by Rosie Green
‘I’m just so delighted we have it in time for the manor’s launch day next weekend,’ she says. ‘Everyone’s going to love it.’
‘Have you had a go?’ I ask, joking really.
‘Of course I have!’ She smiles, looking suddenly years younger. ‘I got it for me, really, but don’t tell anyone. I’ve always fancied sailing through the trees. You should have a go yourself.’
I murmur that I probably won’t. It might be because I’m living in a state of uncertainty – a sort of limbo – right now, but I don’t fancy taking risks of any kind. As far as flying through the trees goes, I’d far rather keep my feet planted firmly on safe ground.
But at lunchtime, I take a wander over there to check it out.
I arrive to find Harry stretched out along a low wooden bench in the empty playground, hands behind his head, staring up at the sky.
My heart lurches at the sight of him. I haven’t seen him since I had to depart fairly swiftly after the zumba class following Jules’s call. I’d been hoping he might come along to another class during the week but he didn’t and I’d tried not to read anything into it.
He suddenly sees me and raises himself up. ‘Hi, there. How long have you been standing there?’
‘Oh, long enough.’ I nod at the bench. ‘Is that comfortable?’
‘No. It’s bloody not.’ He gets up, pretending to hold into his back in agony. Then he gives a huge stretch and I catch a tantalising glimpse of tanned washboard stomach.
Desire leaps inside me.
‘So what do you think of it, then?’ He nods at the zip wire that seems to start on a wooden platform in the trees.
I gaze at it doubtfully, walking towards him. ‘It’s a bit too high for me. I prefer to stay on the ground. Things like that make me nervous.’
I’m expecting him to laugh and tell me I need to have a go.
But he just nods thoughtfully. ‘I don’t like things like that, either. They give me the chills.’
‘Right.’ I glance at him in surprise. ‘I’d have put money on you being the sort to dive right in for a laugh.’
He swallows and looks away. ‘Maybe you don’t know me well enough yet.’
‘Maybe not.’ My heart flutters a little at the ‘yet’.
I want to remind him about the wining and dining thing but the time doesn’t seem right. Harry seems in an unusually serious mood.
‘You don’t seem your usual cheerful self today,’ I say, wanting to know what’s bothering him.
‘Don’t I?’ He gives a half-hearted smile.
‘No. You’re usually joking about everything.’
‘Is there something wrong with that?’
I glance at him. He’s looking away into the trees.
‘No, but everyone has to get serious some of the time.’
‘Do they?’ He grins ruefully. ‘Well, I’d rather not, given the choice.’
I look at him, not sure what to say to that.
He shrugs. ‘What’s wrong with laughing at life? For me personally, if I don’t look at the funny side, I’d probably never get out of bed in the morning.’ His eyes flash with some dark emotion I can’t identify. I’ve obviously hit a nerve.
I nod. ‘There’s a lot to be said for trying to stay positive when life seems to be going from bad to worse.’
We exchange a wistful smile and I walk off, leaving Harry to his thoughts . . .
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The morning of the Brambleberry Manor Georgian Day dawns hot with not a wisp of cloud to mar the endless blue sky.
Ellie and I drive along together in her car. The gates open at eleven, in two hours’ time, but we’re here to check over things in the makeshift cafe.
I keep wishing Titch, Jules and Chloe could come along today. Maisie would adore Titch, I’m sure. Being younger, Maisie would probably be in awe of eight-year-old Titch, the way children tend to be. She would love the dressing up part. But it would be too much of a risk having Jules and the girls here. What if Grant decided to come along? It gives me chills just thinking of the scene he would cause if he knew I’d been here all along. Especially in the unstable state he seems to have been in recently.
I glance at Ellie’s profile. She looks distracted, a slight frown on her face. I know she’s worried about her mum coming along later and getting lost in the crowds. I get the feeling that like me with Titch, Rose is never very far from her mind these days . . .
‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Is it Rose?’
She sighs. ‘I wish I could keep an eye on her all the time but I can’t. I suppose I’ve just got to get used to it.’
‘She’ll be fine. She’s in the perfect place,’ I remind her gently, and she nods.
