Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor

Home > Fiction > Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor > Page 10
Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor Page 10

by Faith Bleasdale


  ‘Of course!’ Harriet said.

  ‘We would never buy a pet when we could rescue one, but actually it was Harry really, she and Hilda fell in love.’

  ‘We were kindred spirits, both felt abandoned, but had lots of love to give,’ Harriet laughed.

  Gemma opened her mouth to say that was how she felt about Albert, but she closed it again. She wasn’t ready to give them that much of herself.

  ‘And now we are a family, and although Harry thinks I’m messy, actually it’s mainly Hilda.’

  ‘Oh don’t be ridiculous, Hilda is perfect.’

  ‘You see, Gemma, I stand no chance when it comes to Hilda. Which reminds me the other night …’

  ‘I did have a bit of a hangover,’ Gemma admitted, feeling her face colour. No one had said she had made a fool of herself, but the idea that she might have done had been burning inside her ever since.

  ‘I felt terrible too, but thanks, Gemma, I really needed it, and it was me pushing it, not Fred for once,’ Harriet said, smiling warmly at Gemma. ‘Although Fred is incredibly angry we drank his good tequila.’ She laughed again.

  ‘We drank tequila?’ Gemma’s brow furrowed.

  ‘Oh, Gemma, yes, you said you’d never tried it, so we had shots. But you didn’t like it, your face was a picture, so you only had one. Pip and I carried on though.’ She grimaced. ‘Which was not my best idea.’

  ‘No wonder I was so ill the next day.’

  ‘Sorry, but if it’s any consolation, when I got home I tripped up the stairs, couldn’t be bothered to move and when Connor found me I was asleep.’ Harriet chuckled.

  ‘She was snoring.’ Connor reached over and gave Harriet a hug.

  ‘At least you remembered,’ Gemma pointed out.

  ‘Well yes, unfortunately I always seem to remember when I get drunk; it’s not always a good thing. Right, anyway, Gemma, we’d better go.’ She was back to her usual businesslike self.

  ‘Go where?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘We’ve got a meeting with the Easter event committee up at the house. Didn’t Pippa tell you?’

  ‘She said there was a meeting, but she didn’t tell me she wanted me there.’

  ‘Oh, didn’t she? Well, I think it’ll make sense for you to join us. These people are the most important locals when it comes to Meadowbrook, along with the gardening club of course, and I for one think it’s a good idea to for you to understand them.’

  ‘Harriet, no one understands them,’ Connor pointed out.

  Harriet quickly filled Gemma in on who she was about to meet as they walked up to the house. It transpired that the Meadowbrook events always involved the villagers. Not only was each event a Parker’s Hollow community occasion, but they also raised funds for the animal sanctuary. Gemma tried to keep up both with the fast pace Harriet was walking at, and also with the speed at which she spoke.

  John, the vicar was prominent, and he was also in charge of the morris dancers.

  ‘I didn’t think they existed anymore,’ Gemma said, having never actually seen real morris dancing, apart from in Midsomer Murders, her nan’s favourite television programme.

  ‘Tip: don’t let John hear you say that,’ Harriet replied.

  Gemma took mental notes as Harriet continued to talk. The vicar/morris dancer’s wife, Hilary, was famous for her quiches, which she sold alongside Gwen’s cakes at most events. Then there was Edie and Rose, who Gemma had met from the gardening club. Gerry, Gwen’s “friend”, liked to build things and was also happy to dress up as anything, which they didn’t like to think about. Samuel was the oldest member but still came along to every meeting, despite being deaf as a post and always forgetting to wear his hearing aid …

  There were others too, but Gemma was sure she would never remember them all. However, as Harriet talked about them with fondness in her voice, she was intrigued. It was funny how these spoilt siblings, growing up with all this privilege, seemed so committed not just to getting their hands dirty with the animals, but also involving the community. It showed they were good people, but actually, Gemma already knew that. She wasn’t working for a corporation after all but a family, a family with a big heart it seemed, and she really needed to remember that. Even Harriet.

