‘Here are the ones for everyday entertaining.’
Bramble glanced at the crockery in her hands, with its faded Japanese-looking pattern in what must once have been a bright-blue, rust and gilt. There were numerous hairline cracks and little chips, but the items were still usable.
‘They’re so pretty,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s a shame they’re damaged.’
‘Yes,’ Maria replied, gazing at them fondly. ‘But I like to imagine that each flaw tells a story, like the wrinkles on a person’s face. If everything were perfect, it would not be the sign of a good host.’
She vanished again and returned with the two remaining candelabra, complete with white candles, which she placed with the others along the length of the table. Then she rearranged the knives and forks, scolding Bramble for her sloppiness.
‘The ends should be one inch from the edge of the table,’ she tutted, nudging her mistress aside. ‘And the dessert fork should be beneath the spoon, with the handle facing left. Like this, you see?’
Instead of taking offence, Bramble found herself watching with fascination as the older woman moved deftly about, positioning the water glasses just above the tip of the dinner knife, the wine glasses slightly to the right, lovingly refolding the napkins so that there was not a crease to be seen.
When everything was done, the three women stood back and admired their handiwork.
‘It looks beautiful!’ Bramble said, eyes shining, and she glanced at Maria, who gave a small, satisfied smile in return.
‘Just as your grandfather would have wished,’ she said, smoothing down the front of her skirt and readjusting the belt around her waist. ‘Now that the most important tasks are done, I shall go and rest. I am tired, so you will have to finish the other jobs on your own.’
‘Bloody cheek,’ Katie whispered once the older woman was out of earshot. ‘We didn’t even ask for her help. And where the hell does she buy her clothes? That dress looks like something from the forties!’
‘Probably is,’ Bramble muttered. Then she said, ‘Don’t do that’, because Katie was fiddling with Maria’s table placement, setting the knives at odd angles, thinking that she was being funny.
Next the girls set about rearranging some of the furniture in the main reception room so that there was space on the parquet floor to dance, while those who so desired could spill out on to the terrace.
Katie had reluctantly conceded that they’d have to include Tabitha on the guest list, but her choice of outfit suggested she was determined not to let the competition get in her way. Now, at around six p.m., as she strolled into Bramble’s new bedroom already fully robed and good to go, Bramble almost gasped.
‘Are you sure you’ll feel comfortable in that? Won’t you be scared of popping out?’
Katie had picked the killer dress that she’d worn only once, some time ago, to a friend’s twenty-first birthday in London. It was crimson and very tight fitting, hugging her curves and ending just above the knee. The most startling thing about it, however, was the gap that ran down the centre, from her neck almost to her tummy button, revealing a wide expanse of cleavage and bare flesh. It was only thanks to quantities of invisible lift-up tape that her assets didn’t slip out altogether. Wondering how they stayed in place would inevitably be the main question on most people’s minds.
Unfazed by Bramble’s concern, Katie did a twirl, almost crashing to the ground when she caught a spiked heel in a floorboard.
‘You’ll have to be careful in those,’ Bramble warned, thinking of the manor’s multiple hazards indoors and out, especially after a few glasses of wine.
She herself was still in her pants and bra, unable to decide between her shimmery blue dress with the halter-neck or her faux-suede cream mini.
‘Definitely the blue,’ Katie said bossily. ‘It’s classier.’
Bramble slipped it on, along with a pair of high wedge sandals. She’d already painted her toenails pink, and Katie watched while her friend sat at her grandfather’s antique dressing table and dabbed on grey-blue eyeshadow and lashings of mascara.
‘How do I look?’ she asked when she’d finished, running her fingers through her just-washed blonde hair.
‘Gorgeous!’ said Katie, reaching over to Bramble’s make-up bag and passing her some pale-pink lipstick. ‘You’ll need some of this, too.’
Downstairs, Katie proposed opening a bottle of cava to get them in the mood, and while she fetched the drinks Bramble wandered into the drawing room. The French doors were wide open, allowing in a gentle breeze that fanned her face and arms. The sun was low in the sky and cast a rosy glow about the place that seemed to transform the faded rugs and curtains, the tattered sofas and the dusty paintings into priceless artefacts that could have graced the palaces of any French Bourbon or Russian Romanov.
