Greyfriars House

by Emma Fraser

  The voice was as perfectly modulated as Georgina’s, but more hesitant and barely above a whisper. Edith was a couple of inches shorter than her sister and plump, without being fat. She was wearing a skirt that once must have been part of a suit, a white blouse that had become discoloured with age and had one or two stains, recent or historical I couldn’t tell, a cardigan of the palest blue, thick stockings wrinkled around the ankle, and stout, practical shoes and her grey hair looked as if she’d cut it herself with a pair of blunt scissors. Like Georgina, her face was lined, and there were age spots on the back of her hands. But it was her pale blue eyes that caught my attention. Where Georgina’s were lively, hers were expressionless, almost blank, and never seemed to rest on anyone or anything for any length of time.

  Edith gave her sister a small nod and almost imperceptibly Georgina relaxed.

  Edith placed an old-fashioned kettle on the tray. It looked completely incongruous next to the silver tea set. ‘You must be Charlotte. I am your great-aunt Edith. How do you do?’ It was then she noticed Tiger. ‘A dog! Oh, Georgina, a dog!’

  ‘Charlotte brought her mother’s dog, dear. But you are not to be anxious. Charlotte will keep her with her at all times.’ She stressed the last three words and gave me a quick glance.

  ‘As long as she does,’ Edith replied. ‘We can’t have a dog running all over the house – you know we can’t!’

  ‘I will make sure she doesn’t,’ I promised.

  Georgina waved towards an armchair. ‘Please, do sit down, Charlotte.’

  As soon as I sat, a cloud of dust rose from the cushions, making me sneeze. My aunts sat too, side by side on the sofa opposite me.

  ‘We are so pleased you have come to see us,’ Georgina stretched a hand towards me as if reaching for mine, but stopping short of actually taking it, ‘but so very sorry to hear about your dear mother.’

  Not sorry enough to have kept in touch when she was still alive. Particularly when they knew she was on her own with a small baby to care for, I thought bitterly, my antipathy towards my great-aunts rising again.

  ‘Is Indian all right?’ Georgina said, lifting the teapot. ‘We rarely get visitors and I’m afraid the store doesn’t run to Earl Grey.’

  ‘Ordinary is what I usually drink,’ I replied.

  ‘Your mother was so young to have passed away,’ Georgina continued once the tea was poured.

  ‘Fifty-four.’ I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  ‘We adored her, didn’t we, Edith? She was such a gentle soul.’

  Oh, please! Really? Next they’d be saying that they’d thought about her all the time. I stayed silent. These two women had not treated my mother well. At the very best they were callous and self-absorbed, at worst, downright dishonest.

  But having registered the neglect, the heavy red velvet curtains frayed at the edges, the sofas and armchairs that could have done with re-covering years ago, a niggle of doubt crept into my mind. I of all people knew how easy it was to jump to conclusions. If I were in their shoes I would have made Mum sell the house in Edinburgh, taken their share and run. Yet, despite the fact that the money would have made their lives more comfortable, they hadn’t insisted on its sale. At least not so far.

  ‘My mother spoke a great deal about Greyfriars towards the end,’ I said, declining a Wagon Wheel from Edith.

  Georgina eyed me speculatively over the rim of her tea cup. ‘Did she? I do hope she had fond memories?’

  What planet were these women on? ‘As a child, yes.’

  As Edith added more hot water to the teapot, her hand trembled slightly, splashing some on the table. Georgina didn’t say anything, just wiped the spilled water with a napkin.

  ‘Why don’t you tell us about yourself?’ Georgina asked when the table was mopped to her satisfaction. ‘Do you live in Edinburgh? Are you married?’

  ‘I live in London. And no, I’m not married.’

  ‘A beau then?’ Edith asked. It was the first time she’d spoken since she’d greeted me.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. Too busy.’

  ‘Busy?’

  ‘I’m a lawyer.’

  Edith’s cup rattled on its saucer and the two women exchanged a startled glance. Perhaps they were thinking that I’d use my profession to make things awkward – as far as the houses went. I hadn’t quite decided how awkward I was going to be.

  ‘Your mother must have been very proud of you,’ Georgina said.

  ‘I believe she was.’ My heart gave another, wretched lurch.

  Once again an awkward silence fell. Georgina and Edith sat straight-backed, their hands in their lap. I waited for them to speak. It was a technique I often used as a lawyer. People were driven to fill a silence and often ended up saying more than they meant to.

  ‘I imagine you are wondering why we asked your mother to come and see us. We wouldn’t have asked, of course, if we had known she was ill. It is good of you to come in her place.’

  ‘I promised her I would. It sounded as if you needed her help.’

  The two women exchanged another look. ‘How long are you able to stay?’ Georgina asked, ignoring my implied question.

  ‘A couple of nights, I thought.’ Although I had more time now and could stay longer, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  ‘But it will take longer than that!’ Edith cried. ‘Much longer. There’s so much…’

  ‘Edith!’ Georgina said. ‘Not now.’ She turned back to me. ‘We had hoped you would stay for a week at least. What we have to tell you,’ she caught her lower lip between her teeth and paused to give her sister another sideways look, ‘won’t be easy. There’s so much you have to know. So much that is difficult to tell, even harder to explain. And we’d like to take this opportunity to get to know Olivia’s daughter.’

