She turned and again thumped down her belongings, some of which I could now see were an assortment of clothes and dog-eared books and a faded duvet with yellowing pillow. ‘Yes, dear?’
‘The brownies,’ I smiled. ‘Would you really like one?’
The corners of her ice blue eyes crinkled as she smiled back. I noticed a lock of dirty blonde hair escaping from under her hat. ‘I’ll say I would. They look delicious.’ Then a guarded tone crept into her voice. ‘But I’m not a charity case, my dear. And I don’t have enough money for one of your fancy cakes.’
I wafted my hand airily. ‘We have far too many cakes for today,’ I lied, ‘and you’d be doing me a favour if you took one.’
Her lips tightened. ‘But what about your boss? That Kitty woman?’ She visibly stiffened as she mentioned her name. ‘I came to your café once before and she threatened me with the police.’
‘What for?’
‘’Cos I said her Marlborough buns looked rock hard—and I didn’t have enough money to buy a slice of rocky road.’
I folded my arms in mock indignation. ‘I’m sure that sort of talk normally carries a custodial sentence.’
We laughed, other shoppers weaving around us on the cobbles.
‘Come on,’ I urged. ‘She’s not there at the moment. Kitty, I mean.’
The woman’s lips parted at the thought of cake. ‘Those brownies do look tempting.’
‘Well, then. What are you standing there for?’
I insisted on carrying her bags back up to True Brew and we left the strolling shoppers under a greying sky.
Hugo’s bristly grey brows rose up to his hairline and hovered there when he saw my companion and me.
‘You take a seat over there and I’ll bring you a pot of tea and one of those brownies,’ I said.
She sank gratefully into a chair by the window, where she stared at Kitty’s assorted horse ornaments. ‘But I can’t pay for it.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m sure we can stretch to a cup of tea too.’
With a tea bag stewing in the white ceramic pot, I dived into my purse underneath the counter and slid four pounds into the till. That would cover the cost of her cake and cuppa. Kitty accounted for every little item and I was not prepared to give her the satisfaction of blaming me for stealing.
Hugo ambled up beside me, balancing one gnarled hand on his cane. ‘Kitty could be back at any moment.’ Then he indicated the till. ‘That was very kind of you.’
I tried to feign innocence. ‘What was?’
He tilted his mouth. ‘Don’t be bashful, Lara. I just saw you putting money in the till.’
I raised one finger to my lips. ‘Please don’t make a big thing of it, Hugo. She is a proud lady.’
He studied me for a few moments before breaking into a warm smile. ‘I suspect you can hardly afford to go throwing your money around.’
I gave a brief nod. ‘My redundancy package wasn’t exactly six figures as I was one of the last in, but it’s enough to keep me afloat for now.’
Hugo adjusted his cane to give him additional support. ‘I’m not trying to pry into your financial affairs, but knowing Kitty Walker as I do, I would imagine she isn’t overly generous to her employees.’
I let out a dry laugh. ‘Your assumption is correct.’
Hugo blinked a couple of times. ‘Red hair, kind, generous and enthusiastic. That’s an irresistible combination, young lady.’
‘Thank you,’ I blushed, transferring a meringue onto a plate. ‘Try telling that to my ex.’
Hugo’s fingers drummed against his cane before he suddenly asked me, ‘When do you normally get your lunchbreak?’
‘Are you asking me out?’ I laughed nervously. Dating someone who must be about to receive their telegram from the Queen wasn’t one of my priorities.
Hugo twinkled beside me. ‘Believe me, if I were sixty years younger!’ He rattled the tip of his cane. ‘You haven’t answered my question. What time is your lunchbreak?’
I stared at this intriguing old man. What was going on behind those intense eyes of his? He barely knew me.
‘Usually around half-past twelve,’ I replied with an edge of curiosity.
Hugo slapped his hand decisively onto the wooden counter. An elderly couple close by frowned over their zesty lemon cake.
‘Right. I shall return at half-past twelve tomorrow,’ he beamed. ‘Be ready.’
‘So, was today any better?’ asked Morven that evening as I flopped down onto my blue sofa.
I clasped my mobile to my ear and waggled my freshly manicured shell-pink toenails. ‘If you mean did Kitty hug me and tell me what a wonderful asset I am, then no, she didn’t.’
