The Secrets of Tenley House

by Patricia Dixon

  Conscience appeased and embracing the spark of excitement that had ignited inside, Georgie concentrated on Vanessa who was currently looking at the ships brochure and marvelling at the photo of the restaurant and the idea of dining with the captain. For some strange reason Georgie felt tears well in her eyes and flicked one away before it had chance to escape onto her cheek. It wasn’t sadness she was feeling, it was love and gratitude for her daughter and the man she had met all those years earlier, a forlorn chap sitting on a park bench. She had gathered him up and saved him, and in return he had rescued her. Kenneth had given her a home and a family and this funny creature by her side, her daughter.

  There had been enough tears shed, too many deaths in this house so a year away from Tenley was just what the doctor would have ordered had they asked him, but on this occasion they didn’t need to pay an extortionate amount for the advice. Instead, Vanessa had come up trumps, and soon Georgie would be lapping up the luxury of a beautiful ship, surrounded by sun and sea, bustling cities and desert plains. Leaning over, Georgie wrapped her arm around Vanessa’s shoulder and pulled her in for a hug, placing a firm kiss on her cheek.

  “What was that for?” Vanessa turned and laughed at Georgie.

  “It was for being simply perfect and wonderful and the best daughter anyone could wish for.” Georgie smiled and winked, then grabbed the cruise brochure from Vanessa. As she flicked through the pages, a thought occurred. Perhaps the future might just be bearable, mother and daughter together, the two of them against the world.

  Sandy

  While Georgie and Vanessa made plans to head up to London and buy whatever they needed for their trip, outside in the hall someone listened. Sandy leant against the wall, her eyes closed, holding in the tears caused by the rage which flooded every cell of her body. How dare they cast her aside, leaving her behind like a discarded toy while they went off together. Once again, Sandy berated herself for missing an opportunity, for not shoving Georgie off the ledge when she had the chance because then her prayers would have been answered. All the Tenleys would be gone, save Vanessa.

  She knew God would understand her anger and forgive such wicked thoughts but that didn’t make her feel better, nothing would. Tired of listening to them laughing, all thoughts of a dead father and husband seemingly set aside, Sandy pushed her body from the wall and made her way upstairs, silently vowing not to make the same mistake again. If she had to wait a year, then so be it. The twelve months that lay ahead would be painful, parted once again from her child, taken away by another woman. But on their return, Sandy would be ready and this time there would be no reprieve. Georgie was the only thing that lay in her path and somehow, she had to go. For now, all Sandy could do was paint a smile on her face and wave them off, then wait. She was good at that.

  Part IV

  Vanessa and Sandy

  After saying goodbye to the doctor who had kindly promised to have the prescription sent straight over once it had been dispensed, Vanessa closed the door and rested her head on the oak panels before sighing and making her way back upstairs. She was tired but thankful. The hours she’d devoted to caring for Georgie were paying off. The doctor was pleased with his patient’s progress and after giving Georgie a thorough examination, confirmed that she was well enough to get out of bed.

  She had been diagnosed with another bout of acute bronchitis and a serious dose of viral pneumonia but as long as she took baby steps, Georgie could return to the land of the living. It had been such a shame that their world tour that had culminated in Sydney, watching a spectacular display of New Year’s Day fireworks, would end with Georgie falling ill once they arrived home. The doctor suggested she might have contracted the bug during the cruise from Australia, a long but luxurious trip and one Georgie enjoyed every minute of. Vanessa did too, there were seven restaurants on-board.

  She was fine when they docked at Southampton but Georgie became unwell just days after they arrived and was convinced that Tenley was cursed and as a result, wanted to leave as soon as possible. Vanessa and the doctor had assured Georgie that it was nothing of the kind and she should avoid getting into a state. Her mood had dipped the minute they drove through the gates so being bedridden hadn’t helped one bit.

