How I Found You Read Free

don’t want to try one of the guest bedrooms on the main floor this year?”
    I shook my head adamantly. “No, I love my room.”
    “I have no idea why,” Mary chuckled. “It’s so small. It’s a shoebox compared to the rest of the house.”
    I laughed. “You’d be surprised. It’s like a Tardis when you actually get inside it.”
    “It’s your special room, isn’t it, Rose?” Roger joined in with a good-natured grin. “Old faithful. This girl doesn’t like change.”
    Well said, Roger , I thought. The man knows his stuff.
    “I’m too set in my ways to learn how to get to any of the other rooms,” I added in jest.
    “Dear me,” Roger teased, “it would be a terrible hassle to move you now. However would you cope!” He lugged the suitcase to the foot of the stairs. “I’ll take your bag up and then you can get settled.”
    “It’s okay, I can manage,” I said, taking the handle from Roger and hoisting it up into the air.
    The main staircase was fitted with wine-red carpet, and running alongside it was an extravagant, cast iron banister complete with an authentic oak handrail. As I lugged the case upstairs, I could guarantee that my aunt and uncle were wincing every time it crudely bashed against the banister. Oops.
    The top of the staircase opened out into a long corridor leading off to seven bedrooms and an enormous family bathroom. To the far right was a second stairway—a smaller one, as though it had been added as an afterthought. I heaved the case to the smaller flight of stairs—my personal staircase—and shuffled upwards. At the tenth step there was an arched, wooden door. I gave it a little nudge and it swung open.
    My room.
    I sighed gratefully at the sight of it. It was uncomplicated: a neat, rectangular attic with a sloping ceiling and only enough space for the bare essentials. It took a few seconds to reacquaint myself with the layout. At the back of the room stood a low-set single bed with a pine headboard and coffee-coloured bedding. The rest of the furniture was spread out simply: a pine chest of drawers was standing opposite the bed, with a matching pine wardrobe and dressing table at the window.
    The window . I smiled. Possibly the best feature of the entire room—the entire house , even. It was a long, lead-framed hatch overlooking the grounds from a bird’s eye view—the kind of view that made its occupants feel as though they were sitting high up in the tree tops.
    Dropping the suitcase on the floor, I flopped down onto my bed and nestled into the soft pillows. With a deep breath, I indulged in the scent of cherry blossoms wafting from the freshly washed linen. I rolled onto my side and gazed over at the dressing table, mentally assessing how I could use the space.
    The table top itself was relatively bare, with only a vanity mirror and a toffee-coloured candle. That dusty candle had sat in the same spot for years, awaiting an opportunity to be lit. I suspected that opportunity may never come. Not from me, anyhow. I was nervous of fire. My mother would have labelled it an irrational fear, but I would hardly call it irrational. Um, hello? It was fire , for crying out loud! Fears don’t get more rational than fire! Anyway, because of my debatable fear, I didn’t actually light candles, but I enjoyed looking at them. They were my version of art.
    Right, back to the dressing table.
    Let me see. What did I bring with me? A jewellery box, wash bag, a book…
    My gaze wandered to the window. Beyond the glass, a procession of feathery white clouds floated leisurely by.
    The movement must have been lulling because, to my surprise, I felt my eyelids droop. It wasn’t long before I surrendered to their weight and let them close completely.
    Maybe a little nap wouldn’t be such a bad thing…
     
     
    THE GIRL WALKED STIFFLY THROUGH a forsaken landscape. No plants or life grew. There was nothing but parched ground and a dark, oppressive sky. She walked on, reluctant but unable to