The House of Hopes and Dreams

by Trisha Ashley

  Nick buzzed in and out with a camera and finally informed us that he’d just seen Vicky stopping her car at the Lodge, and Daisy getting out of the passenger seat and going in with her.

  ‘The plot thickens,’ Nelson said, in his deep and wonderfully plummy voice.

  And then she rang Carey’s mobile and told him her old friend Vicky Parry had called at the house this morning to ask if she could come to the party and had been totally surprised to find Daisy there – wasn’t that an amazing coincidence?

  ‘Then she said Vicky would put her up tonight and, since she had to get back to London tomorrow herself anyway, Ella would drive them both to the station.’

  ‘So she’s not coming back here tonight: what’s the catch?’ asked Nick.

  ‘She hoped I wouldn’t mind if she just popped briefly into the party later to say goodbye, and she wants me to drop her suitcase off at the Lodge.’

  ‘Now?’ I said. ‘We’re all about to change for the party.’

  ‘I’ll take it down – I’m beautiful enough already,’ offered Nick. ‘But if she grabs me and I scream, you’ve all got to rush to the rescue.’

  I would have liked to have travelled to London to visit Father, so that I might see Lily, but Ralph wished me to wait till after the baby had arrived.

  Instead, Father paid us a visit, bringing gifts and messages from Lily, as well as the completed nursery embroidery, which was quite delightful.

  I showed Father my finished cartoon of Lady Anne’s window and told him of my increasing conviction that it contained a message, possibly relating to some hidden treasure. However, he said he could not see any such meaning in the random motifs and he supposed pregnancy had rendered me fanciful!

  35

  Illuminations

  I put on the lovely new dress Izzy had made for me and some black tights. Then I dithered between my usual Doc Marten boots, or the black suede ballerina pumps I kept for smart occasions. The tunic dress was quite short, but then, so am I … and I do have very nice legs.

  I wore the pumps, even though I knew I’d freeze on the way down. When Carey saw me his eyes widened and he said I looked beautiful, while Nick wolf-whistled.

  ‘I’d forgotten you had legs, Angel.’

  ‘Ho, ho,’ I laughed hollowly. ‘I assume, since you’re here, the man-eating spider-woman didn’t gobble you up when you dropped off her suitcase?’

  ‘No – I dumped it on the doorstep, rang the bell and drove off again,’ he admitted cravenly.

  ‘Coward,’ Nelson said. ‘We know she wants Carey really, but I’m sure you’d do if she was desperate.’

  ‘It’s hard to imagine anyone that desperate,’ put in Sukes, but Nick just grinned.

  I’d been putting Fang’s blue boots on and someone had tied a blue and white spotted triangular scarf round his neck, so he looked quite festive.

  We all walked down together, except for Carey, who’d gone ahead to switch on the lights. The room was lit only by the heart-shaped ones, the workbench lamps and a series of tea lights up the centres of the long glazing tables. Jorge put on some soft music while we uncovered the food and Carey mixed his punch. I now had a small fridge in the back room, so we’d crammed extra ice cubes in the top compartment and fruit juice in the rest.

  ‘It looks magical, doesn’t it?’ I said, gazing round the workshop. ‘Thank you, everyone, for all your help.’

  ‘It does look great,’ Nick agreed.

  ‘We’ll shoot a bit of film now, then more when the guests start arriving … and it’s almost time,’ Jorge said.

  ‘I didn’t show you what Jorge gave me for Valentine’s Day,’ Sukes said, exhibiting a small jade heart, edged in silver, on a long chain. ‘It’s my favourite colour – and I didn’t know he had a romantic bone in his body!’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ he said.

  I was sure I’d seen the pendant among other luscious jewellery in Cam’s gallery, and since Sukes habitually dressed in shades of green, like the floaty tunic she was wearing over her jeans now, guessing her favourite colour hadn’t really been a mind-stretch.

  They did a bit of filming and then, as at all parties, just when you’re wondering if anyone’s going to turn up, the guests arrived all at once. They milled about just inside the room, like a slightly confused shoal of fish, before sorting themselves out.