  Neither had Sandy who seemed to be in a queer mood ever since they stepped foot inside Tenley and Vanessa had no idea why, perhaps she felt usurped or neglected. After having the run of the place for a year it must have been strange to return to staff status even though they’d tried to make her feel valued. Georgie had bought Sandy some lovely gifts and Vanessa sent postcards throughout the year, telephoning once a month to make sure everything was okay. Vanessa was at a loss as to what more Sandy expected but if she continued with her rather stilted and almost belligerent attitude, they would be having words.

  Vanessa felt she too had changed since the death of her father. His passing had in some ways allowed her to step up and take her rightful place at Tenley. How it would have infuriated Phyllis, to see the interloper take control of the estate and find herself sole heir, extremely rich and rather powerful. Vanessa loved it. To be fair, it was something she had cultivated over the years after observing Georgie who was the master of getting what she wanted. Without knowing it, Vanessa had been her willing pupil and now it was time to put everything she had learned into practice.

  Apart from Georgie’s wobble, the atmosphere at Tenley was a thousand times happier and stress free. Vanessa vowed to do whatever it took to maintain it. No more aged tyrants or strange male visitors upsetting the apple cart, sending Georgie into meltdown and ruining everyone’s fun. This was why Sandy had better watch her step. Nothing would be allowed to affect their newfound equilibrium.

  It was a shame about Georgie though because her pre-nuptial arrangement left her almost penniless, not that it mattered because Vanessa had sworn to look after her for the rest of her life, in the manner she was accustomed to. In fact they were going to have a ball, just the two of them, exactly how it should be. But first things first, she needed to get Georgie back on form. They had made so many plans on the journey home it would be sad not to fulfil them. There would be another royal wedding in the summer when Prince Andrew would marry Sarah. The idea of a commoner marrying up had tickled Georgie no end so they intended to join in the celebrations and remain in London to attend the opening night of The Phantom of the Opera and Les Misérables that had taken the West End by storm while they were away. Yes, spring was definitely in the air.

  Pushing open the bedroom door, Vanessa stepped inside and went over to check on Georgie who looked pale, even under her tanned skin and her eyes were set in dark hollow sockets. Thinking that some fresh air would do Georgie good, maybe a trip down to Cornwall to the cottage they used to rent, Vanessa took her book from the bedside stand and lowered herself into the chair, feeling the arms dig into her sides, flattening her flesh. Ignoring the pounds she had piled on during their trip, not caring that she hadn’t turned heads or garnered the attention of young men, she began to read, determined to keep vigil and focus on Georgie. Vanessa needed nobody else.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Sandy had abandoned her cooking. Leaving the unrolled lump of pastry on the table, she tucked a lock of her unwashed hair behind her ears, wiped floury hands on her dress then poured a glass of malt. It had become her favourite tipple over the past year and along with the selection of fine wines she had made good use of, Kenneth’s stash of whisky had helped her through many a long and lonely night. What a strange time it had been, left alone in a huge house that, despite being almost deserted, still gathered dust, the stairs and corridors creaked during the night and woodland noises from beyond the windows seemed far louder than before.

  During her isolation, Sandy had experienced such incredibly diverse emotions. Sometimes she was sad, bitter, frightened and at times jumpy as she wandered Tenley with all the lights blazing. Other times she had felt slightly manic, dancing in her nightdress in front of the telly or creeping down to the pool,
dangling her legs in the cold water, going over the past, talking to ghosts.

  Sandy had found great solace in alcohol and her church where on sober days she’d make twice-daily visits, praying long and hard in the draughty pews. During her intense communion, Sandy asked for very little, just the return of her daughter and on her lowest days, for another worshipper to offer the hand of friendship, a chat and a cup of tea would do. Accepting that her situation was of her own making, revolving life around Vanessa and Tenley, her fellow churchgoers had become wary of the stand-offish woman who lived in the big house. In desperation, Sandy made excuses for Mrs Coombs to come in and help her clean. They had rearranged linen cupboards, cleaned windows and polished brass together and Sandy had felt such a blessed relief to hear footsteps and tuneless singing, or eat lunch with another human being.

