The Lake House (50 page)

T
hirty-five

London, 2004

They met at the Natural History Museum, just as they always did on Eleanor's anniversary. They didn't hug, that wasn't their way, but they linked arms, each shoring the other up a little as they did the rounds. Neither spoke; instead they walked together quietly, lost in their own private memories of Anthony and Loeanneth and all the things they'd learned, too late to help him but soon enough to bring a measure of resolution to their own lives.

The others joined them afterwards for tea at the V&A. Even Bertie made the trip up from Cornwall. “I wouldn't dream of missing it,” he'd said when Alice telephoned him with the invitation. “Besides, I was already planning to come to London that week. There's a certain grand opening to attend after all . . .”

He was holding a table already when Deborah and Alice arrived, and waved them over. He stood, smiling, embracing them each in turn. Strange, Alice thought, as Deborah patted his cheeks and laughed, the way their abhorrence of physical greetings didn't extend to their little brother. It was as if, having missed so much time together, they felt a physical need to bridge the years. Or perhaps it was because they'd lost him when he was so very small that the love they felt demanded tactile expression, in the same way an adult cannot help but reach to hold a child. Whatever the case, they treasured him. It occurred to Alice how pleased Eleanor would be to know that they'd found each other again.

Sadie came next, a handful of papers in her arms. She walked as quickly as always, head down as she tried to shuffle the sheets back into order. “Sorry,” she said, arriving at the table. “Tube was delayed. I'm late. Story of my life at the moment trying to get things ready in time for the opening. Hope I haven't kept you waiting too long?”

“Not at all,” said Deborah, smiling fondly. “We've only just arrived ourselves.”

“And here's Peter now,” said Bertie, nodding towards the entrance.

Sadie handed the manuscript to Alice. “I've marked anything I could find, but there wasn't a lot. Just a few procedural things. Oh, Alice—” she dropped her handbag and collapsed onto the spare seat—“it's a good one. Very good. I couldn't turn the pages fast enough.”

Alice looked pleased but not entirely surprised. “I'm happy to say that number fifty-one proved rather more obliging than number fifty.”

Peter arrived at the table, leaning to kiss Sadie on the cheek. She clutched his shirt and kissed him back. “How did you go?” she said. “Did you get it?”

“Right here.” He tapped his satchel.

“How did you manage that? They told me it would be at least another week.”

He smiled mysteriously. “I have my ways.”

“I'll bet you do.”

“He does, and he's my assistant,” said Alice, “so don't even think about stealing him.”

“I wouldn't dare.”

“Go on then,” said Bertie. “Don't keep us all in suspense. Let's have a look at it.”

Peter took a flat rectangular parcel from his backpack and unwrapped the tissue paper. The metal gleamed silver when he held it up for them to see.

Alice put on her glasses and leaned closer to read the engraving. “
S. Sparrow, Private Investigator. Please ring doorbell for assistance
.” She folded her glasses again and tucked them in their case. “Well,” she said, “it's to the point and I like that. I don't hold with cute business names. As the Sparrow Flies, Bird's-Eye View . . .”

“The Early Bird Catches the Worm,” said Peter.

“Actually, I quite like that one,” said Bertie.

“Alas, I can't claim it,” said Peter. “That was one of Charlotte's.”

“Is she coming?”

“Not today,” said Sadie. “But she said she'd try to make it to the opening of the agency on Saturday night.”

“Well then,” said Bertie, with a smile of something like pride and satisfaction and deep contentment all wrapped into one. “What do you all think? Shall we skip tea just this once and have some sparkling wine instead? It seems to me we have an awful lot to celebrate.”

Acknowledgements

to follow

Kate Morton grew up in the mountains of south-east Queensland and lives now with her husband and young sons in Brisbane. She has degrees in dramatic art and English literature, specializing in nineteenth-century tragedy and contemporary gothic novels.

Kate has sold over nine million copies of her novels in 26 languages, across 38 countries.
The Shifting Fog
, published internationally as
The House at Riverton
,
The Forgotten Garden, The Distant Hours
and
The Secret Keeper
have all been number one bestsellers around the world. Each novel won the Australian Book Industry award for General Fiction Book of the Year.

You can find more information about Kate Morton and her books at katemorton.com or facebook.com/KateMortonAuthor