  Rufus and Izzy had brought me a gift – a small wooden sign for over my door, lettered in gold with ‘Angelique Arrowsmith Art Glass’.

  ‘Carey told us what you’d called the business,’ Izzy said.

  ‘You know, a sign for outside is something I’d totally forgotten,’ I said. ‘I’ll have it fixed over the side door, so it faces the drive.’

  Cam and Lulu had collected Jonah and Tom Tamblyn on their way, and Tom gave Carey a big glass bottle of water from the Lady Spring.

  ‘Do I drink it, or pour it over my leg?’ Carey asked, thanking him.

  ‘I’d drink it, but as soon as the weather’s warm enough, you should come and swim in the pool.’

  ‘It’s big enough to swim in?’ he asked, surprised.

  ‘Oh, yes – though not huge, just a couple of strokes each way,’ Izzy said. ‘I start going in quite early in the year, because it never seems anywhere near as cold as the air around it.’

  Then she said her aunt Debo and Judy were coming once they’d finished the evening kennel round, bringing the kennel maid, Sandy, with them and her sister, Foxy.

  The room by then was getting quite full, and noisier as the level of the punch bowl went down. There were Molly and Grant, Ivan and Louis, the Rigbys from the farm, Chris, the dog whisperer, with his teenage daughter, Liz. She was a pretty girl with soft brown hair framing a heart-shaped face and big dark eyes. I noticed that she and Louis naturally gravitated towards each other, as the youngest people there by a mile.

  Fang happily hoovered up dropped crumbs, pausing only when the door opened on a cold blast of wind that blew Vicky and Daisy in.

  Everything seemed to freeze for a moment – even the music – and I have to admit they looked quite striking. Both were tall, pale blondes, though Daisy’s more ethereal beauty made Vicky look a bit sturdy and wholesome.

  Daisy was wearing what I think they call a Bombshell Dress: tight, low cut and producing curves she didn’t really have. She certainly looked as if she should be mooing into a microphone at the front of a forties dance band. Vicky was clad in something like a bandage wrapped horizontally round her from mid-thigh to just above her bust, and both wore killer heels, which I hoped wouldn’t kill my new vinyl flooring.

  For a minute the two pale figures stood in the doorway like twin vampires in a low-budget horror film, then everyone got back to whatever they were doing before, which in my case was standing with Carey behind the cake, about to cut it, while Molly and Grant were handing round the glasses of bubbly for a toast.

  Camera lights flashed as I plunged in the cake knife. I pretended it was Daisy, which made it even more enjoyable.

  ‘Toast!’ called Carey. ‘Here’s to the new workshop. Every success, Angel!’

  ‘And here’s a toast to the success of Carey’s new TV series. ITV have taken it and we hope it’s going to run for years!’ announced Nick, and everyone clapped.

  ‘Hurray!’ chorused Ivan, Jonah and Tom, who were sitting in the corner with plates and glasses fully charged.

  ‘Eat, drink and be merry,’ said Carey, and Jorge turned the music up. It was rather as if he’d turned the conversation up too, because the noise level rose so quickly.

  ‘Vicky was right behind you while Jorge was filming you cutting the cake,’ Carey said into my ear.

  ‘She’ll be a happy bunny if she’s finally got herself in the series,’ I said.

  Nick, reaching over for a slice of the cake, said, ‘Actually, you’d be surprised how many times she’s got herself in the background when we were filming, without us noticing till too late. But no starring roles.’

  ‘Have you notic
ed there’s no sign of Clem and Ella?’ I said.

  ‘Clem was here earlier for a few minutes; you must have missed him,’ Carey told me. ‘He said he wasn’t much of a party animal, but had just looked in to wish you success. Ella’s got one of her migraines.’

  One or two people had begun to dance in the clear space under the loft, where the only light was the glimmer of the heart-shaped fairy lights.

  ‘There you are, Carey!’ Daisy exclaimed, as if he’d been hiding, which isn’t possible even in a crowd when you’re six-four and have a head like burnished red gold. She linked her arm in his and, looking up at him, made big kitten eyes. ‘Come and dance with me, darling.’

