by Sarah Mason
'Where's she going to get it from?' Will asks.
I shake my head. 'I don't know.' And nor do I want to, I think to myself.
The rest of the afternoon is spent making up the rooms for the foreign visitors. The rooms themselves also look a little shabby and so I spend over an hour collecting flowers and greenery from the garden to brighten them up. Dominic and I will have to move out of our old bedrooms tomorrow and into a twin room in another wing of the house. Oh joy.
At about eight o'clock, I go out to the walled garden to be alone for ten minutes.
'Penny for them?'
I spin round to see Simon standing in the archway to the walled garden. I'm fingering a sprig of rosemary and trying to make some sense of everything.
He walks slowly towards me and I manage a half-smile. I wish he would just go away and leave me to try to put my tumbling thoughts into some order. I go back to my fiddling as a massive hint that I want to be left alone, especially if he's going to ball me out again. I know I deserve it but perhaps we could save some for later.
'Rosemary,' he says. 'For remembrance?'
'Can I get you anything?' I ask, trying to bring the conversation back to more comfortable, professional ground.
He shakes his head and says, 'Dad says you've sorted the furniture situation?' I nod and he continues, 'The team have all gone. The American investors will arrive tomorrow as scheduled.' He looks absolutely shattered.
'Look, Simon, Dom and I are supposed to be going back to London tomorrow. Do you want us to stay to help with the visitors? I mean, it is what we do for a living.'
'But it'll be over the weekend.'
'That's okay. We don't have a function and we were due back here on Monday anyhow so I won't need to tell the office. I know Mrs Delaney has got the food sorted but I was thinking of the general entertainment stuff. I could take the hostess role.'
'Actually, that would be great.'
'And I thought Dominic could become your resident butler for a few days. Help with the image.'
'Is he okay with that?'
'He suggested it!' Dominic has done no such thing but he deserves it after the cigarette situation. 'I'll run into Bury St Edmunds first thing and hire him a suit.'
'Thanks.'
There's a pause as he also wanders over to the rosemary bush and extracts a sprig. He comes back towards me, sprig in hand, examining it intently.
'This was my mother's garden. She used to spend every minute out here. Sometimes I think she used to prefer this garden to us!'
'You can tell how much it used to be loved,' I remark, looking around at the once tamed and tethered clematis and honeysuckle, now riding roughshod over everything in their path.
'I shouldn't have let it get so overgrown.'
'It just needs some attention,' I say, trying to comfort him for a second as he looks so befeft. Despite all we've been through, I feel a rush of affection for him. Whether I like it or not, a great deal of my past is tied up with this man. He looks up at me and I'm jolted by his eyes. Something passes through them that I recognise but can't put into words. Then it's gone.
'Do you want to walk down to see the deer?' he asks.
'Em, I don't think I'm wearing the right shoes for that.' I look at my neck-breaking flip-flops.
'I'll wait for you if you want to put on something else?'
For a second I'm tempted. I had glimpsed something. Something warm and comfortable and easy to fall back into. But then I remember everything that came after it.
'No, I'm sorry, Simon. I've got things to do.'
He smiles at me and holds my eyes for a second. 'I'm sorry too,' he says lightly and then turns and walks away, leaving me staring after him.
I go up to my room, take off my rugby top and replace it with a clingy pink T-shirt. Meg the dog and Dom appear in my doorway.
'Where are you off to?' Dom asks suspiciously, clocking the different clothes. 'Secret assignation?'
'No, just felt grubby suddenly. Thought I would change for supper.'
'Then why are you putting on lipstick?'
'I always put on lipstick.'
'Not for me you don't.'
Well that's because you're gay, I nearly say, but then wonder what that's got to do with it.
'Have you asked if they want us to stay this weekend and help with the Americans?' Dom continues.
'Em, actually I've just asked Simon and he says that would be marvellous. Did you have any plans for the weekend?' I think I'll save my wonderful butler news for when we have a little more time for Dominic's certain hysterics.
