The silence was immediate and total. The room was empty.

She stepped in and looked round. It was as Edwin had left it. The floor was finished and neatly swept, the walls stripped and the window frames repaired. All that remained to be done was to fix the chimney and paper the room before the arrival of the Aga and the sink and the old dresser she had found in the antique shop in the village.

Reaching for the light switch, she turned it on. The smell of beer had completely gone.

‘Do you think Fen Cottage was ever a pub?’ she asked Julie when she met her in the village shop that morning. Edwin had gone to fetch a load of bricks.

‘I’ve never heard it was. Why?’ Julie was stacking her purchases into a basket.

Roz shrugged. ‘Just something I heard.’

‘It was an inn, yes,’ Edwin said later. He sat back on his heels for a moment, a wedge of pale lime mortar on his trowel. ‘A couple of hundred years ago. Why?’ He looked at her hard.

She shrugged. ‘I just wondered.’

When she heard the sounds again that night she almost didn’t go down. She lay for five minutes, her head under the pillow, then reluctantly she climbed to her feet.

This time the noise did not stop as she pushed open the door. The room was full of people. She saw the smoke from the fire, and from the men’s clay pipes. She saw the bar and the plump red-faced woman pulling beer from a barrel set up behind it. She saw the pretty fair-haired barmaid sashaying between the drinkers, squealing as they flirted with her, slapping back their impertinent hands. And she saw the man she had seen before.

He was standing, his back to the wall near the roaring fire, his eyes fixed on the girl. As Roz watched, he slipped his hand into his pocket and brought something out. A small silver charm on a thin, filigree chain. She saw him catch the girl’s hand as she whisked past him and she saw him speak, his longing clear in every movement of his body as he shyly pressed the charm into her hand. As the girl glanced down at it she saw the love and hope in the young man’s eyes.

Then the girl laughed. She tossed her pretty curls and flounced her hips and tucked the charm back into his pocket.

He looked stunned. As Roz watched, he stepped away from the wall, his face scarlet with embarrassment as the jeers of the other drinkers told him they had missed nothing of the exchange. With one quick gesture he snatched the charm out of his pocket and threw it into the fire, then he turned and walked out of the door into the lane.

As the door banged shut, Roz found herself standing in the silent cottage staring into an empty room.

That evening, Bob dropped by to lend her a catalogue of light fittings and they went out onto the terrace to have a glass of wine. ‘I hear you were asking about the house’s history,’ he said. ‘You were right, it was a pub. And there is a story to go with it. One of the village men went away to London and made his fortune. He came back and fell in love with the barmaid here. She rejected him and the story goes he went out and hanged himself.’ He took a sip of wine and then caught sight of her face. ‘Sorry, Roz. Perhaps you would rather not have known.’

‘No.’ She turned away so he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. ‘No, I’m glad you told me.’

The next morning she asked Edwin if he had heard the story. As he turned away from repointing the chimney, she watched his face intently. He stood still for a moment staring into the distance, then slowly he shrugged. ‘Yes, I think I might have heard it somewhere.’

And that was all.

But that evening he came out to the terrace where she was reading. There was something in his hand.

‘I found it under some mortar.’

The silver charm was tarnished, almost black. For several moments she looked at it, then slowly she held it out to him again. ‘I think it’s yours.’

Their eyes met.

‘That is what you came back for, isn’t it?’ she said.

He looked down at it and slowly he nodded. ‘You say he looked like me?’

‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘She didn’t deserve his love. She wasn’t worth it,’ she insisted, more vehemently than she’d intended.

‘I’ve dreamed about this house since I was small.’ Glancing up he gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I don’t believe in reincarnation or anything like that. It’s just that sometimes, if you let yourself listen, you can hear the echoes, feel the ripples of sorrow as they reach you over the years. I thought studying architecture would take away the pain, would make the past rational, cool, sensible. And that building would bring it under control, make it safe.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘When I heard you wanted a builder, it just seemed like fate. Like something I’d been waiting for.’

‘And now you’ve found it,’ she said gently, reaching out to touch the fragile silver where it lay on his palm and feeling the warmth of his hand as it slowly curled around hers.

The Room Upstairs

‘Andy, I’ve found somewhere to live!’ The tousled red hair was if anything more vibrant than usual.

Andy looked up from his books at the whirlwind hovering by his desk in the library, her arms full of files and notes, canvas bag dangling from her shoulder. He shrugged a weary hello. ‘Can we afford it?’

Getting kicked out of their digs ten days before the end of their first term at university had been the last straw in a pretty foul week.

Jill nodded vigorously. ‘Big attic room. A bit far out of town, but walking distance. Just.’ She grinned. She held out two large keys. ‘Coming to see it?’

‘Now?’ He glanced down at his desk with regret. It was warm and secure in the library. Outside there was a gale blowing, sleet hit the windows like machine-gun fire and the thought of a long hike through the dark filled him with about as much enthusiasm as facing a firing squad. Still, it had to be done. Out at the end of the week their landlord had said and Andy knew why. The bastard had found someone who would pay more, no questions asked about leases and things.

Jill walked fast, head down, her face screwed up against the cold, her collar high around her ears. He wondered what she would do if he put his arm round her shoulders and pulled her close. Just for warmth of course. They were room mates out of necessity. Or fate. Not lovers. He had met her on the doorstep of the digs back in October, and they had viewed the double room together as rivals. Both were seeking someone to share with. They tossed for the room. He won. He chose her. Simple as that. No sex. No dirty socks on public view. Her rules. Fine by him.