So rich was the light that she felt like a princess in her shimmery gown as she stepped on to the terrace to gaze at Shannon’s flowerbed, lovingly filled with pink anemones, purple phlox and orange helenium, and beyond it, the great swathe of garden and orchard that belonged to her. Tonight, of all nights, she almost had to pinch herself to believe it.
‘Here you go,’ said Katie, stepping out behind her and passing her a glass of ice-cold fizz. ‘Chin chin!’
They chinked glasses, then stood there for a few more moments, side by side, listening to the distant lowing of cattle and the early-evening songs of birds, and breathing in the scent of baked earth and dried stone, of grass, tree, flower and salty Cornish air. Bramble could have stayed for ages, watching the majestic sun sink slowly below the horizon, but the throaty roar of a car on the driveway suggested the arrival of company.
‘You go,’ she told Katie, suddenly losing her nerve, for although they were hosting together, the responsibility seemed to weigh more heavily on Bramble’s shoulders.
There was something else on her mind, too. Latterly, her grandfather may have been a recluse, but she knew that he’d once been famous for hosting glamorous parties and it seemed important that her very first event should go well. She felt that she owed it not so much to the guests or even to Lord Penrose but to Polgarry itself, as if it were a living creature. She wanted the place to feel happy, its ancient walls and rattling windows, its brick chimneys and creaking floors to be able to breathe easily. She wanted to release it from the strange gloom that had descended on it in latter years, for it to feel free.
Needing to do something while Katie went to the door, she plumped the shabby tasselled cushions and set straight the painting above the fireplace. It wasn’t long, though, before her friend returned – alone.
‘What’s happened?’ Bramble asked, alarmed, for Katie looked furious.
‘She’s there,’ she hissed. ‘Maria. She insisted on opening the door instead of me. She practically shoved me out of the way!’
Katie’s face was a picture and Bramble almost laughed; she couldn’t help it. Maria was absolutely determined to be part of the occasion, and you had to hand it to her, she was like a little terrier; she wouldn’t let go.
They were interrupted by the arrival of the first guest, closely followed by Maria who announced in a loud voice, ‘Mr Ryan Glossop!’
Bramble noticed that the housekeeper had changed since she’d last seen her, into a smart black A-line skirt and a white blouse buttoned up to the neck, and her grey hair had been freshly washed. Her expression was as stern as ever, but her dark eyes were glittering behind the steel-rimmed spectacles and her hands, resting on her lap, quivered slightly with nerves or excitement – or both.
Katie looked almost disappointed when she saw Ryan, who was neatly scrubbed and wearing a carefully pressed white shirt, rather tight pale-blue trousers and pointy black lace-ups, and carrying a bottle of something in his right hand. His eyes were out on stalks as he took in both his surroundings and Katie’s revealing gown and he made a whistling sound. ‘Wow! Massive!’
It could have been a double entendre, but somehow he didn’t seem the type. In any case
, Katie chose to ignore the ambiguity, intended or not, and clicked her tongue impatiently.
‘It’s a manor; of course it’s huge,’ she said, before taking the bottle off him and disappearing to put it in the fridge. She returned soon after with the glass of lager that he’d asked for.
Maria, meanwhile, retreated to the corner to observe the proceedings silently, and when the doorbell rang again, Bramble made a point of asking her to get it.
‘Could you please help serve the meal, too?’ she whispered when Katie wasn’t listening. ‘I’d really appreciate it.’
Tabitha, Danny, Liz and Robert arrived together. Robert was carrying an extremely wide-awake-looking Lowenna and explained that Rosie was staying with friends.
‘Thankfully, I’ve got Alex and Jesse at the restaurant tonight or I wouldn’t have been able to get away.’
They wandered around the drawing room, making admiring noises, and were soon joined by Tony and Felipe, who requested a guided tour. Bramble felt quite proud as she showed them around the best, most habitable bits of the manor, including her freshly painted bedroom.
