She felt strong and able to win, brushing her hair until it was smooth as silk again, then going to bed
and putting on the alarm clock because it was almost two in the morning.
She wondered if Coll would oversleep up there in her home that was now his home, and which bedroom he was using. When she closed her eyes she remembered the rooms again, how they had been, how they were now, and in her dreams she walked through each, opening door after door quietly in the night.
She recalled her dream in her first waking moments, and wondered what she could have been seeking.
She had set the alarm for half past eight, but she woke just after seven and lay sleepily, going over her dream, trying to decide whether to get up or go to sleep again. Then she heard the car go by and thought —early start for Coll.
He was out of the way. The coast was clear, the house and the stables were all hers. That settled it; she got up, although while she was drinking coffee and making a piece of toast she reminded herself of her resolution never to make believe she was anything but a servant in the Manor House.
There were to be no daydreams. Coll Sullivan was owner and master and the old days would never come back. But Dora felt less depressed than yesterday when she walked up the drive, and she went to look at the horses before she went into the house.
Damozel came as soon as she opened the top of the stable door, as though greeting a friend, and that lightened Dora's heart. The hunter got to its feet, but it resisted her blandishments and stood well back and she laughed. 'Take your time, I'll be around for the next six months, and I'll be seeing to your breakfast if that groom doesn't turn up soon.'
She left the tops of the doors open and went looking
for her instructions, which she found where she had put the lists for Coll, on the counter in the hall.
He had signed the bottom of each typewritten page, with an occasional amendment. By 'Pictures' she had put a query, and he had written, 'All reproductions, all cheap. If any appeal to you hang on to them. Let the rest go.'
It shouldn't have been up to her to choose what hung on his walls, although they were going to look very bare if all the pictures went. Some of them were attractive, and if it was part of her job she'd do a selection. If he didn't approve he should have taken the trouble to make his own.
She turned to the handwritten notes. She had never seen his writing before, but she felt she might have guessed it would look the way it did: black, legible, strong and upright. It had the stamp of authority.
The groom would be arriving this morning and so would the pantechnicon. Dora was to supervise the removals and Coll would see her this evening about seven o'clock.
She said, 'That should keep me going for the day.'
Talking to herself, in a chirpy voice, made her feel less lonely. And now, as well as Tip, there were two horses outside, and a groom on his way, and a full schedule with the removal men.
Coll had written 'Excellent typing', referring to her lists, and she grimaced. What did he expect? That they would look as though she typed with her toes? She took a pen from her handbag and wrote, 'Thank you. We can't all be tycoons, but with practice we can all be typists.'
She was upstairs, checking the pictures again, when
Tip started to yap and then someone called, 'Miss Dora?'
'Tommy?' She hurried out of the bedroom on to the landing and along to the stairs, and was half way down when a man came into the hall from the kitchen passage.
He was middle height, with shoulders so broad they were out of proportion and arms a fraction too long. His physique, with a brown wrinkled face and hair that managed to look brown and wrinkled too, gave him the appearance of a small and amiable gorilla.
'I wondered if it might be you,' said Dora, and fled down the rest of the stairs to grab him like a long-lost friend. It wasn't that long since she had seen him, he lived in the village and did occasional work for a local riding school, but he had to be the groom Coll had told her was coming, because Tommy Corbett had been groom to the horses here in her father's day.
'Like old times, isn't it?' he said with a broad grin, and Dora made her own grin as wide.
'Yes,' she said, although that was never going to be true.
'They look all right.' He jerked his head in the direction of the stables—he meant the horses.
'They're super,' she agreed.
'You're getting the place straight, then?' Tommy must be in his late sixties now, but he had never seemed to change in all the years she had known him. He had taught her to ride, and when her father died and everything was sold Tommy, always a man of few words, had walked around as though he was shell-shocked, shaking his head, his world in ruins as well as theirs.
Dora asked, 'Do you remember Coll Sullivan?' 'A tinker lad, yes. He could ride.'
'What do you think of him now?'
Tommy grinned again, showing gappy teeth. 'He ain't a tinker any more, is he? Nice, somebody like that buying the old place. Putting horses back in the stables.'
'Mmm,' said Dora, and Tommy gave her a shrewd look.
'What brought him back here, then? You?'
'Goodness, coll He saw the house advertised and he wanted a house.' With the Hoicrofts thrown in for good measure, they might have tipped the balance, but not—as Tommy thought—because he had liked them.
'Going to live in it, is he?' Tommy asked. 'Just him?'
'Yes.' She didn't know that for sure. He could be bringing people down, maybe the girl who rode the mare. 'He'll need a staff, of course,' she said.
'Like the old days.' Tommy liked the sound of that, he kept saying it. He looked around the hall. 'What about all this?' There had been no counter in the hall in the old days.
'It's being taken away,' Dora explained. 'Some men are coming today to move it all, and then there'll just be furniture, and it will look like a home again.'
'I'll go and see about the paddock, said Tommy, satisfied.
She hadn't been in the paddock, but hawthorn hedges divided it from neighbouring fields, it should still be a secure place to let the horses run free. Tommy would soon have it secure if there were any gaps in the hedge or holes in the ground.
