by Ruth Hay
I tell you, I could have smacked her hard. It’s a good thing I had to leave when I did.”
Valerie could see the stress all through Corinne’s body. This was not good. Something had to be done to defray the tension.
“Look, it’s cold out here. Let me get you the spare comforter and pillows from the closet then you can sit here and watch the sunrise while I make a big pot of tea for us. It’s an amazing view.”
Valerie popped bread in the toaster while the water boiled and filled a tray with cups, sugar, milk and both butter and marmalade. She kept an eye on Corinne as she worked and noticed she had settled herself in a chair with the comforter around her like a layer of protection from the assaults of her ungrateful child.
It was still early enough to ensure there would be no interruptions from the remaining sleepers as long as they spoke quietly. Valerie closed the glass door behind her when she had deposited the tray. She had no idea what advice to offer about Corinne’s situation. It was a dilemma that only the participants could resolve.
“Thank you for this, Val. I feel better just getting it off my chest. I won’t burden you any further. Let’s eat and watch the sunrise. It looks like another beautiful day.”
“Fine with me for now, but know that I won’t forget what you have confided in me, Corinne. I want to make this week significant for all of us.”
Corinne summoned a smile and bit into a slice of toast dripping with butter and marmalade. As soon as she had swallowed a gulp of steaming tea she asked what Valerie thought about the mysterious Zoe.
Ah, a welcome change of focus, thought Valerie.
“Why mysterious? ”
“Well, she’s not your average woman. She looks fabulous for one thing. She spent ten minutes in the bathroom last night and emerged wearing a sexy, black silk nightdress. Her skin was shining with health even after she drank most of the wine. I could tell her eyebrows were shaped and possibly tattooed, like the perfect line on her upper eyelids.”
“How on earth did you figure that out, Corinne?”
“If you had prepared as many patients for surgery as I have, you would know all the makeup tricks of the trade. You hide something from an anaesthetist at your peril.”
“She is a beautiful girl, of course. She has a look of her mother Grace.”
“That’s as may be, but how did she do this? She has only the briefcase thing and a handbag with her. Where did it all come from?”
“A good question, I think. It’s unlikely she has a change of clothes. I hope she won’t feel out of place with today’s plans. I really want her to stay around for a few days. Did she happen to say anything to you about that?”
“Not directly. We are strangers after all, but I can tell you she spent some time on her smart phone sending out messages. I could hear the tick tick sound of her nails on the screen while I was pretending to be asleep. Oh, there might be one clue about her intentions. I saw that long pamphlet on her bedside table. You know the one with the picture of a house on the cover? She might be interested in that.”
“That’s good news, for sure. Is there more tea in that pot? I think I’ll take a cup in to Sandy and see what she thinks of a visit to Blackwell today. You enjoy the view, my friend. Don’t rush.”
Rushing was the last thing on Corinne Carstairs’ mind. She felt as if she had been rushing for years now. Rush to work; rush back home; rush to the shops; rush to feed Arthur; rush to work and the whole cycle began again.
She sat back and took a long, deep breath of the crisp morning air. It tasted like a cold, white wine and she could sense the air filling her body with unexpected energy and, perhaps, just a hint of hope.
This Lake District air was a vast improvement on the overheated, dry air of the hospital. In there, it was either tainted with evil smells, or fraught with fear and anxiety. No wonder she was exhausted at the end of her shift. Fresh, cool air like this would improve results for both staff and patients.
She made up her mind to try to relax and enjoy this mini holiday. She was lucky to have the chance and Val was so kind and almost motherly. Obviously it mattered to her hostess that everyone had a good time. After all, what could Corinne actually do about the hospital situation or about Carla’s issues? Part of her was also concerned about Arthur’s recovery and what it meant for their future.
It was good to be so far away from her troubles for a change. She would be stupid to waste this golden opportunity.