  The Easter event committee were already gathered around the dining table. Gemma suddenly had the idea that when the hotel opened, they would keep this as the dining room and guests would all dine together; if they didn’t want to mix, they could arrange to dine privately in their rooms, perhaps. But, instead of turning the room into yet another hotel dining room, they would get an experience eating here, a bit like in the grand houses of the old days. She was both surprised and delighted with her brainwave. It felt as if it would work. Meadowbrook brought people together, and one way perfect for that was for them to dine together.

  ‘Hello, everyone,’ Harriet said confidently as they stopped chattering and all stared at Gemma. For some reason she immediately felt herself blush.

  ‘Oh, hello, Harriet, and Gemma – this is Gemma.’ Edie took over the introductions. ‘I told you about her – she’s going to set up a hotel here. And she’s a lovely girl.’

  Gemma felt herself turning red from her toes to her ears.

  ‘Ah yes.’ John looked at Gemma over the top of his glasses. Next to him was a woman who looked very much like him; she could have been his sister, but Gemma already knew from Harriet that she was his wife. ‘We do need to talk about this hotel. I mean, what will it mean?’

  ‘What do you mean, what will it mean?’ a man, who Gemma assumed was Gerry as he was sitting very close to Gwen, asked.

  ‘For the village, for our events, that’s what he means,’ Hilary explained in a calm, quiet voice.

  ‘Can everybody speak up? I can’t hear a bloody thing,’ Samuel shouted.

  ‘Oh, love, I thought you were asleep,’ said Rose, who was sitting next to him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We were trying to get Gemma,’ Hilary shouted, ‘to tell us about this hotel.’

  Gemma gazed at everyone; they were all looking expectantly at her. Harriet and Freddie both wore the same amused expressions, whereas Gus and Pippa were a little more concerned.

  ‘It’s very early days,’ Gemma explained, ‘but as far as I am aware, it won’t mean any changes for your events.’ Although she didn’t add that the meetings would probably have to be held elsewhere. ‘And, of course, it will only benefit the village. You know, like bringing new job opportunities.’ Gemma’s cheeks were so hot she could fry eggs on them. She hadn’t been prepared for this at all.

  ‘What kind of jobs?’ Edie asked.

  ‘We haven’t worked that out exactly, but cleaning, waitressing, work in the kitchen, the bar, guest relations, that sort of thing. And as this will be a small hotel, there won’t be large groups staying here, you can rest assured.’

  ‘Gemma, I’m Doris – we haven’t met. I do the raffles along with Mary here.’ She gestured to another lady who sat next to her, who Gemma had seen at the gardening club. ‘We really do enjoy a good raffle, don’t we, Mary?’

  ‘Oh yes, selling tickets is something of a skill of ours, if we do say so ourselves,’ Mary added.

  ‘Anyway, we don’t mind the coach trips that come to see the gardens, very civilised they are too, but you see we are concerned,’ Doris continued.

  ‘About what?’ Gemma asked, trying very hard to follow.

  ‘Oh, what do they call them, you know, the chicken thing and the male deer. They come to get drunk and have sex.’

  ‘What on earth?’ Gemma said, baffled, as Samuel spluttered.

  ‘Who’s having sex?’

  ‘What she means, Gemma,’ John said, taking over, ‘is these stag and hen parties. We don’t want our village invaded by people wearing penises on their heads.’

  Gemma was aghast. Did the morris-dancing vicar really say “penis”? Freddie choked. Harriet looked as if she were going to fall off her chair trying to contain her laughter. All eyes wer
e on her.

  ‘We won’t have any stag or hen do’s here,’ Gemma said. ‘Absolutely not. And definitely not any who want to be tacky.’

  She thought about her last hotel. They did have some hen and stag parties there, and they could get rowdy – other guests had made some complaints – but no, that wouldn’t ever be a feature of Meadowbrook.

  ‘Really?’ Freddie sounded disappointed.

  ‘Absolutely not. If a bride-to-be wants to come and relax with a couple of her best friends, that’s one thing, but we are going to be a lovely boutique hotel, which will reflect the character of both Meadowbrook and Parker’s Hollow. There won’t be any inflatable penises or it is peni?’ Gemma finished.

  ‘Peni? Are you kidding?’ Freddie laughed.

  ‘Well said, Gemma,’ Pippa finally interjected. ‘And we will keep you informed of all and any progress, of course. There’s a long way to go, but this village will always be at the forefront of our plans.’

