Watch for Me by Twilight

by Kirsty Ferry

  ‘I wish I’d met your granny.’

  ‘She would have loved you.’ Delilah hugged her.

  Cassie laughed and started going through the next pile, a collection of beautiful watercolours. Brian in the village had been brought up around the horses at the Hall, and his father had been a bit of an artist as a young stable boy.

  There were lots of photographs and written memories as well. People had churned out the urban legends that inevitably had grown up around the Hall – from people creeping around in the night poaching, to rumours of famous playboys lusting after the girls of the family. Very Great Gatsby.

  ‘Well, I think I’ll take what I have over to the squash courts.’ Cassie gathered up a pile of picture postcards of the village and started sliding them into a big storage box with the other things. ‘If I lay them all out over there, I can see what we have and get a feel for how we should display them. I won’t leave them there, though. It’s far too damp and nasty and I daren’t risk Elodie’s wrath. I’ll bring them all back here afterwards.’

  ‘Good idea. I should get back to the café. I was only meant to be delivering some scones to the kiosk and the caravan and I’ve been away far too long as it is. I thought you’d appreciate me diverting here with some spare scones, though. Oh, how are you getting on with the other things for the weekend? Anything you want us to do?’

  Cassie neatly sidestepped those questions because she still had many, many things she needed to do. She had managed to order a marquee for the vintage teas and that was about it, because she had finally conceded the one they had at the Hall was far too tatty to drag out for public use. She didn’t want anyone accusing her of simply going for food-related topics again, even though it was, to some extent, quite true.

  ‘It’s under control, thanks,’ she lied. ‘Elodie’s not too happy being in charge of the Gypsy Tea Caravan now though,’ she continued, guilelessly. ‘She’s missing the regulars at Coffee Cream Cupcake.’ Elodie had, up until very recently, worked a couple of days a week at Delilah’s café.

  ‘I know!’ Delilah took the bait. Cassie was relieved she didn’t press her further on the “under control” thing. ‘She already offered to come back and help out in case an unmanageable queue had built up during my absence. I told her that was highly unlikely, considering I’ve left two very competent staff in there. She’ll perk up when she’s opened the scone boxes at the caravan. I’ve hidden a couple of slices of chocolate cake in there with a note suggesting she has a tea break with her husband.’

  ‘Well we can’t keep him away from the caravan. She’s too close at hand now. Alex keeps finding excuses to wander over to the Faerie Bridge. There’s really no need.’ Cassie shook her head.

  ‘Young love.’

  ‘Young love? They’re practically thirty.’

  ‘Yes, but they’ve got a few years to make up for.’ Delilah’s eyes softened. ‘You’ll see. Once it hits you, you’ll know it.’

  Cassie pulled a face. Her relationships had never lasted long. Tom and Sam had been the longest two and they’d only been a matter of months each. Weeks, actually, with Tom.

  ‘I think I’ll grow up to be a spinster. Lady Cassandra Aldrich, spinster of this parish, going crazy talking to horses and having conversations with people that nobody else can see.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Delilah winked. ‘Although I’m sure you’ll have some wonderful conversations.’ She stood up to go, chuckling at her own joke. ‘See you later, my lovely.’

  ‘See you.’ Cassie waved at her and watched her go. She really didn’t think her predictions were too far off the mark. In fact, though, even her lonely, mad future was preferable to ending up like her mother; sozzled in a French millionaire’s vineyard and no contact with any of them. That was what her father had told her anyway. She had, she realised, seen and heard more of her long-dead relatives throughout her life than she had even had contact with her own flesh and blood mother.

  Hartsford Hall was like that – the whole place seemed to hold onto the breath of the past; a heart beating quietly amongst them all, drawing them in and surrounding them with sights, sounds and feelings from its long life. Once you’d been loved by the Hall, you were always loved by the Hall and it would forever welcome you back. Elodie knew it – her second chance had worked out very well indeed. She’d known Alex all her life, but it was only when she came back to Hartsford after a messy divorce and a horrible time in London that they got together properly. Elodie saw even more long-dead Hartsfords than Cassie did, but that was nothing unusual to Elodie. Her entire life had been spent being privy to the ghosts and shadows that other people were unaware of.