  Get to know me when they’d shown little interest in getting to know Mum? Why? And why now? And what did they want to tell me that was difficult to explain? Why they’d neglected to sign over their share of the house in Edinburgh to Mum as they’d promised? Yet something didn’t jibe with that being the reason. That could have been resolved by letter. However, there was no point in speculating when I could ask outright.

  I leaned forward. ‘Perhaps you could start by telling me why you wanted Mum to come and see you. Why the invitation now after so much time? I got the impression whatever help you wanted from her was urgent?’ I was curious to see if they’d mention their share of the house in Edinburgh.

  Now, it seemed to me my aunts were avoiding each other’s eyes.

  ‘Would you mind if we talked about all of that another time? Edith doesn’t wish to be present. She has no desire to revisit the past,’ Georgina said. ‘And everything we need to tell you begins there.’ She placed her cup and saucer back on the tray and threaded her fingers together. ‘Would you like to go to your room to freshen up before lunch?’ she asked, making it clear that, at least for now, the subject was closed.

  I rose to my feet and with Tiger trotting behind us, Georgina led the way back into the hall. I stopped to admire the burred mahogany staircase, running my hands over the two carved lions on the newel posts. Even I could appreciate the hours and the craftsmanship that had gone into the carvings.

  ‘My grandfather had the staircase especially made. He wanted to make a dramatic first impression on his guests,’ Georgina said, stopping next to me.

  He’d succeeded. But that was back then. What would he think now of the tired-looking carpets, the neglected fireplace, the chair next to it with a spring showing through the seat, the cold damp seeping through the hall, the lack of a window to allow light to break through the unremitting gloom or to warm the flagstones? From the chimney breast came the distinct sound of movement, a flutter, the call of pigeons roosting. I had been right. Birds had taken up residence in the chimneys. I wrapped my arms around my body in a futile attempt to warm myself. Since Mum’s death I had been feeling cold all the time and I had to use all my willpower to stop my teeth from chattering. />
  I picked up my suitcase and Georgina led me up the carved staircase. The carpet that ran up the full length of the stairs must once have been beautiful too, now it was as threadbare as the others in the house, almost worn away completely on the curve of the stairs. I couldn’t help but notice the bare patches on the wall where paintings had once hung. It made me a little sad and, despite everything, something softened inside me.

  ‘We had to sell them,’ Georgina said, noticing my look. ‘But they’ve all gone to a good home. Some of them even ended up on display in a gallery.’

  A stained-glass window dominated the half-landing. Now this was something that hadn’t diminished with time! Made from red, blue and yellow coloured glass it displayed a shield, rampant lions on one diagonal and sheaves of corn on the other. On top of the shield was a knight’s visor from which a forearm holding a sword emerged. At the bottom was a motto. ‘Sto pro veritate – we stand for truth,’ I translated, recalling the Latin I had taken in high school.

  ‘It’s the Guthrie family motto.’ Georgina sighed. She had the same wry look I imagined I wore. ‘Easy to say. Rather more difficult to live up to.’

  We shared a smile. My great-aunt was proving difficult to dislike. Whatever their reasons for losing touch, their coldness with Mum, perhaps there was more to it than either of us had appreciated? Mum was willing to give them the benefit of doubt, how could I do less?

  We continued up a flight of stairs to another landing. To each side a door led off and in front of us were a set of double doors. They were all closed.

  ‘There are two wings to the house. Both are almost exact duplicates of each other, with the old ballroom running between them. Edith and I have rooms in the west wing. We keep most of the east wing closed off as well as the ballroom and what used to be the servants’ rooms on the top floor. It’s not as if we need the space and it’s far too costly to keep the whole house heated. But we opened a room in the east wing for you. It’s the room you were born in and we thought you’d prefer to stay in that wing as it’s a little more private.’

  She opened the door on the left. Almost immediately the dusty smell of rooms little used tickled my nostrils.

  I followed her along the corridor, the floorboards creaking underfoot. I noticed the servants’ staircase on my right.

  ‘That will take you to the kitchen,’ Georgina said. ‘It also leads to the upper floor, but as I said those rooms are no longer in use. There are only two bathrooms, I’m afraid – one in each wing. Water can be temperamental too. The electricity still works off the generator, we’ve never got around to linking to the national grid, and fuel is expensive so we only run it for a few hours in the morning and evening. We tend to rely on oil lamps once we go to bed. I’ve put one in your room along with matches.’

  ‘You only have electricity a few hours a day?’ I couldn’t keep the astonishment from my voice.

  She gave me another of her brilliant smiles. ‘Edith and I are used to it. We’ve had to cope with a lot worse. We use the back boiler of the stove in the kitchen to heat the water. It tends to be hotter in the evening when there is plenty for a bath. There’s usually enough in the mornings for us to have a stand-up wash.’

  A stand-up wash? I thought regretfully of my London flat and its power shower. This was not how I imagined things to be. Why hadn’t they modernised? Was money such an issue? Judging by the state of the house it was.

