Every Bookshop Needs a Cat (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Semra

She rushed into the vestibule, and Mrs. Little was already waiting for her there.

"They're in the Spruce Sitting room, madam," she hurriedly said to Anya, stretching her hands, ready to accept Anya's jacket and her handbag.

Anya didn't have time to question being treated as a master again. She smoothed her hair and quickly walked to the drawing room. The door was half open, and she hesitated. She'd been slowly getting used to the social protocols regulating life in the Hall, but surely there wasn't one for a situation like this one. She went with her gut feeling - and knocked.

"Come in," Klaus' voice answered her.

Anya walked in. Both men were standing, at two ends of the room, while Semra Holyoake, née Assefa, sat on one of the antique sofas, her back tense and straight, her hands folded on her lap. Anya had seen photographs in Sam's cottage, when she'd dropped off Varya at Lily Holyoake's birthday party. Both Semra's children resembled her a lot - as well as her late sister, Caria. Of course, Anya had googled both women. They would forever be a part of Anya's and Yolanda's lives.

"You're Anna!" Semra exclaimed and stood up sharply.

The woman had a clear, youthful voice. She appeared unwell, thinned; Anya noticed prominent tremors in Semra's long-fingered hands.

"I've heard so much about you!" Semra took a few steps towards Anya. "From Viola. And Sam told me about your daughter, and how well she plays with Lily and Pat!"

Semra's smile was uncertain, timid, as if she expected to be shot down immediately. Anya suddenly thought that for the first time in her life she wasn't the most scared, vulnerable person in the room.

"Hi," she said and moved forward, meeting Semra in the middle of the room.

She caught a movement from the corner of her eye, and she realised that both men had unconsciously shifted towards them. Sam's stance was more intimidating, as if he was trying to shield Anya from his wife. Klaus was pale, his lips pressed in an anxious line. Semra winced and jerked back her hands that she'd outstretched to Anya. Anya caught the woman's cold fingers and cradled them between her palms.

"Hi," she said again, because nothing else came to mind.

"Hi," Semra answered, and her lips quivered.

"Semra," Sam said in a warning tone. "You came to talk to... Klaus."

"Yes, yes, I have," Semra muttered and let go of Anya's hands that she'd been squeezing back for a few seconds now. "You're right, I should– I need to start now, before I lose my nerve."

Semra stepped back, her eyes to the floor, and then Anya saw her take a deep breath in and slowly face Klaus.

"Nicke," she whispered.

Klaus jerked, as if she'd slapped him. Anya told herself to stay put, every muscle in her body as if aching from the effort. And then he stretched his hand towards her - without looking, his gaze fixed on Semra's face, his singular fingers splayed, twitching and trembling visibly. Anya dashed to him and grabbed his hand. He pulled her closer, and she intertwined their fingers and pressed her shoulder into his arm.

"Please, don't call me that," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, I forget," Semra said. "You're still– in my head–" She swallowed with difficulty. "Can we please sit? And talk..."

"I can't," he muttered. "You should sit down, though."

Anya tugged at his sleeve with her free hand, and he glanced down at her.

"Would you like me to get your armchair?" she asked so quietly that he would need to basically read her lips to understand her.

He gave her a tiny shake of his head.