The House of Hopes and Dreams

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Oh, come on, Shrimp,’ he said incredulously. ‘Even if she spotted us from the Lodge, and decided to creep down through the shrubbery to listen to what we were saying, why would she be carrying some kind of box around with her to stand on? Or even know the ball was loose, so that there might be a chance of pushing it off on to my head? It doesn’t add up.’

  He had a point; several, in fact.

  ‘It does sound ridiculous when you put it like that,’ I admitted. ‘But somebody had stood on a box behind that pillar, because I saw the marks.’

  ‘There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation. It was only a couple of faint lines, wasn’t it? Someone could have propped a bike there or something.’

  I didn’t point out that bike wheels didn’t have corners.

  ‘Anyway, Ella knows now that there’s a brand-new will, so she’s got nothing to gain by bumping me off,’ he said.

  ‘No … I suppose she wouldn’t do it just for a few thousand pounds, or simply because she resented your existence.’

  ‘Depends how dippy she is, but probably not. I have to say, she does look increasingly strange and I’ve had enough of being cut dead on my own property: I’m going to have to have a word with Clem.’

  But when he reported back on the conversation, it didn’t seem to have gone terribly well.

  ‘I told Clem that we were finding Ella’s behaviour disturbing and hinted that perhaps she might have some mental health issues she should talk to her doctor about and he was quite indignant,’ Carey said.

  ‘But then,’ he added ruefully, ‘I’ve started to think that Clem is just as obsessive, in his own way. He spends almost all his time keeping the terraces immaculate, while the grounds go to pot.’

  ‘He keeps the courtyard and the topiary trees in perfect order, too,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yes, though I’m not sure I really want my trees trimming in the shape of slightly lewd lollipops.’

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve seen lots of topiary gardens and I think Lewd Lollipop has been a favourite shape for centuries. He’s just following tradition. And he probably thinks keeping the terraces in order is the most important part of his job. It certainly must be hard work and time consuming, going up and down all those steps.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right. The terraces and the Arts and Crafts façade of the house are the first things you see as you approach Mossby, but in any case, he puts in such long hours that I can’t really complain,’ Carey decided, and we left it at that for the moment.

  Perhaps Ella was just working off a fit of high dudgeon at losing her job and would come round, eventually?

  By the time the fourth of the new Complete Country Cottage programmes had aired, viewing figures had slumped to such a low level that Carey said he’d started to feel sorry for Seamus Banyan, though that didn’t stop him continuing to be infuriated by his actions.

  But meanwhile, he was totally engrossed with his own project at Mossby, and Nick and the crew swooped in and out to film all the important moments – or, if they missed them, the re-enactments.

  They were there when Carey’s wood sculptor friend came over to turn a huge piece of log into a weirdly carved bench inspired by the legend of the Sweetwell Worm, which looked as if it would writhe its serpentine coils around anyone brave enough to sit on it.

  Carey roared up and down to the barn on his new quad bike, the trailer laden with the offcuts for the wood store and, it being the weekend, Louis was roped in to help.

  At first, it had puzzled me how Vicky almost always seemed to be visiting her parents at the Lodge when the film crew was about. Then I sussed it: Louis was her mole. He constantly got texts from her, which we knew because he’d innocently impart exciting bits of information to us, like that she’d had two days’ work as an extra on some big film.

  ‘That Vicky seems mighty friendly with Louis: I don’t know what a woman of her age wants with our lad,’ Ivan said one day, having caught sight of the two of them together outside the workshop. ‘If she’s not sending him messages, then they’re meeting up and she’s all over him like a rash.’

  ‘I think that’s just her natural routine with any man, and he’s a handsome boy, after all.’

  But Ivan didn’t look convinced and when Louis came in he said directly, ‘I don’t know what you and that Vicky find to talk about.’

  Louis flushed slightly. ‘Films, mostly. And being an actress she’s interested in Nick and the crew and how they’re shooting the documentary.’

