She has such an open, friendly face, I find myself getting to my feet and skittering down the mound toward her.
“Hello,” she says charmingly as I approach. “I’m so sorry to intrude this early. I’m Libby Van Beuren.”
“Van Beuren?” I stare at her, taken aback.
She doesn’t look sinister. She doesn’t look anything like I pictured the Van Beurens to be. （Which I now realize was a family of frowning FBI agents in black suits.）
“The guy at the property agency said he thought you wouldn’t mind if I popped round.” Libby Van Beuren’s eyes sparkle. “I know the house isn’t ours till Wednesday, but I was passing and I couldn’t resist. Are you…one of the Talbots?”
“I’m Effie,” I say, and extend my hand. “We were just…” I gesture up at the others, who are gradually surfacing, rubbing their eyes and peering down at us. “We were having a kind of house-cooling bonfire party. We slept outside.”
“You slept outside!” echoes Libby Van Beuren, her whole face lighting up. “A bonfire party! How wonderful! This whole place is magical. Magical. The tree house. The turret. I have such plans—” She breaks off as a van wends its way slowly into the drive, with garsett removals printed on the side. “Oh! This is your removers. Good luck!” She makes a comical face. “Moving’s the worst, isn’t it? My husband is, like, in denial. Anyway, I just had to come and have a look. I’m just so excited. Were you happy here?”
“Yes.” I nod simply. “We were happy here.”
“I fell for the house as soon as I saw it. It’s so quirky. The stained glass. And the brickwork.”
“Not everyone loves the brickwork,” I feel obliged to point out, and Libby Van Beuren tosses her head back.
“I don’t care what everyone thinks. I love it. It’s different! It’s unique!”
“I always felt that way too.” I smile at her, feeling instantly bonded. “It’s a unique house. People don’t forget it.”
“No, I can imagine.” I can tell that she’s hanging on my every word. “Are you a big family?” She peers up at the others on the mound. “Did you grow up here? Was it a good place to raise a family?”
“Yes. My parents actually…they broke up. But it’s fine. It’s fine. We’re all…you know. Adjusted.”
One of the removers has rung at the doorbell, and Dad now appears on the doorstep, holding a cup of tea. He glances at me and Libby Van Beuren in surprise and I wave back.
“Well, look, I won’t disturb you anymore,” says Libby Van Beuren. “But it was wonderful to meet you—”
“Wait,” I say, seizing my chance. “I have a quick question. I know you bought the Peter Rabbit furniture that’s in one of the bedrooms. But my dad kind of sold that without…He didn’t realize…” I pause, trying to get my words in order. “It’s my sister’s. And she loves it. And she was really upset. So, could I buy it back?”
“Oh my goodness!” Libby Van Beuren’s hand has gone to her mouth in dismay. “Of course. Of course! And don’t worry about buying it back. That’s just my husband’s way. Dan always has to make a good deal. He was roaming around seeking out extras to throw in, just for the sake of it. You know? I mean, we do love the furniture, but if your sister’s really attached to it…”
“Thank you. She is. Thank you.”
“I’ll square it with Dan, don’t worry.” She lowers her voice. “Truth is, he won’t even notice.”
Another van pulls into the drive behind us, and she makes a rueful face.
“I’m in your way. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
“No!” I say at once. “Please don’t. Take your time.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” She glances at the car. “Would it be OK if I let the kids have a quick run around?”
“Kids?” I blink at her. “Of course!”
“I need to drop them at day camp, but I’d love them just to get a taste…”
I watch as she heads toward the car, opens the back door, and after a bit of rummaging inside, helps out two little girls. They’re dressed in jeans and sneakers, with shiny hair held back with clips. One is holding an old bunny, the other is sucking her thumb.
They take a few steps forward, hand in hand, staring up at the house with huge eyes.