Tremarnock Summer

by Burstall, Emma

  Looking over her shoulder as she began to move in time to the beat, Bramble spotted a grinning Rick Kane, in a pink shirt open almost to the waist and revealing a good deal of grey chest hair, twirling a glamorous blonde companion around in a circle. Bramble managed to give him a thumbs-up before he spun in the opposite direction.

  Close by, Audrey was doing a rather impressive twist, and to her right, Tony and Felipe were pogo-ing with Rafael and his gang of teenage friends as Rosie, with her bad leg, performed a more sedate jiggle. Nearer the stage, Loveday and Jesse were locked in a steamy clinch, unaware, it seemed, of the musicians packing up their equipment or the fact that a different huddle of youngsters, including Shannon, was staring and giggling at them.

  Barbara and her team of staff had stopped serving alcohol, and as no one could get any tipsier than they already were Bramble felt that she must, surely, be largely off the hook.

  Katie seemed to read her mind. ‘You can let your hair down now!’ she yelled, her eyes shining very brightly. ‘The night’s still young!’

  Ryan sidled up with his pretty girlfriend and tapped Katie on the shoulder, and she grinned and waved. No more hard feelings there then. Meanwhile the handsome young former barman who’d been Katie’s second choice of beau signalled to her to join his crowd.

  ‘Come on!’ she told Bramble, but she shook her head.

  ‘You go. I want a break.’

  Needing no more persuasion, Katie shimmied off, while Bramble headed for the exit, relieved to get away from the hot, sticky atmosphere. She’d tied her sweater around her waist but she put it on again quickly as the chilly night air crept up her T-shirt and coiled around her bare neck and arms, making her shiver. It was surprisingly dark now that the stallholders had taken down their artificial lights and put out their fires and, glancing up, she saw that the sky was awash with twinkling stars.

  ‘Beautiful, eh?’ came a voice, and soon Tabitha was by her side, wrapped in a dark overcoat and carrying her guitar in a case over one shoulder.

  ‘You were fantastic,’ Bramble said, meaning it. Her breath formed little puffs of smoke as she spoke. ‘Everyone loved you. You should have seen their faces, and the applause was deafening. I had to put my hands over my ears!’

  Tabitha smiled. ‘They were a great crowd, and it’s all thanks to you. It was an unbelievable atmosphere. You should be proud of yourself.’

  ‘It was a team effort. Everyone worked so hard. I really hope you get lots more offers now.’

  Tabitha tipped her head to one side and looked at Bramble earnestly.

  ‘And what about you? What have you got from it?’

  ‘We-ell, I hope people have had a really good time and we’ve made some decent money for charity. I hope they’ll remember the night Polgarry Manor threw open its doors. I hope they’ll see it now as a welcoming place that means something to them, rather than just a crumbling old ruin stuck up on the cliff.’

  ‘I’m sure they will, but you must feel that you’ve learned something from all of this, you personally?’ Tabitha persisted. ‘I mean, you’ve proved you’re brilliant at organising big events. This could be the start of something amazing, a whole new career!’

  ‘I couldn’t do anything like it again. It’s nearly killed me!’

  ‘Not now, of course; you must be knackered. But you’ll feel quite different once you’ve had time to recover. You’ll start itching for a new project to get your teeth into. You wait and see!’

  Bramble considered this for a moment. She supposed that she had learned a lot, not just about the practical side of putting on a festival but also about how to capture the public’s imagination and galvanise local people. It had given her real joy to stroll around Polgarry, watching folk admire the artefacts and soak up their surroundings, and low as she’d felt about life in general, there had been moments of great satisfaction. Plus she’d grown much closer to Tabitha and the other villagers.

  If only... She stared up at the stars again and wondered if Matt were looking at the same constellation from a window of his flat. Was he relieved to be away from Cornwall – and her? Perhaps he had Lois at his side. Perhaps at this very moment she was leaning against his shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of his aftershave and skin.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Tabitha asked, concerned. ‘You look a bit strange.’

