Chapter Seven
On the other side of the attic door, Lydia heard quick, purposeful footsteps on the landing and stepped back, her pulse lifting with a mix of relief and mortification.
“Lydia?” William called. “We’re right outside.”
“Still here,” she replied, trying for lightness and almost managing it.
The handle turned from the other side — the same useless spin she had felt earlier.
“Yeah, it’s gone,” Miller muttered. “Completely sheared.”
There was a brief clatter of metal as William set down a toolkit.
“All right,” he said, his voice steady. “We’ll take the knob off first. Just stay clear of the door.”
Lydia moved back until her shoulders brushed the freshly painted wall. She could hear them working — the scrape of a screwdriver, the soft click of metal loosening, the quiet coordination of people who knew exactly what they were doing.
The door rattled once. Then again.
“Nearly there,” William said.
A firmer twist, a sharp metallic snap — and the door shifted inward by an inch. Lydia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
The door opened wider. William stood in the doorway, Miller just behind him. William carefully extracted the broken mechanism from the inside panel.
“Here’s your doorknob,” he said, handing the brass sphere over. “You’ll need to replace the whole unit. For now, we’ll leave the door without a handle so it can’t trap you again.”
Lydia met William’s eyes for a moment — brief, steady, unexpectedly grounding. Something passed between them, not dramatic, just a quiet recognition. Then it was gone.
She stepped forward, brushing her palms down her jeans. “Thank you. Truly. I really wasn’t trying to redecorate myself into captivity. I’m turning the house into a B&B, and this is the only room guests won’t be sleeping in, so I thought I’d get it finished before the en suite work starts again.”
Miller grinned. “We see this a lot in the older houses around here.”
“Faulty latch,” William added, examining the loose casing. “Nothing you did wrong.”
“That’s reassuring,” Lydia said. “I was beginning to take it personally.”
A small ripple of amusement passed between them. William stepped back to give her space. “You alright?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just… embarrassed.”
“That also happens more than you’d think,” Miller offered.
Lydia huffed a laugh, then glanced toward the open window. The sea breeze drifted in, carrying the faint, distant sound of children playing somewhere outside, their voices carried thinly on the wind.
“I live next door,” William said, pointing toward the adjacent plot. “Those noises are from my children. When the call first came in for Sandy Lane, I thought it was for them.”
She looked back at him, surprised. “Oh, so you’re the family next door? I’ve heard the kids in the garden, but I hadn’t met any of you yet.”
He nodded. “That’s us.”
“Well,” she said, her smile returning, “although I’ve only lived here for two days, thank you for welcoming me to the neighbourhood. I promise future meetings will be less eventful.”
William’s mouth twitched. “Good to know.”
The moment softened, then settled back into something practical and ordinary. They gathered their tools, and Lydia followed them downstairs. The house felt different now — not because anything had physically changed, but because someone else had stepped inside it.
At the front door, William paused. “If the latch gives you trouble again, just shout. Or knock. Or… don’t get stuck in the attic.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said.
The crew stepped out into the sunlight. Lydia leaned against the heavy doorframe, watching as they climbed back into the fire engine. The appliance rumbled to life, its massive tyres crunching over her overgrown gravel drive before turning out onto the road.
She stood in the doorway for a long moment after the sound of the engine had faded into the constant, low rush of the sea. The house was quiet again, but the heavy, empty stillness that had weighed on her for the last two days was gone.
Looking out toward the thick hedge that separated her garden from his, she thought of the distant sound of children laughing.
A slow, genuine smile touched her lips. She closed the door and turned back toward the hallway, the lingering warmth in her chest making the daunting task of her new start feel just a fraction lighter.