The Haunting by Alan Titchmarsh

Author:Alan Titchmarsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2010-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

28

Mill Cottage, Itchen Parva

19 June 2010

It was a decision taken by both of them the previous Sunday evening, that to live too much in each other’s pockets at first would not be a good thing. Not so much for them – their own total comfort in each other’s company left no room for doubt and, with one reservation on Harry’s side, they were as sure of each other as they could be. No. It was for Anne, whose own world had been troubled enough by her father’s death two years ago. At last she was now beginning to enjoy some semblance of order and stability in her seven-year-old life and that, they both agreed, was something that must be preserved, even if it meant taking their own developing relationship at a slower pace. At this point Harry was on the verge of clearing up the one area of unease in his mind and raising the subject of James Templeton’s death, but the moment passed and he let it go. Why spoil a perfect weekend asking questions that did not yet need to be asked. That bridge would be crossed eventually, but there seemed to be no valid reason why it should happen today.

His school week had passed by uneventfully, with Palmer and his cronies being no more obnoxious than usual, and from here he could begin to see light at the end of the tunnel. The end of term was but a month away by now and, for the first time in many months, he began to feel quite excited about the prospect of his new life. There were other things to think about, rather than just his family tree. As yet he was not sure what they were, but in their nebulous form they occupied his mind and gave him a feeling of well-being. Admitting to himself that they amounted to his being in love was something he pushed to the back of his mind, for no other reason than that he did not want to spoil the moment by over-analysis. He rather liked this floaty feeling; it had been some time since he had experienced it, and the sensation had a degree of novelty but also, he suspected, fragility.

On this rather cloudy Saturday morning, Alex and Anne had promised to keep out of his hair while he set about the one bit of house reorganisation that he had decided was necessary. The upstairs bathroom was at the end of the landing and, should he ever have guests, the inevitable meeting on the landing with sponge bag and towel could be avoided only if he made a doorway into the bathroom from his own bedroom and fitted a bolt to both that and the outer door. That way he would have what amounted to an en-suite arrangement, but on leaving he could slip back the bolt of the door to the landing to show that the bathroom was vacant. It seemed a simple enough job; the wall was not load-bearing.

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