by Ruth Hay
“Would it be all right to ask you to show me around this amazing place, Lass? Before I go, I mean.”
“Oh, it would be my pleasure. It’s my pride and joy! You start on the tour by looking about in here and I’ll find Wesley. He’ll put on the kettle and we can all have a cup of tea and some sandwiches, or a drink of whisky, or whatever you want?”
She recognized she was beginning to babble but she blamed it on the happiness bubbling inside her.
A huge weight had been lifted. She ran up the spiral staircase like a young child and called out for Wesley. Suddenly, he was the only thing in the world she now wanted. She needed to see him, to hold him to her, knowing he would understand from her face alone, all that had happened to her.
Michael Morton loved the house tour. More especially he loved to hear his daughter’s tales of how this or that piece had been selected and placed. It provided more insight into the person she had become, than anything else could have done. He commented on the ceiling heights, the hanging lamps, the wonderful windows and the pale wood floors. He claimed to be no expert in interior design but even a novice could see how the white walls everywhere allowed the furnishings to stand out in their own right and not be overwhelmed by the sheer height of the architecture. He climbed the beautiful staircase, marvelling at the different perspectives of the lower level and admired the bookcases lining the upper corridor that was both an office and a viewing balcony.
Zoe showed him her master suite occupying the entire width of the structure. Decorated in shades of pale lilac with dramatic black lacquered furniture, it had a private deck at the rear of the building, sheltered by mature apple trees whose scent wafted throughout the suite.
There were two other bedrooms on this floor. One had very masculine furnishings and the other was quite feminine in appearance. Each had a private bathroom and ample storage. Zoe said she was prepared for visitors of either sex. He looked around the more masculine room and marvelled that one day in the future he would be a guest, occupying its space, God Willing.
As a final treat, Zoe showed her father the entrance to the bell tower. They climbed the wooden staircase, modelled on one Morna saw in an ancient church in Westerham. When they reached the top, he found a look-out with a telescope installed and little else in the way of furniture. Zoe told him it was a private space for moonlit nights and stargazing.
They completed the tour in the kitchen which had an entirely different feel to the rest of the building as it was tucked under the master suite. The lower roof level, painted a warm peach shade to match the padded dining chairs, gave a cozy atmosphere against which the cream-coloured appliances and polished countertops sparkled.
Wesley had set out an afternoon tea on the teak table. All three of them attacked the scones, cream and strawberry jam with great relish. They observed there was something about stressful situations which awakens great hunger. The silver teapot had to be refilled as they chatted and tried to bridge decades of silence with the trivia of life and work experiences. Michael asked Wesley where he worked and the unspoken enquiry was answered when Wesley informed him he still lived in a flat above his office and psychotherapy practice near Fleet Street. Zoe looked at Wesley as he reported this information. He knew, as did she, that his home could soon be with her in this amazing building in which so much of both their personalities and interests had come to rest. For now, her father need know no more. Should a wedding be in their future, he would certainly be invited to give the bride away. It was a new thought for her to contemplate.
The spring day was drawing to a close as Michael Morton rose to leave. He begged their indulgence as he was more than happy, but also tired from all the excitement and needed to get some sleep before travelling back to Scotland. He was at pains to make Zoe understand how much happier he would be from this time forth.
“In my worst moments of despair, I could never have dreamed of a day such as this one. It’s as if the sun came out after the darkest of storms and the shadows have all fled before its splendour.
I thank you, Wesley, for seeking me out and listening to my story. I thank you, my darling girl, for growing into the incredible woman you have become. You fulfilled every wish your mother and I had for you on the day you were born.
The wasted time is all behind us now. However many years of life I have left to me will be years of contentment and joy, now that we have begun to make peace with the past.”
It was a speech worthy of a diplomat, but it had come from a simple man, scoured by sorrows, whose heart was now full.
She waved goodbye at the ancient door and saw her father turn before the bend in the path hid her from his view. He was imprinting on his mind a picture of his daughter standing in front of the church building she had transformed into a beautiful home. Had he not had her reassurance that he would return one day soon, it would have been very hard to drag himself away from her after such a brief reunion.
He summoned a last smile and turned back to follow Wesley to the car.
The Plan.
Valerie Westwood was seated comfortably on a padded chaise longue at the back of her townhouse in London, Ontario. It was the first warm day of spring and she had poured a tall glass of gin and tonic. It stood ready on the glass-topped table by the side of her chair together with a notebook and pen.
She stopped to breathe the air and to admire the view. The leaves were beginning to emerge in the woods on the slope down to the river. The first shimmer of green coloured the branches and the forsythia bushes had already sent out their yellow flowers. The new season had finally decided to settle after a long hard winter with snow and ice aplenty.
Over the years, it had become a rare treat for Valerie to have the time to sit and contemplate. She had made such a good choice in this townhouse. Whenever she was travelling she had the comfort of knowing her primary residence was being cared for. Snow was removed, grass verges were trimmed and Rhonda stopped by to check on the interior for her. It gave her the peace of mind to retain her connection to Transit Tours even after she had thought she would no longer continue with the tour groups she had conducted for several years.
