Page 162 of Not That Ridiculous

“Thank you.” Kevin tromped about behind me. An overhead light suddenly came on, scaring the shadows away.

“It’s not a full conversion, but the old lady had a proper little sewing room up here, huh?” Kevin said. He was standing by a worktable with a sewing machine over at the other end of the loft. “Still loads of boxes of crap, though.”

“Crap?” I said, wandering over. “I do believe I was promised treasure. Great big trunks of it. Gold coins and jewels and the like.”

He pulled a face. “I was just trying to get you to let me up here.”

“No. Really? Ah, well. I fell for it.”

He squinted playfully at me, then dug around in his side pocket and whipped out his tape measure. “You can look for treasure. I already found mine.” He gestured around happily. “I’m going to take some measurements and make some notes.”

I was definitely getting another floor added to my house, wasn’t I?

I watched with exasperated affection as Kevin set about doing his Kevin things, then I put my hands on my hips and turned to survey all the boxes.

There were some cardboard boxes, some plastic storage tubs. Heaps of fabric, and what looked like bin liners filled with old clothes.

The large worktable sat directly under one of the two hanging lights. A mass of creamy linen fabric took up most of the space, roughly folded and set on top of a large green cutting mat with a yellow grid printed on it. She must have been in the middle of working on a project right before she’d fallen from the loft steps, broken her hip, and stopped coming up here. What looked like photo albums or scrapbooks were neatly lined up at the back of the table against the wall, with a hardback notebook on top. I flipped the notebook open.

As soon as I saw it was a diary I flipped it shut.

While I wasn’t about to read her diary—I’d get in contact with my estate agent, see if they had the details for Deirdre’s heirs and send them on—Iwasgoing to look through her storage tubs, since they were now my storage tubs, and there may be some interesting finds.

The first two tubs I opened had been stacked on top of a much larger one and they were filled, as I’d suspected they would be, with clothes and a handful of vintage sewing patterns. Fancy dress, from a quick glance, unless there had been someone in her life who regularly dressed like a sailor, or a highwayman, or a centurion.

I set the boxes to one side, and popped the lid off the larger one.

“…Charlie? Charlie?” Kevin was at the other end of the loft, but his voice sounded as if it was coming from underwater. “Charlie? Is something wrong?”

I continued to stare down into the tub.

“What is it?” Kevin said. His voice was closer. “What’s in there? Did you find something interesting?”

I clapped the lid back on and whirled around to face him. “What? No. I didn’t. Nope. There is nothing interesting in here.” I quickly sat down on top of the tub and crossed my legs, my hands gripping the edge of the lid.

Holding it down.

Nice and tight.

Not thinking about what I was sitting on.

He cocked his head and opened his mouth.

“Hey!” I said before he could speak. “Heyyyy. I was thinking. Is it just me or are you getting hungry, too?”

“I can always eat,” Kevin said.

I bobbed my head and swallowed. “Cool. That’s cool. So cool. Let’s go downstairs and eat. Let’s gooutto eat. All the way downstairs. And out. Maybe to the pub?”

“Ooh?” Kevin’s face brightened. “I could murder a nice juicy steak.”

I swallowed a couple more times. “Steak! Yummy. I’m also very much in the mood for steak. Let’s do it. Let’s leave! And take Phil with us!”

“Okay, why not? It’s a nice day. We can eat in the beer garden, then come back and spend all afternoon up here.”

No. No, we wouldn’t.

“Yes!” I said.

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