Dora had wondered if the groom might be Tommy, and she wondered who the rest of the staff would be.
Ten years had dispersed the rest, Dora had lost touch with all except the housekeeper, and she was housekeeping for her widower brother and his family in Lancashire, she wasn't looking for another job.
It was becoming exciting. She had expected to start all this 'putting back the clock' under a cloud of depression, but the challenge was charging her batteries, pepping up the adrenalin.
Half an hour later the removal men arrived, and from then on there was noise and clatter and bustle, and she had no time to think about anything except what she was doing.
It was easy enough to indicate the articles Coll didn't want, but there were fixtures to be taken down, and during the dismantling of the counter and shelves the air in the hall was thick with floating motes of dust.
In the middle of it all Thea phoned. The phone was on the floor, and Dora sat on the floor to answer, coughing as the dust hit her tonsils.
`What's happening?' asked Thea.
'They're taking the stuff away out of the hall.' `Want any help?'
'I shouldn't bring Kiki into this, there's a lot of dust flying.' They were unscrewing the shelves away from the wall at that stage. 'Tell Simon Tommy's back,' said Dora, 'and there are two beautiful horses in the paddock.'
'We know,' said Thea. They would have seen Coll last night, but they didn't know Dora and Coll had been out riding. They couldn't have heard the horses clopping along in the quiet dark night. Dora opened her mouth to impart that bit of news, and Thea laughed.
`It's nice about Tommy,' she said, before Dora could speak, 'but I'm petrified of horses. A bike was more my style, and I gave them up when I went into long skirts.'
Dora began coughing again. 'We'll come along when the shop shuts,'
said Thea, and left Dora coughing away.
When the removal men had gone the hall looked strange. The walls, where the shelves had been, would have to be redecorated, but she could do something about the pattern that the counter had left on the polished floor. She found dusters, a broom, a polishing mop, a tin of polish, and swept out the hall, then worked hard getting the shine back on the wooden blocks of the floor.
Tip had been fastened up most of the day. He was small and lively and could easily have slipped under someone's feet. If the someone had been furniture removing at the time there could have been a mighty crash, so Dora had shut him in a small downstairs room in which he had passed the time either sleeping or yapping.
He came shooting out, and investigated busily for a few minutes. Then he stretched out on the bottom step of the staircase and watched Dora cleaning the hall.
After a while Tommy came in. 'Well, Miss Dora,' he said, 'I never thought to see this.' This was Dora, on her knees, polishing the floor; and that made her smile because it was a long time since anyone had done her housework. Tommy must know that. She had seen him from time to time in the last ten years. He knew she worked for her living, and lived alone, just as he knew that the 'young master' ran a shop. But back here, in the Manor House, he was astonished to find 'Miss Dora' getting her dainty little hands dirty.
She said, 'I work here now.'
'That's all right, but—scrubbing floors!'
`Polishing, actually, although it could do with scrubbing. How about getting us another cup of tea?'
It was mouth-drying work, cleaning up, although the house hadn't been empty long. Another day or so, perhaps the help of another strong-armed woman, and Dora would have the place clean. She had enjoyed today, and she went into the kitchen to drink her tea with Tommy.
He had been groom here for the best years of his life. He remembered her father with affection and the firm belief that someone had cheated Laurence Holcroft out of the Manor House and all that went with it.
No one had. He had cheated himself. But Tommy still thought he was king and Dora had to listen to rambling tales that stirred sad memories for her.
But it wasn't unbearable. She managed to smile at Tommy's racier accounts, and when he said, 'And we're back here now, who'd have thought that'd ever happen,' she said,
`So we are.' She had never thought to be back, and she had to wait until Simon arrived and told her what kind of contract he had signed with Coll before she would know what price she was expected to pay.
When she read the copy of the contract that evening she read that it was up to her. That was what it came down to, as she had already been told. If she walked out the loan could be called in.
'I suppose I can now describe myself as a rich man's whim,' she said. 'It sounds Victorian, doesn't it? Fair but frail.'
Simon hooted. 'Frail? You? You're tough as old boots.'
'Right, brother,' she said, and wondered if that was true, and wondered what would happen to her if it wasn't. She said, in a broad country accent, 'Anyhow, master 'll be ' about seven,' and reverted to her own voice. 'And I'm through my first day, so I've only got about another hundred and seventy-nine to go.'
Tommy pedalled off on his cranky old bike before Coll came. It was only 'family' in the kitchen, and Coll came in as though he had been doing this for years, and always finding them waiting for him. He was elegant in city clothes against Simon's country tweeds, - and Dora felt particularly dishevelled.
Thea had brought food again and Coll walked around eating a ham and lettuce sandwich, looking at the gaps where the hotel furniture used to be, deciding with Simon and Thea how they were going to be filled.
Dora deliberately kept her opinions to herself. In any case she agreed with the suggestions that were coming up. It would be super if the house could develop along those lines. It would be a lovely home again.
