‘I want you to have it. I like the other one.’
The largest of the bedrooms she had seen so far, it faced the garden and the same magnificent view as the sitting room below. A pretty cushion crammed into a window seat was faded, and although she wouldn’t have chosen such pink wallpaper and the chintz furnishings, it lent the room an old-fashioned charm she found endearing. Matching armchairs either side of the window softened oak furniture and a brass-framed bed, a fireplace already laid with logs. A desk fitted into an alcove, with a tall chest of drawers in the opposite one. The mantelpiece was empty bar a pair of brass candlesticks, and another two sat on the desk. A sturdy coffee table was nestled between the armchairs, a double wardrobe to the right of the bed. Beside it was an open door leading to her own bathroom, a luxury she wasn’t used to.
‘What do you think? Like it?’ Raf was lounging against the door frame, and she laughed as she turned away from one distraction to face another more dangerous one.
‘Are you kidding me? I love it! But I would be perfectly fine in one of the smaller rooms.’
‘Decision made. It’s yours for as long as you want it.’
‘Are you quite sure? Because I might never want to leave.’
‘I could get used to that,’ he murmured. His phone rang and he pulled it from a pocket. ‘Sorry, I need to take this. Come down when you’re ready, I’ll make us a drink.’
Cassie settled on the window seat once he’d closed the door, tucking her legs beneath her and reaching for her phone. She was gradually weaning herself away from social media and doom scrolling. She put the phone down again; it was too easy to fall back into bad habits. Social channels had been essential for work, and she used her personal ones much less, sometimes keeping up with family and friends by calling instead. She valued those conversations; they felt more real and alive. Her eyes were heavy after the long drive, and she closed them. She could take five minutes.
When she woke again it was to silence, and she blinked, surprised to have fallen asleep so easily. She messaged Fiona to let her know they’d arrived. She had meant to do it earlier and forgot in her distraction over Flynn. Jago Lynch had emailed with an invite to his launch next week. They’d been in touch occasionally, and she replied to thank him and let him know she would be there. Mostly for Pippa’s sake than his, but she was intrigued about seeing him again. She went to the bathroom and freshened up before returning downstairs.
A glance in the television room revealed Isla and Rory making themselves at home. Both nodded automatically when she asked if they were hungry. Here they had no usual routine or access to everything London had to offer, another disconnect from normal life. Cassie retraced her steps to the kitchen, planning to produce a simple meal from the food she’d brought with them. She’d tackle the car later.
‘Oh!’
Raf was dicing something on a chopping board near the sink, and she smiled as Flynn got up. She ran a hand along his back and the shaggy coat, wiry between her fingers. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I think it’s known as cooking.’ He threw her a wicked grin and she swallowed. Why did he have to look delectable even while doing something so simple? ‘Although I will admit that Aga takes some getting used to. You ready to eat?’
‘Yes, but it might depend on what you’re making,’ she replied suspiciously. ‘I still haven’t forgotten the paella disaster at mine that time. I had to chuck my favourite pan away.’
‘Yeah, but I got you an even better one.’ He went to the fridge, and she didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling. ‘Isla and Rory still like pasta, don’t they?’
‘Love it. It’s a permanent fixture in our house, couldn’t get by without it.’
‘Then I thought I’d make spaghetti carbonara.’
‘Wow. Please don’t burn it, I am very hungry.’
‘You really do have no faith in me, do you?’ His glance was more amused than hurt, and she shrugged. She had too much; that was part of the problem.
‘So what can I do? I feel a bit useless, watching you work.’
‘You can stay put, is what. You’re not doing a thing, at least not yet.’
‘I’ll set the table.’ Cassie wasn’t used to doing nothing, but she didn’t feel quite enough at home here yet to be opening drawers and poking around. ‘Where is everything?’
‘Most of the cutlery and stuff is in the drawer near the sink. Glasses on your left.’
‘Are we eating in here or in that grand dining room?’
‘In here for sure. I think we can save the dining room for state occasions.’
Already there was a sense of his presence in the house: a hoodie slung over the back of the sofa in the television room; a book on distilling gin on the kitchen table; his keys on the windowsill, phone charging nearby. He diced pancetta as Cassie found place mats and cutlery, and it didn’t feel as awkward as she expected as they worked around one another. Raf added ingredients to a frying pan on the Aga, and Flynn got to his feet, head just above the table as he looked on with interest.
‘Sorry, buddy,’ Raf told him gently. ‘If we start that, then who knows where it’ll lead? And Dorothy will be after me if she thinks I’m teaching you bad habits.’
‘Maybe put some in his bowl,’ Cassie suggested, feeling sorry for the wolfhound. ‘It seems a shame for him to miss out. It’s only a little treat.’
‘Fine. Then you tell Pippa it was your idea when Flynn helps himself to the Sunday roast. He won’t even need a seat at the table.’
‘Deal.’ She pinched a couple of pieces of pancetta and dropped them into Flynn’s bowl on the floor, watching him gobble them up. ‘Just remember who your friends are, Flynn, that’s all I’m saying.’
