He paused; and the architect nodded his head to indicate that he was waiting.
‘I’ve got a fixed sum available for this enterprise,’ Gordon continued. ‘Twenty-six thousand pounds. Quite enough for a fine house, with the land already purchased. If you undertake the commission, the whole sum will be at your disposal. But not a penny more than that. Everything’s to come out of the twenty-six thousand – clearing the land and landscaping and planting it; building the house and decorating it; your own fees, and the cost of putting right all the things that go wrong. I’ve had good reports of you as someone who works to an estimate. But this may be larger than anything you’ve set your hand to before. If you think you can’t handle it, this is the time to say so. And if you know for a fact that every new house costs ten per cent more than its owner expected, then allow for that before you start.’
Mr Faraday looked first at Midge and then at his client. ‘When a house turns out to cost more than the owner intended or the architect promised,’ he said, ‘it’s always for the same reason. Because the owner has had a change of mind.’
‘There’s a second half to that reason, I’ll be bound. The owner changes his mind and the architect doesn’t warn him that the changes will be expensive. I know as well as you do, Faraday, that it’s the easiest thing in the world to sell a gentleman something he can’t afford, because he doesn’t choose to enquire the price – and even if he did, he wouldn’t know or care whether he has the money to hand. But you and I, who are in the business of knowing the costs of other people’s whims, must understand each other from the beginning.’
For a few seconds, in the silence as the two men stared at each other, Midge held her breath. It was none of her business, but she felt an intense wish for Mr Faraday to accept the commission. He was a stranger, and yet she felt in him an unusual quality of sympathy. Not in the sense of compassion, but of understanding. If he agreed to design the house he would in some way, she felt sure, make himself a part of the family, realizing what was needed and looking at his own plans from inside rather than outside. It was not a notion which she felt able to express clearly in words – but Mr Faraday himself came near to doing it for her.
‘I would be glad of the opportunity to meet the other members of your family, Mr Hardie,’ he said. ‘The little girl whose health is to be considered. And in particular, of course, I ought to discuss the needs of the household with your wife. To learn the number of servants she expects to employ, the rooms she requires for special purposes.’
Midge was tempted to clap her hands in delight at the request. It hardly seemed conceivable that Gordon had proposed to commission a house – to be paid for with money from his wife’s family – without inviting Lucy to discuss her requirements in detail. Yet the startled expression on his face suggested that he had expected all the decisions to be his own. The grin which Midge was unable to conceal was so easy to interpret that for a moment Mr Faraday’s eyes glinted with a shared amusement. But he was quick to bring it under control.
‘Those are small matters, though,’ he said. ‘On the main point … Twenty-six thousand. It’s a handsome enough sum. Yes, Mr Hardie, I can build you a house. And we shall both be proud of it.’
The two men shook hands on the commission. Midge moved away as they discussed practical arrangements. Then she walked down the hill at her brother’s side to reclaim their bicycles, leaving Mr Faraday to explore the land more thoroughly.
‘Lucky little Grace,’ she said. ‘I have the feeling that she’s going to be given something magnificent.’
Gordon stopped dead and looked at her thoughtfully.
‘Perhaps I was unwise to be so frank with you,’ he said. ‘Grace is only one of our children. Such a gift would be hard to explain to the boys. It will be best, I think, if the terms of the trust are never mentioned again. It’s certainly true that the house will belong to Grace one day. But for the next nineteen years there’s no necessity for her to know that.’
‘I believe in telling the truth to children,’ said Midge.
‘And I believe in not telling them lies. Grace is only two years old. She couldn’t possibly understand the situation.’
Midge would have liked to continue the argument. Throughout their childhood she and Gordon had debated vigorously on every possible subject, and each had enjoyed the clash of opinions. But the ownership of this property was none of her business; she had no right to interfere between a father and his children. She shrugged her shoulders, giving in with a smile.
‘Lucky little Grace,’ she said again.
