The Keeper of Lost Things(43)
“I’m Lee,” he said, flashing his card. “I’ve come to sort out your broadband.”
Freddy stood aside to let him in and Laura guided him round the still-prone Christmas tree and through to the study, which was immediately vacated by a supersonic Carrot. Sunshine trotted along behind them, thinking with all her might and still trying to work out exactly what was happening. Eventually she rolled her eyes and sighed loudly.
“You’re the bored van man!”
She checked her watch.
“You came in the window.”
Lee smiled, uncertain what to say. He’d been to some strange jobs before and this one was shaping up nicely to be right up there with them.
“Shall I make you the lovely cup of tea?”
The young man’s smile broadened. Maybe things were looking up.
“I’d love a cup of coffee, if that’s okay?”
Sunshine shook her head.
“I don’t do coffee. I only do tea.”
Lee snapped open his tool case. It might be better to just get the job done and get out after all.
“Of course you can have coffee,” Laura intervened hastily. “How do you take it? Come on, Sunshine, I’ll make it and you can watch, and then next time you’ll know how to make it yourself.”
Sunshine considered for a moment, and remembering Vince’s threats, she allowed herself to be persuaded.
“Then when the police get here I’ll be able to make them the lovely cup of coffee too.”
CHAPTER 28
“The Very Thought of You.”
The song broke Laura’s sleep, although whether it was part of her dream or real music coming from the garden room downstairs she couldn’t be sure. She lay still and listening, snuggled in her duvet cocoon. Silence. Reluctantly she crept out into the cold, rose-scented air, threw on her dressing gown, and went over to the window to let the winter morning in.
And saw a ghost.
Laura peered out through the frosted pane, unwilling to trust what she saw; a shadow, perhaps a figure, pellucid as the rimy spiderwebs strung trembling in the icy breeze between the rosebushes. Laura shook her head. It was nothing. Customary common sense was temporarily out of service, and her imagination had cut loose, rampaging through reason with party poppers and a silly hat. That was all it was. Vince’s visit had unsettled her. He had stomped dirty footprints all over her nice, new life. But he was gone now, she told herself, and unlikely to return. She smiled, remembering with satisfaction the sour milk soaking into his shirt and the horror on his face as he squirmed like an upturned tortoise in the branches of the Christmas tree. But perhaps something else had unsettled her too. Freddy. He had called her “his girl.” She had been ridiculously, dangerously flattered. She had replayed the moment over and over in her head, but it was persistently and annoyingly accompanied by a warning voice telling her not to be so stupid. Now she didn’t dare think about it at all. Time for the lovely cup of tea.
Downstairs, the smell of Christmas tree cut through the air in every room. It was wonderful. The tree itself glittered and sparkled with tinsel and baubles and all manner of decorations that Laura had found in a box in the loft. Anthony had always put up a tree at Christmas, but his had usually been a much more modest affair and most of the decorations had hardly ever been used. Laura slotted two slices of bread into the toaster and poured herself a cup of tea. Noises in the kitchen had finally roused Carrot from his bed by the fire in the study, and he came and sat at Laura’s feet waiting for his breakfast of toast and lightly scrambled eggs. In spite of their best efforts to fatten him up, he had barely “thickened his skin,” according to Freddy. But he did look much happier now, and was beginning to view life as a curious adventure rather than a terrifying ordeal. Today, Sunshine was going Christmas shopping with her mum, and Freddy was visiting his sister and her family in Slough. He had told Laura that his pre-Christmas visit was enough to keep his “good big brother” certificate stamped up-to-date, provided it was supplemented with generous (preferably cash) presents for his ungrateful niece and his surly nephew.
Laura drained her teacup and brushed crumbs of toast from her fingers. Perhaps a day spent in her own company would do her good. Besides, she had Carrot, whose gentle head was resting in her lap. After a quick stroll around the frosty garden, which allowed Carrot to cock his leg up several trees and Laura to check that there were no specters, wraiths, or banshees loitering in the rose garden, she stoked up the fire in the study and Carrot settled himself back into his bed with a contented sigh. She fetched a box from one of the shelves and set out its contents on the table. The laptop bleeped and blinked into life and the vast virtual lost property department, of which she was now the Keeper, opened its doors. Laura picked up the first object in front of her.
CHILD’S UMBRELLA, WHITE WITH RED HEARTS—
FOUND, ALICE IN WONDERLAND SCULPTURE,
Central Park, New York, 17th April …
Marvin liked to keep busy. It stopped the bad thoughts creeping into his head, like black ants seething over the body of a dead songbird. The drugs from his doctor sometimes helped, but not always. When he had first fallen sick, he used to stuff his ears with cotton wads, hold his nose, and keep his eyes and mouth clenched shut. He figured that if all the holes in his head were blocked, the thoughts couldn’t get in. But he had to breathe. And no matter how teeny tiny he made the crack between his lips, the bad thoughts always managed to sneak in. But keeping very busy kept them away; and the voices too.