  He must have felt some criticism in the air, because he added quickly, ‘She doesn’t ask me anything about the workshop.’

  ‘Just as well, because Angel doesn’t want you discussing her business with anyone else,’ Ivan told him severely.

  ‘I haven’t really got any business so far, Ivan,’ I said.

  ‘You soon will,’ he assured me.

  I hoped he was right.

  There were lots of big projects that would keep Carey occupied – and the film rolling – for years and years.

  There were the buildings round the courtyard, for a start, which could one day be developed, not to mention the old walled garden beyond it, a tangled Sleeping Beauty’s bower. Carey did remove the padlock from the gate one day, aided and abetted by Nick and Jorge, and ventured in, but after a couple of feet you’d have had to slash your way through with a machete so they had to give up.

  I suspected that would be the next year’s big project and would involve sunburn, backache, nettle rash, blisters and a lot of thorns.

  On evenings when we hadn’t got anyone staying with us, Carey and I often worked together in our shared studio at the house. He inputted all the information about his day’s work into his computer, a sort of diary with photographs, which eventually would form the basis of his books.

  I’d begun to go through all the material I’d amassed on the subject of Victorian female glass artists, most of which didn’t make it into my college dissertation. I certainly had enough for a book, and Jessie Kaye and her work would form the heart of it. I’d be able to include new material on the Mossby windows, and if living here and working in her studio didn’t inspire me to write it, then nothing would!

  The cartoon of the Lady Anne window still hung opposite where I sat, so that I often found myself idly gazing at it … and slowly I began to wonder if Carey and I had misread the meaning of it and it wasn’t commemorating a short but happy married life at all.

  By now I’d found a sampler of a similar age to the window in the darkest corner of the muniment room, which bore some striking similarities to the window, including featuring the old house in the middle. But there was no clue to who had made it, or whether it predated the window and might have inspired it, or vice versa.

  ‘It might even have been sewn by Lady Anne herself,’ I suggested when I showed it to Carey.

  He looked from the sampler to the cartoon. ‘They both have the house and the three women, with the figure of the man in the cornfield below …’

  ‘But he’s dressed as a Cavalier – he can’t possibly be cutting corn in that outfit!’ I objected. ‘And anyway, if he’s supposed to be Phillip Revell, then he wouldn’t be doing manual work himself at all, would he?’

  ‘I suppose that is a bit odd, Shrimp – and if he’s Phillip, then you’d expect him to be part of the group by the house, with the rest of his family, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘It’s very curious,’ I said, but if there was a puzzle there, a message to be understood, I had no idea what it could be.

  Mr Browne being away the following day, I asked Ralph about the secret cavity in the muniment room and he said that indeed there was one, just big enough to hold an ancient Spanish Chest, in which were stored many old papers relating to the family.

  He told me, as Honoria had said, that the secret was handed down to each heir, but then added quite casually that since it would be a pity if the way of opening it should be lost if some mischance befall him, he would show it to me.


  It was very ingenious but not terribly exciting, being a space just large enough to hold the old chest containing the papers. But then he took me to see another in the Great Hall, the trick of which was common knowledge, and this one was quite large enough to hide a man.

  Ralph says there are supposed to be more, to which the secret has been lost, for one of the foremost makers of these ingenious hiding places was known to have worked at Mossby.

  As you might imagine, this gave me very much to think about – and to wonder if Lady Anne might have concealed some secret or item of value in one of them, and this was the message she was trying to convey in her window?

  32

  Fired

  Carey had been to a couple of Halfhidden regeneration committee meetings and was now firmly committed to Mossby being on the ghost trail. Suddenly we realized how little time there was to get ready, because Easter was in early April that year.

  Things had not improved with Ella, so Carey was reluctantly forced to have yet another word with Clem, pointing out that if she continued to avoid all contact, he would not only cease allowing her free access to the Elizabethan wing, but also assume she wasn’t interested in the seasonal position of tour guide when he opened it to the public.

