by Paulette Rae
“Welcome to Frampton Grange.” Beth grinned as she walked with Kirsten up the steps. “We’ll get your bags later. Come and meet Sarah first.”
Right on cue the little girl appeared through the door, running at full speed toward them.
“Gran,” she exclaimed in excitement, “you’re back.”
She jumped into the woman’s arms, looped her limbs around her as if she had been absent for much longer than just the day.
Beth smiled and hoisted Sarah onto her waist. The girl cast a shy smile at Kirsten as she approached and rested her head onto her grandmother’s shoulder for reassurance.
“Sarah, this is Kirsten.”
“Hi.” Her tiny voice was barely audible.
“Hi, Sarah. I’m so pleased to meet you. Your grandmother has told me all about you.”
Kirsten smiled and reached out to shake hands.
Sarah seemed so small for her age, her arms and legs surprisingly thin. Beth encouraged her to hold out her hand to be introduced and she did so reluctantly.
“Pleased to meet you,” Sarah said as if the words had been rehearsed. She looked as if she were worried Kirsten was going to eat her.
“Wow, you’re very polite.” Kirsten smiled.
“Shall we show Kirsten around the house?” Beth set Sarah back on her feet and took her by the hand.
“Ah-huh.” The little girl nodded. Her long blonde hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and fixed with a red ribbon, tiny wisps escaped from either side to frame her pretty face. She looked at Kirsten with wide soft brown eyes, curiosity slowly stealing her timidity as they entered the house. They walked into a large kitchen. The dining area had a perfect view of the front yard and sun streamed through the picture windows onto the varnished chipboard floor. A massive double door fridge and freezer, complete with ice maker stood next to a small breakfast bar which separated the kitchen into a practical work area. A custom made chopping block with a checkered top stood in the middle of the floor. Around the ceiling a brass railing had been attached to hold an array of pots and pans. It was definitely a working kitchen, spacious and clean. The benches held an appliance for every occasion. Frying pans, blenders, juicers, waffle irons, any food you could imagine could be produced in this one place. A tall man with thinning sand coloured hair stood next to the sink. The sleeves of his white kitchen jacket were folded above his elbows.
“Kirsty, this is Craig. He’s our most gracious cook and also our caretaker. If you need to know anything Craig is the man to ask.”
“Hello, Craig.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Kirsty.” He wiped his big hands on a tea towel and stepped forward to shake hands. Kirsten guessed he was about the same age as the lady of the house.
They left Craig to prepare the evening meal and continued their way out into a wide corridor at the back of the house. It seemed more like a room than a hallway to Kirsty.
Cupboards with wooden paneled doors lined the walls, the end compartment housing a service elevator to the upper levels.
Beth explained, “This house was planned for a woman in a wheelchair. Hence the reason for everything being so spacious.”
At the end of the corridor a wide staircase wound upwards to the right until it reached the second floor, dark hand varnished railings a gorgeous contrast to the cream plush carpets. Books lined the built in shelves all the way up as they climbed. The smell of old musty pages filled Kirsten’s nostrils as she scoped the titles. There were old hardback copies of The Lord of the Rings, volumes of encyclopedias from different countries, a whole series of National Geographic magazines, and classics such as Wuthering Heights and Moby Dick. Writers old and new could be found, Sarah’s influence showing with books from J.K. Rowling, Joy Cowley and Margaret Mahy. It was a rainy day paradise. Kirsten hoped she would be allowed to borrow from their extensive library.
The second floor housed most of the bedrooms, five in total, including a guest bedroom and rumpus room for Sarah. Elizabeth slept on this floor, as did Sarah and her father, Jamie. Tyler resided on the third floor, in the room adjacent to his office. The whole house seemed to be laid with the same carpet, the rooms warm, fresh and tastefully decorated. Kirsten’s room was at the North Eastern end of the house on the third floor. Facing the sea on one side she had a wonderful view of the bay below from a tiny balcony. The second row of windows caught the morning sun. The room had been freshly painted in a subtle shade of apricot. Set to one side was a small ensuite with a shower over the bath, a toilet and hand basin. The room next to hers was a tiny office which served as a classroom for Sarah. The young girl had never been to a conventional school, so everything she needed was here for home learning, including her own computer.
