Page 144 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

It wasn’t the work. That was the thing that kept returning, clearer each time she allowed it. This was everything around it, all pressing in at once until the pattern was impossible to ignore. Chloe. Jimmy. The ducklings. Valerie. Every time she’d known what needed doing but convinced herself there would be a better time.

She looked out towards the sea again.

Nate. That caught her differently. Not something she could tidy away or come back to later. She pictured his face on the step, waiting. Like Peter had all those years ago. If she explained about Chloe – what they meant to each other – he might understand. Or he might not.

The path curved without her noticing, bringing her back towards the rise that led to the Hall. In front of her the apple trees swayed – their branches weighed down with fruit, the outline of the big house reappearing between them.

She drew a breath, deeper this time. Morning would matter.

She turned towards the lane, the cottage light glowing through the hedge.

One conversation at a time. One problem at a time.

The back doorstep felt cold beneath her skirt. Sammy sat with her bag at her feet, hands clasped, then unclasped, then clasped again. The sky had lightened to that pale grey blue that came before the sun properly broke through. Birds had already started up – their cheerful sound carrying across the lawns.

She went over it again. Keep it brief. No excuses. Chloe’s leaving today. Jimmy will never be allowed in my cottage again.

Shoes crunching across the gravel.

She got to her feet and took a deep breath.

Magnus. That huge bunch of keys already in hand, pace unhurried. ‘Good morning, Miss Jenkins.’

She fiddled with her handbag strap. Not a great opening line for a climb down; best wait for a better opportunity. ‘Good morning, Mr Magnus. Shall I help open the house?’

He unlocked the door and held it wide. The house met them with its usual stillness and the scent of beeswax.

They moved through the routine together. Shutters secured, curtains drawn back. Magnus handed her a list without comment, the paper crisp between his fingers.

She set it down on the sideboard. ‘Could I have a minute?’

Magnus tugged at a curtain cord – no, not a curtain she mentally corrected herself, a drape. ‘A minute,’ he said but his voice didn’t sound encouraging.

‘Chloe’s leaving soon. She won’t be staying again.’ He did not respond. Not even with an eyebrow. ‘I’ve let things blur that shouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘It won’t happen again.’

Magnus’s hand moved to his waistcoat. The watch came out, opened, the small click precise in the silent room. He checked the time. Closed it.

He looked directly at her. ‘No.’

The longcase clock ticked loudly . . . that single word sat there. Sammy held his gaze. ‘I can put it right.’

Magnus regarded her for a moment. He lifted the list from the sideboard and placed it back in her hands. ‘Please attend to your duties, Miss Jenkins.’

The list suddenly felt very heavy.

His mind wouldn’t stay on the job.

The ground was softer than Nate had expected. It gave under the spade cleanly, the metal slicing down through the turf with little resistance. Good damp soil. The trees would take well.

Sammy. He should have known better. It wasn’t her being questioned by the police, nor the scene at her cottage last night. It was the bit before that. Letting her in.

Nate levered the spade back, turning the earth in a neat cut. He worked methodically, measuring by eye, keeping the spacing even. Thirty trees. Apples along the rise, pears lower where the ground held more moisture.

He’d seen it coming. From the start, really. The chaos trailing behind her – Chloe; a wastrel, feeding off Sammy. Chloe was pretty and vivacious but a parasite. Like Cassandra.

He set the spade aside and dragged the first pot into place. Left too long in the pot, the roots had tangled into a dense circle. Nate knelt, teasing the knot gently apart, shaking off the worst of the compacted soil before lowering the tree into the hole.

He’d told himself to keep out of it but hadn’t taken his own advice.