'I can change them. I'll just tell, er, whoever that I can't make it. They'll understand.'
'You know, Dom, I don't care who you're seeing.'
'This is somebody a bit, er, different.'
'Darling, anyone you see would be okay with me,' I say, just to give him the message loud and clear that I will love him whatever.
'We'll talk about it soon, I promise. It's a bit confusing for me at the minute and there's so much going on here with Rob and stuff.'
'I know. Are you coming down for a drink?'
'I thought I might have a bath actually.'
'Okay. I'll see you later!'
I skip downstairs, wondering anxiously if Dom might think our relationship will change or something. He's not normally so backward at coming forward. I then hover in the hallway for a moment, thinking, before running upstairs, to collect my mobile. I have a peculiar need for some reassurance and so I ring my parents. As the call is to Hong Kong and on my mobile, I ask them to call me back on the landline and jog through to the now deserted library. I pick up the phone as soon as it rings. 'Hello?' I say cautiously, just in case it isn't them.
'Darling!'
'Mum!'
'What a lovely surprise! We've tried calling the flat; where have you been? Your father says where are you? Because the area code is quite near Pantiles, the Monkwell estate. Do you remember? Where the horses were?'
'Yes, I remember. In fact, that's where I am.'
'Where?'
'At Pantiles.'
There's a silence as she obviously sits down and then says to my father, 'That's where she is. At Pantiles.' I wait patiently in the silence until she eventually says, 'Why are you there?'
'It's the strangest thing. I'm here to organise a party for Monty Monkwell!'
They are not receiving the news as I thought they would. I had thought there would be lots of initial gasps and ooh-ing and aah-ing and then we would settle down to a proper chinwag about our memories of the place and then I could launch into my tale of woe. There is none of that, just another awkward silence.
'Er, Mum?' I finally ask. 'Everything okay?'
'Yes, fine, darling,' she says eventually. 'Look, can we call you back?'
'When?'
'In a day or so.'
'Of course, but everything's okay?'
'Yes!' she says in an artificially high voice when she clearly means, 'No!'
'Okay then. I'll speak to you soon. Bye!' But the line is already dead. I sit staring at the receiver until Harry comes to get me for supper.
C h a p t e r 17
At a quarter to midnight, Will and I set off towards the woods armed with torches and a dog (not Meg, we have decided on a fierce terrier called Albert in case we run into trouble). Part of me cannot help but be thrilled with the secret squirrel theme but the rest of me is tired and would like a long lie down. But I'm glad of the opportunity to speak to Will.
The moon is almost full and very bright so we don't need the torches until we get to the woods. Neither of us have spoken since we left the house, but as soon as we switch our torches on conversation somehow seems permissible.
'All a bit of a shock, isn't it?' I whisper to Will, watching Albert bounding ahead and feeling reassured by his presence. The woods are still as creepy as I remember them being. An owl hoots every now and then and the woods crackle with the noise of things moving about. I firmly tell myself tha
t it is only Albert and resist the temptation to leap into Will's arms like Scooby Doo.
He looks over awkwardly at me. 'I did guess, Izzy. Not to this extent, but I did know,' he says, confirming our earlier exchange.
'But you told me how mean Simon was, and about him throwing those tenants out of the cottages.'
'I couldn't tell you the truth. Besides, I was keeping up the Simon myth.'
I don't think you needed to perpetuate it quite so readily, I think to myself. We both fall silent again, embarrassed.
'I suppose,' Will admits finally, 'that I am jealous of him in some ways.'
'Are you?' I say carefully.
'Well, he gets to defend all of this.' He sweeps his arm around in a circle to indicate the silent trees.
'How do you mean?'
'While I go about my menial day-to-day duties, Simon gets to play … I don't know … he gets to play superheros.'
I clear my throat uncomfortably. We are straying into decidedly male, not to mention sibling rivalry, territory. 'I don't think it has been that much fun. I mean, I think it looks more grand than it actually is.'
