“There was a deep gouge in the plaster there from all the years that door had been flung open. Over a hundred years of north winds and children in high spirits rushing in and out from the garden. Maybe even a young wife taking time to settle and flouncing off in her clogs and apron to fume out there in the open air, where the view could calm her. I liked to think that Rough House saw some life before Miss Drumm and then me. He was more careful on the way back in, and he locked it after him. ... “It’s not letting up,” he said, using one of his hands like a window washer to scrape the rain from his forehead. He had a woman’s handbag in his other one. “I’ve started coming to see my mum and dad,” he said, sitting down again with the bag in his lap. “Trying to build bridges, you know. Tea at my mum’s every Monday, like a happy family. And Wee J’s there with the wife and kids, so that takes some of the pressure off.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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