By the time she set off – watching her parents in the mirror, dabbing their eyes and waving out of the window until she’d rounded the corner – it was after ten a.m. and Katie would be getting impatient. The regrets and anxieties of yesterday seemed to have lessened a little, the new day bringing with it fresh hope and a sense of giddy excitement. She’d been thinking about this moment for so long, planning it and trying to imagine how she’d feel. She couldn’t believe that it had finally arrived.
Katie’s home was only ten minutes away, at the end of a cul-de-sac leading to a field of urban allotments. She and Bramble had wreaked havoc there as children, when they’d found it tremendous fun to race their bikes, slalom-like, around the perimeter and through the gaps between enclosures, upsetting the gardeners, who’d shake their fists and threaten to tell their dads.
The pair had become firm friends on the very first day of the first term at secondary school, when they’d noticed that they were wearing the same black Mary Jane shoes and had decided that this was surely a sign of compatibility. And indeed it had proved to be so, because they’d barely been separated since. Matt used to joke – somewhat humourlessly, Bramble always thought – that she might as well be going out with Katie instead of him, they were so close.
‘Double trouble,’ he’d say when he saw them cackling like hyenas together. ‘The gruesome twosome!’
Katie was peering anxiously out of the front window when Bramble drew up, but she vanished and reappeared in no time, hurtling down the path with her three younger sisters in hot pursuit.
‘Where have you been? You’re late!’ she cried, opening Bramble’s door and starting to pull her out, so that she nearly toppled, hands first, on to the pavement.
‘Hold on!’ Bramble said, regaining her balance. ‘If I’m so late, where are your bags? I thought you’d be ready.’
Katie turned to her three smaller sisters, all pretty and dark-haired like herself, and clapped her hands imperiously. ‘Chop chop.’ They ran back into the house obediently and returned with a suitcase each; the cases were so heavy that they could hardly lift them.
‘Here, I’ll do that!’ Katie’s dad shouted as Bramble tried to heave one of the cases on to the back seat of the car. He’d followed the girls out and was staggering himself under the weight of two more canvas holdalls. ‘Mind you don’t hurt yourself.’
Of course Katie’s mum, Lisa, insisted on fetching almost the entire contents of her kitchen cupboards stuffed into plastic carriers, which she somehow managed to squeeze into every last available nook and cranny, so that by the time she’d finished, Bramble wondered if she and Katie would be able to breathe.
‘At least you won’t go hungry tonight,’ Lisa said with satisfaction when she’d finished, rubbing her hands together.
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ said Katie. ‘We’ve got enough to last the entire summer!’
Her sisters flung themselves into her arms and the youngest, who was only eleven, burst into tears. When she’d finally stopped sobbing and Katie had managed to extricate herself and climb into the car, Katie was in such a state that she could hardly speak.
‘Just drive,’ she commanded Bramble, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose loudly. ‘Hurry or I’ll change my mind!’
Bramble put her foot on the accelerator – too hard – and they bucked away, toot-tooting and waving out of the window until they’d turned the corner.
‘Bloody hell!’ Bramble said, swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘I never thought it would be so difficult. I hope we’re doing the right thing.’
‘Too late now,’ Katie spluttered. ‘But watch out for that cyclist or we won’t be going anywhere.’
*
As London started to recede, the tears dried up and Bramble switched on some music to lift their spirits. The day was turning out hot and sunny, so they wound down the windows and enjoyed feeling the wind in their hair as they headed out, first on the motorway and then the A303, one of the main routes to the South West.
Katie wanted to stop at Stonehenge, but Bramble said it would make them too late.
‘We don’t want to arrive in the dark. We won’t be able to find our way around.’
‘We could always check into a B and B?’ Katie suggested hopefully. ‘Just for one night. We haven’t seen the manor in the dark. It might be spooky.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Bramble firmly. ‘It’s our new home now, and besides, we can’t afford a B and B.’
She swallowed, thinking there wasn’t much they would be able to afford, at least until they’d found jobs. To her dismay, inheritance tax had eaten up all the cash left by her grandfather, which had only made Matt and her dad more convinced that she should be shot of Polgarry as quickly as possible.
