Nobody Quite Like You by Natasha West

Author:Natasha West [West, Natasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Six

Tara blinked into the dim morning light. She couldn’t believe she was waking up in Solhaven.

The floor had seemed like a shock at first, but she’d adjusted quickly, hypnotised by the golds and purples of the flames crackling beside her. Her white noise machine felt pathetic by comparison.

Tara heard the soft clink coming from the small kitchen area. She sat up and began pulling off her night stuff, getting quickly changed into clothes from her bag.

Once she was dressed, she stood, very aware of the ceiling only inches above her head. The whole place felt like a dollhouse.

In the kitchen, Amelia was standing by a wood-burning stove, watching a brass kettle rumble, her back straight as usual, her fingers drumming lightly on her hip.

Tara hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to announce her presence or to continue pretending she was part of the furniture. In the end, she landed on a little cough.

Amelia jumped at the sound. ‘Stone the crows!’ she exclaimed, turning.

‘Morning,’ Tara said apologetically.

Amelia clutched her heart. ‘Sorry. Not used to having company here.’

Tara wasn’t sure if she should apologise, but that seemed odd, given she’d been invited. So she just smiled awkwardly. She didn’t think she’d ever felt conspicuous in her life.

‘Sit,’ Amelia said finally.

Tara obeyed, moving to the table and perching on a stool that creaked under her weight. The kettle’s rumble grew louder, and Amelia removed it from the heat. ‘How’d you sleep?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ Tara replied, though she could feel the tension in her back already.

Amelia busied herself making two cups of tea. ‘It isn’t what you’re used to, I know,’ she said, turning and handing Tara a mug.

Tara offered a half-smile, unsure whether to laugh or acknowledge the truth in Amelia’s words. It wasn’t just the sleeping arrangements—it was everything. It was a place out of time.

Amelia turned back to the stove to stir a pot. ‘I’m making porridge.’

‘Great,’ Tara said, glad to hear that it was something familiar and comforting.

As Amelia stirred, Tara took the time to study the cottage more closely in the morning light, noticing the little things: the hand-carved spoons resting in a jar, the pile of wicker baskets neatly stacked by the door, the mismatched ceramic mugs carefully arranged on a shelf.

As Amelia moved to open a cupboard, there was a soft knock on the door, and a moment later, the wooden frame creaked open. A villager, an older man wearing a flat cap at a jaunty angle, stepped in, holding a small, rolled-up piece of paper wrapped in twine.

‘Amelia! Glad to see you back.’ He looked at Tara, and his eyes widened. ‘Oh, it’s you! My gosh!’

‘I suppose it is,’ Tara said uncertainly. She took a sip of tea. It was a lot stronger than she was used to, but pleasant all the same.

Amelia smiled at the man as she took the paper. ‘Thanks, Morris. Time for a warm cup?’

‘Not today, lots to deliver,’ he said. He grinned nervously at Tara. ‘Well, bye then!’ he said at an oddly loud volume.

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