by Ali Carter
‘She’s the lady in the kitchen,’ piped up Hailey.
‘Woman,’ corrected Daniel.
‘How do you know her?’ Charlie asked.
‘I went to get the leftover punch from lunch and she was there unpacking the hamper so we got chatting.’
‘What about?’ snapped Archie.
‘I was telling her how much I like you English. She’s got that great accent too.’
Archie’s smile returned, ‘Yes, Vicky lives locally and has been doing some cooking for me recently.’
Thinking I knew the type, my mind drew a quick characterisation of well-spoken stand-in cook Vicky. Assuming she was ‘on her gap year’ and having recently completed a cookery course at great expense, I guessed she was now working for friends of her parents, earning her ticket to a developing nation. My ashamedly judgemental thoughts were interrupted by Charlotte, heading towards me with a flute in her hand, and pink of cheek.
‘Fresh mushrooms for dinner, how simply deeee-licious.’ Her glass shot up in the air as she exclaimed, ‘It’s such a marvellous blast to be footloose and fancy-free, Susie. My husband’s a real old fuss pot and doesn’t let me drink a drop now I’m pregnant.’
‘Where is he?’ I asked looking around the room and catching elegant Primrose, in a pale-yellow ruche dress, slip her arm into Archie’s and lead him to the far sofa.
‘Darling Hugh’s away on business again.’
‘What does he do?’
‘Investments and what not.’ She brushed off my question. ‘Oh, do look at Hailey, she’s soooo flexible.’ Charlotte was laughing at her friend who was sitting cross legged with Yang’s head fast asleep in her lap. ‘I can’t possibly keep up with those types of moves,’ she said tapping her stomach.
‘When’s it due?’ I asked.
‘It!’ said Charlotte, short and sharp. ‘This is our darling Mini Mousey in here.’ She rubbed her tummy, drawing in her kaftan to show off the enormous bulge. ‘Fifteen weeks to go.’
‘How exciting,’ I exclaimed, astonished by the timescale. I was yet to see Charlotte without an alcoholic drink in her hand.
‘It really is. I’ve spent months preparing the house and so wanted the bedroom painted for Mini’s arrival that I’ve chosen a neutral colour and will get the estate to change it when we know if Mini Mousey is a boy or a girl.’ With one last tap of her tummy she swapped her champagne glass into her right hand, held it up to her mouth and took a good slug. ‘Where do you live, Susie?’
‘East Sussex.’
‘I’ve only ever heard of West Sussex.’
Too true I thought, as that’s where all the smart people live.
‘I live near Glyndebourne if you’ve ever been there?’
‘Of course. We go to the opera every season but are you sure Glyndebourne’s in East Sussex?’
‘I’m certain it is.’
‘And do you live alone, in the country?’
‘Yes, just under the Downs, which I love.’
‘So, you must have a doggy?’
‘No.’
‘What a surprise! My handful of unmarried friends all have a dog or a cat at the least. It can be company until you find Mr Right.’ Charlotte gave me an uncalled-for sympathetic smile and tipped her glass at Charlie who was now the one with the champagne bottle.
He flung his arm around her shoulder. ‘Isn’t it tremendous to have Lotty on her own, so much more fun.’
‘Charlie!’ yelped Daniel striding across the room. ‘You’re about to fill up Susie’s shoes.’
Without the slightest flinch Charlie raised the bottle and filled Charlotte’s glass to the brim. ‘It’s like the good old times.’
‘You’ve got to watch out for these two, Susie,’ said Daniel. ‘They’re a naughty pair of pranksters.’
But Charlotte’s attention was intent on Archie and Primrose sitting out of earshot, leafing through a leather-bound photograph album.
‘Look at those two,’ she said. ‘I count myself as Archie’s oldest female friend but if you widen the circle to professional relationships then I guess Primrose takes the title.’
George, who could have easily been mistaken for being asleep, lifted his slug-like eyebrows to join the conversation. ‘I always thought they’d marry.’
‘No way,’ said Daniel, to which Hailey’s ears pricked up. ‘Their childhood kiss and cuddle set that straight.’