  ‘I was never much of a dancer and I don’t think my leg is up to that kind of thing yet,’ he said, disengaging himself.

  ‘I’ll dance with you,’ offered Nick heroically. ‘And if you want to come back and share my room tonight, I promise not to scream this time.’

  She gave him a look. ‘I’ll stay at the Lodge, thanks. And just make sure I’m not in any of the film you’ve taken tonight,’ she added brusquely, before turning her back on both of us and moving in on Carey again. This time she got up on tiptoe to murmur in his ear, but whatever she said didn’t ring his bell, because he walked off even while her mouth was still moving and went into a huddle with Rufus and Cam.

  They were probably discussing a much more exciting topic, like the best way to add ghosts to your postcards, or what kind of wood chipper to get.

  I sipped the remains of my bubbly and did a bit of people-watching. Vicky, who’d looked totally disconcerted when she’d found Louis was totally ignoring her in favour of a teenager, and presumably conceding defeat where engaging Carey’s interest was concerned, was now eyeing up the other possibilities.

  But before she could make any move, she was buttonholed by Debo, who appeared to be working the room. She’d arrived still wearing her dungarees and made even those look so elegant that Nick filmed her from all angles like a paparazzo, until he abandoned any more filming in favour of getting down to some serious drinking and eating.

  ‘Debo’s got great social skills,’ I said to Izzy. ‘I think she’s talked to practically everyone here.’

  ‘That’s because she’s trying to get them to adopt one of her dogs,’ she said. Just then some slow and smoochy music came on and she dragged Rufus off to dance. Vicky, having now escaped Debo’s clutches already, was with both Benbow twins. Two for the price of one, as it were.

  ‘Come on,’ Carey said, suddenly appearing at my elbow and, removing the glass and plate from my hands, put them on the table behind us. ‘They’re playing our tune.’

  ‘We haven’t got a tune – and you told Daisy you weren’t up to dancing.’

  ‘I wasn’t up to dancing with Daisy and, anyway, I’m not about to launch into a jig. I’ll just sway about a bit.’

  So we did and, since I’d had rather a lot of bubbly and a glass of fairly potent punch by this point, I subsided against him as we swayed and turned.

  ‘Oh, this is nice,’ I sighed.

  ‘You and me, always, Angel,’ he agreed and, tightening his arms around me, rested his cheek against my hair.

  After a while, when the music went up tempo again, we separated. Carey had promised to show Jonah the Elizabethan wing in all its ghostly evening glory, and Nick and Jorge tagged along, hoping to get some footage of a ghost, should one obligingly appear.

  They were away for only about twenty minutes, so when they returned I was still slowly circulating among my guests. I was trying to have a word with everyone, though the noise level was now such that it was hard to hear myself speak.

  But they all seemed to be having a good time, just as I was … until I walked into the back room to get some more ice and found Daisy and Carey entwined and mid-passionate kiss. It was just a brief glimpse, because I immediately turned and blundered blindly back into the other room: it was déjà vu, a repeat of that time at university, when I’d thought our relationship had changed, only to be disillusioned.

  And in one blinding stroke it revealed to me the depths of my jealousy. My love for Carey had at some recent point changed its nature and what I most wanted to do at that moment was go back in there, seize Daisy by her pale-gold hair and bang her head repeatedly on the worktop.

  But then, it took two to tango and Carey hadn’t exactly looked as if he was fighting her off.

  I stood in my dark corner, getting my face and my slightly homicidal impulses under control and then went to sit with Molly.

  But I can’t have done that good a job of it, because she said in my ear, ‘What’s the matter? I just saw you come out of the back room looking as if you’d seen a ghost.’

  ‘I did,’ I said with a shaky and unconvincing laugh. ‘The ghost of parties past: Carey and Daisy were in there, having a smooch.’

  She stared at me. ‘It can’t be what it looked like,’ she said flatly after a minute.

  ‘It looked to me like he still can’t resist her and perhaps they’ll get back together.’

  ‘There has to be an explanation,’ she insisted. ‘I mean, a different explanation.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. But you see, I was right about me and Carey. We’re just best friends and that’s how it will always be, nothing more.’