‘You look great, by the way,’ she says. ‘Lizzie Bennett, eat your heart out. That bodice definitely shows off your best assets!’
‘They were surprisingly revealing in those days.’ I laugh, glancing down at my white and pale green floral-sprigged empire-line dress with its low-cut square neckline. I must admit I’m a little bit in love with my outfit. While the bodice is fitted, the long skirt skims loosely over my curves in a very flattering way.
Ellie is wearing a similar style of dress but hers has a deep pink skirt that flows to the ground and a cream bodice with toning pink trim around the V-shaped neckline.
As we drive into the grounds of the manor, Ellie spots Fen standing by the lake. Her long dress is cream with a little lilac jacket and matching bonnet. ‘What’s she doing?’
We park into the verge and step daintily over the grass to join her.
‘Where are your parasols?’ asks Fen, grinning. ‘Georgian ladies prided themselves on their pale complexions. It meant they were wealthy enough not to have to labour in the fields.’
I laugh. ‘You’ve been listening to my tour guide talk. You look really pretty, by the way. But why are you down here by yourself?’
‘Oh, I’ve just had an obsessed Mum going mental about today for the past three months. And now that the day has arrived, she doesn’t seem to care any more.’ She throws up her hands in despair.
Ellie frowns. ‘Now that I don’t believe!’
‘Well, you should believe it. Because it’s true. I’ve managed to rally her a little but she’s in a really weird mood. She’s even thinking of cancelling the party tonight, which to be honest I’d be quite pleased about because I hate those social things, having to make polite conversation to people I’ve never met.’
As if she wasn’t already working hard enough, Lady R has organised a party and fireworks for family and friends tonight, to celebrate a brand new era for Brambleberry Manor.
‘I thought the party was just a close friends and family thing,’ says Ellie.
Fen shrugs. ‘Same difference. I still get really nervous, wondering what I’m going to say to people.’
‘Your mum’s probably acting that way because she’s nervous. She’s put so much into this and she’s obviously desperate for it to work out. I know what I was like when I led my first zumba class. I was so scared I’d mess up, I couldn’t eat a thing the day before.’
‘Did you manage to talk your dad into coming today?’ Ellie asks, picking up a stone and trying to skim it across the smooth surface of the lake.
Fen shakes her head. ‘He was really weird when I spoke to him yesterday. He wouldn’t commit to being here but I sort of had a feeling he was planning something.’
‘Like what?’ I ask.
She groans. ‘I don’t know. It was just a feeling I had. I just hope he’s not thinking of sabotaging the whole event.’
‘He wouldn’t do that, would he?’ I ask in horror.
Fen kicks at a tuft of grass. ‘Ow! These ballet slippers aren’t exactly very sturdy.’ She frowns. ‘He wouldn’t try to ruin things but he can be quite dramatic when he’s annoyed about something. The rows he and Mum had could practically be heard all the way to Sunnybrook! And I know full well how much he despises the idea of getting dressed up in Geo
rgian costume for the benefit of a whole load of people he’s never even met. He’s a private sort of person, my dad. The reason he left was because he couldn’t bear the thought of his home being invaded by lots of strangers every weekend.’
‘I can see his point,’ murmurs Ellie.
‘Well, yes, but if Mum’s plan means keeping the house in the family . . .’ Fen shrugs miserably. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Why can’t I have normal parents like everyone else?’
‘Is Ethan here yet?’
Colour rushes into Fen’s cheeks. ‘Yes. They’re doing a final dress rehearsal.’ She smiles shyly. ‘Ethan asked me if I wanted to join them – be a member of the am dram group.’
We glance at her in surprise.
‘But you said no?’ asks Ellie.
‘I’d imagine that’s your idea of a nightmare,’ I murmur. ‘Going on stage.’
‘Oh, I won’t be acting. I’ll just be helping out behind the scenes. Anyway, I’d better go and find Mum. Last time I saw her, she was planning to dig up a rose bush and destroy it because Dad planted it for her.’ She gives us a despairing look and departs in the direction of the main entrance.
‘Poor Lady R,’ murmurs Ellie.