  When left to her own devices and with too much time on her hands, Sandy mulled over the past and her current abandonment, sinking into periods of deep depression and barely controllable rages. Her life resembled scales; up and down, frequently unbalanced. What had surprised her most was that resentment had crept up and was making its presence felt on a regular basis, and worse, it diluted the love Sandy felt towards her child, being slowly replaced by scorn and disappointment. How could this have happened? Instead of loving Vanessa unconditionally, as Georgie seemed to do, Sandy couldn’t hide the disappointment she felt whenever she thought about her or looked upon the photos that lined the lounge.

  Vanessa was the image of her father the rapist and bore no resemblance to Sandy other than in her eyes, two dark currants which burned right inside you. Phyllis had been right about that. That wasn’t all that irritated Sandy so. It was the raven ringlets that were childish and bobbed upon her head as she walked and talked, reminding Sandy of a dark-haired Shirley Temple, blown out of all proportion. Vanessa wasn’t obese, far from it, but her saving grace was the daily walk to the office and maybe the flights of stairs at Tenley because otherwise, the comfort eating and love affair with food would be the death of her.

  Vanessa’s size and gait was a constant reminder of him and hard to wipe from her mind, but the bone structure was genetic and this inherent attribute pained Sandy so. But it wasn’t just physical, it went deeper than that. While Vanessa was a pleasant enough young woman, her shallow outlook on life, lack of ambition and self-pride was most frustrating. Her enjoyment of trivial pursuits such as listening to pop music, reading trashy novels and watching television shows as she lounged in her bedroom drove Sandy to distraction. The one thing that eclipsed all of these was Vanessa’s refusal to accept God into her life and over the years it had become a moot point and sometimes, Sandy saw it as an open challenge to her authority. Then she remembered she had none, not where her daughter was concerned.

  In between her growing disdain and despair, frequent drunkenness and the saving grace of Mrs Coombs, Sandy occupied herself in a more constructive manner, adding to her nest egg and obsessively looking for something that she now realised had been thrown away long ago, Vanessa’s knitted layette. The huge attic was an untapped treasure trove which Sandy methodically pillaged and then embarked on a spot of sightseeing, offloading her haul on unsuspecting, far flung antique dealers.

  Still, no matter how many hours she spent looking through dusty boxes and chests, Sandy couldn’t find the box she pictured in her head, the one scattered in flowers that contained the pale lemon layette. At the mother and baby home they’d allowed Sandy to write a few words to her daughter and promised that the carefully penned letter would one day go to her daughter. Sandy wondered if it could be in the box. But maybe it was just another lie and they’d simply left it in a dusty file with Sandy’s details, clues and a paper trail to Vanessa’s real mother. Sandy had trusted them all, the social worker, her mother and even for a while the rapist. She knew she had been a fool on all counts.

  In her bitter moments, she imagined Daphne crinkling her nose as she carried Vanessa from the home, desperate to get back to Tenley where she would have removed the knitted outfit and replaced it an outfit bought from a fine store in London, chucking Sandy’s offering straight in the bin. How she hated them, every single person who had a hand in stealing her baby, and Georgie was no better because she stole Vanessa’s heart when she didn’t deserve it. None of them did.

  In her more positive moments, Sandy considered the possibility of coming clean and presenting the truth to Vanessa and Georgie in a calm and rational manner, explaining her motives and simple desire to have a relationship with her child. Sandy loved this scenario, it was the most agreeable solution and one in which the three women lived together in harmony and friendship as equals, if only in the relative sense. Sandy would always be the poor relation, the hired help, the shameful teenage mother who had tempted a rapist, a young girl whose own cold-hearted mother had treated her so cruelly. It was no wonder that by the end of a very long year, a ball of negative emotions was festering inside Sandy, ready to explode.