‘What’s the point of living in a bloody mansion if you’ve no money to run it?’ they’d reasoned.
But Bramble reckoned that it wouldn’t cost much to heat and light the place for just the two of them, surely? Neither had a huge appetite, and at least she wouldn’t be tempted by clothes shops in such a remote place.
‘Unwrap a sweetie for me, will you?’ she said, indicating to the glove compartment, where she’d stowed a bag of chocolate éclairs. Being an optimist by nature, she’d just about managed to convince herself that something would turn up. It would have to.
They stopped for petrol and a pee, and stopped again to eat the picnic Cassie had packed, then they got stuck in heavy traffic outside Exeter and had to divert to a McDonald’s for a further loo break. Once they’d crossed into Cornwall, the satnav took them on a crazy route, up steep, winding country lanes so narrow that there was only room for one car and they had to reverse into fields to let the other vehicles pass. By the time they spotted the first signs for Tremarnock, the journey had taken nearly eight hours, three hours more than anticipated.
‘I’m looking forward to a glass of wine and a long, hot soak,’ said Bramble, stretching her achy shoulders and neck.
‘I hope there’s hot water,’ Katie replied gloomily. ‘And not too many daddy-long-legs in the bath.’
At last they reached the narrow street lined with higgledy-piggledy cottages that led to the village centre, but instead of going straight ahead, they turned left up a twisting road lined with tall hedgerows that seemed to zigzag for miles, until finally they reached rusty iron gates that they recognised from their previous visit. The gates were open, surrounded by tall weeds and half-hanging off their supports, and you wouldn’t think from the state of them that anyone had lived in the property for years. Bramble drove through, slowing to a snail’s pace on the bumpy, potholed drive that was flanked on both sides by overgrown fields, and came to a halt just in front of the steps of the entrance to the manor.
Both girls were silent for a moment, taking in their new home, absorbing its grey walls and mock battlements, its sheer enormousness. In the fading summer light, Polgarry seemed to loom over them like a giant. Tired and discouraged suddenly, Bramble half-expected to see medieval knights peeping at them over the fake parapets, arrows aimed and cauldrons of boiling oil ready to be poured. Warm and welcoming, the place was not right now.
The central section of the manor, she knew, had been built in the late seventeen hundreds, while the two wide wings on either side were more modern, having been added in the late nineteenth century. There was the suggestion of a terraced garden sloping down to a low stone wall, but the trees and shrubs were overgrown, the steps broken and covered in weeds and moss. As Bramble switched off the engine and opened the door, a flock of rooks flew up from the slate roof and circled above them, making her shiver. It was different from how she’d remembered it here, more isolated and forbidding.
‘Let’s start unloading,’ she said to Katie, trying to sound cheerful. Right now, the thought of a warm, clean, well-appointed home in one of the streets near her parents’ house seemed tremendously appealing.
They staggered up the broken steps with their suitcases and Bramble delved in her bag t
o find the heavy set of keys that had been sent to her by courier after the administration of the estate had been completed. Katie hung back while she fiddled with the lock, which appeared to be stuck.
Bramble swore as she attempted to twist the key this way and that. ‘We’ll have to try another door.’
Just then it creaked open and both girls jumped back. They were greeted by a slight elderly woman in a brown tweed skirt and a white blouse buttoned up to the neck. Her iron-grey hair was cut into a shapeless bob with a short fringe, and her small black eyes were partially obscured by a pair of rectangular, steel-rimmed spectacles.
‘Miss Bramble?’ she said in an Eastern European-sounding accent. ‘I have been expecting you. Welcome to Polgarry Manor.’ There was no hint of a smile.
Utterly thrown, Bramble didn’t even think to ask who the strange woman was, but followed her, open-mouthed, into the wide, high marble hallway, which smelt of damp. In the centre was a large, round wooden table displaying a heavy bronze statuette of a naked youth playing a pipe, and around the edges were pieces of furniture protected by plastic sheets. The walls were decorated with gold-framed oil paintings of crusty-looking gentlemen on horseback and crinoline-clad ladies, and at the far end an imposing staircase, covered in a faded burgundy carpet, led to the galleried first floor.