Chapter Three
Excitement sparkled in the October air like frost in sunshine. Three-year-old Grace Hardie was accustomed to a life of routine. There were days when she was ill and days when she was well; nothing else caused her regular timetable to vary. Today, though, was full of surprises. There was a sense of importance about each event which imprinted itself on the little girl’s mind and memory. Many years later, when she was an old woman, this would be the first day in her life that she could clearly recall.
‘Be still, child,’ said Nanny Crocker every few minutes. But Nanny was waiting for something as well – listening for the sound of carriage wheels and doors opening; and sending Milly, the nursery maid, on unnecessary errands to the kitchen.
Not until two o’clock, though, did the first out-of-the-ordinary event take place. Nanny dressed Grace warmly for her walk as usual, tying on her bonnet and buttoning her boots. But then, instead of putting on her own hat and cloak, she gave Grace a final inspection and said, ‘Your father’s taking you for your walk today. Be a good girl, now.’
Papa! Papa never took her for walks. Grace hardly knew her father. He had been travelling abroad for the first two years of her life. Although it was more than a year since his return, he went off to work early each morning and was never home in time for the hour which Grace spent with her mother in the drawing room after tea. As she was led downstairs, she felt as shy as though she were meeting a stranger.
Mr Hardie was infected with the same excitement as everyone else. He held out his arms to Grace as if he had been waiting all his life for the pleasure of taking her on an afternoon walk. His curly black hair was bouncing off his head instead of being flattened down with macassar oil, and in place of the formal dark clothes of his office days he was wearing tweeds and high boots, as though he were just about to explore a jungle full of snakes.
‘I’ve got something very special to show you,’ he said as soon as Grace appeared. ‘Where are those boys? Right, come along, then.’
That was another surprise, that the boys were coming too. Usually they were taken out by Miss Sefton, the governess. The schoolroom walk was different from the nursery walk. It was longer, and was supposed to be educational, with flowers and birds and trees and animals to be noted and named – the boys were even expected to keep a diary of everything they saw, although only Philip took this duty seriously. The nursery walk, on the other hand, was short, so that Grace would not tire.
There was to be yet a third treat. The pony cart was waiting in front of the house and they were told to climb in, though it was hardly big enough to take them all. Grace sat on Philip’s lap, whilst her father flicked the reins to start Prince on his steady way.
‘We’ll go to the bottom and walk up,’ said Mr Hardie. ‘Can’t expect poor old Prince to haul five and a half great hulking people up to the top.’
‘The top of what?’ asked Frank – but all Mr Hardie would say was, ‘Aha! I’ve got a surprise. What do you think it is?’
‘I like Ahas,’ said Philip. Grace felt his arms tightening around her waist with pleasure. She tried to think what the surprise could be.
‘I guess you’ve bought a motor car,’ suggested Frank. It was probably not so much a guess as a hope, but Mr Hardie shook his head, laughing.
‘Noisy, smelly things. No thank you.’
There was a moment’s silence. Everyone wanted to be the first to make the right
guess.
‘School,’ said Philip suddenly. ‘You’re going to send Frank to school, and you’re taking us to look at it.’
This time their father looked startled. ‘School’s something we have to think about, I’ll grant you that. But not today.’ He looked enquiringly at David and Kenneth, waiting for their contribution. As usual, the six-year-old twins discussed their answer together under their breaths before they spoke.
‘We’re going to buy a horse,’ said Kenneth. ‘Or a dog,’ suggested David.
Again their father shook his head. ‘No. You tell them, Grace.’
Grace didn’t know; couldn’t even guess. On nursery walks Nanny often promised marvellous surprises just round the corner if only she would hurry up, but there was never anything there. There might not be anything today, either.
Mr Hardie began to whistle with pleasure that no one had guessed his surprise, and Prince, cheered by the sound, broke into a trot. Before very long they had arrived, although none of them knew where. ‘All out,’ said Mr Hardie. He lifted Grace down and tied the reins loosely to a tree so that Prince could graze on a grass verge.
