way, I passed a row of small houses. Traffic thundered past me along a too-narrow thoroughfare. If ever a town needed a bypass it was this one. I passed the condemned block of apartments across the street. They looked innocuous enough. Bland, gray concrete, featureless windows, and a communal door, with half a dozen or so doorbells and postboxes on both sides. The day was overcast, but not cold, with a smell of autumnal damp leaves and wood fires in the air.
A black dog, similar to an unusually large Labrador—but with a fiercer expression—stood outside the apartments and glared at me. I shivered and hurried on.
A few people passed me. One or two said, “Good morning,” and I returned their greetings. I hadn’t a clue who they were. They were being neighborly and I liked that. Soon, all being well, I would know all their names and be able to greet them properly, inquire after their various offspring, siblings, parents, and any related events or ailments. Soon, I would be part of this community. And Kelly was going to help me get there.
I picked up milk, a newspaper I probably wouldn’t read, a bar of chocolate, and made for the counter. I took a deep breath and imagined Kelly standing there in my place, poised and confident.
“Hello, I’m Maddie Chambers. I’ve moved into Hargest House.” I extended my hand over a selection of impulse buys—candy bars of all kinds, chewing gum, licorice.
The assistant smiled and nodded. “Thought you might be. You fit the description. I’m June Hughes. I own this shop. My nephew Charlie’s doing some work for you.”
I shook her hand and also smiled. “News travels fast.”
“You’ll get used to that here. And the fact everyone pretty much knows everyone else’s business. They’re probably related to them too.”
“It’s a small town. I’m afraid I’m more used to the city, although I did spend summers here as a child.”
The smile faded. “With old Miss Grant. She was your aunt, I believe?”
“Yes. Did you know her?”
June handed me my purchases. “Not very well. I don’t think most people did, towards the end. She never went out, you see. Had people to ‘do’ for her.”
June didn’t sound as if she approved of people having others to ‘do’ for them. Or maybe something else was on her mind. Her tone had become almost frosty.
“Well, it’s been nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll be in again soon.”
June’s smile ended at the corners of her lips. “Yes, do. I’ll look forward to it.” The words and the expression didn’t match. And I knew which I believed.
* * * * *
I had been putting off sorting out Aunt Charlotte’s bedroom, but a nagging thought that maybe—just maybe—I might find some answers, hardened my resolve to go in there. I opened the door to the scent of lavender. A massive bowl, crammed to the hilt with dried blooms, stood on top of a chest of drawers. Under the large bay window stood a desk, covered in photos. Here is where I would start. I set down the large empty cardboard box I had brought with me and sat on the stool. The desk was a traditional, light oak with a polished top, a blotter, and a pen holder—containing an eclectic mix of Parker fountain pens, propelling pencils, and cheap ballpoints.
One by one, I picked up the photos in their silver frames. There were two taken of me. One on my own, holding a kitten I couldn’t remember—but definitely not mine. Mother wouldn’t allow animals in the house and Aunt Charlotte never had any, as far as I could remember. The other photograph of me was with my aunt. She was holding my hand and I was smiling. Aunt Charlotte’s expression bothered me. She was standing at a slight angle, looking over my head, as if something had caught her attention that concerned her.
The other photos were of the rear garden I had barely explored since I returned. Here it was, as I remembered it from my childhood, in full rosy magnificence—complete with the beautiful, aromatic
Jill Lepore
Beth Kery
Andrea Dale, Sarah Husch
V Bertolaccini
Alison Acheson
Douglas Skelton
K. Renee
Linda Howard
Katie MacAlister
Anne Michaels