“I shall look forward to it,” I said, getting to my feet, my mind already busy with the form of words I might employ in order to gain an invitation to Stoneleigh Abbey, and my strategy once I was there.

Three

Lucy

The Present

A loud hammering at the door dragged Lucy awake. She had been sleeping so deeply that she didn’t want to stir, comfortable and cocooned in the big bed. The feeling of contentment fled as soon as she opened her eyes; immediately she felt the clutch of anxiety that accompanied every waking moment now, the realization that she had been ill, that her world had been upended. She fell back on the pillows with a deep sigh.

“Lucy!” It was Cleo’s voice, rising up to her from the terrace below.

Lucy pulled on a dressing gown over her pajamas and headed down the wooden stairs, blinking as the full blast of sun blazed through the windows and dazzled her. The fresh morning air, when she opened the door, also helped to clear her head. The sky was the pure bright blue of high summer and the day was full of the calling of birds and the scent of roses.

Cleo was on the doorstep, dressed minimally in shorts, a T-shirt and sandals. Tall and skinny, she never seemed to feel the cold whereas Lucy was always reaching for an extra jumper. Not that it was at all cold this morning. Lucy’s dressing gown was already feeling as hot as a winter coat.

Cleo put down the basket she was carrying and wrapped her sister in an enormous hug. She smelled of shampoo and patchouli, a retro scent that Cleo loved and that permeated both her flat and the bookshop, and now Lucy as well.

Lucy hugged her sister back. For a moment she was terrified that she might lose control and cry. It felt odd and wrong, in some way, to accept Cleo’s unconditional support when she was so used to being the strong and capable one. But Cleo had always been her polar opposite in terms of emotions as well as appearance. She was demonstrative where Lucy was reserved, easygoing where Lucy was driven. She also had no filter.

“How are you, darling?” Cleo pulled back a little and her huge lavender-colored eyes searched Lucy’s face with concern. “You look terrible! It’s almost noon, you know. Have you stopped dressing? Or even washing? I know what’s happened to you is awful, but you mustn’t give up. I’m here for you—” she hugged her again “—and we’ll soon sort you out.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said. “And no, I haven’t stopped dressing. Nor have I given up. It was a long day yesterday and I was tired, that’s all. I only just woke up.”

“I’ll put the kettle on whilst you have a shower, then,” Cleo said, wrinkling up her nose delicately.

When Lucy came back down half an hour later, the barn smelled of freshly brewed coffee and warm bread. Cleo had opened up the big double doors that led out onto the patio and had set the table with a checked cloth, crisp white napkins, cutlery and crockery. Lucy marveled at her sister’s ability to make a place feel warm and welcoming with such speed and ease. Perhaps it was because she had always lived out of suitcases when touring that her own flat had never had that same sense of homeliness about it as Cleo’s did. Lucy had always liked her loft apartment; it was in Camberwell and it had suited her previous, peripatetic life, but now all of a sudden it didn’t feel right. Nowhere did, though. That was part of the problem. Without her work to ground her, Lucy had no idea where she should be or what she should be doing.