  This seemed to have been passed on with some effect, because Ella suddenly agreed to meet us to discuss things, which took place in one of the rooms at the back of the Great Hall.

  Her manner remained wooden while Carey explained his plans and she neither displayed any enthusiasm, nor even made eye contact, which wasn’t encouraging.

  But then when he added that the room we were then sitting in would be used as a kind of office, to keep the cashbox, float, account book and supplies in, rather than in the main house, she suddenly perked up.

  It appeared that when she worked at a National Trust property, they counted the stock of items for sale every morning and evening, right down to the last pencil, and compared it with the takings. This seemed a bit excessive, but since the thought of doing it that way at Mossby appeared to buck her up no end, Carey told her she could organize it along the same lines if she wanted to.

  ‘One of us will come over at closing time to help cash up and so on,’ he added. ‘We won’t want to leave anything more than the next day’s float in the till, or cash drawer, or whatever it is we have.’

  This too must have been in line with how it was done at the National Trust property, for she didn’t make any objection.

  ‘If that’s it, then, I’ll be off,’ she said, getting up abruptly and striding off, and when we heard the slam of the heavy front door, we looked at each other.

  ‘Well, that went better than I expected,’ I said. ‘Though it was a bit disconcerting, the way she didn’t make eye contact and talked without moving her lips.’

  ‘The visitors aren’t exactly going to find her a vision of cheery welcome if she’s like that with them,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll just have to see how it goes, and of course I’ll be on hand for the first few days after we open to the public, making sure everything’s OK. If she has some kind of meltdown, or doesn’t show up, I can take over.’

  ‘I don’t mind doing the tour guide thing occasionally, too,’ I offered. ‘It’s only going to be afternoons anyway, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, two till four, Fridays to Mondays inclusive, to start with. Then we’ll see. I’ll think about allowing coach parties too, possibly on a separate afternoon, but our facilities are a bit basic: we’ve no toilet or refreshments on site.’

  ‘I expect the visitors won’t mind. After all, it won’t take them long to go round the house and buy a few postcards and souvenirs. If they’ve walked down from the farm, Lulu said they were serving refreshments in season, so we don’t need to.’

  Carey had ordered more of the little brass stands and ropes to cordon off access into some of the rooms, a postcard rack and a trestle table for the souvenirs and guidebooks … which we hadn’t yet had printed. Cam, who apparently is an ace photographer and took the pictures for all the postcards that are on sale up and down the ghost trail, had offered to do our postcard photos and then we could use some of them in the glossy brochure. Carey was working on that. There was already a free leaflet, but it wasn’t very illuminating.

  Cam’s mum, who had the village shop in Halfhidden, sent us the details of the firm who supplied the small souvenirs she sold, since she did a good trade in those. We decided on the usual range of rulers, bookmarks, pencils, pens, keyrings, etc., all with ‘The Haunted Elizabethan Wing, Mossby’ printed on them.

  Carey and Clem had started erecting wooden posts on either side of any path or part of the drive that we didn’t want the visitors to go down, so they could be quickly roped off on open days, and several sign boards had been ordered.

  ‘Though there’ll always be some visitors who ignore the “Private – No Entry” signs entirely and wander off,’ he said pessimistically.

  ‘Well, if they wander off into the lake, or off the edge of the top terrace, you’d better make sure your insurance covers it, like Molly said,’ I pointed out practically. ‘Fire, theft, accident and imbecility.’

  We both took one morning off and drove up to Halfhidden together, because Carey wanted to see how his gates were coming along and Izzy had rung me to say my new jacket was ready.

  We found Foxy in the Sweetwell courtyard, painting the iron hoops on an old half-barrel, and she told us she’d had a great time working on Carey’s gates. They were now finished, bar a second coat on one of the back ones and a little gilding.

  Hearing our voices, Rufus came out of one of the stables and he and Carey vanished into the barn to have a look at the gates, while I went upstairs to Izzy’s workshop and knocked on the door, feeling quite excited to see my new jacket, the first bespoke garment I’d ever had!