I nod ‘And poor Fen. Mind you, I can’t quite believe she agreed to join the drama group.’
Ellie grins. ‘The power of love, eh?’
‘Right, come on. Let’s go and see what the café in the barn is like.’
Fen has been baking non-stop for the past few days, supplying The Little Duck Pond Café as usual but also baking dozens of scones, biscuits and muffins for today. Lady R has asked if we could oversee proceedings in the café while Fen’s in the little makeshift kitchen, making up the cream teas on demand and keeping a constant supply of hot drinks on the go.
There are no tours planned for today. Visitors will just be allowed to wander around the rooms themselves, although Lady R and a couple of her friends will be on hand to answer any questions. The am dram group’s performance of Pride & Prejudice will take place at two o’clock and is free to the visiting public, so we’re expecting a large influx of visitors around that time.
When we walk into the barn, both of us gasp. The transformation to cosy café is a triumph. I can’t believe what Fen and Lady R have managed to do. It’s a fairly cavernous space, but they’ve given the impression of a lowered ceiling by draping swathes of gauzy fabric from the sides of the barn to a central pole. It has the feel of a marquee. The pole itself has fresh flowers and greenery wound round it, and with the pretty floral cloths on the tables, the overall effect is beautiful.
Fen is in the kitchen area at the back, getting the serving counter ready. She’s discarded her bonnet and her shiny dark hair has been scooped on top of her head, a pink rose fixed to the side.
‘Fen, you look amazing,’ smiles Ellie.
I nod. ‘You’re positively glowing.’
She gives us a shy little smile and asks if we’ll count the cake forks and make sure there’s enough saucers for the number of cups.
We set to work and the hands on the clock creep around to eleven.
Sylvia, Mick and Ellie’s mum, Rose, are our first customers in the café and Fen gets to work producing strawberries and cream, homemade shortbread and a large pot of tea.
‘Oh my, this is marvellous, Fen!’ says Sylvia, linking Rose’s arm and gazing around her in awe. ‘Don’t you think so, Mick?’
Mick smiles at her. ‘I’m no expert on café décor, I must say, but this does look amazing.’
Both Sylvia and Mick are sporting deep tans, having just stepped off the ship from a Mediterranean cruise.
‘Look at you two,’ laughs Ellie. ‘Brown as berries. I don’t suppose you have time to miss The Little Duck Pond Café, Sylvia.’
A sentimental look crosses Sylvia’s face at the mention of the café she established after her husband died. ‘I loved it. I really did. But once Mick swept me off my feet, I knew I had to move on.’ She glances at Mick and he winks at her. ‘But I placed it in very capable hands,’ she adds, nudging Ellie with a smile. ‘You’ve worked absolute wonders with it, my love.’
‘I thought there was tea and biscuits,’ says Rose suddenly, and everyone laughs.
‘Coming up,’ I tell her, as Fen carries a large tray over to their table.
‘Thanks for collecting Mum,’ Ellie murmurs to Sylvia, looking anxious. ‘I would have gone myself but Fen needed help here.’
Sylvia presses her arm and gives her head a little shake. ‘It was no problem whatsoever. I love your mum. She’s absolutely wonderful.’
Ellie gives her a grateful smile but I can tell her worries about not doing enough for her mum are still plaguing her.
Rose glances approvingly at the contents of the tray Fen is unloading. ‘Roger would love this,’ she announces. ‘Strawberries are his absolute favourite.’
Sylvia looks questioningly at Ellie and murmurs, ‘Who is this Roger she keeps talking about?’
‘Mum’s Great Uncle Roger. Long gone, I’m afraid.’
‘Ah!’ Sylvia smiles fondly at Rose. Then she glances over at the entrance. ‘There’s Robert, Mick!’ She turns to Ellie and me. ‘Mick’s son. He’s a solicitor on the south coast but he’s up visiting us for the day.’
A youngish man with sandy-coloured hair, glasses and a friendly smile walks over to join us and Mick does the introductions.
‘Try the shortbread, Robert,’ says Sylvia, holding up the plate. ‘Fen here makes it herself.’
