly around the sky all the time? They must need to stop, sometimes, to have a rest, and a sleep. Where did they stop? It must be on the planets, which didn’t look much bigger than the stars to Katie. Auntie Laura had explained about the Moon, which it seemed wasn’t one of the planets but appeared bigger than they were, because it was so much closer to the Earth. So there was plenty of room on the planets for God and his angels, Katie thought, but if all the people who had ever lived on the Earth had gone to be angels, Katie reasoned—being very perceptive for her age—they must have filled up fast.

So maybe the people who’d gone later had to live on the stars. That must be the case, she was sure, and one of these was her mummy. She loved Katie very much, Auntie Laura had told her, so she wouldn’t want to live on a star far away, would she? So she must be on the closest one to the earth she could find. Katie was sure about this, and liked to look at the stars, wondering which one her mummy was on, and if she could see Katie when her little girl sat at her window at night. She felt comforted in the thought, and in the brightness of the stars shining down upon her.

The next day Katie asked Auntie Laura again about her mummy. She couldn’t remember her, no matter how hard she tried, and she’d need to know what she looked like so that when Katie went to be an angel herself she could find her. Auntie Laura thought for a moment, then took Katie by the hand and into her study. She rummaged inside her desk, at last finding what she sought. Then, sitting in her easy chair and bringing the little girl close, putting an arm around her and standing her close against her legs, she showed Katie what she’d found.

A photograph, very small, passport size—as Katie was to learn when she grew up—of a woman, about the same age as Vivie, or a bit younger perhaps. She looked into the camera with an intense gaze, very solemn, but with clear, very blue eyes and long, very white-blonde hair which triggered the almost-memories in Katie’s head.

‘Your mummy.’ Laura awaited some response from the daughter, who took her time studying the image.

‘She doesn’t look very happy.’ Not quite what Laura was expecting, but true.

‘It was for her university identity card,’ she explained. ‘They don’t want them to smile, but don’t ask me why. I’m sure she was happy, inside. She wanted to be at university so much, and it took her a lot of effort to get there. She was an excellent student, like her daughter.’

Laura stroked Katie’s face, and the little girl laid her head against her aunt’s arm, still studying the photograph. She knew about university, it was where Vivie learned to be a nurse. A sort of grown-up school, where Katie would go one day, if she was clever enough. So her mummy must have been clever, to go there. It was a comfort, of sorts.

So Katie knew a bit more about her mummy, and Auntie Laura had the photograph put into a little frame, a flexible thing with a cover, so it could stand on the bedside table or be taken with her, in a handbag maybe, when she got older.

As to Katie’s daddy, Auntie Laura was not quite so forthcoming. ‘He had to go away,’ was all she said at first.

‘To Heaven, to be an angel like Mummy?’ Katie asked, while Auntie Laura was thinking about what else to say.

‘No, not like that, he was still living, just not with us.’

‘With another mummy and children, like Emily’s daddy?’

‘No, not that either. He just had to be somewhere else for the time being, but you’ll meet him one day,’ Auntie Laura assured her. ‘I don’t know when, but I’ll do my best for you, Katie.’ And with that the little girl had to be content.

Later, she heard Auntie Laura talking to Auntie Celia about it. She hadn’t meant to overhear them, but she was coming downstairs and they were talking in the lounge, with the door open, and not expecting Katie to come along. ‘She met him once,’ Auntie Celia was saying, ‘remember? When he came to say goodbye. You were at work but I told you when you got home.’

‘Yes,’ said Auntie Laura, and Katie could tell by her voice that she was bothered. ‘But it might not be him. What if it’s not, what if he’s not her father?’ And Katie, who was now peeping through the crack in the hinged side of the part-open door, saw Auntie Laura looking at Auntie Celia, who looked right back, but didn’t say anything. Then, going over and switching on the TV, she sighed.

‘It’s better if it is him, better than the other one, more chance than it being the other one, when you think about it.’

Auntie Laura sounded anxious as she replied. ‘But it was only once—,’ before Auntie Celia cut her off.

‘Once is enough, I ought to know. There were so many chances with the other, and it never happened. It has to be the younger, far better all round. Tea?’

