Moorland Hall (FIRST DRAFT)

from 6 November 2010: Talking and Odelia's Mum

The following day, however, Julia saw nothing of Mr. Harrington. He was busy having meetings with people now that he had returned. Not just the estate that needed books checking, there were also the people he hired to look after the properties in the area, as most of the Branwell surroundings were on Harrington land, and they needed to give him an update on the state of affairs. There were lots of papers that needed signing, Mrs. Deacon had said at lunch, while preparing a tray to take to his office.

‘What is it that he actually does?’

‘Oh, just business.’

‘But what kind of business?’

‘Investing for the most part, I think. I do not wish to pry, you see, so I don’t ever really ask for any details.’

The only sign that he was still in the house was the constant foot traffic, because without it, things would have been just the same as they had been before his arrival. A van came to pick up the motorbike and take it to be repaired, but all in all, the day progressed as normal. As did the next day, and the day after that.

The evening following that, she was asked to bring Odelia to the library again. The girl was weary from having spent most of the day outside in the snow that had begun falling the night before, but as she entered the library and greeted her father with a sleepy hug, she couldn’t help but notice the big gift box on a side table.

‘Mein Geschenk!’ she cried and ran over to it, forgetting all about the tiredness.

‘Have fun disembowelling its contents,’ he said and called for Mrs. Deacon to join them. As the old lady appeared, he nodded to his daughter. ‘Would you be so kind as to help her with her present and lend a kind ear to her enthusiastic prattle about it? It would be a great service, seeing as how I meant to have a conversation with Miss Young.’

The concept of presents was still something that enthused the woman, so she was happy to oblige, and moved to a seat at the other end of the room so that Odelia could open it at her leisure without interrupting. Meanwhile, Mr. Harrington nodded to Julia.

‘Have a seat.’

There was another armchair, like the one he was sitting in himself, almost facing him, but not quite. It was fairly close, so she adjusted it to sit down.

‘No, leave it where it was, Miss Young, where I can see you. Moving the chair means I will not be able to see you without shifting my position and this chair is rather comfortable, so I have no mind to do so.’

She adjusted it back with a stern resolution not to get annoyed and sat down.

‘Much better,’ he said. ‘Now, talk.’

‘Talk, sir?’

‘Yes, talk.’

‘About what?’

‘Whatever you like. I’ve had a stressful day and would like to be entertained, somehow, and your conversation would be much appreciated.’

Julia struggled to find words. What do you talk about when you hardly know someone, and they’ve just asked you to have a conversation? Where do you even begin?

‘I don’t know what would amuse you. Perhaps you could ask me questions instead? I would do my best to answer them.’

Harrington looked at her for a moment before nodding.

‘Fair enough.’ Putting the ball in his court, clever. Not that he knew what to say either. ‘You mentioned the other day that you have no parents. How so?’

‘They died,’ she replied, reluctant to get too personal, ‘when I was about Odelia’s age.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said, with a tone indicating that he actually was sorry. ‘What happened to you?’