  Molly looked troubled, but didn’t say anything else, and when Carey reappeared there was no sign of Daisy – other than a raspberry-red streak of lipstick on his face.

  When I came back in after waving off the last of the revellers, Molly and Grant had already packed away the small amount of leftover food, while the crew had helpfully drained the last of the punch and the dregs of the open bottles.

  Jorge and Sukes were tossing the debris into a big black plastic bag and I hoped someone other than me was going to sort that into the recycling bins tomorrow …

  ‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ Carey said to me, putting his arm round my shoulders and giving me a searching look, which I avoided. The lipstick had quickly vanished – someone must have told him about it – but I still felt Daisy had put her mark on him.

  ‘Oh, I think I’ve just had too much to drink – but it was a great party.’

  ‘Why don’t you go up to the house and make some coffee and we’ll follow you up in a minute? We can clear everything else away in the morning,’ he suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ I said, and on the way scooped up Fang, who was fast asleep under one of the tables, his small tummy round with leftovers.

  The cold night air cleared my head a bit, though even the icy wind couldn’t scour away my emotions.

  Molly and Grant went home after the coffee, saying they felt tired, and once the warmth of the kitchen had hit me I’d suddenly felt as limp as a bit of chewed string, too. But the crew seemed to get a second wind and decided to go back into the old wing and ghost hunt in Lady Anne’s bedchamber.

  ‘Sooner you than me,’ I said. ‘It’s cold as ice in there, even with the electric storage heater going.’

  ‘You coming, Carey?’ asked Nick, as they headed out.

  ‘I’ll catch you up. I’ll just take Fang into the courtyard first,’ Carey told him and then, when they’d gone, looked down at me and said, with that irresistible smile, ‘Why not come out and see the stars, Angel?’

  I hardened my heart and told him it was too cold and I was so tired I only wanted to go to bed.

  ‘OK – and happy Valentine’s Day,’ he said softly and I managed a smile.

  ‘I’ve had a wonderful day, from the stained-glass angel onwards,’ I told him, though I didn’t add that it had all shattered in one awful, illuminating moment and I needed time to reassemble my love for him to the old pattern.

  My husband and Mr Browne were away when Father visited, but when they returned I thought they had been quarrelling again.

  I believe Mr Browne now wishes to permanently leave Mossby and move to the Lakes, where he is sure of getting more commissions.

  I hope he does so a
nd there is a final break between them: I believe it would be for the best.

  Somewhat irked by Father’s opinion of my mental faculties, after he had returned to London I began a systematic search of the old wing for anything that might appear among the motifs in the window. I was by now rather too large and cumbersome to do anything more useful! I wrote jokingly to Lily that since this was clearly a honeymoon baby, I should call it Paris …

  36

  Down Time

  I woke as early as usual next morning and opened my window on to still, crisp, cold, starless darkness. Shivering, I closed it again and quickly dressed in jeans, black sweatshirt and my boots.

  I felt like me again: no nonsense.

  Downstairs I drank some coffee and then, standing by the open fridge door, grazed on a cold vegetarian sausage roll and two cheese and tomato sandwiches, as you do when there are leftovers. It’s as if there’s some guilt involved and you need to be ready to slam the door and hope no one notices the crumbs round your mouth.

  I didn’t go into the studio after that, but instead put on my cheering coat of many colours and set off for the workshop. I asked Fang if he’d like to come with me, but he was still curled in his basket by the stove and only opened his eyes long enough to give me an ‘At this time of the morning – you can’t be serious?’ look before firmly closing them again.

  I’d remembered that the workshop needed to be cleaned and ready, because Grant and Ivan were coming over after lunch with their long ladders to remove the Lady Anne window and bring it down. I wanted everything straight and workmanlike for them … much as I intended my relationship with Carey to be from then on.

  Firmly back on the old footing.

  When I got there I found there wasn’t too much to do, since most of the debris had been taken up to the house last night. I wiped down the plastic tablecloths and folded them up when they were dry, rounded up a few missed empty paper cups and plates and swept and mopped the floors. Then I only needed to take down the fairy lights and it was as if last night’s party was but a slightly bizarre dream.