  ‘I might like a little job here,’ Edie said.

  ‘Doing what?’ Margaret asked. ‘It’s not like you’re young anymore.’

  ‘Since my new hip I’m like a spring chicken. Or hen.’ Edie laughed mischievously. ‘I like the sound of guest relations, does that involve—’

  ‘No, Edie,’ Harriet said quickly. ‘Now, can we get back to the task at hand, the Easter event?’

  ‘Can you all speak up?’ Samuel shouted again and then promptly started snoring.

  Gemma had never been so grateful to hear the meeting being wound up. The Meadowbrook Easter Committee had defeated her. She had never seen anything like it, and how she was supposed to design a luxury hotel, where it seemed these people would be involved, she had no idea. Goodness, if guests were spending hundreds of pounds a night, they didn’t want to encounter Edie’s flirting, the uncertainty of whether Samuel was dead or not – she swore he stopped breathing at one point. Or John, the vicar, extolling the virtues of morris dancing; there had been a monologue they felt lasted for almost half an hour.

  The Singer siblings all seemed so comfortable with them – no, more than that, fond of them. Gus was his usual kind self, helping all the ladies up from their seats when they – eventually – got ready to leave. Pippa thanked them all effusively; although they hadn’t really done anything. Harriet said how much she was looking forward to seeing them next week for a follow-up meeting, as nothing had been decided in this one. And Freddie helped Samuel get out to the waiting minibus, which they used for the gardening club and committee meetings.

  ‘I haven’t seen you in church,’ John pointed out to Gemma as they both stood by the front door.

  Freddie came back just at the same time, and he grinned like a naughty schoolboy.

  ‘Well, you see, I’ve been going back home at the weekends.’ She had, although this weekend she was going to stay at Meadowbrook and drive to see her nan on Sunday afternoon.

  ‘Ah, well, if you stay here on a Sunday, our service is at ten o’clock.’

  ‘You can go this Sunday, can’t you? You did say you were here this weekend.’ Freddie smirked.

  ‘Well—’ Gemma hadn’t been to church since she was at junior school.

  ‘Fantastic, and perhaps you’ll bring this reprobate with you.’ John patted Freddie on the back. It was Freddie’s turn to look horrified.

  ‘I’d love to but … but I have my chickens to look after, in the mornings,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Well, if I help you we can be finished before church,’ Gemma offered with a smirk.

  ‘You couldn’t—’ Freddie started.

  ‘Splendid, it’s a date.’ John the vicar beamed with pleasure.

  ‘It really isn’t,’ both Freddie and Gemma said at the same time.

  Chapter 12

  ‘You are doing it wrong,’ Freddie stormed.

  Gemma turned and glared at him. He was earning his position as most annoying Singer ever.

  ‘How on earth can you feed chickens wrong?’ she asked tetchily.

  It was early Sunday morning, pouring with rain, and she should be having a nice relaxing morning at home, but instead, she was out in the horrific weather feeding chickens and being shouted at by Freddie.

  ‘You offered, if you remember, and look, you have to scatter the feed in the right way.’ He took the bucket off her and demonstrated by doing exactly what she had been doing.

  ‘If you hadn’t told John, the vicar, I was around for church, we wouldn’t be in this position,’ Gemma pointed out, too wet, frizzy and cold to remember to be intimidated by him. Besides, in his huge raincoat, wellies and a hat that made him look like a fisherman, she couldn’t really find him so today.

  ‘You were the one who roped me in and offered to help with the chickens,’ he shot back.

  ‘It wasn’t my idea, it was John, the vicar’s.’ She felt like stamping her feet. She never got angry but she felt it now. As well as tired, cold and wet.

  ‘Humph, it’s still all your bloody fault.’

  Gemma was about to respond, but as she turned to do so, she tripped over a chicken and went flying, landing on her bum. At least that cheered Freddie up, as he laughed heartily.

  ‘Oh, Elizabeth Bennet, I know she’s annoying, but you shouldn’t have tripped her up,’ he chastised the chicken, while actually picking her up and petting her. ‘I hope she didn’t hurt you.’ He clearly meant the chicken, not Gemma, as he examined her and then, when satisfied, he put her back down, where she clucked as she walked away.