The sun was rising and shedding a bright glow over the hilltops ahead of her. It was strange to realize that she had nothing demanding her attention at that very moment. This thought was, in itself, a minor miracle. The stiff back which held most of Corinne’s tension began to ease as she contemplated a day in which she need make no decisions of any importance. She could feel the crease between her eyebrows relaxing and something was happening to her brain. Is this what it feels like to let go?
Suddenly, it was all too much for her. Tears began to fall on the comforter but she let them flow. Everyone said tears were healing. She had said it herself to plenty of her patients and yet, it was an age since she had cried. As long as no one was watching she could allow this weakness to soothe her weary heart for a moment or two.
Sandra had finished her tea while Valerie had a quick shower and dressed in casual clothes for the day.
She could see Corinne huddled inside a cozy comforter on the balcony chair but there was no sign of Zoe. She wondered if the girl had left early. She seemed uncertain of her plans the night before. Even several glasses of wine had not made her more forthcoming.
As she waited to take her turn in the bathroom, Sandra puzzled about Grace’s daughter. As a regular reader of women’s magazines, she knew about the cosmetic line sponsored by Zoe’s company. It was a luxury product far above the level of the inexpensive items Sandra and her daughters bought from the local pharmacy. The ads in the magazines were showcases for the latest young starlet or model with immaculate skin and pouting lips.
Even Sandra could see that their perfection owed little to the cosmetics that were touted in the ads. And yet, thousands of women must buy those products or Zoe would not be the famous CEO of a successful London company, a position she must have earned at a very early age.
Sandra had once read a magazine interview all about Zoe. It was headed in bold print;
Female Exec Helms Excelsior
The interviewer was impressed by Zoe’s rise to the top but had concluded, a little reluctantly, it seemed to Sandra, that her position was well deserved. The sentence that lingered in her memory was the one in which Zoe claimed her sacrifices were all worth it. “The climb to the top is damn hard and no one will take it away from me.”
The person who had made that statement, was now far from her office and Sandra was finding it difficult to imagine why. Surely, she must be anxious to return to the glamorous, high-powered life of an executive? What could possibly be holding her here with this assortment of older women, none of whom were exactly high-maintenance?
Valerie was standing in the kitchen wondering what her chances were of keeping Zoe Morton in the Lake District for another day when a loud hammering at the apartment door startled her. She jumped, and ran to the door with a sense of déjà vu that only deepened when she saw who was outside with a huge box in her arms.
“Really! Those office people need to up their game. No one could bring this delivery to me. I have had to haul this weight over here by myself!”
She staggered inside, teetering in her sky-high heels and relinquished her burden to Valerie who thought it wasn’t all that heavy after all. Perhaps Zoe was not used to hefting anything more weighty than a wine glass these days.
“How did this get here so early on a Monday, Zoe?”
“Oh, I have a 24 hour contract with an express delivery company. I contacted Suzanne last night, she put it all together for me and sent it on. I have been tracking the parcel on my phone but I presumed it would come right to the door.”
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nbsp; She sank down on the nearest chair and eased the shoes from her long elegant feet with a sigh.
Valerie was dying to ask what was so important that Zoe had to have it immediately. Something warned her not to intrude, so she poured a cup of coffee for Zoe and sat down to wait.
Her patience paid off when Zoe asked for the kitchen scissors and ripped open the box, extracting a smaller one which she put aside, and then pulling out a collection of casual clothing and shoes all in her signature colours of white and black. There were wedge shoes that laced to the ankle with open space for toes at the front and flat loafers with a white leather tongue. Beside these was a pair of light canvas boots in a tiny dot pattern that Valerie immediately wanted to try on.
There was one pretty white lace sundress with small black daisies sprinkled over it but the rest of the items now heaped on the dining table ranged from an A-line skirt with a front pleat in a houndstooth check with matching vest, to a selection of beautiful trousers and knitwear. It looked as if a fashion show had disgorged its items onto an apartment couch, all at once. Valerie marvelled that such a limited colour palette could produce so many interesting pieces.
