Chapter 20: A Tease Without an End

The parlour of Georgina's family's inn had a fire, six chairs and a dog.

On Sunday afternoon it had all four of them in it.

Harry sat on the settle with his boots off and his feet to the fire.

He had been to the house.

He had gone down the lane at noon, and Draconia had been standing at the gate in her grey cloak.

She had the iron key in her hand and her chin up.

She had said, "I'm only here to see that you don't fall through the floor."

They had gone in together.

It was not a large house, and it had not been touched.

There were sheets over the chairs and a clock stopped at ten past four.

In the back bedroom, under the eaves, there had been a cot with a wooden rail.

She had stood in the doorway and let him go in alone.

He had not cried.

He had put his hand on the rail, and the wood had gone warm under it.

She had said quite gently from the door that she thought he should sit down.

They had come out at two and she had locked the door behind them and not given back the key.

"And then?" said Vivienne.

She was lying on the hearthrug with her chin on her fists, listening hard.

"And then we came here," said Harry.

"But what was it like?"

"It was small," said Draconia. "It smelled of damp and lavender. The kitchen is ghastly."

"I want to know what you did," said Vivienne.

"I did nothing. I stood in the hall and told him not to touch the ceiling."

"Did he?"

"He touched all of it," said Draconia.

"It's a habit he has, of testing whether things will hold. It's tiresome."

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