The Keeper of Lost Things(21)
Laura awoke to the sound of knocking. She had fallen asleep slumped over the table, and her cheek now bore the imprint of the blue button it had been resting on. Still befuddled with sleep, she slowly realized that the knocking was coming from the front door. In the hall she passed her suitcase still waiting to be unpacked. She had decided that tonight would be the first night that she would stay at Padua. It had somehow felt right to wait until after the funeral. The knocking began again; insistent but not urgent. Patient. As though the person would wait for as long as it took for someone to answer. Laura opened the door to a young girl with a serious and beautiful moon face, set with almond-shaped eyes the color of chestnuts. She had seen her many times before, sitting on the bench across the green, but never this close. The girl drew herself up to her full height of five feet and one and a quarter inches and then she spoke.
“My name is Sunshine and I can be your new friend.”
CHAPTER 15
“When the sitter comes, shall I make the lovely cup of tea?”
Laura smiled. “Do you know how?”
“No.”
It had been two weeks since Anthony’s funeral and Sunshine had called every day apart from on Sundays when her mum had stopped her.
“Give the poor woman a day off, Sunshine. I’m sure she doesn’t want you pestering her peace and quiet all the time.”
Sunshine was unfazed. “I’m not a pester. I’m her new friend.”
“Hmm . . . Whether she likes it or not,” her mum muttered as she peeled the potatoes ready for Sunday lunch. Her mum worked long hours as a carer for the elderly and was rarely at home during the day, and her dad worked on the trains. Sunshine’s older brother was supposed to keep an eye on her, but he rarely noticed anything that didn’t take place in high definition on a screen the size of a kitchen table that obscured most of his bedroom wall. Besides, she was nineteen. They couldn’t keep her locked up like a child. To be honest, she was pleased that Sunshine had found something to do other than sit on a bench all day. But she was always anxious about the response of strangers to her daughter’s sudden and enthusiastic attachments. Sunshine was fearless and trusting, but her courage and good nature made her vulnerable. Her virtues were often her most serious handicap. Her mum had popped round to see the woman—Laura, she was called—who owned the big house, to check whether or not she minded Sunshine’s visits. She also wanted to satisfy herself that Sunshine wouldn’t come to any harm. The woman seemed nice enough, if a little standoffish, and said that Sunshine was very welcome. But it was the house itself that reassured her the most. It was very beautiful, but more than that, it had a lovely feeling about it that she struggled to describe to her husband, Bert. “It just feels ‘safe,’” was the best she could do to explain why she was happy to approve her daughter visiting Padua.
For Sunshine, it was the highlight of her day, and now she sat at the kitchen table waiting patiently for Laura’s answer. Laura paused, kettle in hand, and looked into Sunshine’s serious face.
“I suppose I could show you how.”
Some days she found Sunshine an unwelcome intruder into her new and as-yet-uncertain life; a determined gate-crasher. Of course, she would never have admitted it. She had even told Sunshine’s mum that she was very welcome. But some days Laura pretended not to be in, leaving Sunshine on the doorstep, patiently but persistently ringing the bell. Once, she had even hidden in the garden behind the shed. But Sunshine had eventually found her and her beaming smile of delight had made Laura feel like a prizewinning idiot and a coldhearted bitch.
Anthony’s solicitor was coming today with the will and the letter. Laura had explained this to Sunshine, but could never be sure exactly how much she understood. She was watching Laura intently now as she set the kettle on the hob and took a fresh tray cloth from the drawer. Mr. Quinlan was due at 2:30 P.M. Before that, Sunshine managed to squeeze in five practice runs, including the washing-up, and Laura, as Mr. Quinlan’s standin, had been forced to tip the last three cups into the aspidistra for the sake of her bladder.
Mr. Quinlan arrived on time. Sunshine recognized him as the old man who had come out of the house with Laura on the day of Anthony’s funeral. He was wearing a charcoal-gray pinstripe suit and a pale pink shirt, and a gold watch chain could just be seen disappearing into his waistcoat pocket. He looked important. Uncertain how to greet a person of such standing, Sunshine bobbed a little curtsy and offered him a high five.
“I’m delighted to meet you, young lady. I’m Robert Quinlan and who are you?”
“I’m Sunshine, the new friend for Laura. People sometimes call me Sunny for short.”
He smiled. “Which do you prefer?”
“Sunshine. Do people ever call you Robber?”
“It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid.”
Laura led them through to the garden room and Sunshine made sure that the sitter had the best chair. She looked at Laura meaningfully.
“Shall I go and make the lovely cup of tea now?”
“That would be very helpful,” Laura replied, secretly wishing that she had nipped to the loo just one more time before Mr. Quinlan had arrived.
Mr. Quinlan read the contents of the will to Laura while Sunshine was in the kitchen. It was clear and simple. Anthony thanked Laura for her work and friendship, but most particularly for her loving care of the house and everything in it. He wanted Laura to inherit all that he owned on the condition that she lived in the house and kept the rose garden exactly as it was. He knew that Laura loved the house almost as much as he had, and he had died content in the knowledge that she would continue to care for it and “make the best possible advantage of all the happiness and peace it had to offer.”