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“It was nice, actually, being alone with her, even if it didn’t last long.” Lucie decided to be honest. She needed someone to talk to, and there was no one better than Mandy; actually, there was no one but her. She let out a small sigh and said, “I just have this overwhelming feeling that she’s crucial in some way to my life. Odd, isn’t it?”

Mandy gave a soft, knowing smile. “Not really. You’re falling for her. Don’t deny it.”

Lucie couldn’t, but it didn’t mean they could ever be more than friends.

“Well, I work for her in two capacities now, so that’s double the reason nothing can ever happen.”

Mandy poked her arm as she leaned forward to top up her glass. “And now, you see, it’s not so easy when work and heart entwine.”

“Hmm.” Mandy had her there. Deciding it was time to talk about something other than work and hearts, she added, “The village hall is in a sorry state. It’s so sad to see it like that.”

“It is. We’ve been pushing the parish council for years about it, but there’s no funding to restore it.”

“What happened to the drama group?”

“They disbanded after Angela passed away. She went the same way as your gran, sadly. No one stepped up to take over, so that was that.”

Lucie’s heart sank. “Poor Angela. She was the life and soul of that place. Gran and I had the best times there.”

A hint of melancholy settled over her, and as another yawn overtook her, she drained the last of the wine from her glass.

“Sorry, Mands. I’m going to have to head to bed. I’m exhausted,” she said, standing.

Mandy yawned, too, instantly easing Lucie’s guilt for calling it a night already. “Same. All that walking and fresh air have wiped me out.”

“I don’t suppose you are familiar with either,” Lucie teased, pulling on her coat.

“Hey. I go outside occasionally,” Mandy protested.

Lucie raised an eyebrow. “To go to the pub. I’m not sure that counts.” She pulled open the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, no doubt.”

“No doubt.” Mandy winked. “Night.”

As she closed the door, Lucie heard the television come on, and soon a game show host shouting loudly about fabulous prizes.

It was the same show her dad was watching when she popped into the sitting room five minutes later to say good night. It made her heart ache for the pair of them.

CHAPTER 12

Lucie peered up into the pub’s attic from the top of the ladder and fumbled for the light switch. As she pressed it, the large space lit up, revealing far more boxes than she recalled being in there, even allowing for the few of her own her dad had recently added to the pile. It was jam-packed. The chances of one of them holding Gran’s old puzzles were slim, she knew that, but it was worth a quick rummage.

She climbed the last rung and squeezed herself in. Brushing dust from the nearest box, she pushed it to one side to make some room. The cardboard had softened with age; the scrawled marker on the side, unmistakably in her dad’s handwriting, read, Mum. She opened it carefully. Inside were neatly folded scarves, a handbag she recognised instantly, and what looked like ornaments wrapped in bubble wrap.

Further along from the box sat a couple of suitcases she remembered as Gran’s, bulging at the sides, no doubt full of clothes. Beside them was a box labelled VHS. She opened it, pulling out the plastic cases holding films she used to watch with her gran as a child. West Side Story came first, and behind it were My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, Oliver! Dust motes danced in the light, and for a moment, she could almost hear Gran humming “I Could Have Danced All Night”.

Moving to another box, she lifted the lid and found what she was looking for: Gran’s puzzles. She smiled as she lifted the top one, running her fingers over the familiar image of an old cottage with a flower-filled garden. An ache for the past rose inside as it suddenly felt so close by. She and Gran had spent hours bent over the table doing the puzzles together. Talking when words came easily, sitting in companionable silence when they didn’t.

She pulled the lid off. It was different from the ones she and Gran had done when she was growing up. It had fewer pieces, a thicker board, brighter colours, and simple images. There was nothing that could trip her gran up, just something that she could finish. It gave them time together without demanding what Gran had lost, only what she still had: presence.

Although she was happy to be reunited with everything, she couldn’t help feeling concerned that her dad hadn’t cleared Gran’s things out like he said he had. All he’d done was moved them up here, stored everything away, as if hiding it in the darkness might count as letting go. Now she was back, shining a light on it all again, about to walk straight into a similar situation.

“Lucie? Is that you up there?” her dad’s voice called from below.

The metal loft ladder creaked.

“Yes,” she said, putting the puzzle back in the box.

His head appeared through the hatch. “What are you doing up here?” His tone was sharp.