Wickham Hall, Part 3

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Lady Fortescue?’ I finished for her.

  She nodded.

  ‘I hadn’t realized it was so obvious. Ben and me, I mean.’ I smiled awkwardly.

  Nikki sniggered. ‘It’s obvious to me.’

  I felt my face flame. ‘Nothing has happened between us,’ I said. Except the briefest of clinches in the gardens, which had been rudely interrupted by Lady Fortescue herself . . . ‘Do you think she’d kick up a fuss if anything did?’

  ‘Honestly?’ Nikki exhaled. ‘She’s got a good heart, but she’s a snob. I think she’s hoping for a daughter-in-law with a trust fund and a family who owns at least half a county.’

  I sighed wistfully. Put like that the daughter of a charity shop assistant and an Italian market stall holder might not go down too well with Her Ladyship.

  Nikki nudged me sharply with her elbow. ‘But you’re not going to let that stop you, are you?’

  I recalled the look on Lady Fortescue’s face when she’d found us up to something in the sunken garden. It was anything but pleased. But then I remembered Ben standing up to her on my behalf . . .

  I lifted my chin defiantly and grinned. ‘Absolutely not. If it doesn’t bother Ben that I’m not well-to-do then it shouldn’t bother me either.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ Nikki clapped me on the back.

  Picking up a pair of scissors from her desk she inclined her head towards the door and I followed her outside and into the walled garden. ‘Now, I’m sure you didn’t come down here to hear all that stuff about my love life, so what can I do for you?’

  We stopped at a raised herb bed and she began snipping at soft basil stems.

  ‘Well . . .’ I hesitated and automatically snaked a hand into my pocket, curling my fingers around Lady Fortescue’s pearl bracelet. It was probably a crazy idea but in the absence of anything else . . .

  ‘You know that bracelet that Lady Fortescue lost years ago in the sunken garden?’

  Nikki flicked an amused glance at me and folded a basil sprig into her mouth. ‘Mmm. Not personally, but I know the one you mean.’

  ‘Do you think it would be worth digging up the soil in that area, perhaps when you’re planting some of those spring bulbs, to see if you can find it?’ I gazed at her innocently. My half-formed plan was to plant the bracelet back in the garden where it would almost certainly be found.

  She laughed softly and shook her head. ‘Has she got you on the trail of it now? That area has been dug up before. Rhododendron is rampant, we have to dig it up and cut it back every five years or it takes over and suffocates all the other plants. I remember Her Ladyship watching the ground like a hawk in case we found anything at the time.’

  My heart sank. That was the end of that idea, then. I’d have to think of something else, and now, I realized, Nikki might be a bit suspicious when the bracelet did resurface.

  ‘Well, just a thought, forget I mentioned it,’ I said nonchalantly. ‘I’m going to the café for lunch to fortify myself before tackling my bonfire plan, fancy joining me?’

  She shook her head. ‘Can’t. But deliver this to Jenny for me, would you?’

  ‘Sure.’ I took the bunch of basil from her and inhaled its fresh aroma.

  ‘Oh, and let her know I’ve got tomatoes coming out of my ears.’

  ‘OK.’ I laughed, turning to leave. ‘And thanks, Nikki, you know, for sharing your story about Will and for the advice.’

  I left her snipping through some woody rosemary stems and made my way to the café. Nikki’s story reminded me of Mum’s experience in a small way: both women had lost the love of their lives through no fault of their own. It was very early days with Ben and me: a sum total of one brief kiss and the promise of a date were hardly enough to base a relationship on, but there was a tiny flame deep within me that was cheerfully flickering away and I was going to prevent anyone from snuffing it out.

  I found Jenny enjoying a rare break at a table in the far corner of the café. She buried her face in the basil, face beaming with pleasure, and when I told her about the glut of tomatoes heading her way she began listing the things she would make with them.

  ‘And gazpacho. On a hot day. Oh and homemade smoky ketchup. We can bottle it and save it until Bonfire Night. I love a bit of sauce.’ She giggled, tucking a purple strand of hair back into her ponytail.