‘Are we trespassing?’ asked Frank as he and the other children followed their father across a field and towards a wood. Frank was not frightened of anything at all, but he liked to be clear about a situation so that if – as might happen today – someone appeared carrying a gun or shouting furiously, he would know whether he ought to retreat or apologize or say that he had a perfect right to be there.
‘All this land,’ said Mr Hardie, ‘belongs to us. You boys can have ten minutes to explore the wood if you like. You’re in charge, Frank. Don’t let anyone fall into the stream. And run up the hill as soon as you hear me call.’
With whoops and yells the four boys rushed into the wood, their footsteps crashing through over fallen branches and the crisp, dead leaves of many winters. Rooks cawed indignantly at the intrusion and rabbits scuttled for cover, their white tails bobbing in alarm. ‘Wait for me!’ called Grace, but her brothers were already out of sight.
‘I want you to stay with me, Grace,’ said Mr Hardie. ‘There are some very special surprises waiting for you today. One here and one at home – and perhaps even a second one at home, but I’m not promising that until I’ve had a word with Mama. The first surprise needs to be seen from nearer to the top of the hill. Give me your scarf so that I can blindfold your eyes.’
Grace stood still while he tied the scarf round her head. How was she expected to walk up the hill if she couldn’t see where she was going? But her father solved the problem by lifting her to ride pick-a-back on his shoulders. He started off at a canter, jolting Grace up and down, but slowed to a walk as the hill became steeper. Grace, holding tightly round his neck, had no free hands with which to tug at the blindfold. She squinted down her nose, but all she could see was her father’s head jutting forward as it always did when he was in a hurry, and his long legs striding over the grass.
At last he set her down and undid the scarf. ‘Well then, what do you think of that?’
Grace’s eyes opened wide as she stared at the biggest house she had ever seen. It looked like one of the pictures in her book of fairy tales, with a tower in one corner from which a princess could let down her golden hair. ‘Is it a palace?’ she asked.
‘Indeed it is. A palace for Princess Grace. It’s called Greystones. Shall we all come to live here?’
Grace stared up at him, not certain whether he was joking. Greystones. It sounded almost as though the house was named after her. ‘But I’m not really a princess,’ she reminded him.
‘You’re my princess,’ said Mr Hardie. ‘Would you like to live here?’
Grace nodded.
‘And if you could choose, which room would you like for your own?’
Without hesitation, Grace pointed towards the tower.
‘Then let’s see what we can do about it.’ Mr Hardie gripped her hand and ran with her towards the house. Taking a bunch of keys from his pocket he unlocked a door and led her along a corridor and up two flights of stairs. ‘Can you read yet?’ he asked, pausing before he opened a wooden door.
Grace was just about to shake her head, but instead laughed with surprise and delight. She could read her own name, although nothing else, and there it was, painted on china and screwed to the door. ‘Grace!’ she told him triumphantly.
‘Then this must be Grace’s bedroom.’ He led her into a round room with three large windows. ‘On a very hot day you can open all the windows and the wind will blow through. And on a very cold day, the sun will move round from one window to another and keep the room warm.’
‘Really mine, Papa?’
‘Really yours. Let’s open a window and call the boys.’
‘But they can’t come here unless I ask them? My tower?’ It was important to be clear on the point. Of course she would ask them, but she would expect a return for her invitations. For his ninth birthday Frank had been given a toy castle with a turret at each corner and lead soldiers in red coats to defend it with cannons which fired matchsticks. Grace longed to play with the castle, but had been told that fighting battles was only for boys. She hoped that she would be a boy as well when she was older; but perhaps now she wouldn’t be made to wait.
‘Not the whole tower,’ her father told her, leaning out of a window to make an extraordinary yodelling sound. ‘Nanny Crocker will be in the room just below, with any new babies that we may happen to have in the family.’
‘But my tower room. Can I sleep here tonight?’
‘We’ll just wait until Mama is well enough to move. In three weeks or so.’