Katie crept away, not wishing to be found listening-in—even if it was unintentional—by Auntie Celia on her way to the kitchen. She went back upstairs the way she’d come, to think about what she’d heard.

She was puzzled. If she’d ever met her daddy she couldn’t remember, no matter how much she screwed up her eyes and thought really hard about it. And what did Auntie Laura mean, it might not be him? And who was the other one, and why was it better for it to be him? And only once? It bothered Katie, she couldn’t work out what it all meant, but she could tell that asking any more questions of the Aunts would get her nowhere. So she tried to put the troublesome question out of her mind for the time being.

Now, however, this interesting man had come to the house, and Katie was excited. Was it him, after all this time? Men did come to the house sometimes, but not often. Auntie Celia always snorted and laughed if Auntie Laura suggested that they should get a man in to do something or other. ‘Men,’ she’d say, ‘they’ll only make a mess of it, I could do it better myself, I was raised on a farm and I can turn my hand to most things. Men are only good for one thing and they’re lousy at that, most often, I should know, shouldn’t I? I’ve had enough—.’

And then Auntie Laura had noticed Katie listening, taking in all that was said and trying to understand it. She’d asked Katie to go to the kitchen and get the biscuit jar, she fancied a few with the nice cup of tea that Celia had just brought. So Katie went, but hesitated outside the lounge door as she closed it behind her, and heard what was said next. ‘You need to be careful,’ Auntie Laura said to Auntie Celia, ‘you know what she’s like, she doesn’t miss a thing, and it’s not always appropriate for her to hear.’

‘Oh, aye, sharp as a knife, that one,’ replied Auntie Celia, ‘too much so for her own good, enough to cut herself.’ But when Katie came back with the biscuit jar they were talking about something else, unrelated, something boring, about getting new tyres for Auntie Laura’s car.

But there were times when even Auntie Celia couldn’t fix things around the house, like the time when the washing machine broke and flooded the kitchen. Auntie Celia grumbled about the need for a man to come in, while she mopped up the water and cleaned up the mess it had left, while Auntie Laura sat on the edge of the kitchen table and phoned up to get a man to come and fix it. ‘Can’t you see if they have a female engineer?,’ Auntie Celia asked her.

‘No,’ Auntie Laura said, ‘you can’t do that, we’d get in trouble for some sort of discrimination, and anyway, engineers are men for the most part, I’m afraid to say, even in this day and age.’

‘Pity,’ said Auntie Celia, attacking the floor under the table with her mop, ‘you can’t ask if they’ve got a gay engineer, that being the next best thing. What a fairytale come true that would be.’

‘Ah, but fairytales don’t come true,’ said Auntie Laura. She used to say that a lot.

Katie knew what gay was, sort of, because she was a bit confused about the details in terms of her own home. Auntie Laura had told her that it was when two mummies lived together, or two daddies, rather than one mummy with one daddy. ‘So does that mean you and Auntie Celie are gay, as two mummies looking after me?,’ Katie had asked, her deep brown eyes fixed on Auntie Laura as she tried to take it all in.

‘Oh no,’ Auntie Laura had hastened to assure her, with a rising sense of panic and deep regret that she’d ever broached the topic. But the child had to know, she’d reasoned, so plunged onwards. ‘Vivie had a daddy, but he left her and Auntie Celia. I’m gay and I lived with another mummy, but she left me. So Auntie Celia was Vivie’s mummy, and I became a mummy to your own mummy, Katie, because she didn’t have a mummy and daddy anymore, but Auntie Celia and I were her friends. So we all lived together and Celia and I became your aunties, when your mummy went to God, because we loved your mummy and we loved you. And we still do.’

Laura stopped, and Katie thought about what she’d said. It was a lot to take in. She nodded, solemn and polite, and took herself off to her room, more rather than less confused. Laura, relieved, went to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine. She didn’t take a drink before the evening, as a rule, but somehow today she needed one.

