Ian pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. It’s one of Audrey’s most prized possessions.” He pauses, then starts to play a few bars.
Kate leans against the archway between the rooms, the aroma of the coffee in her hand mixing with the woodsmoke in the fireplace. The melody is bright and simple, yet sentimental. It stirs something in her, something melancholy.
The front door opens, jarring her back to the present. Sue and Audrey have returned. Ian stops playing and heads toward the foyer.
“That was lovely,” Kate says, following him.
“Thanks, but it’s not mine.”
She’s about to ask what it’s called when they reach the lobby.
“Bloody freezing,” Audrey mutters as Sue shuts the door against the damp wind. She spots Kate’s coffee. “Is there a pot on?”
“Yeah. Still hot.”
“Brilliant. Thank you for the ride, Sue,” Audrey says, setting her cane in the umbrella stand near the door.
“Of course, deary,” Sue says, but her face is drawn. “Take care o’ yerself, naow. Let me know what you need.” She pulls Audrey into a hug, whispers something Kate can’t hear. “Ian, nice to see you. Kate.” She nods, her lips in a thin line, then leaves.
Kate exchanges a look with Ian, who appears curious but unconcerned. “Is everything okay?” Ian ventures.
Audrey straightens. “Nothing a good strong cup of coffee can’t fix.”
“Why don’t you come and warm yourself by the fire Kate’s got going?” Ian says, offering his arm, which Audrey takes. A bittersweet longing tugs in Kate’s chest as she watches Audrey lean into Ian, like a tree bowing to stop itself breaking in the wind.
Kate fetches Audrey’s coffee and returns to find the two of them in conversation by the fire. Ian is telling some sort of amusing story about a customer at the bookshop. Kate sets Audrey’s mug down on the table and steps back to leave them to their chat. There’s washing-up to be done in the kitchen, anyway.
“Hold it, there, dear.” Audrey stays her hand. “I understand you and Ian have sorted the roof?”
“Yeah, we did,” she says, looking at Ian, who smiles and takes a pointed gulp of his coffee. “Oh, but it might need replacing full-on, very soon.”
Audrey shoots Ian a good-natured glare. “Got her campaigning for you now, have you?”
Ian raises a hand in mock defense. “The more people convincing you, the better. It’s a disaster up there. You won’t make it through another year without massive leaks, Audrey.”
She scoffs. “God help me now if the pair of you are in cahoots.”
There’s a beat of silence before Ian glances at the clock. “I should be off,” he says. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Kate. Audrey,” he adds, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
Audrey grasps Ian’s outstretched hand, a broad smile on her face that, until now, Kate didn’t think she was capable of. It’s the first true warmth she’s seen from the woman, and it fills her with more questions about Ian. “I heard you playing when I came in. Do me a favour and tickle the ivories once more before you leave?”
“Of course.”
Kate returns to the kitchen and Ian strikes up another tune, different than the last piece. Debussy or Ravel, maybe. As the notes drift through the house, Kate fills the sink with hot water and soap, begins to clean the dishes from breakfast.
Orange-scented steam warms her face as her thoughts wander back to Audrey. So, she was on the continent during the war, according to Ian, but doing what? Her mind assembles the details she’s observed about the woman, trying to fit the pieces together. There’s that collection of German books in the library. Was Audrey in Germany, of all places? Had she lived there? Her aunt owned the Oakwood before her, so Kate had just assumed Audrey was English. But it could explain the strange lilt in her accent.
Her thoughts shift to Ian. He clearly brightens Audrey like no one else does, and the tenderness between them reminds Kate a bit of her own parents’ relationship, or the way it was with her and Adam in the beginning.
She scrubs aggressively at some caked-on grease as she pokes around her feelings. She thinks of the Marmite jar, the dropped egg, Audrey’s cane and medication. Audrey does need help, that much is clear. And maybe Ian needs Audrey too—he seems genuinely pleased to be here. Everyone wants to be needed in some way, including Kate, she admits. She’s felt adrift in her own life. Perhaps Audrey and the Oakwood could be her anchor, some direction, as unexpected as that may be.
She scans the kitchen for more dishes, then returns to the sitting room to collect the coffee mugs. The piano has stopped, and Ian is gone, but Audrey is staring into the fire, her eyes glassy.
“Are you done there, Audrey?” Kate asks gently, feeling certain she’s interrupted some deep thought.
Audrey blinks up at her. “Oh, yes, thank you.”
Kate scoops up Audrey’s mug and looks for Ian’s, spotting it on top of the piano. She retrieves it, then does a double take at the sight of a water ring on the surface.
“Oh, goddamnit,” she mutters, using the sleeve of her cardigan to try to wipe away the white mark. It doesn’t budge.
“What’s that?” Audrey asks from the next room.
Old as she may be, her hearing is clearly still perfect.
“It’s just, er…” Kate continues to scrub ineffectually.
“What?”
“There’s a water ring on the piano.” No matter how she says this, it’s going to come out like an accusation. “Where Ian set his mug. I’m sorry. I can look up how to shift it, I’ll see what I can do. Or maybe Sue—”
“That wasn’t Ian’s cup,” Audrey interrupts her. “Don’t worry. It’s been there for decades.”
“I really think it was though, Audrey. I’m sorry. It’s right where—”
“I said don’t fret about it. Ian didn’t leave that water ring.” She turns in her chair, fixing her eyes on Kate’s. “A Nazi bastard did.”
Kate freezes at Audrey’s pronouncement. “Pardon?”
