Page 79 of Memories of the Lost

Energized, she got up to pack.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Wulfecombe

Clare left Levi sleeping in the darkness before dawn and quietly headed downstairs. A trail of animals followed her. George jumped up howling when he heard her, and she hurried over to give him some reassurance that it was only her. “Let’s have breakfast, shall we?” He slurped a soft tongue over her inner wrist, and Clare bent to kiss him. “You’re the sweetest thing ever,” she murmured, pulling his ears through her hands.

George had been blinded by an accident with cooking oil, and his nose showed the scar tissue of that terrible day. It had fully been accidental, but his owners hadn’t wanted to bother with a blind dog and asked to put him down. Instead, Levi adopted the sweet being, and he’d lived with them for nearly a decade. His world was the farm, and he knew where things were by smell and feel.

“Come, sweet,” she said now, and he followed her into the kitchen. She fed everyone—cats and dogs and rabbits. The goats and ducks and geese were Levi’s realm, and he’d take care of them when he got up.

As she started the kettle for her tea and pulled out a cutting board to start the vegetables, she felt a sense ofsomething. Not quite a warning, but an alert as if the weather was going to turn. High seas ahead. Shelifted her head and tried to gauge what she might need to do to prepare, but there was nothing more than the whispering sense of things on the verge.

Which was the natural way of the world, of course. Everything was always on the verge. She moved her senses over the beings in her world to see if she felt anything amiss—Levi, upstairs sleeping, with his sore back. Was it more than that?

No. And not the children, none of them. Sage and her baby, also fine, but—

Something.Something connected to Sage, then.

Was it the bones they’d found in the housing estate? She pressed a hand to her belly, gauging vibrations. Unclear. Maybe the bones, maybe not, but definitely something to do with Sage, her finally settled, happy daughter.

Protect her,she prayed.

Then she firmly planted a podcast in her ears, blocking out swirling strangeness as she chopped onions and turnips and potatoes and put them in to roast for a soup.

She sent out protective prayers, an umbrella over all the people she loved.Be safe. Be happy. Be well.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

After nearly twenty grueling hours of travel—a flight, a quick sleep, a train, a long drive around narrow roads winding through thick woods—Tillie exited a taxi in front of the Green King Inn, an ancient building that leaned so precipitously toward the cobbled street that it seemed like it might fall over at any moment.

She wondered at her choice, paid the driver, and dragged her small bag behind her toward a thick door situated between two wide mullioned windows. She paused and looked around, asking her gut for any help it might offer. A vegan café stood down the road, and a fish-and-chips shop, and a bakery. She certainly wouldn’t starve.

Inside the inn, it was dark and close and smelled of beer. The young woman behind the counter had a nose ring, and the ends of her hair had been dipped in red. “Hello,” she said, friendly enough.

“I have a reservation.”

She checked her in, four days, which was all Tillie had thought she could spare, and gave her a heavy key. “No elevator, I’m afraid. Take the stairs to the third floor, and your room is on the left. It’s a nice one. You’ll like it.”

“Thanks.” Tillie would have been glad to have a nap on a park bench. It was only midafternoon, but she was crashing hard. It wasannoying. When she and Jon had done their world tour, she’d been proud of her adaptability—she never got jet lag.

She was out of practice.

The room was better than she’d expected. A big window looked out to the street, and the bed was generous. She dropped her bag, shed her jacket, and fell down on the pillows for just a little nap.

Which ended up being an hour. The buzz of texts woke her up, and she rolled over to scroll through them. Jon had arrived in Crete and sent a photo of gloriously blue seas.

Tillie sent one back of Heathrow.I just got to England.

Wait. You’re in London? I’m crushed you didn’t come with me! But I guess a lover is a bigger draw.

:( I’m not in London. Liam is, and I didn’t follow him. The painter from your show got back to me, and she said the house in the painting is on the west coast of Devon. Here to see if I can find it. Only a few days.

I’m worried UR there alone.

Don’t. I’m happy. I have the therapist in my pocket. All is well.

Is it, though?