The house stood beyond the fields, where the road turned towards the river.
They found it on their return from Hester's, though none of them remembered passing it on the way out.
It was a long, low building with a pale roof and green shutters. The windows were open, and white curtains moved gently in the breeze. A garden surrounded it, with a little gate that stood unlatched.
Elian stopped.
“I know this house.”
Merrick looked at her.
“Have you been here?”
“Once. A long time ago.”
They went through the gate.
A woman was sitting at a table beneath the window, sorting a basket of beans. She looked up and smiled.
“You've come back.”
Elian greeted her.
“This is Merrick, Rowan, and Nell.”
The woman nodded.
“I'm Celia. Come in, if you like.”
Rowan glanced at the open windows.
“Do you always leave them open?”
“Whenever the weather allows.”
“Doesn't the house get cold?”
“Sometimes.”
Rowan seemed to consider this a reasonable answer.
Inside, the rooms were bright and airy. The kitchen opened onto the garden, and the windows overlooked the fields. A small table stood near the back door, with a bowl of apples and a jug of water.
Celia brought out a plate of biscuits.
Nell went to the window.
“Can you see the river?”
“Not from here,” Celia said. “But you can hear it when the wind comes from the east.”
They sat together for a while.
Celia told them that she had lived in the house for many years. She had once worked in the village, but now she looked after the garden and kept a few animals.
“Do you live alone?” asked Nell.
“Most of the time.”
“Do you like it?”
Celia smiled.
“I like having the windows open.”
Merrick looked towards the garden.
There was a small wooden table beneath an apple tree, and beside it a chair with a blue cushion. A pair of boots stood near the back door.
“Someone else comes here,” he said.
Celia followed his gaze.
“My brother.”
“Does he live nearby?”
“Not exactly. He comes when he can.”
She returned to the kitchen.
“He used to say that the house was too quiet. So I started leaving the windows open.”
Rowan nodded.
“That would help.”
Celia laughed.
“It does.”
After lunch, they walked through the garden.
There were beds of herbs, a row of vegetables, and a little orchard beyond the fence. A narrow path led towards the river, but it was overgrown.
Elian stopped beside a young apple tree.
“This wasn't here before.”
Celia looked at it.
“No. I planted it last spring.”
“Why here?”
She shrugged.
“It needed somewhere to grow.”
Merrick smiled.
They continued towards the river.
The path descended through the grass, passing a small wooden shed. Inside were gardening tools, a coil of rope, and a pair of old fishing nets.
Rowan examined the shed.
“Useful.”
Celia looked pleased.
“My brother built it.”
At the river, the water was broad and quiet. A few birds moved along the bank, and the far shore was covered in trees.
Nell sat on a flat stone.
“Do you ever go across?”
“Sometimes,” Celia said.
“What's there?”
“More river.”
Nell laughed.
Celia sat beside her.
“And fields. And another road.”
They watched the water for a while.
Then Celia stood.
“I should go back. The beans won't sort themselves.”
Rowan rose immediately.
“I can help.”
Celia looked at him.
“Do you know how?”
“I can learn.”
They returned to the house.
Rowan sat at the table and began sorting beans into bowls. Celia showed him which ones to keep and which to discard.
Merrick and Elian helped in the garden, while Nell gathered apples.
The afternoon passed quietly.
When it was time to leave, Celia walked them to the gate.
“You can come again,” she said.
Elian smiled.
“We will.”
Celia looked towards the house.
The windows were still open.
A breeze moved through the rooms, lifting the curtains and carrying the smell of the garden inside.
As they walked back towards the road, Merrick looked over his shoulder.
The house seemed to be listening to the fields.
And for a moment, he thought that perhaps the world outside had been there all along—not waiting to be discovered, but simply waiting to be let in.
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