Last of all came a pair of jackets for outerwear. One was in butter-soft white leather with black collar and buttons and the other was a rainproof, knee length, hooded overcoat in white with a fine vertical dark line through the fabric that Valerie knew was perfect for the cold or rainy weather that sometimes arrived over the mountains. She found herself bereft of a comment when faced with such luxury but she did wonder who this employee Suzanne was and how she knew exactly the right things to pack on a Sunday when she should be off duty.
The sounds of tissue paper being unwrapped drew Corinne from the balcony and Sandra from the bedroom. The two women were not as reluctant as Valerie to comment on the display.
“Where did you buy this?’ asked Corinne, carefully holding up a fine-wool cardigan adorned with diamond-shaped panels gleaming with what looked like Swarovski crystals.
“I shop online sometimes and that piece was from a new collection by A Plus, the hand-made knitwear company operated by the same lady who owns this apartment.”
Corinne glanced at Valerie for confirmation and received a nod and a raised eyebrow. She was thinking she must find out more about this intriguing Anna Drake whose name kept cropping up.
“But everything is such a small size,” complained Sandra. “People like me can’t fit into lovely things like these and we never seem to see them in bigger sizes.”
“It’s all about knowing where to shop,” suggested Zoe, with a smile on her face for the first time.
“And it’s about using colour to shape your frame. Anyone can do it!”
Sandra did not look convinced. She was reluctant to touch the clothes the others were exclaiming over. Finding flattering styles was one of her problem issues. She hardly ever shopped for herself these days.
Valerie stood back for a moment and saw two things happening.
First, the interactions among her guests were normal and comfortable for the first time as they shared common interests.
Second, she figured that Zoe had intentions of staying around for a while or she would not have asked for so many clothes. Both revelations brought satisfaction to Valerie and she decided to capitalize on this at once.
“Right, everyone! Get dressed for a day of adventure. You have 15 minutes to get ready. We’ll have lunch and dinner out today. Go!
The three voices were raised in surprised laughter at this statement. Even Zoe could recognize a teacher tone when she heard it. There was a flurry of activity as all four scattered to prepare for, they knew not what.
It needed twenty minutes in the end but Valerie was able to hustle her group out to the car and get them settled without revealing their destination. She drove to the right out of the complex, down the narrow, winding driveway, made a sharp left onto The Old Lake Road and carefully negotiated her way past, and between, vehicles parked here and there, emerging onto the new highway and heading for Waterhead.
“That was scary!” exclaimed Sandra, once they were safely moving in a straight line.
Valerie felt the same way but wisely concealed the fact. It had been easier to be a passenger on the useful shortcut when David had been the driver, but those days were gone and now it was up to her to make things work.
In a few moments they were in the parking lot at Waterhead and lined up for the steamer which would take them down the whole length of upper Lake Windermere to Bowness at the foot of the tourist town of Windermere.
It was looking like a good day for sailing. No powerful winds to ruffle the surface of the deep blue waters. They chose to stay on the top deck with most of the other passengers, including dogs and children. Valerie shared the excitement of her companions as they compared notes about how long it had been since they had sailed on such a small vessel.
The wind picked up as they struck out for the centre of the lake. Sandra produced a headscarf from her handbag and tied it securely under her chin but Zoe walked the few steps to the teak-topped rail and leaned out into the wind letting the air sweep her shining hair back from her forehead. She stayed there while the announcements alerted the passengers to the history of the lake and the interesting sites they were passing on either side. Their vessel, The Swan, was one of a fleet of boats plying these waters since 1848 and part of a traditional access to a large variety of tour options. Valerie wondered which of the advertised tours might attract her group. The Sunset cruise or the Buffet cruise or any of the shorter ferry rides could take them to a destination.