  ‘You’re in a good mood.’ I chuckled. I fetched a cup and saucer and poured myself some tea from her teapot.

  ‘I know!’ she squeaked, leaning forward and squeezing my arm, making me spill the milk. ‘You’ll never guess what’s happened!’

  ‘Um . . .’ I frowned, blotting up the spillage with a napkin.

  ‘Daniel Denton has followed me on Twitter,’ she proclaimed, shoving her phone under my nose so that I could read her Twitter notifications. ‘Me – Jenny Plum!’

  ‘Daniel Denton the celebrity chef?’ I grinned at her excitement.

  She clapped her hands together. ‘And even better than that, I’ve invited him to come to Wickham Hall at Christmas and he said if he can fit it in, he will.’

  My eyes widened at that. I had already started a folder for ‘Christmas at Wickham Hall activities’ and this would be a massive draw.

  ‘That would be amazing!’

  ‘Do not breathe a word,’ Jenny hissed, tapping her nose. ‘Let’s keep it a secret for now.’

  I stared at her for a moment. I really liked Jenny: she was pragmatic, reliable and, apart from getting a little starstruck at the prospect of a visit from Daniel Denton, very levelheaded. More than that, she was a good friend and I trusted her.

  I reached across the table, laid a hand on hers and took a deep breath.

  ‘Jenny, I’ve got a secret too. But mine is a terrible secret. I can’t ignore it, but if I try to sort the problem out myself I’m worried it might cost me my job.’

  Her forehead furrowed and she leaned forward but before she had a chance to reply a shadow fell over the table. My head jerked up instantly. Andy was right behind me carrying his lunch on a tray, a wide smirk across his face.

  ‘Room for a little one?’ he said, plonking the tray next to Jenny’s tea things and settling himself at the table.

  Jenny shot me a look of apology and my stomach lurched. Andy had never warmed to me and if he had heard my last comment I was in no doubt that he would try to make things awkward for me.

  I whipped my hand away from Jenny’s.

  ‘I’d better get back to the office,’ I said, jumping to my feet, sending the chair scraping across the floor noisily.

  ‘Something I said?’ Andy murmured to Jenny, cocking an eyebrow.

  ‘Holly?’ Jenny frowned at me. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Never mind, it can wait,’ I mumbled.

  I strode away, feeling a bit sick. Could it wait? Now that Andy had wind of a possible reason for me to lose my job, the sooner I got this bracelet off my hands the better.

  Chapter 3

  It was bank holiday Monday in August and although Wickham Hall was open to the public, there were no official events in the calendar and I had a welcome day off. I was already wearing a bikini underneath my shorts and a vest top but I packed a bag with the other essential requirements for spending the day sunbathing with Esme – cans of Coke, a bottle of wine for later, sunglasses, sun cream and a selection of magazines – and headed outside to say goodbye to Mum and Steve.

  Steve seemed to be around all the time these days. I wasn’t complaining; Mum had blossomed in his company and it made me realize just how lonely she had been before his arrival on the scene. And what was even more heartwarming to watch was how unfazed he was by all her clutter. He was divorced and his ex-wife had taken almost all of their possessions and he liked our ‘homely’ cottage. I loved that he was kind and sensitive towards Mum and had already gently offered to help her dispose of several boxes of junk from the dining room. At this rate, there was more than a slight chance of actually being able to eat Christmas dinner in there this year.r />
  So, so far so good in their budding romance, I’d decided.

  They were having coffee in the early morning sun on the patio. Steve had his arm around the back of Mum’s chair and discreetly withdrew it when he noticed me.

  ‘Have a lovely day, you two,’ I called with a wave. ‘And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  Although the chance would be a fine thing in my case, I mused wryly. Ben had been away for a month already and I hadn’t heard a word from him. I tucked a big bag of crisps in my bag as a last-minute addition; Esme and I were planning on sunbathing on the communal grass slope outside her flat that served as a garden and I could never rely on her to have anything edible in the cupboards.

