Chapter One
The Key in the Hem
Nell had meant to arrive while it was still light. The house knew she was late anyway.
Its front lamp came on as she reached the gate, spilling a soft square of yellow onto the wet stone. For one foolish second she thought Tansy had seen her from the kitchen and reached for the switch. Then she remembered why the kitchen would be empty, and the square of light looked less like a welcome than a mistake.
She set her suitcase down. The house on Salt Street had the same long front windows and the same coral door, though the colour had faded where a hundred hands had pushed it open. The gutter above the porch still tipped its last drop onto the third step. Tansy had been promising to have it seen to since Nell was twelve. The drop fell just as Nell lifted her foot. Her shoe darkened at the toe.
"Of course," she said to the house.
The front door opened. Ivo stood there with a dishcloth over one shoulder and a set of keys in his hand. At thirty six he was broader than the boy she remembered, with a little silver near one temple. His face did the difficult thing of being pleased to see her and sorry for the reason at once.
"I was going to come to the station," he said.
"I know the way."
