Page 7 of The Perfect Guests
“Mum’s an illustrator.” Nina picked up a few of the sketches at random. “Have a look—they’re good, aren’t they? She doesn’t sell much, but...”
I admired drawings of fantastical beasts and fairy-tale castles and tropical islands. “Yeah, they’re great. And what does your dad do?”
“Oh, he runs a landscape gardening business,” Nina said. “Based in Cambridge. He took the day off today to welcome you.”
I felt flattered but also bemused. I thought of my own parents’ former full-time jobs at the council, and the modest family home we used to live in, and I marveled that a gardener and an artist could make enough money to own a house like Raven Hall.
“So...” I plucked up my courage as we returned to the kitchen. “Do you know where my violin went? Only, I like to play it every day, especially since...” I bit back the rest of the sentence. My violin was the one constant in my life, the one activity that kept my grief at arm’s length. Nina looked surprised, but Leonora, who wasremoving a casserole dish from the oven, turned around with a delighted smile.
“Markus put it in the drawing room, just now, Beth. Please, play it whenever you like. We’re all looking forward to hearing you.”
This had to be a good sign. My newfound optimism glowed a little brighter. Nina and I hurried off to set the table in the dining room, and then the four of us sat down to enjoy the most delicious chicken casserole I’d ever tasted.
“So, Beth,” Markus said, offering me a second helping of vegetables across the table, “did you have a nice afternoon? You don’t want to go home yet?”
I flinched at the wordhome, but I didn’t blame Markus for being tactless—I’d lost count of how many well-meaning people had said similar things since my parents and brother died; they spoke without thinking. Leonora, however, shot me a look brimming with sympathy, and then she frowned at Markus.
“Give her a chance to settle in, poor girl. She’s barely had time to unpack yet.”
Nina didn’t quite manage to suppress a smirk, and I dipped my head and focused on my food, conscious of the ache in my arms from the rowing, and the tingle of sunburn on my shoulders from swimming in the lake.
“I’ll tell you what,” Markus said. “I’m sure we’ve got a bike the right size for Beth in the stables. I’ll have a look after dinner, and I’ll check everything’s roadworthy, and then maybe the two of you can cycle around the lake tomorrow. What do you think?”
Nina shrugged and looked at me.
“That sounds nice,” I said. “Can we ride into the village?”
There was a moment of silence, and I sensed I’d made my own faux pas. Leonora appeared to choose her words carefully.
“We don’t tend to encourage that, Beth. But—” She tried to catch Nina’s eye, but Nina had her head lowered. “Nina has a little friend who comes out here to play with her, don’t you, Nina? Jonas, whose mum runs the B and B. He’s a nice boy.”
Nina’s eye roll was so dramatic, I felt sure either Leonora or Markus would tell her off, but neither did. Leonora turned back to me instead.
“Perhaps you could play something for us after dinner, Beth? Would you mind? That piece you played at the concert last week was lovely. It might inspire Nina...”
I nodded eagerly. “Of course. If you like.”
Leonora smiled. “Thank you.” She turned abruptly to Markus. “Oh, did you ring the caterers? The party’s so close, and I’ve got so much to do...”
I could see where Nina got her rapid changes of subject from.
After dinner, I played my violin for them, and then we all carried our drinks out to the terrace—white wine for Leonora and Markus, lemonade for Nina and me. Nina and I played cards and chatted lazily as the sun went down, and I felt more tired than I had in a long time. When Markus picked up his guitar, Nina and I settled back in our chairs, and we gave him our full attention as the sky grew darker and the stars came out over Raven Hall. Markus’s songs were like stories, and I closed my eyes, picturing Rocky Raccoon falling back in his room, and strawberry fields stretching on and on forever...
Nina shook me gently awake. “Come on, Beth, it’s time for bed. Busy day tomorrow.”
***
After breakfast the following morning, Nina led me back up to my bedroom and cast her eyes over my still-unpacked bags.
“Have you got a swimsuit?”
“Yeah, somewhere.” I tugged clothes from the bags until I found it: my old black suit from school. “Will this do?”
Nina smiled. “It’s perfect. Put it on. I’ll meet you downstairs in two minutes.”
When she was gone, I surveyed the tangle of clothes on the floor and turned to the chest of drawers next to my bed. The entire contents of both my bags would fit into just one of those deep drawers. There was a huge dark wood wardrobe in the corner too, and I swung open its doors and peered into the faintly lemon-smelling interior. Just one dress hung there, and strangely it looked to be about my size. I lifted it down on its hanger cautiously. An old-fashioned design, high-necked and long, in blue gingham checks with white embroidery on the front. I replaced it on the rail and closed the doors on it.
“Beth!” Nina was back. “Aren’t you ready yet?”
