You can read the story so far from the beginning here
Hilary jumped at the sound of a knock at her kitchen door. “He’s early,” she said.
Bracken shrugged. “That is unimportant. The bed is aired and made up, the room has been polished and swept, the casserole has been prepared and ready for I to reheat it. I has already prepared the fresh garlic bread to be placed in oven.” She gave Hilary a pointed look. “The only thing left is to answer the door.”
Hilary managed a half-hearted glare at the brownie before hurrying to the door. Faint shadows fell against the window in the thin light of the December afternoon and the door handle felt icy as she opened the door. “Hi!” she managed to force out.
The man waiting on the other side took her by surprise. Lord Peregrine had described him as a man coming to work in the new stores. Hilary had imagined someone a little younger than her, perhaps a little skinny and unsure. Instead she was facing a tall, well-built man with a few threads of silver in his dark auburn hair. His cool, grey eyes met hers with calm assurance and there was a faint smile on his chiselled lips.
“Paul Tarnbrook,” he said, holding out his hand.
Hilary took his hand and shook it. “I’m Hilary Marshaw. Won’t you come in?” She looked at the small bag at his feet. “Do you want a hand bringing in the rest of your bags?”
“If you show me where my room is, I’ll get the rest in,” Paul said. “I don’t want to be a bother.” Before Hilary could answer, he strode past her into the kitchen and looked around. “This is cosy,” he said.
“And clean,” Bracken said. “It is cosy and clean. I is Bracken and this is my situation.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Paul said. He held out a hand for the brownie to shake. “I’m Paul, as you no doubt heard, and I’m honoured to be sharing a roof with a brownie.” He looked around appreciatively. “This room is a credit to you.”
Bracken flushed scarlet. “Mistress Hilary has done much and shown me much and I has learned cookery,” she blurted out. She shot a panicked glance at Hilary.
“First things first,” Hilary said. “Would you like a tea or a coffee? Bracken can make it while I take you to your room.”
“I’d love a coffee,” Paul said. “I take it black, no sugar, and I’m not very fussy as long as it’s hot and full of caffeine.”
Bracken’s eyes grew big. “Then I shall use the new coffee maker,” she whispered. “For coffee, with no milk and no sugar.”
“This way,” Hilary said. She led Paul into the hall and up the stairs. “The house isn’t logical,” she said. “It’s old and obviously been added onto over the years. I have a room downstairs, as does Bracken, but you and Tom have rooms upstairs. I’m afraid that you’ll have to share a bathroom.”
“I’m sure that we’ll manage,” Paul said. “Who’s Tom?”
“Tom Lowgill is another lodger,” Hilary said. “He’s the manager of the new stores, so I suppose it will be hard to get away from your job, with you both working there.”
“I doubt that it’ll be a problem,” Paul said. “But we can only wait and see.” He followed Hilary into the bedroom. “This is nice.”
Hilary looked around the room. The walls were mostly panelled with wood with an accent light blue next to the door and the curtains at the small window matching the darker blue at the quilt on the bed. The wardrobe and drawers were old-fashioned and dark, but there was plenty of space and the desk by the window was spacious and looked out over the garden. “I’ve only been here a few months,” she said. “The garden is one of the next things that I need to tackle. I hope you don’t mind. You can still sit outside and walk around, if you like, and the woods are part of the property.”
“Thank you,” Paul said. “I’m sure that I’ll be very comfortable here.” He carefully set his small bag next to the iron framed bed. “I’ll get my bags from the car now before I settle down with my coffee. It’s been a long day and I think that once I get settled inside, I won’t want to go out again.”
Hilary glanced back through the window. Clouds were rolling in from the west and the light was fading fast with a promise of cold rain. “That sounds like a good idea,” she said. “And dinner will be early tonight, as soon as Tom gets home.” She hesitated. “I have a private guest coming later, so the kitchen and downstairs parlour will be empty. I’ll show you where the snacks are kept and you’ll have all the space you need to unpack and get yourself settled.”
“If you have a brownie in the house, I’m sure that there will be plenty of snacks,” Paul said. “And Lord Peregrine told me that you were practising with Bracken to provide food for the new stores.” He patted his lean stomach. “I shall have to keep on top of my exercise.” He looked around the room once again. “I’m grateful for a quiet night so I can get my things put away.
*****
After a substantial dinner, Paul was happy to retreat to his room. Hilary and Bracken between them were excellent cooks and a definite threat to his waistline. They had even insisted that he take a small container of biscuits into his room, just in case he got struck by emergency hunger in the middle of the night. It was a welcoming place.
He unpacked with practiced ease. His small collection of clothes quickly went into the ample storage and his folder of personal documents slid easily into the desk drawer. It took him a little longer to set up and check his PC, laptop, tablets, headset, three monitors, speakers, both keyboards and his game console. The lighting was pretty good in the room, and Paul decided that he would wait and see if he needed to get an extra lamp. After all these years, he had become an expert at buying kit that was good enough to last until his next move and then easily disposable.
That was the problem with working in tech. He’d written code in almost every region in the UK. It was an unfortunate truth that the best way for a software engineer like him to get a better salary was to move jobs. With no family tying him to one place, he’d moved from lodging to lodging, packing the minimum as he left Sheffield for Bristol or left Maidstone for Lancaster. He was getting too old for this. His last job had been a turning point. He’d spent too many days working sixteen hours at a stretch trying to prop up a system that was never going to stabilise because the top bosses cheaped out on the company servers. It had to stop.
Paul reached the final stage of his unpacking. He checked through his largest case. His notebooks were there, and his herbs and crystals were undamaged. He’d helped out one of the local fae with a tricky magical flow and while it had been necessary, it may have been a mistake. Suddenly there was a fae who felt that they owed Paul a favour, and fae do not like owing favours. Paul pulled out his current notebook and set it on the bedside table. It had taken Lord Falcon three days and a few ‘friendly’ drinking sessions to tease out the frustration that Paul was feeling. It took another week and a lot more alcohol before Lord Falcon had extracted fears and worries that Paul hadn’t realised were simmering under the surface of his mind. That had worried him. As a witch, he needed to have a clear idea of what was going on in his head as any confusion could lead to unfortunate consequences.
Paul pulled back the quilt and started stacking up the stuff that needed charging. He’d had to take a long look at himself after the talks with Lord Falcon, and he hadn’t been able to hide from the truth. He was burned out with tech, exhausted, getting older, lonely and wanting roots. Lord Falcon had called in a favour, and while Paul wasn’t sure that getting a room in a lodging house while working in a shop was the new start that he wanted, perhaps it wasn’t a bad first step. As he looked around the warm comfort of his room and remembered the meal downstairs, he thought it wasn’t a bad place to start at all.
