Switched by Sarah Ready

Author:Sarah Ready [Ready, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781954007659
Publisher: W.W. Crown

23

Henry’s room is on the third floor of the latrine/tower/castle. The stairs are at the back of the house and climb in a spiral up, up, up, six stories total. The steps creak and groan, their old wood dark and polished, as John and I lug the suitcases upstairs. The walls are smooth gray stone, brass sconces light the spiraled steps, and small slit windows glow with a dash of moonlight.

The further we climb, the older the house feels. The thick stone walls muffle sounds, and I can imagine centuries of Joules climbing these stairs, brushing their hands along the cool stone as they climb. There’s the smell of wood polish and damp stone and a hint of woodsmoke and tea. It’s a familiar smell even though I’ve never known it until today, and it makes me feel as if I’ve just finished hugging someone I love.

John leads me down a short hallway with faded oriental rugs laid over wide, uneven wooden floorboards. At the end of the hall light spills across the floor from the open door of a bedroom. I can hear Henry’s mom.

“—always was tidy. Even as a boy he’d trail after us, picking up our messes. The boys would knock down blocks and then Henry would stack them. Charles, bless him, would leave his racing journals lying about and three-year-old Henry would sort them by issue date. I never had to get on him about tidying his room. Not that he minds a mess. He once told me he likes a mess because it’s homely and—”

“Sounds like Mum’s singing your praises,” John says, eyeing me over his shoulder. He drops the suitcase in front of the bedroom and the plastic wheels clatter on the wood floor.

Henry’s mom cuts off at the noise. “Oh, here they are!”

I step up to the door of the bedroom and try to pretend like I’ve seen it before. I set the suitcase down at the entry and send Henry a reassuring smile. He’s standing in the middle of the large room looking a bit overwhelmed.

Honestly, I feel the same. Henry’s childhood room is the stuff of dreams. It’s a large, expansive space. The ceilings are high, with plaster and dark wooden beams, and the wall opposite the door has a large, built-in stone window seat with a tall leaded glass window. The panes are separated by thin strips of silver metal, and the glass has that centuries-old wavy appearance that makes the world outside look like a soft dream painted in pastels. In the center of the window are panes of colored glass, red and green and yellow-gold, in the shape of a knight’s shield. The entire window is framed by rich burgundy velvet curtains. I have the sudden urge to lounge on that window seat for hours, curled up with a book, a cup of tea, and a corgi.

In fact, I think Henry has done just that thing many, many times over.

The rest of the room is neat, tidy, just like Henry’s apartment and his office.

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