And she was so glad to see him.
Then she realised she was standing in front of him in an oversized jumper with the neck and head of a giraffe appliqued on its front.
Yes, she would fix herself up. Immediately.
* * *
Nik had retrieved the culprit in the pipe, a plastic figurine about an inch in diameter, had the water draining away and had put through a call to a cleaning service when he realised he wasn’t alone.
He turned around. A small dark head was bobbing around the edge of the doorway.
‘Hello,’ he said.
The head vanished. He waited. Gradually it inched forward again and a pair of big violet-blue eyes in a sweet squarish little face presented itself. The winter-dark hair that had fallen around her face the last time he’d seen her was tied up in bunches.
She was cute as a button.
‘Do you remember me?’ he said, keeping absolutely still and feeling completely out of his depth. He had no problem facing down angry mining bosses but confronted with a little girl he discovered he had nothing. ‘I’m Nik. I’m a friend of your mama’s.’
She didn’t vanish this time; instead she edged her way into the kitchen, shy as a mouse. She was dressed in a long green skirt that didn’t look entirely legit and some sort of long-sleeved yellow top with an appliqued picture of a horse on it. Apparently the fashion had caught on.
Nik was struck by how little she was, and also that he was a strange man in her house. He reached for something to say that wouldn’t scare her.
She beat him to it. ‘You’re not a real giant, are you? Because you can fit in a house.’
This was said in a piping voice with a great deal more confidence than he’d expected from her entrance.
‘No, I’m not a giant,’ he said slowly, trying not to smile.
‘Mummy said you were an angry giant and a north god.’
A north what?
‘I wasn’t really angry with your mama. I got some things wrong. I’m sorry if I upset her.’
She lifted and dropped her small shoulders. ‘That’s okay.’
Nik remembered what he had in his hand and held it out to her. ‘I think this might belong to you.’
The little girl trotted forward and put up her hand to take it. Nik didn’t have much experience with kids—in his circle of friends only one had offspring and it was still a baby. He was struck by how tiny her hand was, how perfect her grubby little chewed-down nails. Her eyes were full of curiosity and liveliness and if she was shy it was leaving her fast.
She studied the figurine with the same interest she’d given to him and now seemed to forget he was there.
Nik heard the truck pull up.
He headed for the front door, yanked it open. Excellent. Edbury village might be full of crackpots and run on its own Brigadoon-style timescale, but money talked in London and one of the city’s premier furnishing companies had delivered.
Which was when Nik became aware of a rabbit loping past him and out into the garden.
Hadn’t Sybella referred to them as house rabbits?
He managed to corral the other one, closing the front door behind him. It took off in a flash into the sitting room.
Which was when her little girl appeared, said dramatically, ‘You’ve done it now,’ and disappeared after the fleeing rabbit. Then he heard Sybella shouting from an upstairs window.
* * *
One of the famous trucks from Newman and Sons with its distinctive gold lettering was pulled up in front of her house.
Sybella watched on in astonishment as the two men flung open the back doors of the truck.
As the pieces of a bed frame and then a mattress appeared and were carried piece by piece up her garden path she threw open the window and stuck her head out.
‘I think you’ve got the wrong house!’ she called down to them.
When the men ignored her and kept coming she leaned further out.
‘Excuse me, lady of the house up here! This isn’t my delivery!’
‘It’s the replacement for your bed.’
Sybella jumped as Nik’s deep voice was suddenly right behind her in her bedroom, narrowly missing knocking her head on the window frame.
The scene of their crime.
She clutched her hand towel to her chest like a maiden in a pulp novel, her shower-damp hair hanging over her shoulders, the rest of her encased in a thick bath sheet, anchored under one arm.