  ‘I’m fine, honestly. I was a million miles away.’ Bramble linked arms with her friend. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the manor. We’ll give them another half an hour, then surely it’ll be time to pack up and send everyone home to bed?’

  *

  Despite their weariness, neither Bramble nor Katie could sleep that night, their minds were so full of music and dancing – and in Bramble’s case, that conversation with the lady from the auction house and Liz’s heartfelt apology. Somehow in just a few short hours the whole world seemed to have tipped on its axis so that everything looked different; nothing was the same as before.

  Katie had insisted on sharing the four-poster, and as she lay on her back, staring into the darkness, she let out a long sigh.

  ‘That was sooo much fun. It’s made me wonder if I did the right thing, going back to London. I mean, I missed the city and my family so much, and the trainee lawyer’s great – we get on really well. But maybe I was a bit hasty, running off like that just because Danny wasn’t interested. Maybe I should have hung around a bit longer and things would have got better? It’s so lovely here.’

  She sat up, propping herself on her elbows. ‘Do you think I was hasty? Should I have waited a few more months?’

  Bramble, who’d been on her back, too, rolled on to her side so that she could see her friend’s outline in the dark, the white of her pyjama top, her pale face and glinting eyes.

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I was surprised as well as sad,’ she replied. ‘I missed London and my parents – I still do – but I’ve learned to appreciate the different rhythm of life here and the amazing scenery. I love looking out on fields, trees, cliffs and sea. The air smells different; even the food tastes different. London seems so cramped and claustrophobic in comparison.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘I never thought I’d hear myself say that.’

  Even as she spoke, Bramble realised that ever since the rescue, she’d been so focused on making the festival a success that she’d barely given any thought to how her life would be afterwards. She’d been aware that the day was fast approaching when she’d pack up her things and return to Chessington, but she hadn’t considered how she’d feel: back in her old bedroom, looking out on rows and rows of identical houses and cars whizzing past; trundling in buses along roads with hardly a blade of grass to be seen, other than in the soulless municipal parks dotted along the route where nature, choking on traffic fumes, seemed to hang on by a thread.

  She’d be a rich woman, of course, and could buy a mansion if she so desired, but she wouldn’t want to live in a bubble. She’d still have the same friends, who’d no doubt choose to spend weekends traipsing around concrete shopping malls, then go to the same overcrowded pubs, cinemas and clubs. The only difference would be that this time there’d be no Matt by her side.

  Was this really what she wanted? Surely, thanks to the painting, there was another way? Perhaps Tabitha was right and Bramble did have a talent for organising. She couldn’t put on a rock concert at Polgarry every weekend, but maybe she could pour cash into renovating the place properly and then lay on other events to fund the upkeep and bring the manor back into the heart of the community. Weddings perhaps, book festivals, open-garden activities, dinners and barbecues, venue hire for corporate dos. She could build an adventure playground for children and, as Liz had once suggested, let out certain rooms on a B and B basis. Bramble had pooh-poohed the idea then, fancying herself too elevated in status, but her views had altered.

  Staying was an exciting prospect, but scary, too. Even with all the money in the world, she wasn’t sure that she could do this on her own. Maria had suggested that perhaps
Lord Penrose had hidden the painting as a ‘test’ to see if Bramble were clever enough to find it. Was she smart enough to upgrade a stately home all by herself and turn it into a going concern? Did she even fancy such a challenge?

  Her mind flitted back to Matt and she knew without a shadow of doubt that she would have done it if he’d been here. Was she really the sort of girl who couldn’t achieve anything without a man’s help? Back in London, when she’d been working in her dead-end job, she’d wanted adventure so badly that she’d upped sticks and left him. Now, with the prospect of more cash in her pocket than she’d imagined in her wildest dreams, surely it was time to prove to herself as much as anyone else that she was worthy of her grandfather’s legacy?

  Katie prodded her with a finger. ‘I thought you were going to come home now the concert’s over? Don’t tell me you’re doing yet another U-turn?’

