and furniture layouts. She propped up the schedule mentally in her mind and trod the well-worn path of visualizing the decoration of each room in Tornley Hall.
She imagined Barbara’s response to each one when it was finished, and then to the whole house.
Perfect! A perfect family home, Hannah!
The tapping on her back slowed. Will’s hand grew heavier. A small snore came from behind.
She breathed deeper, knowing that, with the motion of her rising ribs, Will’s hand would gradually slip away.
When it did, she turned about-face and smelt toothpaste on his breath, and coffee on her own. She brushed his hair softly from his face, so as not to wake him. Her finger halted at what she thought was a grey hair, then realized it was white paint. Would they ever become parents before one of them really did turn grey?
Cold air blew into the small gap between their bodies, and she shivered. Will had started the boiler, but the bedroom was still freezing. What would the bills be like on a house this big? It was a concern now that she wasn’t working – and a subject they should probably avoid when talking to Barbara.
Hannah turned and backed into the length of Will’s body to find warmth.
She re-established her decorating schedule in her mind and ran through it till sleep came, as it always did, and stole her away from the fear that she could never face – that all of this could yet be for nothing.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Hannah woke on Monday morning, the pocket of chill in the bed had returned. Will’s space was empty, just the crease in his pillow left.
She peered at the clock.
09.54 a.m. – what?
Hannah sat upright. Why hadn’t he set the alarm? A muscle in her shoulder twinged and she rubbed it. That action, in turn, stung her forefinger. An angry paintbrush blister had appeared on the end. Sucking it, she went to throw off the duvet – then stopped.
If Will wasn’t here, there was no need to jump out of bed.
She could stay in the warm for a few minutes, without him hoping it was going to lead to something. She stretched out her stiff arms and surveyed the cracked Victorian ceiling rose above.
Now that she’d thrown out the sickly air fresheners she suspected Brian had brought to disguise the weird smell in the house, there was a faint scent of old-fashioned perfume in this room. Lavender? Lilac? She tried to recall the previous layout of the room. Her eyes roamed from wall to wall. There had definitely been a high, single bed on this side, which had seemed odd for an adult. An elegant green-velvet chaise longue opposite. A kidney-bean-shaped dressing table in the bay window, with a gilt hairbrush and mirror set. It had clearly been the elderly sister’s bedroom. The one next door was surely the brother’s, with its extendable metal bed and drip-stand, presumably abandoned when he was taken to the nursing home.
Who had died first, Hannah wondered, Peter or Olive Horseborrow?
Had Olive died in this room?
She yawned, checking whether Will had left her one of his notes to say ‘Bye x’.
His bedside table was empty, as was the dressing table. Thinking about it, there hadn’t been a note for a while.
With a shove, she threw back the covers.
‘Oh!’ Hannah exclaimed.
Her skin felt as if it had been doused in iced water. Jumping up, she ran to the door, grabbed Will’s bathrobe and flung it on. She touched the radiator and found surly cold metal. Why was the heating not on?
In the bathroom across the hall she switched on the shower and stood shivering, hand out, surveying the plain white suite and walls. According to Brian, all the plumbing and electrics had been redone ten years ago. This was one room then, at least, that would do as it was for Barbara’s visit.
She waited, but the water didn’t heat up.
Not the boiler, on top of everything else, please.
Holding the robe around her, Hannah went downstairs, checked another unresponsive radiator in the hall and was turning towards the kitchen when
She imagined Barbara’s response to each one when it was finished, and then to the whole house.
Perfect! A perfect family home, Hannah!
The tapping on her back slowed. Will’s hand grew heavier. A small snore came from behind.
She breathed deeper, knowing that, with the motion of her rising ribs, Will’s hand would gradually slip away.
When it did, she turned about-face and smelt toothpaste on his breath, and coffee on her own. She brushed his hair softly from his face, so as not to wake him. Her finger halted at what she thought was a grey hair, then realized it was white paint. Would they ever become parents before one of them really did turn grey?
Cold air blew into the small gap between their bodies, and she shivered. Will had started the boiler, but the bedroom was still freezing. What would the bills be like on a house this big? It was a concern now that she wasn’t working – and a subject they should probably avoid when talking to Barbara.
Hannah turned and backed into the length of Will’s body to find warmth.
She re-established her decorating schedule in her mind and ran through it till sleep came, as it always did, and stole her away from the fear that she could never face – that all of this could yet be for nothing.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Hannah woke on Monday morning, the pocket of chill in the bed had returned. Will’s space was empty, just the crease in his pillow left.
She peered at the clock.
09.54 a.m. – what?
Hannah sat upright. Why hadn’t he set the alarm? A muscle in her shoulder twinged and she rubbed it. That action, in turn, stung her forefinger. An angry paintbrush blister had appeared on the end. Sucking it, she went to throw off the duvet – then stopped.
If Will wasn’t here, there was no need to jump out of bed.
She could stay in the warm for a few minutes, without him hoping it was going to lead to something. She stretched out her stiff arms and surveyed the cracked Victorian ceiling rose above.
Now that she’d thrown out the sickly air fresheners she suspected Brian had brought to disguise the weird smell in the house, there was a faint scent of old-fashioned perfume in this room. Lavender? Lilac? She tried to recall the previous layout of the room. Her eyes roamed from wall to wall. There had definitely been a high, single bed on this side, which had seemed odd for an adult. An elegant green-velvet chaise longue opposite. A kidney-bean-shaped dressing table in the bay window, with a gilt hairbrush and mirror set. It had clearly been the elderly sister’s bedroom. The one next door was surely the brother’s, with its extendable metal bed and drip-stand, presumably abandoned when he was taken to the nursing home.
Who had died first, Hannah wondered, Peter or Olive Horseborrow?
Had Olive died in this room?
She yawned, checking whether Will had left her one of his notes to say ‘Bye x’.
His bedside table was empty, as was the dressing table. Thinking about it, there hadn’t been a note for a while.
With a shove, she threw back the covers.
‘Oh!’ Hannah exclaimed.
Her skin felt as if it had been doused in iced water. Jumping up, she ran to the door, grabbed Will’s bathrobe and flung it on. She touched the radiator and found surly cold metal. Why was the heating not on?
In the bathroom across the hall she switched on the shower and stood shivering, hand out, surveying the plain white suite and walls. According to Brian, all the plumbing and electrics had been redone ten years ago. This was one room then, at least, that would do as it was for Barbara’s visit.
She waited, but the water didn’t heat up.
Not the boiler, on top of everything else, please.
Holding the robe around her, Hannah went downstairs, checked another unresponsive radiator in the hall and was turning towards the kitchen when
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