Climbing back down the stairs, they circled the other side of the first floor, finding the downstairs bathroom and toilet, the laundry, a small TV room, formal dining room and large lounge.
“We have a cleaner who comes twice a week, but mostly we all pitch in to keep the place tidy,” Beth instructed. They walked through the French doors to the patio. The blue water of the pool contrasted against the green backdrop of the ocean beyond. Sarah let go of her grandmother’s hand and crept closer to Kirsty for a better look. Kirsten had made a point of ignoring the child, to let her come out of her shell in her own good time. She found this always worked best with children who were a little shy. Sure enough, Sarah’s curiosity was getting the better of her. She was now right beside Kirsten, blinking her long lashes inquisitively at the strange woman with curly red hair. Craig emerged from the kitchen to help Kirsten with her bags, and they piled them into the lift to save carrying them two flights of stairs.
“It’s just the four of us for dinner,” Beth explained as they moved her things into her room. “We like to have a meal altogether if only once a day.” She smiled. “You’ll soon get used to the nuances of everyone around here.” She looked down at her granddaughter and smiled. “Dad’s away a lot, isn’t he?”
Sarah nodded, the two middle fingers of her right hand wedged firmly between her lips.
“Tyler travels a lot too. We have two restaurants in town and a salmon farm which keeps him pretty busy. So I like to keep the family together as much as possible.
Breakfast and lunch are whenever you feel like it. If Craig is around he will fix anything you want, but during the day he’s kept busy elsewhere so we look after ourselves.”
The middle aged man smiled fondly at Beth as he hauled the last of Kirsty’s belongings from the lift.
“With it being the school holidays at the moment things are a little off schedule, but during the week we try to encourage a bit of routine with Sarah.”
Kirsty nodded. “Yes, I understand that.”
“Anyway,” Beth smiled, “there’s plenty of time to talk about that. Why don’t we leave you alone to get unpacked?” She glanced at her watch. “What time is dinner Craig?”
Craig turned at the door. “Two hours. I’m running a little late tonight. Even though I had help in the kitchen today.” He smiled at Sarah.
Beth and Kirsty smiled in understanding as Craig winked.
“Please make yourself at home, Kirsty.” Beth smiled warmly. Craig nodded and walked from the room, back downstairs to attend to dinner.
“Thank you very much, Beth,” Kirsty replied.
Beth took Sarah’s hand and went to the door. “Well just hold on to that thank you. You might not be thanking me in a couple of weeks.”
Kirsty looked warily at her new employer, unsure of what to say. Thankfully Beth smiled. “Just kidding, dear, I’m sure you’re going to love it here.”
Sarah pulled on Beth’s hand and whispered, “Can I stay grammy?” She glanced back at Kirsty to see if she had heard the question.
“No, honey, you come with me. Kirsty has to get unpacked. You’ll have plenty of time to talk to her later.”
Kirsty smiled and watched them go. She could hear Sarah’s chirpy voice as they disappeared down the stairs, more live
ly now that she was out of earshot of the strange new occupant. Kirsty sat on the edge of the double bed, the cream crepe bedspread crinkled with stiffness beneath her. That would be the first thing to go. She unzipped her blue bag, pulled out a pale blue faux fur blanket and swapped it for the existing cover. She folded the unwanted duvet and deposited it into the cupboard above the wardrobe. The doors on the wardrobe were double mirrors, and she cast a glance at her reflection as she pulled them closed. Her hair was a shocking mess of curls, her freckled face pale and washed out. What she needed was a hot shower and a change of clothes before dinner. The unpacking could wait. She pushed the single door open to the balcony and a late afternoon breeze wafted into the room. She couldn’t believe how fresh the air smelled, it was like nothing she had experienced before. It was clean and pure, something you only noticed after being in a smoggy city for a long time. The view from her room was amazing; the hills that surrounded the bay were lush with the rich colours of native flora. And all around her was the sound of birds and cicadas, the muted noise of a boat whirring along in the water somewhere music to her ears. How could she be so lucky to just walk into a paradise like this?