So a man came to fix the washing machine, and Auntie Laura let him in, as Auntie Celia had popped into town for something or other. Katie sat and watched him as he worked, while Auntie Laura made him a cup of tea. A big man, with blue eyes and fair hair, very short, and a beard, also short, and a voice that sounded a bit like Auntie Celia’s. And after he’d been going a while Katie heard the car pulling onto the drive outside. ‘That’ll be Celia, it’s a shame she wasn’t a bit longer,’ Auntie Laura remarked, as they heard the front door opening.

Katie, anxious because of Auntie Celia’s dislike of men in the house, asked him, ‘Are you gay?’ Then Auntie Laura went very red in the face and spluttered her tea all over herself, as Auntie Celia came in through the door from the hallway.

But the man just looked at Katie and smiled. ‘Now, why would you be asking me that?’

‘Because Auntie Celia doesn’t like men, she says they’re only good for one thing, and most are no good at that, and she should know, she’s had—.’

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What will we be doing with this child?’ Auntie Celia dropped the shopping bags in horror, as Auntie Laura carried on choking and spluttering, and Katie shut up fast. She knew she’d done something Very Wrong and didn’t know how to put it right. But the washing machine man just threw back his head and laughed, laughed till he shook. And then Auntie Celia saw the funny side, and she laughed too, and whacked Auntie Laura on the back to stop her choking, as she was laughing and coughing all at the same time now.

So order was restored, with Auntie Celia making more tea for them all, and milk for Katie, and the man finished fixing the machine so he sat and drank his tea and they all had a conversation, very companionable. It turned out that his name was Tom, and as it happened he was gay, for Auntie Laura, and Irish, for Auntie Celia. So he exchanged memories of Ireland with Auntie Celia, and stories of Pride festivals he’d attended with Auntie Laura, and she told him about when she’d gone to the Festival in Lesvos a few years ago.

‘Not my thing really, as it turned out,’ she told him, ‘but I wanted to get there once before I get too old.’ So now they had a man as a friend, and it was even better than that, because as it turned out he was very good at fixing things, not just washing machines but internet boxes too, and replacing grout around the bath tiles. Which Auntie Celia could do, she said, but she had a lot to do with keeping the house running, so if Tom wanted to come in and do it she didn’t mind. And after that, whenever they had something that needed doing, Tom would come and do it, and drink tea and chat and bring sweets for Katie. So, that was a fairytale come true, as Auntie Celia had said, and contrary to what Auntie Laura believed.

So Tom was really the only man they ever saw, apart from those who came to deliver groceries, or the post. But now this new man who had shown up didn’t look like one of those. They wore overalls, or a postman’s blue shirt and shorts, or jeans and a T-shirt, but this man wore a very smart suit, with a tie, and he didn’t deliver anything or fix anything. He just rang the doorbell and, when Auntie Celia answered it, greeted her in a familiar manner, hugging her and kissing her on both cheeks as though they knew each other, and then he went with her into the lounge, where Auntie Laura was waiting.

It was clear they’d been expecting him, and closed the door, leaving Katie sitting at the top of the stairs, watching with interest. After a couple of minutes Auntie Celia emerged again, and went to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

Katie sat and waited, and cuddled her teddy-bear. She’d had it ever since she could remember, and before that, and it went with her everywhere. It had been her mummy’s, Auntie Laura had told Katie, and the link to her dead mother made it all the more special to her. Teddy, she called it, not a very original name, but that was what it was, after all, and anyway, that was what her mummy had called it. Auntie Laura had told her so.

Auntie Celia returned soon, bearing a tray with mugs of tea and coffee and a plate of biscuits, as Katie had expected. She balanced the tray like an expert, one hand against the door whilst opening it with the other and, having deposited the tray somewhere inside, came and closed the door again, much to Katie’s irritation.

She crept down the stairs, taking care to be quiet, and took up a position against the door. It was a modern one, despite this being an old house, and had no keyhole. Auntie Laura had the doors changed a couple of years ago, the old ones no longer fitting too well and making the house draughty. So Katie couldn’t put her ear to it, but was forced to press her head up against the door. It was no use though, all she could hear was muffled voices, and then the sound of footsteps getting heavier as they moved towards her.

