at all. She looked up at the whitewashed ceiling with its dramatic dark beams, across at the pretty tiles around the stove and the cluster of antique kettles and pots on the floor beside it. The room could have been part of a museum, except that it was so alive with the feeling of family.
It wasn’t just the fridge that was covered with works of art and photographs. There was a huge corkboard on the wall and a bookshelf that had framed photographs amongst the books and a shelf clearly devoted to things the children had made, like an odd-looking robot constructed out of cardboard boxes and tubes and a chunky effort in clay that could possibly represent Benji. Or maybe Daddy.
‘It’s only stew, I’m sorry,’ Catherine said, as she ladled an aromatic mix of meat and vegetables onto Emma’s plate. ‘I forgot that we might be welcoming a visitor today.’
A visitor? The feeling of family was so strong Emma had forgotten that that was what she was. How could anyone not feel completely at home in here? And the food was delicious.
‘This is perfect,’ Emma assured Catherine. A lot better than anything she’d be able to produce in the kitchen. Oh … help … Had she really made Adam believe she could cook in that interview? Her job in the restaurant had been limited to clearing tables and washing dishes. And had Catherine made that bread herself, too? Possibly even churned the butter, she thought as she accepted the blue and white dish being passed her way by Adam.
She didn’t need to cross that bridge quite yet, though. And maybe it was Catherine that Adam had inherited that fey ability to see things from. She was smiling at Emma as they all tucked into their dinners.
‘I’ve left lots of meals in the freezer and there’s a modern oven as well as the big stove, if you need it. The children get a hot lunch at school so you’ll only have to cope with breakfast for most of the time.’
‘Did the turkey for Christmas arrive?’ Adam asked.
‘Aye. It’s in the freezer as well. Don’t forget to take it out at least a couple of days early. Leave it in the big tub out in the dairy to thaw.’
‘I don’t like stew,’ Oliver announced a few minutes later. ‘It’s got carrots in it.’
‘Carrots are good for you,’ Emma offered. ‘They help you see in the dark.’
‘I don’t need to see in the dark,’ Oliver said with exaggerated patience. ‘I’m asleep.’
‘If you don’t eat your carrots,’ Adam said calmly, ‘there’ll be no ice cream.’
‘I don’t like ice cream.’
‘I do,’ Poppy sighed. ‘I love ice cream.’
‘Me, too,’ Emma said. She beamed at Poppy. Impossible not to fall in love with a child who was so prepared to love everything life had to offer. Poppy beamed back. Shifting her gaze back to her plate, Emma caught Adam staring at her but he quickly shifted his attention back to his son.
‘No television before bed, then,’ he said. ‘Vegetables are important.’
Catherine stood up to start clearing plates. ‘Can I leave you to do the children’s pudding?’ she asked Adam. ‘I’ll need to head away soon and I’d like to give Emma a tour of the house and show her where her room is.’
‘But Emma loves ice cream, too.’ The horrified look on Poppy’s face at the prospect of such an unwarranted punishment for someone stole another piece of Emma’s heart. Oliver might prove to be more of a challenge but she knew that she was going to love her time with Poppy.
‘I’ll come back,’ Emma promised. ‘Save me some, okay?’ She looked at Oliver, who was scowling down at his plate—the only one still on the table. He was pushing slices of carrot around with his fork. ‘And by then,’ she added casually, ‘you’ll have scoffed those carrots, Ollie, and I’ll be able to show you my guitar.’
A lightning-fast glance back as she left the kitchen revealed a fork laden with carrot slices making its way towards Oliver’s mouth and Emma hid a smile. Maybe the little boy wouldn’t be too much of a challenge after all.
The tour of the house was a whirlwind and it wasn’t just the speed of viewing the more formal rooms, like the lounge and library downstairs or the rapid climb to the upper level that had taken Emma’s breath away.
‘How old is the house?’
‘The main part dates back to the seventeenth century but there’s been a lot of additions and renovations, and thank goodness for that. I’d hate to be offering you a room that didn’t have an en suite bathroom.’ Down the end of a wide hallway that had dozens of framed photographs displayed, Catherine opened one of the dark oak doors. ‘And here it is.’
‘It’s gorgeous.’ Emma looked around the space that would be hers for the next few weeks. The brass bed had a pretty patchwork quilt. The fireplace was tiled in blue and white, which seemed to be a theme throughout the house, and any draught from the windows was kept at bay by the thick velvet curtains that Catherine whisked shut.
‘Poppy and Ollie’s rooms are next door and they have their own bathroom between them. There’s a playroom on this side and down the other hallway there are a couple of guest rooms and Adam’s room is at the end. Have a good explore tomorrow, when you’ve got some daylight.’ Catherine glanced at her watch. ‘I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to dash. I need to get home and collect my suitcase.’
‘Home? Don’t you live here?’
‘Not any more. I moved out when Adam and Tania got married. It’s been a family tradition for generations that the eldest son raises his family here. I have a cottage in the village.’
So it had been a family home for generations? That would explain the astonishingly homely feel of the house. And the enormous collection of photographs. Emma followed Catherine back into the hallway. She bit her lip but her curiosity refused to subside.
‘Would it be awfully rude if I asked about … Tania?’
‘Of course not, pet.’ Catherine stopped in her tracks, turned her head to scrutinise the gallery of photographs and then pointed. ‘That’s her. I think that picture was taken on their honeymoon in the Maldives.’
A stunning beach scene. An even more stunning young woman with long, blonde hair and a model’s body frolicking in the surf. Laughing. The joy was unmistakeable and Emma could imagine Adam standing there with the camera, capturing such a happy moment with his new wife.
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘Aye …’ The word was a sigh. ‘Poppy has the look of her, I think. Ollie’s more like his dad.’
There were more photographs, of course. Emma spotted a wedding portrait, with Adam gazing adoringly at his bride. A lovely black and white image of Tania and the newborn twins and more with the babies as toddlers.
‘The bairns were only three when it happened,’ Catherine said softly. ‘They barely remember their mother so it’s good to have so many pictures for them.’
Emma swallowed hard. ‘What did happen?’
‘A terrible tragedy. Tania liked to do her Christmas shopping in Edinburgh and she’d
