Shadows & Tall Trees by Michael Kelly Read Free Book Online

the lord of the manor!” he said.
    “It suits you very well!” said Lisa, and I agreed.
    They placed another log on the fire, and we felt safely protected from the winter outside. But I thought there was still not much warmth to the room. It felt impersonal somehow, as if it were the waiting room for an expensive doctor, or the lobby of a hotel. It was neat and ordered, but there were no knick-knacks to suggest anyone actually lived there. No photographs on the mantelpiece.
    There were more anecdotes of our childhood, and Lisa listened politely, and sometimes even managed to insinuate herself into them as if she had been part of our story all along. The wine was making me drowsy, so I didn’t mind too much.
    I said how happy I was they were back in England.
    “Oh, so are we!” said Max, quite fervently. “Australia was all well and good, you know, but it’s not like home. You can only run away from your past for so long.” It was the only time Max had ever suggested he had run away at all, and Lisa frowned at him; he noticed, and winked, quite benignly, and the subject was changed.
    “It’s a lovely community,” said Lisa. “There are village shops only ten minutes’ walk from here, they have everything you really need. The church is just over the hill. And the local people are so kind, and so very like-minded.”
    At length Max did his lord of the manor stretch again, and smiled, and said that he had to go to bed soon. “Church tomorrow,” he said, “got to be up nice and early.”
    “Max does the readings,” said Lisa. “He’s very good. He has such a lovely reading voice. What is it tomorrow, darling?”
    “Ephesians.”
    “I like the way you do Ephesians.”
    I expressed some surprise that Max had found religion.
    “Oh, all things lead to God,” said Max. “It was hard, but I found my way back to His care.”
    “Maybe you could come with us in the morning, John?” said Lisa. “You don’t have to believe or anything, but it’s a nice service, and the church is fourteenth-century.”
    “And my Ephesians is second to none,” added Max, and laughed.
    I said that would be very nice, I was sure.
    “I’ll show you upstairs,” said Max. “Darling, can you tidy up down here? I’ll show John to bed.”
    “Of course,” said Lisa.
    I thanked Lisa once again for a lovely meal, and she nodded. “A proper peasant breakfast in the morning, too!” she promised. “You wait!”
    “We’ve put you in Ian’s room,” said Max. “I hope you enjoy it.”
    I must admit, the sound of that sobered me up a little bit. And as Max led me up the stairs, I wondered what Ian’s room could be—would it still have his toys in, teddy bears and games and little soldiers? Would it still have that sort of manic wallpaper always inflicted upon infants? And then I remembered that Ian had never lived in this house at all, he’d died years ago—so was this something kept in memorial of him? And I had a sudden dread as we stood outside the door, as Max was turning the handle and smiling and laughing and ushering me in, I didn’t want to go in there, I wanted nothing more to do with his dead son.
    But I did go in, of course. And it was a perfectly ordinary room—there was nothing of Ian in there at all as far as I could see. Empty cupboards, an empty wardrobe, a little washbasin in the corner. Large bay windows opened out on to the garden, and there was an appealing double bed. My suitcase was already lying upon it, it had been opened for me in preparation, and I couldn’t remember when Lisa or Max had left me alone long enough to take it upstairs.
    “It makes us happy to have you here,” said Max. “I can’t begin to tell you.” His eyes watered with the sentiment of it all, and he opened his arms for another hug, and I gave him one. “Sleep well,” he said. “And enjoy yourself.” And he was gone.
    I went to draw the curtains, and I saw, perhaps, why this was Ian’s room. I looked out directly upon the