Charlotte gave George an acknowledging nod, as if they too had fooled about together in the past.
‘Right!’ said Archie loudly from the other end of the room. ‘Let’s go through to dinner.’
One after another we followed Archie out of the sitting room, down the dusky corridor past the booze cupboard that initiated a ‘help yourself to drinks in here if you want something other than wine’, straight through the porcelain-stuffed drawing room and out into the garden.
I took in a breath of surprisingly fresh evening air and smiled at the elegance of the formally laid cast-iron table on the terrace in front of us. Each place had standing to attention: soldiers of silver and bone-handled cutlery, set either side (definitely not above) a melamine mat with a Norfolk landscape decoupage varnished on to it. Water tumblers had been filled up in advance and every place had two wine glasses, one for white and a slightly larger one for red. Stiff linen napkins rolled into silver rings separated the place settings one from another.
I was so glad to see we were eating outside, making the most of the daylight, which is more than can be said for the poorly lit house. Fontaburn Hall has a gloom to it that goes beyond the bad lighting and dark oak-panelled rooms. It stands like an only child who has no one to play with and the lack of family photographs inside erases any sentimental depth it could have. Even my parents, not known for public signs of affection, have their wedding picture in a dusty leather frame in the sitting room and at least two pictures of me stuck to the fridge. But Archie’s gaggle of friends didn’t carry this gloom and here we all gathered giddy with champagne.
As every well-mannered host would, Archie took the head of the table that faced the house, giving the person at the other end, ‘Primrose you sit there,’ a view of his expansive parkland populated with solemn oaks and lanky pines.
‘Susie, if you’d like to sit on my right.’ I felt honoured to be given the plummest seat around the dining table.
‘Stanley you go next, then Hailey.’ He paused. ‘Hailey, where is she?’ Charlotte shrugged her shoulders.
‘Hail!’ said Daniel throwing his arms up and drawing our attention to the unsteady character tottering towards us with a tray of shot glasses.
‘I thought we ought to toast the Queen,’ she said as Archie rushed towards her.
‘Great idea,’ said George and Charlotte as I began to dread having to take part. Shots have never agreed with my constitution and the outcome of any more than one is not something I wanted to suffer here.
‘Right Hailey,’ said Archie placing the tray safely on the table. ‘You sit on Stanley’s right, then you Charlie, do sit down Primrose, George go next to Primrose and Charlotte here.’ Archie pulled out her chair. ‘Glad to see you’ve made yourself comfortable, Dandy. Tatty will go between us.’
‘Lotty,’ said Hailey as Charlotte passed around the shot glasses. ‘Make sure you don’t miss anyone out.’
My attention was then drawn to a woman striding towards the table with an undisguisable horse-rider’s gait. ‘Everyone,’ said Archie. ‘This is Victoria Ramsbottom.’
Victoria was much more attractive than her name gave away and, although young, she was well ahead of her gap year. How wrong I’d been. She drew a half-smile, took none of us in and with little grace placed the tray down next to George and handed out the plates.
‘Tatiana’s bringing yours,’ she said to Hailey when the portions ran out, and without so much as a nod Vicky headed straight back into the house.
‘Bit of alright,’ chuffed George.
‘Please be polite to Vicky, George,’ said
Archie. ‘She’s had a hard time recently.’
‘Why?’ squawked Primrose from the other end of the table, but any answer was cut short by Tatiana’s arrival and announcement of ‘I do hope you’ll like my ceps on toast!’
Or ‘Boletus edulis’, as you-know-who piped up to tell us.
‘What’s a cep?’ asked Stanley.
‘Oh darling,’ said Primrose. ‘Don’t be such a fool. They’re a type of wild mushroom we’ve eaten many times before. They grow in mainland Europe from June to September and are completely dee-licious.’ Stanley turned to me and smiled as if I was the one who’d asked the question.
‘Tatiana got up early,’ said Archie turning to looking at the view of the park behind him. ‘Picked a trug full under those pines over there didn’t you?’
But just as Tatiana opened her mouth to confirm it, Hailey butted in, chivvying us all on, with a, ‘Time to toast the Queen!’