They went out to the stables, Simon and Dora and Coll. Thea stayed where she could hear Kiki if the baby woke up, and as she told them all again, she wasn't enthusiastic about horses. 'Too big,' she said. 'I like little furry animals,' and she patted Tip.
'I'll be away for the next fortnight,' Coll said when the three of them were in the courtyard. 'I'd be glad if you'd exercise the horses.'
'You bet I' grinned Simon.
'We'd like that,' said Dora. So he wouldn't be here for two whole weeks. She would be nominally in charge and she would like that too. 'What are my
duties while you're away?'
`Your duties.' Coll turned that smile on her. 'That sounds very subservient.'
`What do you expect me to do to earn my salary?' she said shortly, because that hadn't amused her.
`Get the house ready. Interview the staff.'
`What staff?'
`How many do I need to run this place?'
They were standing around Loki's stable door, Coll was stroking his neck and the great dark head turned as though it was following the conversation.
'We had a housekeeper, didn't we?' Simon recalled. `One girl who lived in and another who used to come in from the village, a gardener and Tommy.'
`Ever tried hiring domestic staff these days?' said Dora to Coll.
`No, but I've never found any difficulty in getting service. Have you?'
'Of course I haven't hired anybody.' He knew that. `Do your best,' he said. 'If you can't manage it I'll deal with the problem when I get back.'
`What wages do I offer?' He told her and she nodded. She'd get a staff together. If she couldn't find resident help she'd find local, who wanted work for the hours while the children were at school. She was supposed to be the housekeeper, and it suddenly became a matter of personal pride to her that the house should be smoothly run.
As they walked back across the courtyard it was Simon who asked, 'Are you going to live here on your own?'
I'll have guests coming down.'
`Girl-friends?' said Dora. Not that it was of any
interest to her, she just asked for something to say. 'Probably.'
'Anyone in particular?' She looked at him with cool amusement as they walked into the house.
'Yes.'
'What's she like?' Not that Dora cared, again she was just talking, and Coll sounded surprised and amused.
'Not unlike you to look at, but that's where the resemblance ends.'
'I've often thought there are a lot of women who look like me,' she said.
Simon went seeking Thea, who was in the room where Kiki was sleeping. As she walked into the kitchen Dora asked, 'Doesn't she mind you trying to seduce other women?'
'No.'
'Funny girl!'
She went to the table and began to gather food together. She didn't know if Thea wanted to take the remains home with her, or if they could stay here. She could feel Coll's eyes on her, all the time, and she didn't want to look at him.
But she did. She glanced across to where he was standing, and met a look of such direct intensity that she couldn't turn her head away again. She had to stare back.
She had a terrifying feeling of being on the edge of a precipice, with a roaring in her ears, poised to fall into some maelstrom from which there could be no escape.
He said softly, 'It will happen.'
He meant that he would be her lover. 'No!' she whispered. She didn't hear Simon and Thea until they were in the room beside her, although they had come
laughing and talking along the corridor.
Simon and Thea and Dora, and Kiki—and Tip, of course—all left together. It had been a pleasant evening; Coll was urbane and charming and Simon looked years younger because he had Coll's cheque in the bank, and Coll's commission to find the furniture that the house would be needing.
Dora was in bed, trying to sleep, when she heard the soft clop-clop of hooves on the gravel. She had gone straight to bed as soon as she got home, and she was glad the lodge was in darkness in case he might have come for her. Tonight she could not have gone riding.
But there was no check
in the rhythm of the hooves and she listened, holding her breath, as the black hunter went by.
During the next two weeks Dora was constantly surprised to find herself feeling so happy. She knew that too much contentment was foolish, but it was good to be in the old house again, helping Simon and Thea arrange the new pieces of furniture. She waited for the purchases to arrive, so excited that she was dancing around the rooms like a sixteen-year-old.
She got staff locally. She got the man who had worked as gardener while the Manor was a guesthouse, and a woman who had helped with the cleaning. Until she knew what kind of entertaining Coll planned to do she could probably handle the cooking herself.
She was busy from morning till night. She worked in the house' and the garden. Sometimes early morning, sometimes in the evening, she and Simon rode on the heath, and every day was a challenge and an achievement. At the end of every day she felt that the house looked a little better.
She couldn't put Coll completely out of her mind. He was the pivot of everything that was happening. He was abroad, but accounts had to be prepared for when he came back. They had to abide by his rules. He had told them to employ domestic help, to exercise the horses, to buy what they were buying. But sometimes she pretended she was pleasing herself.
One thing she decided was to stay in the house overnight. The staff all lived out, and there were several items now that might tempt a thief. A house that was empty by night was asking for trouble, and a girl and a barking dog were better than no guards at all.
She would go back to the lodge to sleep as soon as Coll returned, but while he was out of the country she did feel responsible.
By habit she chose the room she had slept in until she was seventeen, but there was nothing familiar left in there. When she woke in the mornings she had to get out of bed and look out of the window, or walk into the corridor, before she felt as though she was back in the Manor.
If she lay awake at night she had to close her eyes, shutting out the faint shadowy shape of the furnishings, and then the sounds of the house brought her comfort and a sense of security.
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