  Perhaps I should take a room at the inn in Balcreen? It was only a short drive away. I could visit the aunts from there. However, at the very least, I was here for the night. Moreover, taking a room at the inn would only drag the length of the visit out. I could cope with a little discomfort for a day or two.

  Georgina stopped outside a door at the far end of the corridor.

  ‘This bedroom faces the front,’ she said, opening the door, ‘which means it gets the sun in the mornings.’

  The room, as faded and in need of updating as the others, was nevertheless delightful. Although the yellow wallpaper was peeling in places and the window frames swollen with damp, ivy hadn’t completely covered the large windows. The sun had reappeared and light poured in. The high ceilings gave the already spacious room a sense of being bigger still. It was dominated by a four-poster bed – its curtains having being removed – with a small footstool by the side, clearly to enable the occupant to climb in without having to take a leap. The bed was carved in the same rich mahogany as the bookshelves in the library and a carpet, its colours undimmed by time, partially covered broad, dark wood floorboards. An old-fashioned washstand stood in place of a dressing table, an armchair sat to the side of a fireplace and there was a small writing table in front of the window.

  Tiger ran around sniffing everything before settling herself on the rug.

  ‘This is lovely,’ I said.

  Georgina seemed pleased. ‘It’s worn better than some of the other rooms. It’s not been used since your mother stayed so we’ve been able to keep the curtains closed to protect it from sun damage.’ She ran her fingertips down the rich fabric of the curtains.

  ‘The bathroom is next door. No shower unit, I’m afraid, but there is a hand-held attachment. It can get a little chilly. When the generator is on, there is a wall-mounted electric heater you can use to warm up the bathroom. Like us it has seen better days.’ She gave a mischievous chuckle. It was easy to see how she’d once charmed everyone. Including her sister’s fiancé, I reminded myself. ‘But it works well enough. I put a hot water bottle in to air your sheets and I’ll refill it before you retire. I’ve left clean towels at the end of your bed, the chest of drawers and wardrobe are empty, so there is plenty of space to put your clothes.’

  I crossed over to the windows and looked out. Although the trees and the hedge obscured most of the view, beyond them on the other side I could see tips of mountains topped with cloud and, between them and the island, a sliver of the sea. It was much easier, from here, to ignore the overgrown lawns and general shabbiness and imagine instead the charm the house once held.

  If the ivy was removed from the windows, the rhododendrons cut back, the beech, rowan and oak trees pruned, the sun, when it shone, would pour in, bringing light and warmth. With a good scrub, carpets replaced or at least dry-cleaned, the windows washed, the years of dust vacuumed away, a polish to bring the wood back to life, it could be a delightful house again.

  I turned back to Georgina. ‘Thank you for giving me this room.’

  She smiled, clearly gratified by my reaction. ‘If you need us at any time, there is a bell on the table in the hall. Ring that. We should be able to hear it from wherever we are. Now, is there anything else I might have forgotten?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’ They had made an effort to make me feel welcome and I was touched.

  ‘Lunch is at one, supper at seven-thirty and breakfast at eight. We like to keep to regular times for meals, although I have to warn you neither of us are great cooks. In the meantime I shall leave you to unpack and freshen up. I’ll knock on your door about five to one if that suits?’

  ‘Shouldn’t I just come down when I’m ready?’

  I could have been mistaken but I thought I saw another flicker of anxiety in the depths of her indigo eyes. ‘We wouldn’t want you to get lost. Much of the house is in a bad state of repair and some of the floorboards are quite rotted. I’d be happier if I could show you which rooms are in use before you go wandering about on your own.’

  It was clear from the tone of her voice that I was to remain where I was until she called for me. Habits of a lifetime almost made me protest, but it was already after twelve. I would, I imagined, be doing battle with this woman and, as I well knew, picking the time and place gave the advantage. Furthermore, I was their guest. ‘Five to one it is, then.’

  At five to one on the dot there was a knock on my door. I’d found the bathroom which, with its original cast-iron bath, capacious sink and worn lino on the floor, was as old-fashioned and in need of refurbishment as
the rest of the house. After I washed my face I reapplied my make-up and, back in my room pulled on a cashmere sweater over my blouse. I unpacked the few belongings I’d brought and laid Tiger’s rug on the floor next to my bed. Then I examined my room, hoping to find a trace of Mum. To my disappointment there were no leftover books, no half-empty forgotten bottles of perfume, or a left-behind scarf – nothing to indicate that she’d lived in this room for the best part of five months.

  Georgina led me down the servants’ staircase to the kitchen which was at the back of the house and down a short flight of stone steps. It was several times the size of any kitchen I’d been in before, with an original flagstone floor and, like the rest of the house, seemed frozen in time. The range, in particular, looked as if it belonged in a museum. It was black, and at least twice the length and half as high again as any I’d ever seen. Above it and running the length of the wall was a shelf groaning with an assortment of pots and pans, mostly copper plated. In the centre of the room was a large, scrubbed pine table where I imagined the servants once ate and at the far end there was another door which I assumed led to a scullery or pantry.