Chapter 16 #2
The shot of a legal letter I took the first time I paid him a visit was accidental.
If I’d used my screen reader long before now, I would have known he only gave away the London base Alice kept for city visits and hospital appointments so he could keep this country manor he thinks of as home.
And I would have known that his legal costs were covered as part of that negotiation.
Now I can’t help thinking the big bill hanging over his head relates to whatever is under that bright blue tarpaulin.
Charles tells me all about it on the walk up a long driveway, and with each step closer, my nerves flutter. “Apart from the hole in the roof, it’s gorgeous, isn’t it? The main building is Elizabethan. Of course, you can see that the workshop is even older.”
“Of course,” I say faintly. I’ve never felt further from my high-rise home turf. Even what Dair had described as a shed is substantial.
I picture a storage cupboard in a council flat and can’t help comparing.
Charles reminds me that Dair and I are more similar than different. “I knew you two would get along. You’re both seriously the kindest people. His foster parents are too.” He points at a diamond pane window. “You might need to prepare yourself.”
“To meet them?” I’ve never wanted to make a good impression this badly.
“No. They’ve gone home. You just missed them. I meant that you might need to prepare yourself for what’s in there. The whole place is full to the gunwales.” Charles laughs. “Alice was such a magpie, but so was her husband. At least he was handy. Needed to be to keep this old place shipshape.”
He points at the workshop next. “Dair’s been a busy bee buzzing in and out of there all afternoon. Maybe he’s been looking for the right tools to fix the hole underneath that.” We both look up at that tarpaulin. “Now that was an exciting morning over at the Rectory.”
“Because?”
“Because Dair tried to cover the hole in the roof all by himself. Didn’t even think to come over to ask for our help. I’ve never seen Hugo run faster, bless him.”
I look up at a steeply pitched slate roof, my blood running cold as Charles continues.
“I think the court case left him feeling isolated, poor lamb. And made him realise how tightly his hands were tied. All this property, yet he can’t sell an inch of it without breaking the terms of a trust. Not that he wants to. This is his home. That matters to him.”
I nod, knowing how true that is.
Charles says, “He’s such a cheery chappy.
I didn’t guess about his isolation, or about him having this huge repair bill hanging right over his head with no way to pay it, until I saw him up that ladder.
That’s when and why I steered him your way.
Now he’s come home a different person. Couldn’t stop telling me about his plans to side-hustle up some repair money. ”
Dair has also come home to do a spot of removals—we find him in an open doorway, a piece of furniture wedged between us, and no, my day job doesn’t involve too much critical thinking. I am at least one kind of expert.
“That’s an armchair.”
He laughs, and I love to hear it. Love too that the first thing he tells me is, “You are good at this game,” like he last did on a Kensington doorstep. That home was never mine. This one is all Dair’s. That’s a lot. So is watching Dair trying to slide past the armchair to reach me.
I had wondered what he’d think about me tracking him down this fast. Him clambering over that chair to reach me is one answer. A second is Dair launching himself from its chintzy cushions as if he knows I’ll catch him.
Of course, I fucking do.
If Charles says goodbye, I don’t hear him. I’m too busy kissing Dair until a dog barks, and he breaks off to tell it, “Haud yer wheesht, Hector. It’s only Vincent.”
Like I belong here.
I love to hear it. Love too how happy he sounds. “You came to visit.”
Late-evening light paints him gold. It also finds the fire hidden in his hair. He touches mine, pushing it aside, his fingers gentle in contrast to my sandpaper hoarseness. “Yeah, I did. Not too soon for you?”
“Not soon enough.” He looks back at the armchair still blocking the way into a manor house that must be worth a fortune. “You could have helped me move that.”
I do that helping right now, carrying it with no problem and setting it where he wants it, which is inside that huge barn of a workshop.
Like Charles said, it is full from top to bottom, apart from one clear corner.
The workbench Dair shows me has seen a whole lot of use.
Generations of it. So have the woodworking tools he tells me he spent the afternoon sorting.
He made that his number one priority, which only makes me hoarser. “Nice setup. Professional.”
“It needs to be.” Dair’s hand finds mine.
“Because someone smart told me that there could be real money in furniture rental for events like weddings. I think I can fit that in around my care work if I had someone to help with the practical aspect.” He points at the armchair.
“I could sit there and do the admin while”—he swallows—“while you worked your magic on everything in there.” He points back the way we came, and I take a wild guess why he couldn’t bring anything back here from London.
“You got a few chairs and tables in there needing some TLC?”
He laughs again. “More than a few.” Dair holds out his phone. “Was about to send you a wee video. I know your real work is with your cousin, but I wondered if I could tempt you down to Cornwall sometime.”
His fingers thread tighter with mine, like he thinks I’ll back off from that suggestion.
He even adds a sweetener.
“We could split any profits fifty-fifty.”
I’d work for him for free, no problem, but I got a proposal of my own to make, don’t I?
Not the kind that means getting down on one knee.
Not yet, although I can’t help thinking that my one-and-done days are well and truly over. What I do want to propose means sitting in an armchair that wheezes when I pull Dair down to join me.
I start by telling him, “Flynn kept his promise.”
That takes a long moment for him to compute, and I’m never gonna get tired of watching the way Dair processes. It means I get to see the same kind of confusion I’ve felt so often but kept hidden. He also lets me see the moment the penny drops—he’s delighted.
“He came through with your share of the auction money?” He beams, then he beams even wider, so happy for me. Right away, he’s sweetly worried. “Enough for you to take that restoration course?”
“Yeah.” I tell him what else Harry and I pieced together on the way to the airport.
“He didn’t return my first calls or messages because the wreck he’s diving is really remote, but he always meant for me to get my share.
Tried to tell me so once he found out the house got cleared too early.
” It was me who sat in Dair’s bathroom and blocked Flynn after leaving him a blistering voice note telling him if he had anything to say, he could do it in a group chat he wasn’t ever part of.
I’ll tell Dair all about that later. For now, this feels more important.
“I’ll need to work on a lot of practice pieces to pass that course. That will take more tools than I’ve got at home already.” I tilt my head at Dair’s workbench. “Wondered if I could do that practising here. It would mean I’d need to make regular visits.”
Dair’s eyes brightening suggests that won’t be a problem.
It also makes me honest. “Would have gone all the way to the Isle of Harris to ask you. Almost did.”
He looks about to ask why, then changes his mind to kiss me, but that’s okay.
I can’t help thinking I’ll have all the time in the world to tell him.