Page 4 of One Last Touch

“Don’t worry, they don’t bite.”

My scowl took over my face and I hesitated when he laughed, the sound deep and pleasant and my toes clenched in my boots. I stomped away, his smug laughter echoing after me and I growled, frustrated with both myself and him. I only stopped when he called after me, laughter still in his voice, “You’re going the wrong way.”

I huffed and changed direction, ignoring the self-satisfied smirk on his face as we headed out of the woods and reached the end of the drive.

“You know, for a gardener, you don’t seem to have done much gardening.”

Sage’s smile vanished. “Things got out of hand while I was… away.”

I raised one eyebrow. Vague much? “Away where?” I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t reply. “You know, technically I’m your boss. You could try to be nicer to me. Or at least answer my questions. Did my mum hire you? Or have you been here longer than that?”

Sage looked out at the grass and his voice was tight with some emotion I couldn’t place when he replied, “Yes. She hired me and then I had to take a–a leave of absence. Things built up while I was gone.”

I watched him steadily as he avoided my eyes. “Well, if the inside of the house is anything like the outside, I reckon I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

“What do you mean?” He turned to me, the snap of urgency in his voice surprising me.

“I mean that this place clearly needs some TLC and it’s going to take some work to make this a home.”

Sage shook his head and I didn’t even try to decipher what he was muttering under his breath. He walked me back to the front door and then left without another word and I snorted.

“Nice getting to know you too!” I snorted but the amusement faded quickly as I stood in front of the door, filled with a sudden queasiness that made my heart race. This could be the key to getting answers, to understanding my mum and my past better, but it also felt irrevocable. Like if I took that final step, my fate would be cemented and tied with Alswell’s for the rest of my life.

Swallowing down my nerves, I turned the handle and stepped inside.

* * *

Near poisoning aside, Alswell Manor wasn’t nearly in such bad disrepair as I’d first assumed. Sure, it was a little dusty, it seriously needed airing out—what Ms Weathers had been doing all this time I didn’t know—but they were easy fixes. Mow the lawn (possibly a two or three day job), open all the windows and get dusting, buy some new linens and, most importantly, some provisions to stock the kitchen. All that had been in the cupboard was Earl Grey tea bags, my mum’s favourite, and it had made me wonder just how long she’d been here before her death. I hated the stuff, so it looked like a trip to the supermarket was definitely in my future, unless they delivered all the way out here… though more worryingly was the lack of service. If I didn’t find a space on this land that actually had some signal I wouldn’t be ordering anything. I mean, this place didn’t even have Wi-Fi.

My first impression of the house was big. The ceilings were high but the dark wood muffled noise instead of allowing it to echo—or maybe that was just the layer of dust coating everything—and the corridors seemed to stretch on forever. There were small plaid armchairs placed intermittently next to tall armoires that held candle sticks and spiders, and I learned my lesson about sitting in them the hard way when a puff of grime flooded the air, making me cough and my eyes itch.

Ms Weathers seemed woefully underprepared for guests but had clearly done her best this afternoon. I’d definitely slept in more questionable places on the very rare nights out I’d gone on. I’d counted at least eight bedrooms upstairs, four on each floor and most with their own attached bathroom but there had also been a larger family bathroom near the centre of the hall and a separate toilet, then there was one lounge area on the landing that had an armchair next to a long-cold fireplace. I dreaded to think what the plumbing might be like, or even when the last time a tap had been turned on.

Downstairs there was a large kitchen with wooden floor and marble counters, complete with homey dining table, that Ms Weathers had quickly shooed me out of. Then there had been a formal dining room laid with silver plates coated in more dust an inch thick, a small nook that held outerwear and gardening equipment, and another sitting room with matching chairs and fireplace to the one on the first floor. It was more space than I could ever need, I’d need to adopt at least thirty dogs just to feel like even a modicum of the space was being utilised. It was going to be a lot of work to clean up, but I had the time—plus it would give me the perfect excuse to look for clues as to who my mother had really been and why we’d left Alswell in the first place.

I headed back to the kitchen and sat myself at the table in there, watching Ms Weathers bustling around, cleaning nothing.

“Have you worked at the manor for long?” I asked, hoping Ms Weathers might be in a more conversational mood than Sage.

“Oh yes, dear. My parents worked here before me and I took over from them. I remember your mother from when she was a young woman, much the same age as you now I’d suppose.”

I sat up straighter in my chair. “Really? What was she like?”

“Polite.” Ms Weathers smiled and her eyes crinkled at the corners. “She was sweet, really. Of course, Edward fell for her instantly, or so he said. You look a great deal like her, you know.”

I blushed. “Was she happy? With Edward?”

“Very much so!”

“Then why did she—”

“Leave?” Ms Weathers’ face was gentle as it took me in. “That’s a question only your mother could have answered, I’m afraid.” Her eyes flicked to a space just left of my head and I turned discreetly, seeing nothing but empty air. “I’ve prepared a room for you, dear. You’ll have to rustle something up for dinner with what we’ve got here I’m afraid. You’ll have no luck getting anybody to deliver anything out here.”

I sighed, having expected as much, and resigned myself to a cheese sandwich for dinner. Even if I could cook, I was too tired to contemplate it at that moment. Sage appeared in the doorway as I finished off the other half and his scowl was back, I rolled my eyes at the sight of it.

“It’s almost sundown. You should probably let Ms Weathers show you to your room.”

I looked down at my watch incredulously, it was barely seven-thirty and he wanted me to go to sleep? I had barely scratched the surface of this place today! Ms Weathers had offered to give me a tour, but I’d declined, prefering to poke around myself—unsupervised.

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