The sun is still gleaming warmly over the horizon by the time evening arrives now. Darkness is held at bay until nearly eight o’clock, and will only come later as the summer approaches.
The front yard of the Boarding House is now lush with life. The grass is a verdant carpet that begs for bare feet to savor its cool softness. Shrubs beneath the windows and along the fence are arrayed in delicate blossoms of pink, white, crimson. Slumbering vines awaken along the house eaves, creeping prettily along the stonework. From dawn to dusk, the trees are alive with birdsong.
Somehow, even with the changing light and surge of new flora and fauna outside, she knows when it is the hour that Tairy is most likely to appear. Her body seems to know it, in the way she suddenly notices her pulse quickening, and her eyes expectantly flicking to the front windows every few minutes. Some nights he is earlier, and some nights he is later. Some nights he doesn’t come at all, if he is far enough away for a job. But always, she can’t help looking.
The kettle is on, ready for tea. The windows of the house are glowing softly in the gentle shadow of twilight. He may spy her silhouette at one of them, waiting for him.
When he comes through the door, the small parcel in his hands doesn’t seem to be noticed. No, she is too busy hobbling over, smiling her wide, cheek-dimpling smile, hands reaching up expectantly for an embrace. Only after she gets to hold him, squeeze him tightly, feel his realness and warmth and solid presence, does she step back to see what he’s brought.
The happy news of Finchley’s return is shared over the sweet, sticky tarts as they sit at the table, a cup of tea for each of them. Her hand is ever wandering towards his, fingertips brushing his knuckles or his wrist or his sleeve as they chatter quietly about the day. Anyone walking by on the street outside might pause and look up at the luminous windows, open to the cool night breeze. They might hear the low, happy voices from within, punctuated with laughter here and a fussy meow of a cat there. And they might fancy that they are looking at a very happy home, indeed.
