Page 5 of The Forsaken
Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Northumberland
Quinn had never particularly liked the manor house, but today, after only one day of standing vacant, it looked forbidding and sinister. Some might think her fanciful, but she knew that buildings, like people, had their own moods, and the manor wasn’t pleased with having its secrets unearthed.
Gabe went in first, and when he opened the door with his key, the house seemed to almost suck in its breath. Gabe stopped on the threshold and stood still for a moment, as though he felt it too, but he would never say it aloud. Gabe wasn’t one to give in to such superstitious nonsense.
“Come on in,” Gabe called to Quinn and Emma, who were dawdling on the steps.
“Where’s Buster?” Emma whined. She looked around as if she expected the puppy to come bounding toward her, but the place was clearly deserted.
“I expect Grandma Phoebe took Buster with her,” Gabe explained. “She couldn’t leave him here all alone.”
“He would guard the place,” Emma replied. “He’s fierce.”
Gabe tried to mask his chuckle with a cough. Buster was about as fierce as a newborn chick. “I’ll call Mum and let her know we’re here,” he said as he carried their bags into the hall.
Quinn went up to the bedroom they’d stayed in when visiting her in-laws. She smiled as she passed Gabe’s old room. Old posters hung on the walls, and every surface was covered with books, maps, and construction sets. The preserved teenager’s roomwas a silent tribute to the boy Gabe had been, and a glimpse into Phoebe’s nostalgia.
Gabe followed Quinn with the bags. He deposited Emma’s case in the small bedroom next to theirs, where she’d slept before. The room must have been a dressing room at one time but had been converted to a bedroom once such extravagances went out of fashion. Emma liked having her own room but needed to know that Quinn and Gabe were next door, and she could call out to them if she woke up during the night or wanted a cuddle in the morning.
Quinn opened Emma’s case, extracted her pajamas and Mr. Rabbit, and put her toothbrush, hairbrush, and strawberry-scented shampoo in the bathroom. Emma stood in the doorway, looking disgruntled. She’d looked forward to seeing Buster and was sorely disappointed.
“Hello,” Phoebe called from downstairs. “Emma, darling, I’m back.”
A happy bark followed, and Emma thudded down the stairs to say hello to Phoebe and her beloved pup. Quinn followed at a much slower pace.
“You are glowing,” Phoebe said as she kissed Quinn on both cheeks. “How’s my grandson?”
“It might be a granddaughter,” Quinn answered with a grin. They’d had this conversation several times before, but Phoebe was sticking to her guns.
“It might be, but it isn’t.” Phoebe laid a hand on Quinn’s rounded belly. “Ooh, I can feel his bum.”
“How do you know it’s his bum?” Quinn asked, curious. She frequently felt her stomach but couldn’t really tell what was what just yet.
“Because if it was his head, it’d be much harder. Russell men are notoriously hard-headed, or haven’t you noticed?” Phoebe laughed.
“I heard that,” Gabe called out from above.
Phoebe chuckled. “They have excellent hearing too, but only when it suits their purpose. Ask them to change a lightbulb or rake the leaves, and they go deaf in both ears.”
“Have you come back to stay?” Quinn asked.
Phoebe shook her head. “No, dear. I can’t remain in this house until that thing is removed. I know it’s silly, but for some reason I find it very unsettling. And my friend Cecily has a very comfortable cottage with several guest bedrooms. Perhaps Emma should stay with me until you’ve finished.”
“Yes, please,” Emma said as she danced around Phoebe. “I want to be where Buster is.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Gabe said as he came down the stairs. “Cecily Creston-Jones is lovely, and I believe she has a puppy of her own—a Yorkie called Bertie. You’ll be in dog heaven, Em.”
“It’s all right with me,” Quinn agreed. Emma was too young to be present at an excavation of a skeleton, especially when it was in the kitchen.
“We’ll make a start tomorrow,” Gabe said. “Tonight, I’m taking everyone to dinner, including Cecily, to a restaurant of your choice. You decide amongst yourselves while I take a look at the ‘lodger’ in the kitchen.”
“I want pizza,” Emma exclaimed. “And ice cream.”
“Of course you do, love,” Phoebe said, smiling. “You always want pizza and ice cream.”
“Don’t you like pizza?” Emma asked her grandmother, as though suddenly realizing that not everyone might like what she likes.
“I do, but not as much as you do. How about dinner at the pub?” Phoebe asked Emma. “This way we can all get what we want.”