Michele, the owner, had insisted. The compromise they reached allowed Valerie to work mostly when she chose and to take smaller parties to Scotland or England where she felt most at home. Michele was pleased, as there were not many people available to her who had been born and raised in the British Isles and who were familiar with the culture. Valerie had proved she had great connections in the UK. She was able to arrange visits to the best spots for unusual tour experiences much valued by Transit Tours’ clients.
It suited Valerie very well. She had the freedom to jet off to the west coast and visit John and Mei’s growing family and to spend time with Jean who had become a dear friend. While she was with tour groups in the UK she could work in some stopovers with Zoe and Wesley in London, and Carla also, if she was not away filming in an exotic location elsewhere in the world. Birmingham was a little more awkward to reach but Corinne sometimes met her in a hotel at Manchester Airport and they enjoyed a good natter together for a day or so until Valerie flew back to Canada.
An unexpected advantage to all this moving around had appeared when John and Mei’s youngest, Davie, decided to attend Western University’s Ivey Business School. She loved having him in her lower level apartment. His friends livened up the place remarkably during term time and it was a way for Brian, Victoria and Lynn to get to know Davie. Rather than having to cross the entire country to see their nephew Davie, they were also able to make use of the times when Valerie was away, to move into Valerie’s townhouse. This was approved by the boy’s father and mother. They did not want their son to be in the townhouse for long without the supervision of his grandmother or responsible adults. John remembered well his own student days in London and preferred caution when dealing with young adults, even those in a respected, intense program such as the Ivey Business School.
It was a wonder to Valerie that her home ha
d become a hub for her entire family in one way or another.
It was more than she could have imagined in those far off days when she struggled with the decision to sell the Kilworth house.
Perhaps best of all, she was able to return to Glasgow with a free mind, once in a while, and winkle Sandra out of her busy home full of her day care children, to a charming hotel outside the city where they would both be treated to relaxing surroundings, excellent meals and ample time to talk and talk about their past, present and future lives.
To this destinations list she had added a new location when Sandra and Ian bought their future retirement property on Mull. It was so unexpected when the house they chose by the sea, turned out to be owned by good friends of Anna Mason Drake. Bev and Alan Matthews had decided to sell their charming holiday house on Mull, when their two sons had left their family farm outside Oban for work in Brussels and in the States. The couple said they needed time to visit James and his wife Caroline, who were both employed by the European Parliament in Brussels, and to check in on Eric in Silicon Valley where his computer skills were in high demand.
Bev Matthews had explained to Sandra that Alan still kept a flock of sheep in the Oban area and they could not afford too much time away from the animals, or from her summer job as a farm hostess and tea room manager. In addition to this, she was charged with keeping an eye on the nearby McCaig Estate House of Anna Mason Drake.
“The place has become a magnet for artist types now that his work is famous in art galleries,” Bev had continued. “ If I don’t watch out, they are climbing all over the place and trying to get up ladders to see the private paintings inside. Anna is not there all the time now. Sometimes her PEI family stays for a few weeks while Anna is back in her London condo. She doesn’t let the property to strangers any more. When I am away our friend Jeanette stands in for me but it doesn’t allow for much time away from home for us, one way or another. And that is why we decided to sell the Mull house. We can always stay with Alan’s family on Skye any time we want to.”
When this conversation was reported to Valerie by Sandra, whose opinion was that Bev, a Canadian originally from London, Ontario, must be lacking in female company out on this sheep farm, Valerie’s mouth fell open in shock.
The Canadian connections and the names Anna Mason Drake and Jeanette McLennan just clicked together in her head. The coincidences were astounding. Her immediate thought was how small the world had become when her own life had links to all these people in different locations.
Sandra and Ian had bought a home previously owned by friends of both Anna Drake and Jeanette McLennan. Valerie had met Jeanette and her mother, Jean, in a hotel in Grasmere in England’s Lake District and discovered that the apartment she had rented in Ambleside was owned by the same Anna Drake, wife of Lawren Drake, the late, London, Ontario, artist and portrait painter.
The coincidences just went on and on like a giant spider web.
Two decisions emerged when Valerie had a chance to sit back and absorb all this information.
She had to, finally, arrange to meet this Anna who was involved in so many lives and also, and even more urgent, an idea which had been developing at the back of her mind for years now must be brought to fruition. It was time to bring together the four women who had originally met for a crucial week in that Ambleside apartment ten years before.
Valerie picked up the notebook and took a sip of her drink. She realised this reunion was not going to be easy to accomplish. She had one compelling fact which could be used to prompt her friends to make the arrangements that would be required. She, Valerie, had been the one who had made most of the effort to keep in touch with all of them. Now there was a chance for Sandra, Corinne and Zoe to return the favour and commit to a week in the Lake District to celebrate the tenth anniversary.
She chuckled inside as she began to make a list. It was a list that had started the whole business of breaking down barriers and getting closer to each other. Perhaps she would make a new list of questions for the anniversary but first there were some practical matters to be settled.