Chapter 2
Kirsten wandered downstairs, feeling refreshed after her shower in a clean pair of cotton trousers and a white sleeveless blouse. Her hair was now washed and back under control, pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her neck. A few wavy strands framed her face. She took her time getting to the first floor. Now alone, she could take some time to study the house. The walls were lined with artwork; an eclectic mix of modern and classic works. Some of the paintings seemed more like something Sarah would do with a roller, but Kirsten felt sure the price tags would infer otherwise. Opposite the stairwell of the second storey hung a wonderful painting of a slender young woman, wearing only a carefully positioned sarong, the ends blowing away from her in the soft breeze. Her long dark hair blew across her face, completely obscuring one eye and half her mouth. What could be seen however, showed the woman to be beautiful beyond compare. Her glamorous stare meant for the artist now looked upon Kirsten with giant brown eyes. It was here that Kirsten saw the resemblance to Sarah and she wondered if this was her mother.
Again she paused on the first floor staircase to view the assortment of books that resided here in a strange collection. Books which had never been read, obviously put there for Sarah to enjoy, like Charlotte’s Web and Bow Down Shadrach. It was apparent by the Stephen King collection there was an enthusiast in the house, for there were several tatty volumes of his macabre tales. Further along, she found an array of Jackie Collins books, several Harold Robbins juicy tales and numerous classics such as Catcher in the Rye and Lady Chatterley’s Lover.
Kirsten wandered down to the first floor, finding herself confused for just a moment about which way to go. When they had originally gone up they had come through the kitchen, but on the way back they had reversed their direction. Deciding it didn’t matter she swerved to the left and found her way back to the spacious formal lounge. A large open fireplace, built into the wall between this room and the dining room, made Kirsten imagine it would be a wonderful place to sit and read in the winter. The room caught the afternoon sun through two rows of French doors which opened onto the patio. This was grey painted concrete with white dipped cast iron hand rails. Stairs flowed down onto the lawn, preceding a gradual drop of about thirty feet before the pool and guesthouse below framed the edge of the grounds. It was an architectural paradise; a beautiful home cut into the fine grandeur of the wilderness that surrounded it. Kirsty walked onto the patio, stood at the edge and peered down to the sea. The sun was low over the hills now and fine fingers of orange and yellow stretched out over the horizon. Shimmers of light caught the water which shivered softly against the beach and lapped the stony shore as it receded to low tide.
“Beautiful isn’t it?”
Kirsty was startled by Beth’s approach. She had been so lost in thought she didn’t hear the woman arrive.
“Oh, yes.” She smiled in appreciation. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s hard to believe people live here. It’s somewhere you’d expect to go on holiday.”
Beth laughed softly. “I know what you mean. When you’ve been here a little while you’ll start taking it for granted.”
Kirsten frowned. “I can’t imagine that.”
Beth surveyed Kirsten from head to toe. “Well, you look much fresher, dear, do you feel better now?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Beth had also changed, into a pastel pink tracksuit.
“Well, I always have a glass of wine before dinner. Would you join me?”
Kirsten smiled. She was warming to this lifestyle more with every minute that ticked by. “I’d like that, thank you.”
“Sarah’s in the kitchen with Craig so we can relax for a few minutes before dinner.”
They returned to the lounge and Beth poured white wine into two crystal glasses at the bar.
Kirsty sat in an overstuffed leather recliner next to an old polished grand piano.
“Who’s the piano player?” she asked curiously.
“Oh, we all have a bash.” Beth smiled. “I’m trying to teach Sarah, but she has her mother’s attention span. Tyler is almost as good as Sarah.” She winked. “Jamie is the one to watch out for. He doesn’t play often anymore but he certainly knows how to tickle the ivories.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, Jamie’s the arty one around here.” She pointed to a photo of Sarah on the wall. “Sometimes I think that camera’s glued to his face.”
