In the morning she made me breakfast. Just like playing house. As she puttered in the Kitchen, I braved a cold drizzle to buy a newspaper. Part of me ...oped the rain would stop so I could go to the bonfire. Part of me wanted to stay home all day and night with Tina. As I walked in the door she obediently, on her own, knelt down to take off my wet shoes. I told her my socks were damp. These too she lovingly slid off my feet. ?Warm them up?, I said as I sat down by the Kitchen table. She scooted. Hurtling down the last flight of stairs, she sped into the downstairs drawing room and yanked on the bell. ‘My lady?’ When Stevens, the butler, appeared, one frantic hair-patting, dress-righting, breath-steadying minute later, Sophie was seated with some long forgotten needle work. She looked up, trying her best to appear as if she always sat sewing in a room she’d once described to Cole as a worse than a tomb, tombs weren’t usually painted salmon pink and hung with dyspeptic looking ancestors.. More

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