'And I was cross that he had kept the truth about the estate from me all these years, as though he thought I wasn't strong enough to take the truth.'
'He said to me that he wanted you to go to Cirencester and was worried you wouldn't. Maybe after that it was too late,' I offer, wondering why I'm sticking up for Simon.
'I'd only just returned to the estate when all that press stuff started up. It's quite hard to hear someone you resent being talked about in God-like terms. I suppose it made me resent him even more. Then the bad stuff started about him and I think I wanted to believe it.'
This chat with Will is starting to make me think. Something is shifting and I don't like it much. Will still seems like the young boy I last saw over fifteen years ago. It's unclear whether he really is a lesser man than his brother but unfortunately he is starting to behave as such. 'So you don't think the recent press Simon's had is completely fair?' I ask him.
'I don't doubt that he's been a bit ruthless, but then wouldn't you with all this to look after? The bank and the mortgage company breathing down your neck all the time?'
Simon did say that the PR company had deliberately played up his war god image. The uncomfortable thought comes squirming into my mind that Simon might actually be justified in all he has done – is perhaps even a little noble?
'He always was ruthless, even in childhood.' I chuck this in just to bring us both down to earth. I don't want us, or more specifically me, to forget who we are actually talking about.
'He was pretty nasty to you, I guess.'
'Yes! He was!' I whisper triumphantly, glad to know that I hadn't imagined that part.
'I feel guilty. I've been so critical of him, secretly thinking I can run the place better. And I suppose I said all those things about him because I wanted to spend some time with you, and I was worried that as soon as Simon got home things would go back to how they were when we were kids. Despite your tiff.'
'What do you mean?' I query.
'Well, you two were pretty cliquey, Izzy. An exclusive little club for two. You used to push Sophie and me out all the time.'
Even in the dark, I can feel his dejection. I never realised he felt so strongly about it. I reach out and touch his arm. 'God, I'm sorry, Will. I never realised.'
Before he can respond, we see a huge white lorry parked ahead. A hand pops out of the window and waves at us.
'You little beauty,' breathes Will.
Aunt Winnie clambers out of the driver's side, looking very pleased with herself. The lorry is absolutely enormous and I feel a wave of awe wash over me. She has driven that here all by herself, pausing en-route to pick up some antique furniture and subsequently saving my neck. She should be available on the NHS.
'Hello!' I whisper, going up to her, leaning over the gate and kissing her cheek.
'This is fun, Izzy! Hello Will!' Will also leans over the gate to give her a kiss. She has obviously thrown herself into the part as she is dressed in a royal blue boilersuit (considering I have never ever seen her in a pair of trousers except on school sports day this is quite a spectacle) and has a jaunty tweed cap perched on her head.
Will gets out a set of keys and, while I hold the torch over them, proceeds to try to find the right one to unlock the padlock on the gate. 'Did you find this okay?' I whisper to Aunt Winnie.
'Fine! The lanes were a little narrow though.' I bet they were; this is probably the first time that a lorry of this size has ever been down them. The route to the back of the estate consists of tiny country lanes and then a couple of tracks.
'Dear, what are you wearing?'
I glance down. 'Em, my clothes.'
'What have I told you about pink?'
'But I wear a lot of pink.'
'I've decided I don't think you should.'
Right. Marvellous.
Will finally gets the gate open and we swing it back as wide as it will go. 'Do you want me to drive the lorry back, Winnie?' he asks.
'Certainly not!'
'You two get in then, I'll close the gate.'
Aunt Winnie clambers back into the driver's side while I make heroic attempts to get into the passenger's. It is tricky to say the least. I manage to make it up the first two steps but end up lying on the seat with my bum pointing skywards. Albert is very anxious to meet Jameson, who is sitting next to Aunt Winnie, and keeps trying to leap in using me as a ladder.
'Come on, Izzy my girl! Stop pissing about with that dog!'
I'm starting to feel a little hysterical. I think I might need a nicotine patch. Just recently I've found myself thinking, 'I could really do with a cigarette'. I am absolutely positive that is not the point of them.