Morven made a tutting sound. ‘She’s such a jealous old bat. You’d think she’d be grateful for how much business your baking is bringing in.’
I tightened the belt of my pink towelling dressing gown. ‘Well, for now, I need that job, pure and simple. Hopefully something else will turn up or a TV station will spot my potential and give me my own baking show.’ The very suggestion made us both giggle. As I sipped my cup of camomile tea I told Morven about my day, starting with my lunch date with Hugo. The thought of it was intriguing, to say the least.
Six
Outside the car window, daffodils swayed their dusty heads and trees spun glossy fingers into the air. Hills curved with blankets of green under a pale blue sky dotted with shreds of cloud.
My head was whirring. Hugo had collected me in his chauffeur-driven car, a purring Daimler in deep claret. The interior was a combination of dark wood and buttercream leather with impossibly comfortable seats.
The chestnut dashboard sparkled in the sunlight as Hugo’s chauffeur, Travis, manoeuvred the vehicle to its destination. This car was the polar opposite of my dear little Cleo, with her silvery blue paintwork that had seen better days.
Hugo, seated beside me in the back of the car, wore a playful smile on his craggy face. ‘Nearly there,’ he said.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked with just a hint of trepidation.
‘You’ll see,’ came the enigmatic response.
I drew a deep breath. I hoped I wasn’t wasting my precious lunch hour on some weird whim to please Hugo. Normally at this time I’d be wandering around the shops or popping back to my flat to escape another tongue-lashing from Kitty. The morning had been the usual drudgery and frustration was still nipping at my heels.
The car ferried us around a sharp corner and I blinked at the sight greeting me. A black and cream sign announced ‘Glenlovatt Manor’ in sweeping letters. Behind that a huge and ornate gate peppered with wrought-iron thistles, protected the property with steely determination.
Why had Hugo brought me to his home?
I hadn’t been anywhere near the Glenlovatt estate since primary school. I recalled the trundling coach disgorging its load of sticky, crumpled kids at the entrance along with our harassed teacher, Mrs Elvin.
The gate swung open and we swept through. The manor stood like a grand old lady, at the end of a long pink gravel drive. She was bathed in the beauty of spring, with buttery stone and bold windows glinting. The buttresses of ornate flowers and thistles reminded me of icing.
I glanced anxiously at my watch.
‘Don’t worry, Lara,’ smiled Hugo as the car glided to a halt. ‘I had a word with Kitty. She assures me she could manage on her own a little while longer.’
I sighed resignedly. Kitty was a snob so it wouldn’t have entered her head to argue with Hugo Carmichael. She’d be saving up a tirade for when I got back.
As if sensing my apprehension, Hugo offered a cheeky wink. ‘Don’t give that woman any more thought for now. After lunch, Travis will return you to Fairview.’
Travis nodded politely as we got out of the car.
‘Lunch?’ I repeated, gazing at the steps that led up to the huge oval entrance.
‘You still don’t believe me? I wouldn’t bring a young lady to my ancestral home without arranging l
unch,’ said Hugo with a smile. ‘What sort of cad do you take me for? Now, let’s press on, if we want to discuss this business proposition.’
‘Business?’
‘Do try to keep up,’ he grinned again. ‘I’ve brought you here to Glenlovatt because I want to discuss something very important with you.’
The two turrets of Glenlovatt sprang up either side of the entrance and I half-expected Rapunzel to drop her mane of blonde hair down from one of them. I suddenly felt quite underdressed in my jeans and ballet pumps.
My curiosity rose further when Hugo exclaimed, ‘First lunch, then I’ll give you the grand tour—and then we can have a little chat.’
Travis assisted Hugo up the steps and I followed behind. I didn’t remember Glenlovatt being so impressive when I was a child, though I was then more preoccupied with Howie from the Backstreet Boys than the splendour of Scottish stately homes.
I watched Hugo’s slightly bent figure disappear into the cool, dark entrance with Travis following faithfully behind him.
What on earth was going on?
Glenlovatt Manor, September 1955
‘Have I told you that you’re even more beautiful than you were yesterday?’
She laughed, the dusting of freckles on her cheeks bouncing. ‘How long has it taken you to think of that line?’