‘Darling, it’s so grand!’ Tony exclaimed, gazing out of the imposing windows with their magnificent views of fields and coastline, and back at the four-poster bed, the portraits and the stag’s antlers – which Bramble had decided that she really rather liked and hung back on the wall – the spinet in the corner, the dressing room next door.
‘Bit by bit, I’m starting to feel like it’s really mine,’ she replied, picking up a pair of shoes that she’d left by the bed and putting them back in a wardrobe. ‘I’m not spooked any more – not much anyway.’ She frowned. ‘I just wish there wasn’t so much to do.’
‘Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know,’ Tony said kindly, while Robert, still carrying Lowenna on his hip, strolled over to the spinet and played a few notes. She struggled to get out of his arms and insisted on plonking the keys herself, making a horrible racket.
‘Enough!’ said Liz after a moment or two. ‘She’s hurting my ears. They’ll hear us in Tremarnock!’
She looked extremely pretty in an off-the-shoulder black frock and heels, her dark hair pulled into a low bun at the nape of her neck and fastened with a sequined clip. She wore little make-up, but her chocolate-brown eyes seemed enormous – big enough to dwarf her small, oval face – and her silver earrings sparkled like stars.
Tabitha, meanwhile, who was much taller, was wearing simple, straight black trousers and a bronze-coloured vest top that looked almost jewel-like against her dark skin, while her curly black hair hung loose around her shoulders and fanned out around her like candyfloss.
Sometimes the two women touched or finished off each other’s sentences. Bramble could tell that they were close, and she wondered if they’d met in the village or long before. They seemed to know each other very well. She also gathered that Robert adored Liz, and that Tony needed Felipe’s quiet calm to counterbalance his own exuberance and volatility. It was fascinating how much you could pick up in a short space of time.
A good twenty minutes had passed, and when they went downstairs again Piers had arrived and was holding court in the drawing room with Katie. He looked very much at home, leaning against the fireplace with one arm propped on the mantelpiece, the other brandishing a glass of fizz. He was wearing an open-necked, red-and-blue-striped shirt tucked into tailored navy trousers, a black leather belt with a gold buckle and black loafers. The fringe of his silver-flecked hair was swept off his face and Bramble noticed the expensive-looking gold watch on his left wrist.
On seeing her, he strolled over and kissed her, quite deliberately, on the corner of the mouth and rested a hand lightly on her waist.
‘You look glorious,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘A veritable goddess!’
Bramble smiled shyly and her face and body glowed. Then he turned to the others and shook hands or kissed on both cheeks, depending on their gender.
‘Welcome all!’ he said as if it were his party, and Bramble’s heart pitter-pattered, for this, she reasoned, must surely be a signal of his intent.
For a moment Matt’s face swam into her head and she felt that all-too-familiar stab of guilt, but she told herself that he wouldn’t have enjoyed the party. In fact, she’d done him a favour by not asking him. What with Piers and Maria, not to mention the shabby grandeur of their surroundings, it wouldn’t have been Matt’s cup of tea at all. Besides, given her blatant and ongoing avoidance tactics and their disastrous reunion at Cassie’s belly-dancing performance, he’d probably have refused to come anyway.
Maria started to pass around the smoked salmon and pâté canapés that Bramble and Katie had made, and when it came to Piers’s turn, she whisked away the plate so fast that he nearly dropped the food on his clean trousers. Lowenna, meanwhile, was wriggling on Liz’s lap, so Bramble took the little girl’s hand and helped her toddle, with faltering steps, to the terrace, where they squatted down to examine the ants scurrying to and fro, the woodlice crawling over bits of dried twig and the butterflies fluttering their earthy wings and landing on bushes and flowers nearby.
They were inspecting a particularly large ant with something on its back when a rustling sound made Bramble look up and she saw Fergus strolling through the long grass towards them, with Wilf trotting by his side. Fergus looked very big, even bigger than usual, but there was something hesitant in his gait that made her heart go out to him; she wasn’t sure why.
‘Hello!’ she said, rising, and her voice echoed in the stillness.
He didn’t reply, but when he and Wilf were within a few feet the little boy raced up to hug her clumsily around the knees, before pulling back shyly, as if fearing that he’d overstepped the mark. She bent down and held out her arms to show that she wasn’t offended.
