been offended.
The last drips of coffee fell into the jug and she put it on a tray with two mugs, milk and sugar and took them upstairs. Theo had proved to be a breath of fresh air: he was naturally buoyant and enthusiastic, a constant source of energy and of diverting stories. That morning he’d been telling her about fighting off pirates in the seas near Somalia, and, on another trip, diving from the transom of a boat into Caribbean water striped red from the sunset. Her initial reservations about letting him help had gone. There was no pressure from him; he genuinely seemed happy messing around in the house in his free time. ‘Gets me away from my mother,’ he’d explained, pulling a face.
‘Great,’ he said now as she appeared in the room with the coffee. ‘An excuse to stop.’
They sat on the floor to drink it and there was silence but for the mewing of a herring gull sitting on the roof.
‘We ought to put some music on,’ Theo suggested.
‘Music?’ she said doubtfully. She’d been avoiding it wherever possible, knowing it would bring back a string of memories, either of Simon or of that last painful concert. ‘What sort of music?’
‘I don’t know. Oasis, Genesis, the Manic Street Preachers, the Beatles maybe. I could bring something tomorrow. Who do you like?’
She relaxed.
‘Oh…pop. To be honest I’m not really into pop music. I’m sorry. I’m sure that sounds really pompous but I’m afraid I just don’t get it.’
Theo shrugged.
‘Don’t apologise. Each to their own. So what would you listen to for relaxation? Or can’t you listen to music for relaxation?’ He grinned. ‘Is that a contradiction?’
‘Not at all. I love Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald. I’ve always liked jazz, swing, old show tunes. I like old films too so maybe I associate the music with them.’
Theo shuffled his bottom back so he could lean against the wall and took another mouthful of coffee.
‘I like old films too,’ he said. ‘When you think what small budgets some of them had compared to today and how atmospheric they are. Look at Casablanca , that’s a great film. So what’s your favourite film then?’
‘I don’t know… High Society maybe, or Breakfast at Tiffany’s . Brilliant. I love Sleepless in Seattle ; it’s not that old but it’s got a great soundtrack.’
‘Ah, sloppy romance. I couldn’t possibly admit to liking those. I think my favourite would have to be, let me see, Kelly’s Heroes . Does that qualify as ‘old’? – it’s much more manly, anyway.’
Alex laughed and drank a little coffee. Theo was wearing old cropped jeans and a faded t-shirt. There was a slight bulge in the fabric of the shirt over his breast-bone and her eyes were irresistibly drawn back to it.
‘What do you wear round your neck?’ she asked.
‘This?’ Theo put a hand to the bulge and then flicked it out. He undid the chain and handed it to her. It was a piece of solid polished silver, swollen at one end with a design cut into its flattened base.
‘What is it?’ Alex turned it over and stared at the design.
‘It’s a seal. You know, an identifying mark they used to press into wax to seal letters. It’s the Hellyon seal, more than three hundred years old. Hillen Hall is in the design, inside the H.’
Alex stared more closely at it.
‘Fascinating,’ she murmured. ‘So this came to you when your father died?’
‘No, it’s always been mine. Father wasn’t bothered about it and neither was Julian. I’ve always loved it so father gave it to me when I was a kid.’
Alex handed it back to him then picked up the coffee jug. ‘More coffee?’
‘Sure. Top it up.’ She filled his mug and her own. ‘So…this sister who’s coming to stay,’ he said. ‘What’s she like? Like you?’
‘Like me?’ Alex’s eyebrows shot up and she laughed and shook her head. ‘No, not like me at all. She’s my half-sister actually. We share the same mother, different fathers.’
‘But
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