Aunt Winnie starts the engine, which sounds deafening in the silence of the night, and I haul myself into the cab by grabbing on to the gear stick. Albert is settled in my seat, having already scrambled over my head. I shut the door. 'There!' I say triumphantly as though I have just scaled Everest, and squash myself down next to the dogs. Aunt Winnie stifles a giggle, stops making a fuss of Albert and selects first gear. We trundle through the gate, and pause while Will shuts and locks it and then leaps in. He doesn't have my entry problems.
I didn't notice how rutted the track was as we walked down but now I wonder how I could have missed it. The lorry sways back and forth alarmingly and on occasions I wonder whether we're going to topple over completely. There is total silence as Aunt Winnie concentrates on getting us all there safely, with only a few gasps from me as tree branches seem to come out of nowhere at us. Finally, as we reach the relative smoothness of the driveway and Aunt Winnie changes down into second gear, I let go of a breath I didn't realise I was holding.
A few moments later we're in the courtyard, and as soon as Aunt Winnie turns off the engine the kitchen door opens, letting out a shaft of light on to the cobbles. Will has already leaped out.
'Be nice to Simon,' I say to our driver in a low voice. Aunt Winnie hasn't got a very reliable record of being pleasant to people she doesn't think much of and I haven't had time to fill her in. 'He's been through a lot.'
I jump carefully out of the cab; I don't particularly want to miss my footing as it's a long way to fall. Albert leaps out in front of me without any thought for body or soul, swiftly followed by Jameson. I move round to the back of the lorry where Monty, Mrs Delaney, Dominic, Flo, Simon and Will are congregated (Harry is in bed). After Aunt Winnie has made the appropriate greetings to the rest of the family, which feels quite strange in the dark and in whispered voices but we English have to observe our etiquette, Aunt Winnie presses a super whizzy button and the door of the lorry opens and then a tail-lift lowers itself down. We shine our torches in the back to reveal a pile of furniture, professionally packed, looking exactly like a removal van. I'm impressed.
'Where did you get all this, Aunt Winnie?' whispers Simon.
'I borrowed about h
alf of it; most of the heavy stuff is mine.'
'But where from?' I ask.
'The village. Told them I was taking it to The Antiques Roadshow. I saw it on the TV while I was talking to you, Izzy, and they said the next one was going to be in Norwich. So I told everyone I was taking it up there.'
Monty has to stifle a particularly loud guffaw.
'You didn't!' I say incredulously.
'I damn well did! I waltzed into their sitting rooms with my pocket antique guide under my arm and picked out what I wanted. The vicar and young Tommy helped me load everything up. I took one or two pieces from almost every house in the village. Obviously when they don't see me on the box and then talk to each other, they'll probably think I've done a bunk but, ho hum, I'll think of something.'
'You're amazing,' says Simon quite genuinely.
Aunt Winnie looks quite abashed for a second and awkwardly says, 'We'd better get this stuff in.'
'No, really,' interjects Monty, shining his torch on to her. 'You are amazing.'
This time Aunt Winnie blushes quite prettily.
The men move all the heavy stuff inside while we women shift things like occasional tables and lamps. It's quite a performance as we daren't use the front door in case anyone sees us so we have to go through the kitchen and down the long passageway into the hall. We arrange the three rooms into some sort of order – they look nothing like they did before but at least they don't look as though the bailiffs have just left. The whimsical mix of styles and eras makes the place look as though it has been furnished by an eccentric aunt, which in a way I suppose it has. The hall looks a little empty but it's such a large space that it's exceedingly difficult to fill it, so we light-finger a few spindly tables from the bedrooms upstairs and dot them around the walls.
'There!' says Aunt Flo. 'That looks quite good, doesn't it?'
It's about two in the morning and a sheep pickled in formaldehyde in the middle of the room would look fairly good to me, but we all agree and retire to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Will goes out to the courtyard to drive the lorry into one of the stables.