Page 34 of The Missing Sister
‘I love you too, darling. See you in the morning.’
At the door, Star watched Rory roll over in his bed, then she switched off the overhead light, leaving the small night light on. She walked down the creaking stairs and into the kitchen, which was still a mess from supper earlier. Through the window above the sink, Star could see Mouse sitting at the ageing iron table they had set up on the grass to catch the evening sun.
Pouring herself a small glass of wine, she went to join him outside.
‘Hello, darling,’ he said, looking up from the plans for High Weald, his family’s ancient Tudor mansion that had seen so much neglect in the past few decades. She remembered how bowled over she’d been when she’d first seen it last year, and how strange it was that she now knew every inch of decaying beam and damp, peeling paintwork inside it.
‘How’s everything coming along?’ she asked him as she sat down.
‘Slowly, as usual. I must have visited every reclamation yard in the south of England, looking for those two beams we need to replace the ones in the drawing room. But sixteenth-century beams that are the right thickness and colour aren’t exactly just lying around.’
‘Couldn’t we do what your builder suggested, and make some that are a good approximation of the original? Giles said we could distress them and stain the wood the right colour so no one would even notice.’
‘Iwould notice,’ said Mouse. ‘Anyway, there’s an old pub in East Grinstead that’s being refurbed into one of those gastro places, and they’re knocking out the insides. The beams there are around the right time period, so maybe I’ll find a match.’
‘Let’s hope so. I mean, it’s fine here at Home Farm, but I wouldn’t want to spend a winter here, especially as Rory is so prone to chest infections and there’s no heating.’
‘I know, darling.’ Mouse finally looked up from his plans, his green eyes tired. ‘But the point is that High Weald hasn’t been properly updated in so long – and I’m talking structurally, not just a new flashy kitchen – so I want to ensure that not only is it as authentic as I can make it, but that it lasts for another two hundred years.’
‘Of course.’ Star stifled a sigh, because she’d heard this all so many times before. When it came to High Weald – and other houses Mouse worked on for clients – he was a perfectionist. Which was all very laudable, apart from the fact that the three of them were living in the freezing and impractical farmhouse down the lane from High Weald until the renovations were done.And at this rate, she thought,I could be drawing my pension by the time we’ve moved.
‘If you’re busy, would you mind if I popped over to see Orlando? I have a... situation I want to pick his brains about,’ she said.
‘Oh yes? And what’s that?’
‘It’s complicated – to do with my family – but I’ll tell you when we both have more time.’ Star stood up and kissed Mouse on the top of his handsome head, noticing that stress had recently brought a few grey strands to his rich auburn hair. ‘Remember to check on Rory in an hour. He’s been having bad dreams recently and he can’t call out properly yet.’
‘I will, of course. I’ll take my work inside,’ Mouse nodded. ‘Thanks, darling. I’ll see you later.’
Star walked to her old Mini, started the engine and let out the sigh she’d been holding in. She did love Mouse dearly, but wow, was he hard work sometimes.
‘It’s almost as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist outside his sixteenth-century beams and his porticoes and... grrrr,’ she muttered as she drove off down the country lane towards the village of Tenterden. After a ten-minute drive, she parked the car outside the bookshop and let herself in with the old-fashioned brass key.
‘Orlando? Are you upstairs?’ she called, as she walked through to the back of the shop and opened the door that led to the flat above where he lived.
‘I am,’ came the reply. ‘Do come up and join me.’
Star arrived at the top of the stairs and opened the door to the sitting room. Orlando was in his favourite leather chair, a white linen napkin tucked into his shirt, as he finished his dessert.
‘Mmm... summer pudding. I truly adore it,’ he said as he took his napkin and dabbed it round his mouth. ‘Now then, to what do I owe this pleasure? We only said adieu an hour or two ago.’
‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
‘Goodness, no, although I was just about to go on a date with T. E. Lawrence and his purportedly real adventures in Arabia,’ he replied, tapping the leather-bound book sitting on the table next to him. ‘So, how can I help you?’ Orlando wound his long, manicured fingers around each other and gazed up at her. His green eyes were so like Mouse’s, and yet the two men couldn’t have been more different. Star often forgot that Orlando was the younger brother, due to his penchant for dressing as if it was 1908 rather than 2008.
‘I have a mystery for you: do you remember that I’ve sometimes mentioned Georg Hoffman, our family lawyer?’
‘I do indeed. I never forget anything.’
‘I know you don’t, Orlando. Anyway, he arrived at Atlantis a few days ago and announced that he thought he’d found the missing sister – our seventh sister.’
‘What?!’ Even the usually unflappable Orlando looked shocked. ‘Are you talking about Merope, the missing sister of the Pleiades? Of course, some legends say that honour goes to Electra, although your youngest sister is very much present.’
‘She certainly is. You should have seen her speech at the Concert for Africa. It was amazing.’
‘You know I don’t approve of television – it is literal anaesthesia for the brain – but I did read about Electra’s speech in theTelegraph. Obviously a reformed character, after her little trip into the funny farm.’
‘Orlando! Please don’t call it that. It’s beyond rude and totally inappropriate.’