There was a general lack of interest in where the mushrooms had come from and so Tatiana knocked back her shot, well before the rest of us.
‘To the Queen,’ coaxed Charlie, and in a matter of seconds even I had my head back and vodka trickling down my throat.
Dinner began in a reasonably civilised manner. All the men turned to their right and us women turned to our lefts and individual conversations paved the way.
Archie got stuck into berating social media and explained, ‘Not one of my friends would ever dream of posting pictures from a Fontaburn weekend.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I trust them to know the form. Although occasionally I whisper in the ear of those outside the set.’ He tipped his head towards Hailey with a forgiving smile.
‘You didn’t tell me,’ I said with a cheeky grin.
‘I knew I didn’t have to!’
Archie and I were getting on well until I asked, ‘How long have your family collected porcelain?’
‘Quite some time,’ he muffled as he stared at his mushroom. ‘But let’s not mix business with pleasure.’
I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything to say.
Then poor Archie at the mercy of his good manners broke the silence between us, ‘I deal in porcelain. My family have done for years. There’s plenty of it around for you to look at but I’d really rather not discuss it over dinner.’
‘Of course, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. It’s okay.’ He leant closer towards me and under his breath let on, ‘the topic caused a bit of a rift between some of us last night.’ Then sitting up straight again, his tone rose and he asked if I’d seen his cousin recently.
‘Well,’ I blushed. ‘The slightly embarrassing thing is, I’ve never actually met your cousin.’
‘That is amusing as he gave you a frightfully good write-up and told me I simply must invite you to dinner.’
Oh crumbs. Whatever had Mum said on my behalf?
I wasn’t quite sure yet whether I was pleased to have been invited or not. It was fun to be doing something different and I’d have a lot to tell Toby if he came to stay. But, having snooped along my corridor I now knew I was the only one sleeping on the top floor of this likely haunted house and I rather wished I hadn’t accepted the offer of staying the night. Not to mention whatever shenanigans were to come later – this clique certainly seemed the type who’d be up for after-dinner games.
Daniel raised his voice, ‘Take me with you next time. I’m very fond of picking mushrooms.’
‘Tolstoy,’ said George, with his finger on the buzzer.
‘Full marks,’ congratulated Archie who was shuffling his hand around under the table. He gave up. ‘Charlie,’ he said, ‘please can you pour the red wine, as I’m just going to see where Vicky’s got to.’
‘I’ll happily go if you want,’ called out George in jest as Archie disappeared into the house.
I glanced under the table to see what he’d been fumbling for. There was a small white box with a grey button, a set-up I’d come across before – a remote bell to alert the kitchen that the plates are ready to be cleared. Either this one’s batteries had run out or Vicky was elsewhere in the house.
Not that it mattered with Tatiana around as she’d already cleared the plates and was heading into the house in such a rush that I presumed (me being prone to use a similar tactic) she’d grasped the opportunity to accompany Archie.
Meanwhile Charlie had folded his napkin neatly over his arm and proudly taken on his role as stand-in sommelier. He had that last twist of the bottle down to such a fine art I was sure he’d played this joker before. Nevertheless, it amused us all.
‘How do you know Archie?’ he asked Hailey as he hovered at her side.
‘Charlotte introduced us.’
‘And how do you and Charlotte know each other?’
‘We recently met in a KX Pilates class.’
‘Oh, aren’t you lucky,’ said Primrose. ‘I just can’t bring myself to do it in the village hall.’
George’s upper half wobbled as he suppressed a chuckle at Primrose’s unintended innuendo.
‘What brought you across the Pond, Hailey?’ asked Daniel.
‘I wanted to meet some English people.’
‘Men!’ exclaimed Charlotte.
‘I’ve only met married ones so far,’ said Hailey.
‘Hu hum!’ said Daniel and Charlie together.
Hailey giggled and Daniel went on to ask her how she spent her time.
‘I’m an assistant teacher at a school in west London.’
‘Full time?’ asked Primrose as she shot Stanley a look.
‘Yes, at Lilac Pre-Prep.’
‘Bodes well for pinching someone else’s husband,’ said Daniel.
