Chapter 17Sylvia got home to a bleak house and a cold fire in the sitting room. The range in the kitchen was still alight, so she stoked up the coals and plonked herself in the carver chair at the foot of the table nearest its warmth. She was comfortably full of goose and roast potatoes and really didn’t need anything else to eat. Maybe a cup of tea a bit later, she thought to herself.
She sighed.
It had been a very peculiar few days.
Everything seemed to be sorted out up at the farm now, though. The connection between the Webbers and Mr Marchant was broken. Marchant was home from wherever he’d been. And wasn’t that discomforting? What if Anna was stuck in this other world, rather than disappeared into the magical shimmering stuff?
She rubbed her hands over her face. Maybe she wanted m