  The back door opened and Mum materialized by my side in the kitchen, her smile overly wide. I knew that smile; it meant ‘I’m about to say something that both of us could find uncomfortable’. Usually me more than her. The last time this smile had an airing was a few months ago when she’d thrust a leaflet in my hands about egg freezing. She thought I might want to ‘put a few young ones by’ in case the right man didn’t come along to fertilize them before my embryos were past their best. Talk about mortified!

  ‘Sorry for teasing,’ I said instantly. ‘I hope I didn’t embarrass Steve. Or you.’

  ‘No, no.’ She shook her head and ran a finger slowly over the kitchen work surface, which looked remarkably tidier these days. I waited. Uncomfortably.

  ‘Holly,’ she began and then paused. She looked back to the garden and pulled the door to behind her so that Steve was no longer visible.

  ‘What do you think of him, of Steve?’ she hissed, nestling her sunglasses on her thick blonde hair.

  ‘Oh, Mum, he’s lovely.’ I pulled her into a hug. ‘Not that it matters what I think. How do you feel about him?’

  ‘He makes me feel special.’ She eased back to look at me. ‘He makes me feel as if I could move on. But it’s moving too fast, I—’

  She paused and pulled her top lip between her teeth.

  My mind flipped back to the way she had described her life to me recently: the years of solitary motherhood, her loneliness. I couldn’t let her return to that, but at the same time I understood how hard it would be to share her life with someone new after all this time.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, taking a step back and forcing her to look me in the eye. ‘You know how you hum when you’re happy?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well, you hum a lot now and also . . .’ I hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment. I kissed her cheek and decided to go for it. ‘The kitchen looks loads better and I noticed the dustbin is full. Have you been having a clear-out?’

  She nodded again. ‘Steve tripped at the top of the stairs so I thought I’d better do something in case one of us had a more serious accident.’

  I smiled brightly. ‘Well, there you go! You never throw stuff away when you’re feeling low. So that has to be a good sign. Right?’

  She twisted her hands together. ‘It’s just that he’s started dropping hints lately. Making, you know, suggestions . . . and I don’t think I’m ready.’

  She blinked at me and two pink spots appeared on her cheeks.

  Fighting the urge to ram my fingers in my ears and sing ‘lalalala’, I took her hand instead. I was only twenty-nine, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to dispense this sort of advice to my mother.

  ‘Go on.’ I swallowed.

  She took a deep breath and gave me a tight smile. ‘Steve thinks that Henley library might be interested in my collection of old newspapers. He thinks they’d be grateful if I donated them for their archives, as a contribution to local history.’

  ‘Mum!’ I exclaimed, not a little relieved. ‘That’s fantastic.’

  I could hardly keep the smile off my face. This was excellent news and ultimately it was Ben’s doing. It had been his idea to do the photographic retrospective for his parents’ thirtieth anniversary at Wickham Hall that had started all this. I sent up a silent thank-you to Ben for introducing us to Steve.

  ‘But they’re my memories, my collection,’ Mum went on softly. ‘If I let them go . . .’ Her voice faded and a heartfelt sigh escaped. ‘He’s right, I suppose.’

  We gazed at each other for a few seconds.

  I laughed softly. ‘For one awful moment, I thought you were going to say he wanted to . . . you know . . .’ I winked at her playfully.

  ‘Oh, darling!’ She gave a tinkling laugh and pressed a kiss onto my cheek. ‘We’re well beyond that stage. Why do you think Steve was at the top of the stairs? In fact, when you’ve gone—’

  ‘I’m going, I’m going!’ I cried, darting for the door.

  I was still chuckling about having heard more information than any child should, no matter what her age, when I arrived at Esme’s flat ten minutes later. I’d spent the short drive with the radio cranked up loud to blot out all thoughts of what the two of them might be up to.

  Esme was leaning over the open stairwell of the block of flats, waiting for me. She waved and ran down to greet me.

  ‘Holster!’ she yelled, thundering towards me with her arms outstretched. I gasped as she subjected me to one of her rib-crushing hugs. It was fantastic to see her and I was so glad there was no atmosphere between us since that silly fight.

  ‘I’ve missed you so much! We are such idiots for letting work get in the way of our social life.’ I grinned when she finally released me. ‘And I’ve got loads to tell you.’