Grace saw little of her mother and didn’t know that she had been ill; but there was no time to think about that, because she could see her brothers rushing up the hill and into the tower, and she was anxious to hold her territory against any challenge. She enjoyed the envy in their eyes as they stared from each of her windows in turn; but, in a businesslike fashion, Frank staked out a different claim on behalf of the boys as soon as they were told that this was to be the family’s new home.
‘May we have the wood to play in, Papa? There’s nothing there to spoil.’
‘We could dam the stream and make a pond and have newts and tadpoles in it.’ Philip was quick to support his elder brother. ‘It would be good for our nature study.’
‘You mean you want to run wild in it,’ said Mr Hardie, laughing.
Even Grace knew that such a comment was not fair. It was true enough that Frank would play at battles all day if he were allowed to; and the twins, like any six-year-olds, liked to rush about without much purpose. But Philip was genuinely interested in the natural world. He was the only one of the boys who without being asked offered to help his father with fiddly jobs like pollinating the plants in the greenhouse. But there was no need to argue, for Mr Hardie was nodding.
‘We’ve got plenty of land. There should be room for everybody,’ he agreed. ‘Yes, you can have the wood. Subject to my inspection once a month. I don’t want you flooding the valley or making a pond that someone might drown in. Come along, and I’ll show you your bedrooms.’
He led them off on a tour of the new house; but Grace stayed where she was, almost too happy to breathe. She had never seen a round room before, nor such a sunny room. But the best thing about it was its newness. It had never belonged to anyone else. It was her very own.
Chapter Four
By the time the Hardie children, excited but tired, returned to their home in Oxford, Mrs Hardie had produced the second surprise of the day. Grace, settled into a low chair, was allowed to hold the new baby on her lap.
‘His name is John Archibald Yates Hardie,’ said Mr Hardie, while Nanny Crocker watched to see that Grace did not clutch the woolly bundle either too tightly or too loosely. ‘But we shall call him Jay.’
‘Why does he have so many names?’
‘He’s named after my father and Mama’s brother. Your grandfather and uncle.’
>
Grace knew that she possessed an aunt, Aunt Midge; but Aunt Midge was not married and no one had ever mentioned an uncle before. It was curious that Mama’s brother should never have come visiting – but Grace was not greatly interested in him. More important was the fact that she was no longer the youngest in the family. The other boys might claim that she was too young to join in their games, but this brother would do what she told him. She was pleased. ‘When will he be big enough to play with me?’ she asked.
‘Not for a while yet.’ Mr Hardie nodded at Nanny Crocker to take the baby away. ‘But I’ve got one more surprise for you. A different kind of playmate. Stay where you are and shut your eyes tight.’
Something small and furry was placed in her hands. She opened her eyes and gasped with delight. A tower room and a kitten on the same day! Her pleasure was almost too great to bear. The kitten wriggled, struggling to escape, as her grip tightened. Grace could feel its heart racing in alarm. She relaxed her fingers, cupping her hands instead round her new treasure to keep it on her lap.
It was a tabby kitten, with bright blue eyes which seemed too big for its tiny body. The black markings which framed those eyes and pointed down on each side of its nose gave it the fierce expression of a tiger, incongruous in an animal so small and soft. Trying to escape, it began to climb up her dress, its claws catching in the smocking in a way which would not please Nanny Crocker. Then it fell back on to her lap and for a few moments tramped round and round in a small circle until it found a comfortable place to sit. Grace stroked it gently. ‘For me?’ she asked. ‘Mine?’
Her father nodded. ‘Do you like him?’
Grace loved him. Happiness snatched her breath away. She bent over the kitten, burying her face in its fur. The fur tickled her nose, making her sneeze several times. Alarmed, the kitten jumped from her lap to hide under the chair, while her father produced a handkerchief.
‘If your kitten’s going to make you sneeze like that,’ he suggested, ‘we shall have to call him Pepper!’
Grace Hardie Page 3