She flew into the downstairs lavatory as fast as she could, that being the closest place, bolting the door and flushing the toilet after a moment, emerging rubbing her hands, which she’d washed to give authenticity to her appearance from this room. But it was only Auntie Celia again, and in need of the loo which Katie had just vacated. She beamed at the girl in passing, entered the little room and bolted the door behind her. Katie took herself up the stairs, collecting Teddy en route, and crouched on the landing, so that she could see without being seen herself. And, when Auntie Celia reappeared and re-entered the lounge, she crept back downstairs and into the kitchen.

There was an old-fashioned serving hatch in here, which connected with the lounge. It used to be a dining-room, from what Katie had heard from the aunts and Vivie, but they all ate in the kitchen nowadays, and the old formal dining room had become a lounge on account of it getting more sun and less traffic noise than the room designated for that purpose. Vivie had been on at Auntie Laura to knock down the connecting wall and make it into a large living-dining-kitchen area, but Auntie Laura didn’t need the hassle of builders, she’d said, not at her age, and anyway, it would make a good room for Emily one day, should Vivie not move away.

So the old serving hatch made an excellent listening device for Katie, and she was rewarded for her resourcefulness. She’d come in quite a way through the conversation, and much of what she gleaned was mysterious, but it was rewarding nevertheless to hear what she wasn’t supposed to.

‘I did think of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to visit him, however much he meant to Magdalena and even though he’s your brother. I know he provides financial support, the money comes in each month on the dot, and I only have to ask if she needs anything else. I’m grateful, don’t think I’m not. But when I think of what he did to her—.’

Auntie Laura’s voice began to sound tearful and trailed off, and she heard movement, a chair maybe, and footsteps across the carpet. Katie risked putting her eye to the rather too-large gap in the serving-hatch doors, and was rewarded with the sight of the man seated next to Auntie Laura on the couch, his arms around her and stroking her head as she cried on his shoulder. As Auntie’s sobs subsided and she straightened herself, he took his arms from around her and stood up, his gaze sweeping over the hatch in the wall. Katie threw her head backwards away from the gap, as swift and as quiet as was possible. Then, her presence undetected, she heard him speak again.

‘Well, he won’t be out for a couple of years yet, so it’s just me, and late though it might be, I think she’d benefit from some paternal as well as financial input,’ Katie heard the man say. Her mind was working overtime by now, digesting and trying to analyse these so-interesting snippets of information, and so engrossed was she that she missed what followed. Who was the he that was this man’s brother, and what had he done to Magdalena? Katie thought that must be her mummy, who Auntie Laura and Auntie Celia and Vivie spoke of as Mags when they did speak of her, which wasn’t too often. He must be bad, for Auntie Laura not to visit him, Katie decided, but he gave them money, it sounded like, so he couldn’t be all bad, could he?

So absorbed was Katie by these issues that she didn’t hear the lounge door open and someone go up the stairs, but she did hear her name called by Auntie Celia as she ascended and then descended. Desperate to think of an excuse for her presence in the kitchen, Katie missed the conversation that followed between Auntie Laura and the man. Too late, Auntie Celia was there already, asking ‘What are you doing in here?’ and providing Katie with just what she needed through the teddy-bear dangling from one hand.

‘Looking for Teddy,’ she answered, with an innocent and butter-wouldn’t-melt look which she was sure didn’t fool Auntie Celia.

But if the latter suspected the eavesdropping through the hatch she said nothing about it. Instead she held out her empty hand. ‘Come on with me, there’s someone you have to meet.’

Katie didn’t need asking twice. Her hand was in Auntie Celia’s as fast as possible, and it was the excited little girl who led the woman through the door, rather than the other way around. Inside, Auntie Laura was sitting on the sofa next to the old fireplace, with the man opposite her, in an armchair. They both turned to look at Katie as she preceded Auntie Celia through the door. Her gaze was on the man. He seemed quite old to her, older than the aunts, and very formal, wearing a dark suit on his slim body. His hair was short, although not too much so, dark in the main but going grey around the edges, clean-shaven, with large dark eyes which were fixed on Katie in a quizzical manner.

She went straight to him and stood looking at him with her direct gaze. He took her hands in his, and she didn’t shy away. He smiled. ‘You’ve