It was already late in the year for booking the large apartment in the Lakelands complex. She hoped the price and the size might deter others, then the thought occurred that Anna Mason Drake, herself, might require the place for her own family. In addition to the McLennans, who she remembered had followed her party of friends into the apartment, she now knew of another branch of Anna Drake’s family who lived in Prince Edward Island. Doubtless, there were others she knew nothing of.
The idea of the reunion depended on acquiring the apartment. Without it, the scheme would not hold the significance she wanted it to have. There was one sure way to get the information she needed and it tied in with her determination to meet Anna Drake at last.
She had been given Anna’s London phone number by Jeanette McLennan. Anna lived in Rosecliffe Gardens which was quite close to Valerie’s townhouse, but she would not dream of going there without an invitation. It was always possible that no one was at Anna’s condo at the moment. She decided to try calling on the off chance she could reach the lady.
The phone was by her side on the table. She lifted it and found the saved number. No time like the present she told herself as she heard the ring tone repeated several times. She was just about to give up, when a voice answered with a curt, “Yes?”
“Oh, hello! Is this Anna Drake?”
“No, it’s Alina Purdy. Who’s calling please?”
“I am Valerie Westwood. I don’t know Anna, personally, but I do know her friends, the McLennans, particularly Jeanette’s mother, Jean. I am trying to contact Anna to find out if her apartment in the Lake District can be rented this summer for one week.”
There was silence on the line and Valerie wished she had not offered this information to someone other than the person she wanted to speak to. She thought she should apologize for the interruption and try again some other time. Just when she was about to speak, Alina Purdy replied.
“Ah, now I remember, Jeanette has spoken about you. You met in the Lake District, I believe, and you have visited Jean in Vancouver several times. I was wondering how you got this number but that explains it.
I’m sorry. Anna is not here at the moment. She’s in Scotland, but I answer this phone for her when she is away. As it happens, I have the bookings for the Ambleside apartment right here somewhere. Give me a moment to unearth it and I’ll be back.”
Valerie heard the clunk as the phone was laid down, then the rustling of paper.
How lucky to have found Alina at home. She remembered some talk about Alina and Anna being best friends since childhood. It was likely that Alina looked after Anna’s condo for her and obviously kept track of her comings and goings.
“Here it is! It was on the desk instead of being pinned to a bulletin board. Anna doesn’t use an agency for the bookings now. It’s only available to people she knows so you might be in luck, Valerie.”
She held her breath while Alina scanned the bookings calendar.
“Right you are! This summer, you said? One week? Let me see, now. Yes, there’s a period in July free. August is booked already. Would a week in July be suitable for you?”
“That would be excellent!” Valerie’s breath came out in a rush. Everything had depended on this one essential element. ”Please put my name down for the last week in the month and I will bring the deposit to you whenever you wish. I am not far away on Commissioners Road. I am so pleased and grateful for your help. I am arranging a reunion with special friends and the apartment was very much a necessary part of our celebration.”
“I am glad I could help. Why don’t you come over to the condo Valerie. It would be nice to meet you.
I think you know Fiona also. I don’t get to Scotland as often these days. You could fill me in on events there.”
“That is most kind of you, Alina. I will give you my number and please get in touch when you are free.”
The warm day grew even brig
hter as Valerie checked the booking off her list. She recognized the privilege of entering a home where Anna Drake lived. It was said there were exceptional paintings there, not seen by the public, but that was not the most important thing. She was being trusted as a friend rather than as a mere acquaintance. The chance meeting with Jeanette and her mother long ago in the hotel in Grasmere, was having benefits none of them could ever have imagined.
Valerie went ahead with the next part of her plan. She sent out written invitations to Sandra, Corinne and Zoe. It would have been faster to send e mails or texts but she wanted to underscore the significance of the original week by doing as much as possible in the way it had happened ten years before.
When the cards were sent she crossed her fingers. It was an outside chance these three busy ladies would be free to join her again for seven whole days. She was prepared to accept a day or two if it was all that could be managed. In fact, that was what had occurred for Zoe a decade before and it had worked out very well on that occasion.
The meeting at the Rosecliffe condo took place a week later. Valerie presented herself at the address on a quiet street of what was a very upscale housing area. Alina Purdy was waiting for her. She was a petite lady with white curly hair and a pair of beautiful green eyes. Valerie noticed at once the sturdy walking stick and soon found out the reason.
“My eyesight is not good. I have macular degeneration. It’s safer for me to use the stick although I know my way around here very well. My husband knows everything must be left in its place or I might have an accident.” She chuckled at her comment as if the likelihood of such a thing happening was not within the bounds of possibility. Valerie thought she was a feisty older lady not given to self-pity.
Alina led the way through the condo to a shady patio where a huge variety of green, blue and yellow hostas were gathered together under the trees. A table was set with china tea cups and a plate of cookies. Alina invited Valerie to pull up a chair and then to please return to the kitchen and bring out a china tea pot.