Those who’ve been following this blog for some time now, know that I’ve based my fictional Villa under the Linden Trees on a real villa in the vicinity of Frankfurt. I fell in love with the house when I was a little child, and I was absolutely fascinated by the old playhouse which still stood in the park at that time. It was big enough for a small child to stand in, but it was also quite eerie as all the windows were covered with dirt and cobwebs and when you peeped inside through the smudgy glass, you could see that all the furniture inside was also covered with cobwebs — as you can see, it made quite an impression on little me!
A few years ago I paid the house a second visit — and fell in love with it all over again. Unfortunately, the old playhouse was gone and had been replaced by a newer, open model (not at all fascinating!).
The ice house was open. 🙂 What a perfect place to get spooked on a nice summer’s day!
That evening Georgina sat at the window in her room up under the roof of the coachman’s house, her sewing on her lap. While the needle glided through the material her thoughts flew back to what Martin Renner had told them this afternoon about her son’s further exploits. The trip to Italy had certainly changed her quiet, serious child. What had the hot Italian sun awakened in him?
She thought of the first time she had walked beneath those same trees that rose high on her left and right like the pillars of a cathedral. As she had done then, she stopped and laid her head back to follow the lines of the dark trunks with her gaze. And even after all these years, she still felt the same awe, was overwhelmed by the beauty of black, whispering branches and glittering leaves against brilliant blue.