‘I’d never do that,’ defended Hailey, which prompted an uncalled for (it was only a joke) apology from Daniel.
‘I don’t believe it,’ perked up George. ‘My wife’s been bending over backwards,’ he winked at Stanley, ‘to get our son in there.’
Tick, George is married.
‘Oh yes,’ said Stanley. ‘I knew I’d heard of it, isn’t that where the young Prince is said to be going?’
‘Yes, darling,’ said Primrose curtailing the vulgar tangent of the conversation.
‘Nothing like making friends with royalty from a young age,’ mocked Daniel. ‘You’d better sign your little one up soon Charlotte.’
‘Yes, we must,’ she replied tapping her tummy, and much to my surprise George reached out a stubby hand and rubbed her bulge – I think she rather liked it.
‘I’m soooo… pleased,’ purred Hailey, ‘to be spending the weekend in a stately home.’
‘This isn’t a stately home,’ corrected Primrose. ‘It’s a country house.’
‘Oh, my darling don’t be so finickity,’ said Stanley.
‘Well, darling, as Archie will be inheriting a stately home it’s rather nice he can pass the time in a country house.’
‘What’s the difference?’ asked Hailey.
To which George answered, ‘A stately home is designed to dominate the landscape whereas a country house is deliberately designed to harmonise with the landscape.’
‘Can’t say that huge flint boundary adds to the harmony,’ said Daniel.
‘Don’t mention the wall,’ retorted Charlotte.
‘Wooooo, Woooo,’ warbled Charlie as he flapped his hands in a ghostly manner.
Primrose kindly tapped them down and assured Charlotte that she’d been staying here since she was a tiny tot and that ‘There’s not a single spirit anywhere other than the drinks cupboard.’
George roared with laughter.
‘Did I miss a good joke?’ asked Archie, who’d reappeared with a silver serving tray of green veg and a large bowl of game chips (something us ordinary folk would call hot crisps).
‘Never mind the joke,’ said Daniel.
‘Go on.’ Archie placed the tray in front of Primrose.
‘It was about the Papist clergy in your house,’ said Georg
e.
‘Haven’t you had it exthorthised?’ lisped Hailey, the drink getting the better of her.
‘Absolute nonsense pagan act,’ said George, his tone firmly ending the conversation.
Archie sat down apologising for how long it had taken him to return, ‘It’s all Tatiana’s fault for such a delicious first course. Vicky had no idea we’d guzzle it so quickly. I struggled to find her and you’ll never guess what, she was upstairs turning down the beds.’
‘You’re so lucky,’ said Charlotte, ‘to have servants with initiative.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t call Vicky staff but it was good of her to do it.’
I had a strange feeling about this Victoria Ramsbottom. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I did make a mental note that turning down the beds was a very odd thing to do if she wasn’t staff. And for nothing other than my own peace of mind I set up a game with myself to get to the bottom of it. The thing is I have a fascination with people and what it is that makes us who we are, and when there is something amiss I can become rather obsessed with working it out.
Tatiana placed a platter of meat in the centre of the table and Stanley whispered ‘grouse breasts’ in my ear.
Primrose, who was filling plates with vegetables and passing them to her left, suggested Stanley serve the game.
‘Susie first,’ said Archie.
My heart gave a flutter of flattery, not attraction. Archie’s charm lay in his generosity and laissez faire attitude, not his looks. He had an enchanting smile that knocked years off him but he was so rigidly English it was impossible to entertain the thought of going to bed with him. From his very first handshake, I would put him down as a pouncer or late-night leg humper rather than a man who has the gift of the gab for feminine foreplay.
Tatiana passed the large bowl of game chips across the table for me to dive my hand into.
‘I love these,’ she said. ‘I had them for the first time when Archie took me to Rules.’ She glanced flirtatiously to her right.
‘Have you ever been to Rules, Susie?’ asked Archie.
‘No, never.’
‘Oh,’ said Tatiana, ‘it’s London’s oldest restaurant, you must go.’
‘Archie’s showing off,’ said Daniel. ‘Barely a week since the glorious twelfth and we’re eating grouse.’