One Room Away

The railing in Mara’s drawing had four uprights. The one at Northmere had five.

I found the stair after my first morning with the players. It was exactly where her notebook said, behind the sports hall and down a passage that smelt of damp stone. The garden at the far end was open. Its gate led to a path along a river narrow enough that two people could hear each other from opposite banks.

I photographed the railing and sent it to her. You owe this one an upright.

She replied while I was walking: I was drawing the light between them. Did you find the garden?

Yes. You were right about it.

I wanted to tell her everything else about the place—the iron seats painted a colour between blue and green, the woman repairing a bicycle by the gate, the sound of somebody playing scales in a room above…