Robert obligingly takes a piece and gives his verdict with a nod of approval, still chewing. ‘That’s very good.’ He smiles at Fen and she blushes, hating being the focus of attention, but I can tell she’s pleased.
‘I’d better get back behind the counter,’ she says and beetles off.
She’s left the tray, so I take it back for her.
She slumps over the counter for a moment. ‘Mum wanted the Press and the TV people to come, to help spread the word about the manor now being open. But she rang around this morning and they were all pretty lukewarm about the event. The bottom line is I don’t think any of them are going to turn up. I think that’s why Mum’s so down.’
‘People have started arriving, though,’ I point out. ‘Fingers crossed there’ll be a good turn-out.’
Fen sighs and gets back to drinks duties.’
As the day wears on, there’s a steady stream of visitors through the gates – but no sign of any interest from the newspaper or TV people. At two, a surge of people arrive in time to watch the performance of Pride & Prejudice, and from the café, we hear clapping from time to time and snatches of dialogue when the breeze is blowing in the right direction.
The café is bursting at the seams during the play’s interval and I have to hurry across to the house to collect more supplies of Cornish clotted cream for the scones. I’m just dashing back out again when I hear a strange sound coming from one of the upstairs rooms.
I stop and listen.
Someone is sobbing their heart out.
Glancing up and locating a room with an open window, I run across with the cream, dump it on the counter for Fen and shoot back across to the house. Upstairs, I make my way along to Lady R’s bedroom and knock softly on the door.
The weeping stops but then there’s silence.
‘Lady Redpath? It’s just me. Jaz.’
Her face, when she opens the door, is streaked with mascara, her eyes puffy and swollen.
She manages a half-hearted smile and trails back to the chaise longue she’s been sitting on. It’s surrounded by crumpled up paper tissues.
I go into the room and gently ask her if there’s anything I can do to help.
She motions for me to sit at the other end of the elegant couch. Then she looks up bleakly and says, ‘Can you bring my husband back?’
My heart lurches. ‘I wish I could,’ I murmur.
She smiles wistfully. ‘I thought I could fill the hole Will left by getting stuck into this project. I
thought it would prove to me that I could do perfectly well without him. Well, guess what? I can’t.’ She shrugs helplessly. ‘Today will no doubt be considered a moderate success. But to me it’s a total failure because Will isn’t here to enjoy it with me.’
Swallowing, I tell her I’m really sorry. ‘I wish I could think of something more helpful to say.’
She shakes her head. ‘Thank you for coming up here, Jaz. You’ve snapped me out of my weeping frenzy at any rate.’ Forcing a wobbly smile, she rises to her feet. ‘Come on, we’ve got work to do. I’ll just go and repair the damage in the mirror then I’ll join you downstairs. I expect the play will almost be finished.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’
She smiles. ‘I am. I’d convinced myself Will would turn up today so I was bound to feel crushed when he didn’t. I was determined to make it perfect for him, but maybe I’ll just make it perfect for me instead.’
‘I like it.’ I make a thumbs up sign as I leave, admiring Lady R’s inner strength.
‘Jaz?’
I turn.
‘Thank you, dear. You’ve been marvellous – with everything.’
Outside, I run into Sylvia looking worried.
‘Rose, bless her, has gone missing. Ellie’s at her wits’ end. You haven’t seen her, have you?’
‘No, I’ve been in the house. Perhaps she’s made her way back to the café?’
We walk quickly across the grass and I find myself scanning the people gathered on the lawn. I’ve spent the day looking for Harry, my heart feeling a little heavier with each passing hour that he’s not here. But now I focus my attention on looking for Rose.
In the café, there’s no sign of Ellie or her mum.
The actors from the am dram group are sitting round two tables pushed together, and Fen has come out from the safety of her makeshift kitchen and is taking their order on a notepad. Before I dash out again with Sylvia, I catch Fen’s shy smile as she chats to Ethan. He’s turned his chair around to talk to her and he seems equally entranced.
‘Oh, there’s Rose,’ shouts Sylvia, and I hurry after her.
‘Where?’ calls Ellie, running over to join us.