  But apparently Cassie’s mother, Anne, had never settled at the Hall. Cassie wondered if she preferred her new life and also wondered whether living in a vineyard with a French millionaire made up for the fact her children had been brought up by somebody else and that she’d never seen her daughter since she was six months old? Delilah, Margaret and Elodie’s mum had been more like mothers to Alex and Cassie than Anne had ever been. Those three ladies had always been there for them.

  Yes, the fact Cassie’s mother had abandoned her hurt, and she didn’t think she’d ever forgive her for that. But at least Cassie knew the new little twins would never suffer the same fate.

  Mollified slightly by the thought of the two babies coming, Cassie picked up her box of goodies, pulled the band off her ponytail and slipped the thin, elastic circle onto her wrist. She shook her hair out, dropped a bunch of keys that contained the key to the squash courts in the pocket of her Capri pants and headed out of the Hall to walk around to the Spa.

  It was a lovely sunny day; one of those that makes you glad to be alive, and although Suffolk wasn’t anywhere near summer yet, the spring seemed to be slipping away already, and the warmer days nipping at its heels.

  Cassie looked over towards the Faerie Bridge and saw Alex loping in the direction of the Gypsy Tea Caravan in the distance, his hands in his pockets and she knew he would be whistling. She had never seen him happier than he’d been recently, and her heart filled with love for him. He wasn’t a bad big brother, really, and she did know how much he’d kept from her about the state of the Hartsford finances after their father had died. Even now, Alex was blissfully unaware of how much Cassie knew. But she wasn’t stupid, even though she was admittedly quite lazy at times. She had a Masters Degree in Business Administration, and although she hadn’t done that well on the course, she could easily read a spreadsheet that was open on a computer screen.

  She looked down at the box she was carrying and realised that this was almost as exciting as working in a museum – and Elodie had put a huge amount of trust in her to bring this weekend to life. She could do it and she would do it. And yes, her smile was still in place. She had weeks yet – months even.

  It would be fine.

  Cassie rounded the corner and climbed over the low, sweet-smelling lavender hedge that sectioned off the Spa and headed towards the squash courts, the little bunch of keys heavy in her pocket. Once she reached the courts, she put the box on the ground and unlocked the door, pushing against the heavy spring-loaded hinges to get inside.

  The smell of old sweat, earth and damp made her wrinkle her nose slightly, but in a way it was comforting. There was a huge pile of cleaning equipment in the corner and she knew that, thanks to Delilah asking them, the Women’s Institute had already made a start scrubbing down what they could. A faint odour of bleach wafted from the corner as the outside air wove past, cutting through the squash court smell she had grown up with. Thank the Lord that Delilah had the foresight to call upon the WI’s services. Cassie hadn’t even considered how they would get the place clean and tidy. She just knew it had to be done.

  Then she looked at the staircase warily. Come to think of it, it did look a little dodgy. Maybe she would abandon the idea of letting people up on the viewing gallery after all. The displays would have to stay downstairs – well that would probably be fine.
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  Cassie sighed and brought the box inside. She put it on the floor, then stood up and surveyed the space. In her head, she could visualise the display and could practically see the people walking around and looking at the mementoes. She’d have some pictures blown up there and a screen running through some images there, and a triptych of the pool, the squash courts and the tennis courts there and—

  ‘Dammit!’ She looked down as her mobile phone let out a shrill ring which echoed around the room and shattered the silence. ‘Hello?’ she said, sounding quite unfriendly and briefly registering that it was a mobile number she didn’t recognise.

  There was a slight pause, as if she had caught someone unawares. ‘Hello?’ It was a man’s voice, soft and well-spoken, with more than a hint of Suffolk in it.

  ‘Hello.’ She hoped they weren’t going to have one of those conversations where everybody says Hello about a million times.

  ‘Uhm.’ And nope, it wasn’t a ‘Hello’ conversation. It was an ‘Uhm’ conversation. Almost as bad.