  Gemma was dumbfounded. ‘Aren’t you going to help me up?’ she asked.

  ‘No. Now, we better get back to the house and cleaned up if we’re going to make the bloody church service, and let this be a lesson to you.’

  Gemma opened her mouth to shout at Freddie’s departing back, then closed it again. She struggled up and then huffed back to the house after him.

  What did people wear to church? She had cleaned herself up with a quick shower, and now she was staring at her wardrobe. She opted for a pair of fitted black trousers – courtesy of Pippa – and a soft grey jumper that she had bought from Zara last weekend when she had allowed herself a small shopping spree. Just as she had finished dressing, there was a knock on the door and Pippa’s head appeared.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, fine, although my bum might be a bit bruised.’

  ‘Freddie told me what happened – he’s a terror.’ But Pippa’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

  ‘He’s angry because he thinks it’s my fault he has to go to church.’

  ‘Oh, it’ll do him good.’

  ‘Come with us, Pippa, please?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘Oh, I’d love to, but Harriet and I have to walk the dogs. The weather’s awful and we’re short of volunteers today, so sorry.’ She looked anything but sorry. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. John’s sermons are interesting to say the least.’

  ‘Judas,’ Gemma said, then worried she had overstepped the mark.

  ‘There, see, you know this Bible stuff already, you’ll fit right in.’

  Gemma could hear Pippa chuckling as she walked off.

  Gemma stood in the large hall waiting for Freddie. She was studying a portrait of an old lady, who she’d assumed when she first came here was a family member. However, when she asked Pippa, she laughed and told her that her father was poor growing up, and didn’t have portraits and suchlike, so he had bought some old paintings, which he said he liked, despite not knowing the subject from Adam. For some reason this made Gemma feel closer to the Singer patriarch; he didn’t always fit in, either.

  It was going to be painful, not just going to church, but also the fact that she and Freddie had to spend time together. She was unsure how he felt about her. At times, he seemed to dislike her, and who could blame him? She was awkward and clumsy around him. At other times, he made her laugh and made her feel more carefree than ever. He was a conundrum. More than any of the other Singers, she couldn’t figure him out. Or perhaps
she couldn’t figure out their relationship together.

  When he appeared, looking impossibly handsome in smart trousers, a shirt, top buttons undone, poking out from a V-neck jumper, she bristled, ready for the attack. But to her surprise, he smiled.

  ‘I guess we’d better get going. If we’re late, John, the vicar, will make our life hell, come on.’

  ‘OK.’ Gemma put her coat on and as Freddie opened the door, she followed him out. ‘You’ve cheered up,’ she said carefully as they made their way down the drive.

  ‘Oh, probably the vision of you splayed in the chicken coop. Sorry, but it was funny.’

  ‘Well, actually, it was quite painful,’ Gemma retorted.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Gemma, you really need to get a sense of humour.’

  ‘I have one, thank you very much.’ She could feel this descending into another argument, and she had no idea why.

  ‘Sometimes you do, but other times you are so serious. Anyway, I guess that will come in handy at church. I shall be trying not to laugh at John’s sermon, and you won’t find it funny, anyway.’ He winked at her to show he was teasing.

  ‘Want some?’ Freddie whispered, passing a small silver hip flask to Gemma.

  She was shocked. As she looked around, no one seemed to notice, and she was glad they were sat near the back. The church was lovely; incredibly pretty, not too big and, thankfully, quite full. Although Gemma and Freddie were the youngest there by about twenty years. Gwen and Gerry were at the front – luckily, they hadn’t seen Freddie and Gemma sneak in a bit late – as well as some of the gardening club and events committee.

  ‘What’s in there?’ she hissed back. She couldn’t believe he had brought a hip flask to church – well actually, thinking about it, she could.

  ‘Whisky, it’s good for shock.’

  ‘What shock?’

  ‘And now if you will all be upstanding, some of our ladies will sing “Amazing Grace” for you.’

  As Gemma saw Edie, Rose, Margaret and Doris get to their feet with three other women she hadn’t yet met, and the organist started playing, she soon understood exactly what Freddie meant.

 

‹ Prev