  She was dressed in a strapless pink sundress and white flip-flops and her skin looked dark and exotic after her trip to Dubai to visit her dad. I had no chance of catching up, but I was prepared to do my best. Even if it did mean returning to work tomorrow looking like one of Nikki’s tomatoes.

  ‘Agreed and ditto. Let’s go straight outside,’ she suggested. ‘I’ve already set up some beach towels and the cool box.’

  ‘Good plan.’ I beamed. ‘And I’ve brought the wine.’

  She tucked her arm through mine and we made our way along the communal hallway and through the glass door that led to the patch of grass at the back of the flats.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been incommunicado since Dubai, Hols. But the work had piled up while we were away and I was snowed under.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I replied, squeezing her arm. ‘I’ve been almost bursting with news though and I wanted to save it until we could talk properly.’

  I was looking forward to spending some time with her; I’d barely seen her over the past few weeks. I had been too preoccupied with the festival in July and then she went on holiday and since then she’d been busy in Joop supplying all the ladies in the vicinity with their posh dresses for summer weddings and parties.

  ‘So what’s the latest on Benedict the bootylicious boss?’ asked Esme once we’d stripped off to our bikinis and stretched out on towels.

  I tore open the crisps and offered her the bag. She took a handful, popped one in her mouth and raised her eyebrows waiting for a response.

  ‘Still AWOL,’ I said glumly, all at once conscious of exactly how much I needed to fill my best friend in on. ‘I think he needed to escape from the pressure his parents are putting on him to take over at Wickham Hall. I don’t think they’re too impressed at his disappearance.’

  I missed his cheery presence more than I cared to admit. I still had his note and I still had our date written in chalk in my diary and I couldn’t help peering at it every day. But I really wanted his help with Lady Fortescue’s pearl bracelet; maybe he would dream up a way to return it. There just hadn’t been the right opportunity to give it back and the longer I held on to it, the more bothered about it I became. It didn’t help that every time I caught Andy with a smile on his face, I was convinced that he was about to drop me in it.

  ‘My heart bleeds, the poor love,’ said Esme, getting herself comfortable. ‘Tell him that I’ll inherit the hall if he doesn’t want it.’

  I thought back to the magical morning when the two of us had watche
d the sun coming up over the turreted roof of his Elizabethan home and the fear on his face at the prospect of filling his father’s shoes. I imagined it was as far away from his independent artist life in London as it could possibly be.

  ‘Hmm, I used to think like that, but now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘That’s only because you fancy him,’ she said smugly. She looked left and right and seeing no one around, unhooked the back of her bikini top and slid it from underneath her. ‘Oh, I forgot: men are off the agenda until you find your dad.’

  ‘The agenda has changed a bit since I last saw you.’ I grinned. ‘My father now has a name and a nationality and Mum has a new boyfriend.’

  ‘What?’ Esme’s mouth gaped. ‘Blimey, what else have I missed? You’re not married too, are you?’

  ‘No,’ I replied with my best enigmatic smile. ‘No need to buy a hat just yet.’

  The sun was already beginning to sting my shoulders and I reached into my bag for the sun cream while I told her the whole story, beginning with when Mum met Antonio and ending with the pearl bracelet and how I might have inadvertently let my secret slip in front of Andy.

  ‘So there you go,’ I said, smiling at Esme’s stunned silence. ‘I’m half Italian. How amazing is that!’

  She whistled under her breath. ‘And what a story your mum has been keeping to herself all these years!’

  I nodded. ‘I feel so sad for her, losing her dad, missing Antonio before he left for Italy and then having to bring me up on her own. All that trauma could easily have brought on her hoarding.’

  ‘Hey, we should go to Italy, Holster!’ She sat up suddenly and then yelped when she remembered she was topless. She grabbed her sundress and pulled it over her head. ‘On a mission to find the mysterious Antonio. A bit of Google detective work and I’m sure we can come up with some clues.’

  ‘I don’t think it will be that easy to locate an Italian called Antonio who came to England thirty years ago, Es.’ I grinned at her. ‘Now that is as crazy as me being Lord Fortescue’s daughter.’