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Sorry. I think I misdialled. I was hoping to speak to someone from Hartsford Hall. This is the number the magazine said to contact Lady Cassandra on.’ Then his voice brightened. ‘Unless you’re part of her staff. Have I got through to the Hall?’

  ‘You have. This is Lady Cassandra.’

  There was another pause, then he spoke, amusement in his voice this time. ‘Oh. Hello, Lady Cassandra. Sorry about that. You sounded … younger than I thought you’d be.’

  ‘Yes, I’m not that old really.’ She bent over and pulled a few things out of the box. ‘My name is deceiving. Most people just call me Cassie.’

  ‘Right. I’m Aidan Edwards. I’m just calling you because I’m passing the Hall this morning and wondered whether I could bring something over for you, for the Country House Weekend thing? I’m not sure if it’s really to do with the Hall or not, but I think it is. I guess I just wanted an opinion.’

  ‘Ooh.’ Cassie’s attention was immediately arrested. ‘I’d love to see it. When will you be passing?’

  The man laughed, a soft, warm laugh that did something funny to her insides and made her stand up straighter and blink in the middle of the empty squash court.

  ‘I can be there in about five minutes. I’m at the Green Dragon in Hartsford village. Sorry it’s short notice.’

  ‘Oh, the Green Dragon! Have you got transport?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Wonderful. Well, to save you going through the entrance booth and being coerced into buying a ticket, I suggest you leave the Dragon and turn left. Then, immediately on your right, there’s a tiny little road. It’s only single track so be careful, but it’s unlikely you’ll get anything coming at you, because it’s the delivery entrance to the back of the Hall. It runs parallel with a little stream, and if you follow that around, all the way, you’ll come to the back gates. I’ll just pop over there and wait. It’s close to the Spa and that’s where I am at the moment.’

  ‘Fantastic.’ Aidan Edwards sounded very cheerful. ‘That’s excellent. I’ll be there shortly. I’ll just finish my coffee.’

  Cassie laughed. ‘It’s the second-best coffee in the village. I suggest you try the tea shop for the best. Okay. I’ll see you soon, Mr Edwards.’

  ‘I’ve been to the tea shop. Yes. It’s lovely. Okay, I’ll see you soon … Lady Cassandra.’

  ‘Cassie’s fine.’

  ‘So’s Aidan.’ There was a smile in his voice. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Super, bye for now!’ And she rang off, quite intrigued and excited to see what Aidan Edwards might have to offer.

  True to her word, Cassie wandered off across the Spa, pulling a few rosebay willow herbs out as she went; her pathetic attempt at weeding the pathways. She made herself a mental note to sort something out for here pretty soon, so they could get cracking on renovating the whole area properly; and she made another mental note to attempt again to get someone in to look at the pool itself. Then she swallowed down a knot of panic as she had no idea about who to call in for that one.

  Cassie had all but given up on proper tennis court clearers. The lovely regular Hartsford gardeners were, fortunately, happy to help take the weeds out at least. Elodie had eventually asked them to do the job, telling Cassie that clearly they’d work out cheaper than getting an external team in and that was something to bear in mind. One of her mottos was something like ‘if you’ve got the resources at hand, use them. Don’t outsource. If you can’t do it though, don’t be afraid to admit it.’ Cassie was trying to remember things Elodie had told her in the past and it was quite difficult. She wished she had paid more attention. Now she wondered if she could persuade the gardeners to keep going and do the pathways as well?

  But it would be fine. She had weeks yet.

  It would be fine, even though Cassie could see the surface of the tennis courts was a disaster where the work had already started. The gardeners had poured weed-killer or something over the area and it was a nasty brown mess of dead vegetation. The largest block of tarmac, or whatever it was that was supposed to form a nice smooth surface, had to be about 6 centimetres square, if that, and every little piece was raised up at a mad angle. The courts were like a giant, uneven mess of weedy crazy paving.

  Cassie turned away from the tennis courts, pulling a face and stared at the pool. Her back was to the gates and she was trying to think what there was on the rest of her list, when she heard the throaty roar of an engine.