Dust chased up Bramble’s nostrils and she sneezed, while Katie, behind, gave a nervous giggle.
‘It looks different in the evening,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I remember it being lighter and more, sort of, homely.’
‘I have made up the beds in the Chinese Room and the Green Room,’ the strange woman went on, ignoring Katie’s comment and gazing at Bramble inscrutably. ‘Of course, you are the mistress of the house, so you will decide which one you prefer for yourself.’
‘Er, thank you,’ Bramble said, feeling not at all like the mistress of anything. She was still holding her heavy suitcase, but the stranger made no move to help.
‘There is a cold pie in the kitchen and some plums from the orchard,’ the woman added coolly. ‘If that is all you require, I shall go to my quarters. I normally retire early.’
She shot Bramble a look that made her feel to blame for causing so much trouble, turned on her heel and headed for the closed door on the left, her shoes tap-tapping on the cold marble.
Bramble took a deep breath and drew herself up. ‘I’m – I’m sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘I hope you don’t mind... er... who are you?’
The woman spun around, straight-backed and steely-faced.
‘I am your housekeeper. My name is Maria, and I served Lord Penrose for thirty years.’ Then, without further ado, she vanished through the door and closed it firmly behind her, leaving the girls still standing in the centre of the room, clutching their bags and gaping.
‘Sheesh, she’s scary!’ Katie whispered at last. ‘Where did she spring from? The morgue?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ Bramble whispered back. ‘There was no sign of her before, was there? I didn’t know anyone else lived here. No one told me.’
Katie coughed and the noise echoed eerily around the empty space. The little light that was left was receding fast and shadows fell in the four corners of the room, from which protruded the stuffed heads of deer. Beside one of them was a fox mounted on a wooden shield, glass eyes staring and sharp teeth bared.
‘He’ll have to go,’ she said firmly and Bramble nodded.
‘He gives me the creeps.’
They decided to find their rooms and Katie went ahead, towards the stairs.
‘Doesn’t look like we’ll get any help from that old battle-axe.’
It was just bravado, Bramble could tell, and she glanced left and right nervously as if Maria might materialise through the wall at any moment to tell them off. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she had the strange sensation of being watched.
‘I vote we share a room tonight,’ she suggested.
‘Good idea,’ Katie agreed.
4
THE GIRLS HADN’T even left London when Liz arrived at the community centre in the village of Polrethen, some three miles from Tremarnock. It was about nine thirty a.m., the lights were already on and she could see a figure scurrying about inside.
The building was tucked away in a side street, which was convenient, as some folk didn’t want it known that they’d fallen on hard times; there was pride at stake. With ample room for parking outside, it wasn’t far to carry the groceries, which Robert and his restaurant staff had bagged up the night before. Other volunteers, Liz knew, would have already collected supplies from the supermarkets and shops that donated on a regular basis, while the chefs would be starting to put together today’s menu.
She passed underneath the green and yellow sign that said ‘Polrethen Pop-up Kitchen’ and underneath, in smaller letters, ‘All welcome. No booking needed. Free three-course meal.’ It was warm outside and hotter within, despite the open windows, so she was glad that she’d chosen to wear a simple strappy dress and sandals.
Mike, whom she’d got to know quite well as he volunteered with her on Tuesdays at the Methodist church hall in Tremarnock, was hard at work putting out tables and chairs. A small, plump man with sandy hair and a beard, he worked part-time for a charity and was a devout Christian, though he never tried to foist his views on anyone else. He smiled and called hello, but didn’t stop what he was doing to speak to her. The first guests would arrive at twelve and there was no time to spare.
There were usually six or seven volunteers for each session: a couple to collect the food and two or three to cook, while the rest acted as servers who would also sit down with the visitors and chat. That said, everyone tended to do a bit of everything; it was a case of all hands on deck. Guests ranged from homeless and unemployed people to elderly folk who simply wanted a bit of company and hot food. The volunteers worked hard to create a warm, welcoming atmosphere, aware that the community meal might be the highlight of the visitors’ week.
