Page 16 of Ever After

“Same,” I say quietly. I hope he never stops levelling me with unexpected moments of loving honesty.

The trees thin, and, ahead of us, an old house looms. I slow the car as the driveway ends in a circular gravel forecourt.

“Wow,” Blue says, no trace of his customary world weariness. “That’s gorgeous.”

I stop the car at the edge of the forecourt and gaze at the house. He’s not wrong. The house is huge. It’s built of grey granite with ivy rioting over it

“I read a book about the house. It’s a mix of architecture,” I tell him. “The original building dated back to the medieval period. It burned down in the nineteenth century.” I point at the stone doorway and the mullioned windows. “You can see traces of the original architecture there. The rest is Victorian.”

“You say that, Levi, but all I hear is that there will be many ghosts.”

“I did worry about that,” I admit.

He shoots me a wry look. “Levi, you could have booked a house that was built yesterday and a ghost would still manage to find me. Relax. It’s fine.”

I switch off the engine and open the door, climbing out and stretching with a grunt of pleasure.

Blue immediately beelines to a low stone wall which offers a view of the sea. “Look at this. It’s so beautiful, babe.”

I think he’s more so but keep that silly thought to myself. Instead, I slide my phone out and take a sneaky picture of him and then wander to the wooden front door. It’s easily eight feet tall and adorned with bands of metal.

I have the strong sense that someone is looking at me, and when I gaze up at the house, I spy a man standing at one of the windows. The sun is half on the glass, but I get a dim impression of long blond hair and a rangy build. This must be the owner. We stare at each other for a long moment and then he raises his hand in greeting.

“Levi?”

I turn back to find Blue walking up to me. “Have you rung the bell yet?” he asks.

“Eh? No. Not yet.” I look back up at the window but it’s empty. “I’ll do it now.”

There isn’t a doorbell. Instead, it’s a cast-iron knocker in the form of a snarling wolf. I lift it and bang it a few times, the rat-a-tat-tat seeming unnaturally loud in this quiet setting.

We wait a few moments, and then I repeat the gesture.

Light footsteps sound and the door is pulled open. I look up and then down, finding a small child standing there. He’s wearing jeans, a faded blue T-shirt, and his hair is very messy. There’s a smear of what I hope is chocolate on his chin. “Who are you?” he asks.

“Oh, we’re here to see Lord St Claire. Is he in?”

He swings on the door consideringly. “Maybe.” He winks. “Or maybe not.”

Blue snorts and I elbow him. “Well, do you think you can go and get him? We’re supposed to get the keys to the cottage from him.”

There’s another few beats of silence while he considers my request and then he races back into the house, shouting, “Come quick. There’s a weird bloke at the door.”

“No, I don’t want kids,” I say conversationally to Blue who starts to laugh.

“What a shame. I’d put you as a child whisperer after that.”

“They make me nervous.”

“Why?”

“They move fast and they’re very erratic.”

“So do spiders.”

“Well, I’m not raising them, although they’d probably be cheaper, and they rarely have parent evenings.”

“True.” He shrugs. “Kids are fine. They just need love and boundaries.”