  ‘What the …?’ She started, and spun around to see a shiny, black and silver motorbike streaking up the lane, and a shiny black-and-silver-leather clad driver astride it. ‘Good grief!’ She hurried to the gates. This couldn’t be Aidan Edwards, could it? He of the soft voice, morning coffee and interesting artefacts?

  But it was.

  Aidan killed the engine of the Zero Engineering T5 Blackie and stared at the tall, dark-haired woman who was staring back at him. He remained astride his pride and joy and smiled behind his smoked glass visor. Aidan owned a lopsided smile that usually made the recipient feel immediately at ease.

  Of course, this woman, who must indeed be Lady Cassandra, couldn’t see the smile; so she simply remained staring at him, her mouth hanging open and her fingers clutching onto some pathetic looking weed she’d obviously yanked out of the overgrown gardens he could see behind her.

  Aidan pulled the helmet off and his smile widened as the girl’s gaze travelled up and down him, then slid across to the bike.

  ‘Nice machine,’ she said. ‘Didn’t Tony Stark have the T6 in Iron Man?’

  ‘He did indeed. A fusion of Asian and American machinery. In other words, a Harley that’s been Frankensteined. I love it.’

  ‘God, I don’t blame you!’ She came up to the gates and studied the motorbike more closely, then nodded. ‘Yes. I can see they’ve taken the Harley and put taller bars on. Blacked it all out. Nice. Very nice.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Aidan climbed off the bike and stood beside it, all six foot three of him. He tucked the helmet under his arm and pushed his too-long black hair out of his eyes. ‘So are we going to talk through the gates or am I allowed in at all?’

  Lady Cassandra Aldrich tore her gaze away from the bike with, it appeared, some effort and looked at Aidan. He reckoned she was almost six feet tall herself. It was a pleasant change for him to be almost eye to eye and not looking at the top of someone’s head.

  ‘Aidan Edwards, I presume?’

  ‘The very same.’ He inclined his head slightly.

  ‘I’m Cassie. Nice to meet you.’ She leaned over and pressed something on the gatepost. The gates swung open and they stood face to face with no railings between them. ‘Do you want to bring your bike in? You can park it up in the grounds.’

  Chapter Seven

  1937

  Midnight came, and Stella was waiting by the changing rooms, wrapped up in a huge coat that Rob recognised as his own. There was a storm lantern hanging above the
door and she had lit it. The shadows fell across her face, but he saw that she was smiling.

  ‘Maureen O’Sullivan as I live and breathe,’ he teased as he approached her, although in truth she was much more beautiful than the famous actress. She quite took his breath away. ‘Is this as wild as it gets, then? You lurk around doorways looking like a screen siren?’ They’d seen Anna Karenina and had a good-natured argument over who was the most attractive – Garbo or O’Sullivan. Stella said she felt Greta Garbo was far too icy to be attractive and she’d much rather look like O’Sullivan. She had argued that the Irish actress was ‘so very much warmer’.

  ‘It gets wilder.’ She grinned at him. ‘Come with me.’ She held her hand out and he took it willingly. She squeezed it and pulled him towards her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. ‘You have to follow me though. Promise?’

  ‘I’d follow you anywhere!’ Rob was genuinely surprised that she should think anything else.

  ‘Good. Now come along.’ She unhooked the lantern and held it up so the light swung before them. She took him around the side of the changing rooms onto a little path that wound behind the building.

  Rob didn’t utter a word of complaint. ‘Interesting. I can’t say I’ve been around here before. It’s simply the back of the building.’

  ‘You would think that.’ He could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Look. I’ve brought you all the way round now.’

  She stopped and hung the lamp on a sturdy branch. She waved her hand at the back wall and pulled him closer. He could feel the warmth and the excitement fizzing around her like an aura.

  And suddenly he knew, without a doubt, that this night would end up with them making love. It was all leading inexorably to that. It was just a matter of how it played out until then. He smiled into the darkness. It would be fun to find out.

  ‘Now. In we go.’ She let go of his hand. ‘Come on.’ Amusement coloured her voice. He saw that a door stood open, but it was pitch black beyond it.