  Bramble sat bolt upright, making her friend start, and hugged her arms around herself. She could feel the winds of change whistling through the manor walls, rattling the old windows. Better to have tried and failed, as the saying went, than never to have tried at all.

  ‘Do you know,’ she said, seeming far bolder than she felt, ‘I believe I am.’

  25

  THIS TIME SHE wouldn’t take any chances. The painting was sold at auction for a grand sum amid much excitement from the art world, and once the cash was safely in the bank Bramble set about finding the very best architect around. Together, they drew up plans to turn Polgarry Manor, room by room, wing by wing, into a comfortable, modern home-cum-business, without losing any of its original charm.

  Tony was right: Rome wasn’t built in a day, and the transformation would take some years to complete. But as a new team of highly recommended builders moved in and started to rip out bathrooms, knock bedrooms together or divide them and turn whole areas into temporary construction sites, Bramble found that if she shifted her stuff around and kept to the more habitable sections, the noise and disruption weren’t so great that she couldn’t set to work on her commercial ideas.

  Maria, of course, was delighted when Bramble broke the news that she was to stay at Polgarry after all. The housekeeper made it quite clear that she, too, wished to remain, and although she grumbled frequently about the chaos and scowled at the builders whenever they passed, there was generally a lightness to her features that hadn’t been there before. She was becoming physically frailer, however, and Bramble insisted that she take more rest. Even so there was a cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner on the dining table at the exact same hour each day. It was as if the housekeeper had an inbuilt clock reminding her to heat the oven and lay the table, whatever madness was going on around her. She’d have been a tremendous asset during the Blitz.

  Liz came to see Bramble often and took it upon herself to do some cleaning and help keep the dust at bay. Shannon would sometimes arrive after school to assist, and Bramble always paid her for her trouble, but Liz wouldn’t take a penny.

  ‘I like cleaning. I used to do it for a living,’ she’d explain. ‘I find it therapeutic.’

  Both she and Bramble were delighted that Shannon seemed happier these days. Her father was on a new type of medication that eased his depression and she was even talking about pursuing a career in landscape gardening when she left school. Bramble had already said she could use her help when it came to redesigning parts of the estate, though she was anxious that the grounds should retain some of their wild, untamed beauty. If the public were to come in, however, paths would have to be cleared, signs put up, steps repaired and a certain amount of order restored. You couldn’t have people slipping on broken paving stones, losing their way or falling into ditches.

  She spent Christmas and New Year with Bill and Cassie in Chessington, and though she longed to see Matt, she didn’t try to contact him. Her fingers frequently scrolled for his number on her phone, but she managed to stop herself just in time. She returned to the manor in early January to crack on with her plans, and she was so busy and focused that she scarcely noticed the days lengthening, and when the first newborn lambs appeared in the fields and golden daffodils sprang up on roadside and hill, she was quite surprised and wondered where winter had gone.

  Several postcards arrived from Wilf, written in his uneven, childish hand, telling her about their village in the mountain region of central Spain, his new friends and their kitten called Alvaro. He sounded increasingly happy and settled, and she was pleased in a way when the cards stopped coming, because she took it as a sign that Fergus had done the right thing for them both.

  One afternoon in late April she offered to pick Oscar up from school and look after him until Tabitha returned from a meeting with her new music manager, a man named Guy who was busy pushing for a record deal. On the way back they decided to pop into Tremarnock for a sticky bun, and whom should they see coming out of the bakery but Piers, with a French loaf under his arm.

  He was much the same, Bramble thought: slim, suave and immaculately dressed in a well-fitting suit and shiny black shoes. But somehow today his features seemed weaselly, rather than handsome, and his greying hair made him look tired, not sophisticated. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the unexpected encounter – him or her.

  ‘I, um...’ she started to say before clamping her mouth shut. There was no reason on earth for her to feel awkward and apologetic; he was the one who’d behaved so badly, after all.

  ‘Bramble, how are you?’ he said, gathering himself together and stepping forward to kiss her on both cheeks. She was tempted to dodge aside, but Oscar was right behind.