‘Hi, Wilf!’ she said warmly as they embraced again. ‘I thought you were never coming!’
Fergus muttered something about having to bring in the hens and fiddled awkwardly with a rolled-up sleeve of his white shirt, but once they stood face-to-face his hesitancy evaporated and he was himself again: cold, defiant and oddly angry.
‘We won’t be staying long,’ he said then, as if she’d been about to raise an objection. ‘We always come in this way. Your grandfather asked us to.’
Bramble’s ears pricked up. She would have loved to enquire how often her strange tenant visited Lord Penrose and for what purpose, but they were joined by Piers, who took her arm and started to lead her indoors.
‘Katie says it’s time to eat. Everyone’s famished.’
He glanced at Fergus and nodded at him haughtily. Bramble felt a flicker of embarrassment, because it was the sort of greeting that an upper-class gentleman might have once have given his chauffeur, or groom perhaps. If Fergus noticed, however, he chose not to react.
They were a strange crowd sitting around the elegant table, surrounded by crystal, silver and fine china. Lowenna was on Liz’s knee, while Wilf settled beside his father, and it crossed Bramble’s mind that it was unlikely Lord Penrose would have allowed infants at dinner – or any other meal, come to that. They’d surely have been banished to the nursery, if he even had one. Neither child appeared remotely sleepy, and it seemed possible they’d be with the adults all evening, even joining in the dancing later, if it ever got off the ground.
Bramble sat at the head of the table at one end, and although they hadn’t prepared a seating plan, she was glad that Piers chose the chair beside her while Tony took the one opposite him. Beside Tony was Felipe, then Wilf, Fergus and Liz, while Katie took her place at the opposite end, nearest the door. To her right was Ryan, and beside him, Robert, then Tabitha, while Danny chose the spot between her and Piers.
The fact that Danny had positioned himself so far from Katie was obviously causing her some consternation, but she soon seemed to recover and must have been glad of Maria’s assistance, for Piers was so attentive to Bramble that she was being no help at all.
At one point Bramble raised the
subject of Anatole’s workmen with Piers, explaining that she was a little concerned that they seemed to be taking a long time to finish the roof and had veered off temporarily on to another project.
‘I’m not sure I can afford to have any repointing done yet,’ she commented, realising that she didn’t actually know what it was anyway, but Piers made light of her concerns.
‘If they say it needs doing, it needs doing. You can rely on Anatole. I’ve known him for years.’
He gazed at her intently and she felt her legs turn to jelly, her stomach to mush. ‘You really are very lovely,’ he added, touching her fingers, which were twined around her crystal goblet. ‘But I think you already know that.’
Tony, who must have been feeling a bit left out, leaned back and started talking to Fergus in a loud voice about ‘that woman, Audrey’. As a result of her meddling and lies, Tony said, he and Felipe had been forced to consider selling up and leaving the village.
‘People like her don’t belong in a place like Tremarnock,’ he boomed, his plump cheeks flushed from the wine. ‘She doesn’t understand the meaning of community spirit.’
Bramble, who’d finally managed to tear her eyes away from Piers for a moment, noticed that Fergus looked a little uncomfortable, perhaps because he had no idea whom Tony was talking about. After all, he rarely went into the village and the daily ins and outs of other people’s lives were of no interest to him.
He said little in response, but later on she noticed that he and Wilf seemed to be hitting it off with Lowenna. Wilf started making silly faces at Lowenna, who roared with laughter, making Liz giggle, too. Then Fergus put his napkin on his head, which for some reason made the little girl laugh even more, and mayhem threatened to break out – until Wilf got down and tried to do a handstand by the window and Fergus had to tell him to calm down.
Meanwhile, Ryan was intent on chatting up Katie, who, with a few glasses of wine down her, was shamelessly flirting back. Every now and again she’d laugh loudly and flick her dark hair at Ryan before glancing in Danny’s direction. Bramble guessed her game, but the truth was that Danny had eyes only for Tabitha and was unaware of the strenuous efforts being made on his behalf.
Tremarnock Summer Page 25