  When Vanessa rang to confirm their arrival date, Sandy almost wept with joy, swiftly replaced by disdain as she realised her temporary reign of Tenley was over. To be fair, Georgie insisted that Sandy should remain in the sumptuous guest bedroom she had occupied in their absence, unhappy at the thought of their loyal housekeeper being banished to the top floor. After graciously accepting, for a moment Sandy felt peevish for seething at the thought of returning to her poky room. Then it passed.

  Apart from this concession nothing else had changed and Sandy was now expected to resume her previous role and basically, know her place. It was ironic that after missing Vanessa for so long, she had hardly seen her since the homecoming. Bloody Georgie had fallen ill again and Sandy suspected her lifestyle was finally catching up and it was no more than she deserved. But while Georgie festered in her sick bed, Vanessa had taken it upon herself to play nursemaid and spent every available hour upstairs, by her beloved stepmother’s side.

  Sandy had had enough, of everything. Pouring another glass, she felt the honey-coloured liquid warm her blood and that familiar rage stir inside. She had money of her own. There was enough to buy a small place in the village and live independently. It would be easy to find another job and she didn’t need much to survive on so something menial would do. Why should she hide in plain sight and in the meantime, cook and skivvy for her own daughter and a woman she thoroughly despised for so many reasons?

  Vanessa didn’t need Sandy and she certainly didn’t need the nest egg that was resting in a high interest savings account, which was why it had been left to the church and religious charities. It was Sandy’s way of thanking God for his abiding support. Not only that, the missionaries in Peru or even the cats’ home would appreciate it more than Vanessa.

  Sighing, Sandy resigned herself to the truth. She might as well throw in the towel, reveal all and take the consequences. Either way she would probably lose, stay or go, so if she was going to get the boot it would be with dignity. Draining the glass of whisky, Sandy poured another, her courage building as an alternative outcome formed in her mind. Yes, she should chance her luck and roll the dice, what had she to lose?

  Hearing the doorbell ring, Sandy tutted and seeing that her bottle was almost empty, decided to fetch another from the cellar and on the way, if she could be bothered, would answer the door. Getting to her feet, she swayed slightly and took a moment to balance herself, kicking off her shoes to make walking easier before heading for the hallway and the sound of the bloody bell.

  Flinging open the door, she found the delivery lad from the village shivering on the step. Sandy knew Tommy well and had always treated him kindly so was rather offended when he took a step backwards. Realising the fumes from the whisky and her slightly dishevelled state might have surprised him, Sandy attempted to save face, failing miserably as her words came out slurred.

  “Yes, young man, can I help you?” Sandy leant against the doorframe, feeling groggy and impatient.

  “I’ve brought this for Lady
Tenley, could I leave it with you?” Tommy stretched out his arm, unwilling to go closer.

  Sandy snatched the paper bag containing the medicine and answered sarcastically, leaving Tommy wideeyed as he backed off.

  “Oh it will be my pleasure. Don’t you know that’s why I’m here? To serve the gracious lady Tenley and bow to her every whim… So you leave this with me, young man. I’ll be sure her royal bloody highness gets it. Now you run along… go on, sod off.” Sandy was about to slam the door when she heard an angry voice behind her.

  “Sandy! That’s enough.” Stepping out from nowhere, Vanessa snatched the bag of medicine and apologised to Tommy who no doubt couldn’t wait to get back to the shop and tell everyone about the drunken housekeeper.

  Vanessa watched him cycle up the drive into the mist, calling after him to take care before closing the door. When she turned, Sandy was nowhere to be seen. About to go in search, a figure at the top of the stairs caught Vanessa’s eye, it was Georgie, holding on to the banister as she pulled her gown around her frail body.

  “Vanessa what’s going on? Is Sandy alright? I heard raised voices.”

  “It’s fine, Georgie, now go back to bed and I’ll bring your medicine up shortly, please don’t concern yourself. I’ll deal with Sandy.”

  Georgie nodded wearily and Vanessa waited until she turned and headed back to her room, doing as she was told. Shaking with anger, she set off to find Sandy, determined to give her a ticking off, torn between administering Georgie’s medication and sacking the grumpy housekeeper.