Kirsty stood up and walked over to the photo for a closer look. He had captured Sarah at a wonderful moment. She sat on a swing which had been erected beneath the branch of a huge beech tree. She was gazing out to sea, oblivious of anything but her own feet as they stuck out in front of her.
“Did he do the painting upstairs too?”
Beth laughed. “Which one?”
“Is it Sarah’s mother, on the second floor?”
“Oh yes,” Beth said delightedly, “that’s Brook.”
“He’s very good.” It made sense now. The look she had seen in Brook’s eyes could only be for the man she loved. What a beautiful notion. To be posing for a painting, the artist being the one and only person who saw her like that; with the look of love in her eyes. And Jamie who had portrayed it so perfectly onto canvas for the world to see forever. She felt sad for Jamie suddenly, even though they had never met, for he had lost a woman who obviously loved him so much.
“He should be home tomorrow night, you’ll meet him then. And Ty should be home later on this evening.” Beth glanced at her watch. “But that depends on what time his meeting finished. Knowing him, he’ll have to have dinner and socialize before he comes home.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis then smiled. “Let me just warn you about one thing.” She leaned closer to Kirsty so she could lower her tone. “Tyler and Jamie are like chalk and cheese, and they fight like cats and dogs. Don’t, for heaven’s sake, get in the middle of them.”
“Seriously?” Kirsten asked, wide-eyed.
“Oh, maybe that’s a little melodramatic.” Beth winked. “But they are not friends.”
“Doesn’t that make it hard for Sarah?”
“Yes and no. They tolerate each other when she’s around. Sometimes I think-,” she paused and her eyes glazed over. “No, I know. She’s the only thing holding this family together. Jamie knows it. He knows he has complete power over Ty and me. He could leave tomorrow, take Sarah to his parents place in Nelson and it would break both our hearts.”
The older woman glanced fearfully at Kirsten, her eyes pleading, as though she were looking for an answer.
“Is he away a lot?” Kristen felt as if she were invading their privacy by asking, but if she was to look after Sarah then they were things she probably needed to know.
“His work takes him away a lot, but sometimes I think he’s away more than he needs to be. It’s hard on
Sarah. She’s so isolated here.”
Kirsten wondered why then, if Beth knew the situation was hard on Sarah, did she choose to live in such an isolated area. Surely it would be better for Sarah if they lived near other people; other children at least, with whom she could socialise. But it was not her place to ask. Not yet anyway.
As if hearing her name, Sarah appeared through the heavy swinging door from the kitchen. She grinned at Kirsten then addressed her grandmother.
“Craig said to say dinner is ready.”
“Oh, good.” With ring laden fingers, Beth straightened Sarah’s hair. “Will you please tell him we’ll eat in the kitchen tonight? We don’t want to be too formal on Kirsten’s first night do we?”
Sarah shook her head, smiled to reveal a comically wide gap where a tooth was missing from the front of her mouth.
They enjoyed what Beth called a simple meal together in the kitchen. To Kirsten it was a feast. Craig had prepared home baked bread rolls and a delicious chicken broth for starters. Afterward he served steak and seasoned homegrown vegetables. Finally he produced a huge cheesecake, the size of which Kirsten had never seen, drizzled with wild berry compote and garnished with whipped cream.
“Uncle Ty’s favourite.” Sarah squirmed with delight in her chair as a large bowlful of dessert appeared before her.
“I think there will be plenty left for Uncle Tyler to enjoy when he gets home later.”
Craig winked at Sarah as he sat down to his own generous helping. Kirsten wondered where they put all this glorious food; none of them were overweight. If this was a hint of what was to come, Kirsten could imagine herself ten stone heavier in just as many months.
Beth smiled as if she read her mind. “Don’t worry, honey, with all the fresh air and hill climbing around here you’ll be able to eat like a horse.”
“Don’t be silly Grammy, horses don’t eat cheesecake,” Sarah exclaimed with authority. Her brows creased together over her cocoa eyes. Beth and Kirsten looked at each other for a moment in silence before they erupted into laughter.