  And when I did, I was absolutely stunned, because it was simply beautiful! It was sewn in squares of embroidered or patterned velvets in bright, jewel colours: rich reds and greens, amber and darkest rose. It was so gorgeous that when I put it on I was speechless, so for a minute Izzy was afraid I didn’t like it, but didn’t know how to tell her!

  ‘Just as well you do like it,’ she said, when I finally found my voice, ‘because I got carried away and made a dress to go with it, though of course, you don’t have to buy it if you don’t want it.’

  It was a tunic style, the sleeves and body in plain dark green velvet, but with a long trail of tiny tumbling diamonds in the same jewel colours as the coat. They ran from one shoulder down and across and round in a great sari-like swirl that finished at the hem. When I put it on, I thought I looked quite transformed, even if I was still wearing my jeans and big black boots under it.

  ‘You’re so petite that you can take that design, and I haven’t made the squares very big in either jacket or dress,’ she said, critically admiring her own handiwork.

  ‘Oh, I love both – and of course I want them! They’re worth every penny and I’ll wear them to death, like I do all my favourite clothes.’

  ‘I’ll give you a discount: mate’s rates,’ she said with a grin. ‘They’ve given me an idea for a whole new collection of jackets and dresses for next winter, too. Yours are one-offs, so they won’t be exactly the same, just running with the appliqué velvet idea.’

  ‘I’ll probably be back for more,’ I said, then invited her, Rufus and Foxy to my workshop opening party on the 14th at six o’clock, for drinks, nibbles and a cake.

  It sounded terribly civilized, though if Nick and the gang came up for it, it probably wouldn’t stay that way for long.

  The day after the fifth of Seamus Banyan’s programmes aired, Carey’s agent called and told him that since the current series was bombing, they wouldn’t be renewing Seamus’s contract.

  ‘And they wanted to know if I’d go back,’ he said, relaying this conversation to me. Then he explained, immodestly, ‘My many fans are clamouring for my return.’

  ‘So … are you thinking about it?’
/>   ‘You have to be joking, Angel, after the way they dumped me!’

  ‘Yes, they were a bit hasty, to say the least. But I suppose they thought that even if you recovered, it would be a long time before you were ready to work again.’

  ‘They made a snap decision and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it, because of that clause they slipped into the contract,’ he said, and it was clear this still rankled.

  ‘Did you tell your agent you’re not interested?’

  ‘He didn’t really expect I would be, because ITV are definitely taking the new series.’

  ‘Really? Oh, that’s great news!’ I exclaimed delightedly.

  ‘It will be, if it’s a success.’

  ‘Of course it will be. It’ll run for years and years. When will the news be out?’

  ‘As soon as the contract’s been drawn up, I suppose,’ he said. ‘That’ll ruffle a few feathers!’

  Daisy must have been delegated to change Carey’s mind about going back to do a new series of The Complete Country Cottage, because she rang up that evening while we were in the studio. He’d just been talking to his mum on a faint and faraway line to Arizona, so the phone was turned up to max volume and she came across loud and clear.

  ‘Carey?’

  He grimaced at me and made ‘stay put’ gestures when I would have tactfully retreated.

  ‘Well, this is a surprise, Daisy,’ he said. ‘Where did you get my number from?’

  ‘You rang me from it a few days ago, remember? I rang your mobile first, though, and sent you loads of texts, but you didn’t answer.’

  ‘I forgot to charge it – it’s still plugged in in the kitchen, come to think of it. What was so urgent?’

  ‘Well … it’s this way,’ she began in soft, persuasive tones. ‘Carl, The Complete Country Cottage producer—’

  ‘I know who Carl is,’ Carey interrupted. ‘The slight concussion didn’t affected my memory.’

  ‘Right … Anyway, he – we – just wanted to say how disappointed and surprised we are that you don’t want to return for the new series. Naturally, we only saw Seamus as a temporary replacement until you were ready to return, but perhaps we didn’t make that clear enough?’