Chapter 4

Hart Glasshouse shone like a banked ember beneath the clouded night, its amber safety lamps suspended between long panes of black glass.

I unlocked the attached cottage. Cold air held the smells of dry timber, damp soil, and the lavender sachets my mother used to tuck into drawers. Behind the walls, newly restarted pipes knocked awake one by one.

I had restored the electricity two weeks earlier. The kitchen shelves were stocked, the bed made, and the greenhouse vents tested. Preparing a place to leave was easier than admitting I would need it.

My phone rang while I carried in…