“And there’s a house.” He nods toward it. “Or at least, there will be a house. It’s a bit run-down.”
“Right.” I take in the old stone house again. The paintwork is peeling and there’s a shutter hanging off one hinge. “It does look a bit of a mess.”
“I wanted you to see it first,” says Nathaniel. “Get your approval. I mean, one day you might—” He stops.
All of a sudden my relationship sensors are swiveling round madly, like the Hubble spotting an alien ship. What did they just pick up? What was he going to say?
“I might … stay over?” I supply at last.
“Exactly.” Nathaniel rubs his nose. “Shall we have a look?”
The house is bigger than it seems from the outside, with bare boards and old fireplaces and a creaking wooden staircase. One room has practically no plaster, and the kitchen is