Some careful navigating through docked sailing ships signalled their arrival at the busy Bowness pier. They disembarked but Valerie led them away from the fair-like atmosphere to the nearby bus stops where she scanned the waiting buses for their next target.
“Do we need a bus, Valerie? It would be faster by taxi.”
“Most taxis are pre-ordered here, Zoe. You won’t find any empty ones passing by. It’s not like London.”
“I think I can fix that.”
Zoe pulled out her smartphone and pressed a space or two. Within a few seconds she informed the group that a taxi would be available in exactly one minute at their location.
“How did you do that?”
“Oh, I have an ap that connects me to the nearest free taxi and I have already paid the driver.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed the women as they settled into their seats in the capacious car and Valerie told the driver their destination, sending a smile directly to Zoe as she did so and seeing a pleased look on the girl’s face.
Blackwell House did not look too prepossessing from the road.
As Valerie knew, they were looking at it end on. The house stretched away from them toward Lake Windermere in the distance.
“Come this way before we enter,” she insisted.
They walked a few steps and turned a corner to see an elaborate façade sprinkled with windows at different levels. The exterior was painted a stark white which glittered in the sunlight.
It was a moment or two before the unusual nature of the structure could be absorbed, then questions started to come.
“Why Blackwell? It couldn’t be whiter!”
“How did you find this beautiful house, Val?”
“Can we go in through this part where the stairs are?”
“Isn’t this intriguing? Look at the roof line!”
Valerie smiled as her friends began to sound like a class of schoolchildren. “I don’t have all the answers but I am not your tour guide today. I suggest we go inside where the tea room and the gift shop are. You can pick up information about the house there. I want you to wander around on your own and choose a spot that speaks to you, where you can sit and think. We’ll reassemble at noon in the tea room to order our meals and we’ll decide then where we want to eat them. Read the menu board while I get tickets.”
She was off before anyone could object.
Corinne w
alked the length of the house to the sturdy stone wall bordering the lawn and gazed out at the long view across fields to the lake. She thought Zoe was right behind her, but when she glanced back at the elegant figure in a black linen dress with short-sleeved white jacket trimmed in black and sensible flat shoes on her feet, she saw she had not moved.
Zoe studied the styles and placements of the windows and noticed several unique features, deducing that the architect must be a free thinker. She wanted to know more.
Sandra headed for the tea room, as instructed, and planned her meal. She was not as interested in the house tour and thought a delicious lunch would make up for the rather boring part of the day.
Valerie had looked over the pamphlet and thought she knew a bit about Blackwell. She quickly discovered how wrong she was. The wide corridor leading from the gift shop, once the servants’ quarters, was such a contrast to the house’s exterior that it was as if her sight was dimmed. The dark panelled walls and wooden floor absorbed the feeble light from recessed electric fixtures and her eyes were drawn at once to a bright area at the far end. Before she could reach it, however, an open doorway to her left revealed an extraordinary room best described as a medieval hall. It was impossible to pass by without exploring further.
Several visitors were walking around the huge room exclaiming as they went and Valerie stood just inside the entrance watching them. It was hard to focus on any one feature as the space was filled with unexpected items around the walls, leaving the wooden floor largely bare of furniture.
Where to go first?
There were not one, but two, massive fireplaces. The one to her right was a deep-set inglenook fireplace. As soon as the word ‘nook’ occurred to her she noticed the room was full of these cozy nooks and she set out to investigate. Close to the inglenook was a piano, set perfectly in a small space between the staircase and the wall. On the other side of this fireplace was a projecting bay window with seat cushions just begging to be used. She began to head in that direction when she saw another padded bench tucked into the left wall. This one was almost private as it was framed on top by a most spectacular ceramic frieze. She had to look closer. The colourful frieze had peacocks with trailing tails and heads turned toward the other fireplace. She estimated that the peacocks might be painted on embossed paper rather than on ceramic tiles but either way, they were gorgeous.