Liz strolled into the kitchen where Jenny Lambert was putting on her apron and plonked two big bags of fruit and vegetables on the counter.
‘Did you manage to do any of Annie’s class yesterday?’ Liz asked, removing five knobbly carrots, two wrinkled aubergines and an assortment of slightly overripe beef tomatoes from one of the carriers. The image of Jenny in her purple Lycra leggings and bright-white trainers would remain with her for some time.
‘I missed most of it – thank goodness,’ Jenny grinned. ‘But unfortunately I had to promise Annie I’d go next week. I think she’s a bit short on numbers.’
Jenny, who was in her late forties, came originally from Sussex and had two boys, one now at university and the other abroad on a gap year.
‘They’ll be perfect for our chilli con carne,’ she commented, eyeing Liz’s tomatoes. ‘Someone picked up a ton of mince from the supermarket this morning. We’ll chuck in the carrots, too. There’s no rule that says you can’t have carrots in a chilli, is there?’
‘None that I know of. And look...’ Liz delved into the other bag. ‘I’ve got cucumbers, lettuce and spring onions. We can do a big salad to go with it.’
‘Hi, Auntie!’
Liz glanced up to see Robert’s niece, Loveday, sauntering in, followed by Jesse, who looked a little below par. Loveday sometimes called Liz ‘Auntie’ as a joke.
The girl was in black all over – black T-shirt, black miniskirt, black fishnet tights, black platform ankle boots. Her dyed black hair was shaved on one side and tied into a skew-whiff ponytail on the other. Two giant hooped earrings dangled from her lobes and a silver stud twinkled in her nose.
Jesse, on the other hand, was in ripped blue jeans and a tight green T-shirt that showed off his tanned, toned surfer’s torso, and his blonde corkscrew curls had been bleached white by the summer sun. They were certainly a striking pair, though Loveday wouldn’t have appeared out of place in a disco.
‘Late night?’ Liz asked wryly, noticing the sm
udged black kohl under the girl’s eyes and Jesse’s uncharacteristically sickly pallor.
‘We meant to leave at midnight, didn’t we, Jess?’ Loveday said, and her boyfriend nodded glumly. ‘Then we decided to have one more drink, and the next time we checked, it was five a.m.’
‘Lord! I don’t know how you do it,’ Liz exclaimed, genuinely impressed, but Loveday shrugged as if there were nothing to it. She’d gone through a sensible phase of practical clothes and clean living after she and Jesse had split, but had come out the other side and appeared to be making up for lost time with a vengeance.
Jenny passed clean aprons to the new arrivals, and it was only when Loveday took hers with one hand that Liz noticed she was holding something small, black and furry in the crook of the other arm.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, alarmed, and Jenny jumped back and shrieked, ‘Rat!’
She spun around and grabbed a sharp knife from the counter behind, but Loveday reacted just in time to stop her, mid-lunge.
‘It’s a puppy!’ she cried, backing off and gurgling with laughter in spite of herself, for Jenny’s face was a picture. ‘It’s my friend’s Chihuahua. I’m looking after it today ’cause she’s got a dentist’s appointment. She can’t take it there.’
‘Well, you can’t bring it here either,’ Jenny replied, scowling at the dog, which had woken up and was peering at her anxiously from the safety of its temporary mistress’s arms. Jenny replaced the knife, but continued to maintain a safe distance.
‘Aw, please!’ Loveday wheedled. ‘It’s really good. It’ll just sit on its little blanket in the corner. It won’t move.’
‘This is a kitchen. You must know about hygiene rules – you work in a restaurant, for heaven’s sake!’
‘It doesn’t like being left on its own,’ Loveday said resentfully. ‘It gets depressed. But I suppose it’ll be all right for a few hours.’
‘Of course it will,’ snapped Jenny, ‘it’s a dog.’ She eyed it again, as if to be sure, and it bared its pointy little teeth and growled. ‘Get it out of here as quickly as possible, before anyone catches sight of it.’
Tremarnock Summer Page 4