“Not at all.”
“Thanks, Laura. I’ve got that lamp for you, by the way. It’s in the trunk of my car—I’ll bring it in later.” He shuffled out tothe hall and up the stairs. I thought about the remaining picnic equipment waiting on the beach.
Alex’s sunglasses poked out between towels in one of the bags. I transferred them to the kitchen windowsill. He’d be back to pick them up soon enough, with a bit of luck.
7
Seraphine
IWAKE EARLYon Monday morning, and set off from Summerbourne on foot, a good half an hour before my appointment with Pamela Larch at the doctor’s office. I’ve known Pamela all my life, so I’m hoping she won’t mind me not giving a reason to the receptionist over the phone. I still remember the receptionist, Hayley Pickersgill, as an eight-year-old, asking me why I didn’t look like my twin brother. Asking me whether it was true that Summerbourne was cursed, that witches had stolen my mother’s real children, and that my mother had bargained with her soul to try to get them back.
“But the witches took the real twins anyway,”she’d whispered, wide-eyed.“And the fairies left you and Danny, sprite babies, as a swap. Is it true?”
I was suspended from school for three days after I punched her. One of her teeth was knocked out, although Danny assured me afterward it was only one of her wobbly baby teeth. Dad had to come back from London to talk to the head teacher,and by the time I was allowed back at school, Hayley had told everyone I wasmental. I was only six, but I didn’t get invited to birthday parties in the village for a long time after that.
I put Hayley Pickersgill out of my mind. The earlier mist has cleared to reveal blue skies with high wispy clouds, the air already warm. The hedgerow along the lane buzzes with insects, and I spot Michael sitting out in the front garden of his cottage as I approach. His white hair is as abundant as ever, but he looks frailer than he did a few months ago, and his face is bordering on gaunt. I raise a tentative hand in greeting.
“My heart alive! It’s one of them Summerbourne sprites,” he says as I come into his field of vision, and I scuff my shoe with a jolt at the unexpectedness of it. I resented this nickname for years as a child, but hearing it now in Michael’s voice makes me wonder again about its origins. I steady myself against his gate, staring at him. His eyes dart on either side of me, and a crease of worry forms across his forehead.
“I’m Seraphine, Mr. Harris,” I manage eventually. “Seraphine Mayes.”
He screws his face up.
“Have you come about the—what was it?”
“No, no. I’m just passing.” The flickering of his eyes makes me glance away. “I hear Joel’s been staying with you, Mr. Harris?”
Michael frowns, but at that moment, Joel’s head appears at an open upstairs window.
“Oh, it’s you,” Joel says. “Hang on. I’ll come down.”
Michael and I wait in awkward silence for him to emerge, and my pulse jumps as he ducks through the low front doorway.
“Seraphine. Hi.”
He’s wearing shorts and a creased gray T-shirt, battered old sneakers. This is only the second time I’ve seen him this year, and I try to absorb all the details without making it obvious. He looksas though he’s considering holding out his hand to shake mine over the gate, but changes his mind and tucks it into his pocket.
“Not working today?” I ask. As if I’m suspicious that he might in fact have a waiting room full of patients upstairs in his grandfather’s cottage. Even Michael looks slightly taken aback.
“Er—nope. Got a few days off. I’m giving Grandad a hand while Mum and Dad are away.” His eyes narrow as he studies me, and I shrink in my skin slightly. It strikes me that Edwin has probably asked him to look out for me, has quite possibly told him that I’ve been behaving erratically.
“How about you?” he asks.
“I’m just heading into the doctor’s, actually. I’ve got an appointment.” I wince.Shut up, Seraphine. He doesn’t need to know this.
“I could give you a lift?” he says.
“No, no, it’s fine. I wanted to walk.”
“Okay. Well. Give us a shout if you need anything.”
I give a half wave in reply and hurry on. I’m annoyed at myself and at the Harris men. Joel and I are never going to regain our old friendship, but if they didn’t insist on calling me names, or colluding with my brother to spy on me, we might manage a more comfortable neighborly relationship.
The office’s tiny waiting room is empty. Hayley Pickersgill gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and I keep my chin high as I sweep past her and stand in front of the array of posters on the noticeboard, each one precisely fixed with brass pins. At the edge of my vision, Hayley waggles her fingers and beams down at a sparkly ring, and I remember Vera mentioning that she was recently engaged to Ralph Luckhurst. The lump in my throat is hard to ignore. There was a time when Ralph used to tell me I was the most beautiful girl in the world. He deserves so much better than Hayley Pickersgill.
Pamela calls me through to her room. She’s a smiley woman with a kind manner, and I’ve always liked her, even when she used to give us our dreaded childhood inoculations. She always gave us chocolate buttons afterward.
“Seraphine Mayes, it does my eyes good to see you. You looked just like your dear mama standing out there in the waiting room. I’m so sorry about your father, my dear, such a terrible accident. Martin and I came to the service—I don’t know if you saw us?”