  ‘Well, thanks,’ she said curtly, pulling back as soon as she could and taking Oscar firmly by the hand. ‘We’re in a bit of a rush—’

  ‘I heard your marvellous news!’ Piers gushed, and for a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  ‘The painting,’ he explained. ‘What a discovery! It couldn’t have happened to a lovelier person!’ His voice oozed sycophantic smarm. ‘I was planning to give you a call actually, because I hear you’re doing renovations. I thought you might like—’

  ‘No,’ Bramble said quickly. ‘I don’t need anything at all.’

  His eyes widened and the corner of his mouth twitched, but it didn’t take him long to rally.

  ‘Of course you’re sorted, clever girl.’ He ran a hand through his silvery hair and grinned, revealing small, white teeth. ‘How about dinner? Can I take you out one evening? We’ve got so much to catch up on.’

  ‘Actually, I’m fully booked for the next, ooh, thirty years at least,’ Bramble replied, smiling sweetly. ‘Thanks for the offer, though. I’m sure some other gullible maiden will be thrilled to take you up on it.’

  Then she looked at Oscar. ‘Come on, young man. Let’s get you a bun before they’re all sold out.’

  As she went into the shop, Oscar trotting by her side, she couldn’t resist glancing back over her shoulder to see Piers staring after them, open-mouthed, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just taken place.

  On a sunny Sunday afternoon in late July, when she’d been at the manor for a full year, she decided to have a small tea party to mark the occasion. The builders had almost completed the east and west wings, but the central section of the house, including the kitchen, remained untouched, so that it was possible, with Maria’s help, to prepare sandwiches and bake some biscuits and cakes.

  The guests were Liz, Robert, Rosie and Lowenna, Tabitha, Danny and Oscar, Loveday and Jesse, Ryan and his girlfriend, and Shannon and her brothers, which meant there were almost as many children as adults. Bramble would have liked to invite more villagers, but with Polgarry in its present state she’d felt it would be unwise.

  It was glorious weather and they sat on picnic blankets in the orchard, well away from the scaffolding and mess, balancing plates on their laps and drinking tea from a thermos and glasses of fizz. With Shannon’s help Bramble had managed to mow a section of grass big enough for them all.

  Even
Maria joined them, though she insisted on having a chair because her knees weren’t up to resting on the ground. Perched stiffly beside them, her back ramrod straight and with a characteristically severe expression on her face, she reminded Bramble of an old-fashioned nanny, ready at any minute to rap her charges on the knuckles if they stepped out of line. Fortunately, however, her presence seemed to do nothing to dampen spirits but, rather, added to the general air of hilarity. After all, it wasn’t every day you picnicked in the rundown gardens of a stately home with a bizarre housekeeper breathing down your neck.

  ‘When do you think you’ll be ready for your first B and B guests?’ Liz asked Bramble, watching Lowenna out of the corner of an eye, who was trying her best to follow Oscar up a tree and not succeeding.

  ‘I’ll start advertising in September,’ Bramble replied, munching on a slice of chocolate cake. ‘But I’ll have to warn people the place is still under construction so I don’t suppose there’ll be much interest. By next spring, though, we’ll have finished all the guest rooms and bathrooms, and we’ll have a brand-new kitchen, too. After that, we’re going to redecorate the hall, dining room and drawing room and repave the terrace, then I’m hoping we’ll get some weddings.’

  ‘It’s an ideal spot for them,’ Robert commented, stretching out his long legs and helping himself to a second slice of walnut cake. ‘We’d definitely have got married here if it had been possible then, wouldn’t we, Lizzie?’

  His wife nodded. ‘The building’s so unusual, and I love the fact that the garden’s wild and overgrown. It’s very romantic.’

  Loveday, who was sitting extremely close to Jesse, nudged him in the shoulder so hard that he nearly toppled over.

  ‘We could get married here?’ she suggested with a cheeky grin. She was wearing a short, tight black PVC skirt and unsuitable wedges.

  ‘Woah, slow down, babe. I haven’t even proposed yet!’ Jesse exclaimed, but he looked quite pleased all the same.