He grinned, making the deep cleft in his chin pop. ‘It isn’t a line, my darling. It’s true.’
Their fingers laced together in the autumn sunshine. Glenlovatt sat in the distance, its vanilla stone peeking out between the first russet leaves.
As her yellow cotton dress billowed out around her legs she drank him in, from the top of his slicked-back raven hair to the soles of his shiny brown brogues. Dressed in that combination of checked shirt and beige trousers, he reminded her of James Mason. His wide smile made her heart flip.
‘The Silver Spoon is lucky to have a beauty like you, don’t you think?’
Her mind conjured up an image of the tea shop, with its circular turquoise tables, high-backed wooden chairs and Art Deco diamond blue wallpaper. Maybe one day she’d have a tea room of her own. Then they could be together. Imagine that! She wouldn’t be seen as just a waitress anymore.
As if reading her racing thoughts, he took her in his arms, erasing her concerns with a deep kiss. ‘Nothing will change how I feel about you,’ he murmured. ‘You’ll always be my Pre-Raphaelite girl.’
Seven
Good grief! I felt like I was expecting triplets. Although, given the generous serving of haggis and clapshot drizzled with whisky sauce, followed by a towering raspberry cranachan laced with whipped cream, I wasn’t surprised.
I pulled my eyes away from the table and sleepily surveyed the dining room, which reminded me of something out of Harry Potter. The shining wooden floor reflected the impressive chandelier, which on closer inspection could have done with a dust. Decorating the walls were an assortment of austere portraits, military men with cut-glass cheekbones, women in flouncing, layered gowns, and haughty gundogs. Heavily embroidered rugs were scattered further along the room, leading to a heavy grey stone coal fireplace. A set of double doors permitted a peek into what must have been the drawing room, where I glimpsed mismatched furniture, a moss green chaise longue and two floral sofas.
Hugo sat silently to my right. Thank goodness he hadn’t insisted on taking the seat at the other end of the table or I’d have needed the use of a PA system to communicate with him. The oak table sliced through the centre of the dining room and I could imagine the likes of Robert the Bruce and his cohorts crowded around its lengthy expanse.
‘Penny for them?’ asked Hugo.
‘It’s a gorgeous room.’
Hugo’s long fingers played with his linen napkin. ‘Come. There’s something I want to show you.’ He gingerly rose out of his seat and in a moment Travis was at his side to assist him. ‘I’ll take you on a proper tour another time. Lunch took rather longer than I expected and I don’t want to get you in trouble with your esteemed boss.’
We entered the hallway, which was lined by more portraits lit by carriage lights along the pale walls. A bust of a man with a stony expression glared at me as I tapped past his plinth. The floor was like a giant chessboard, solid squares of black and white tiles. I felt like Alice in Wonderland being led past a series of doors, each more mysterious than the previous one.
We passed a cabinet filled with family photographs. A selection of formal images showing men in dinner suits, then a couple of pictures of relaxed-looking people on a boating trip and a black- and-white shot of trendy partygoers in the sixties vied for my attention. My eyes were drawn to a colour photograph of a teenage boy in school uniform, his dark, floppy hair tumbling down over his brow and framing an intense, almost belligerent face.
Hugo’s voice interrupted my nosiness. ‘It’s just through here.’
We reached a burnished door shaped like a church window. Segments of glass hinted tantalisingly at what was behind it. Hugo tugged a key from his pocket and made a few attempts to put it in the lock.
‘Allow me,’ I smiled, noting the tremble in his hands. ‘Are you alright?’
The corners of Hugo’s eyes creased like tissue paper. ‘Nothing that a Drambuie won’t cure.’
I crouched down with the key and felt a satisfying click as it slid into the lock. The door reluctantly eased open and a cloud of dust rose up to greet us both. The large room was almost empty and two huge windows with built-in seats allowed in pools of watery sunshine, which shone onto a bare beech floor. An image of Juliet reading some breathtaking romance while waiting for Romeo came immediately to mind and made me smile. A central pair of double doors looked out on to a small patio, with a view of sweeping green lawn, surrounded by a bank of trees. A set of short steps led into myriad paths and shrubberies.
I gazed upwards. The ceiling featured an apple green design of ornate hexagons, trimmed with a border of ivory flowers. It was stunning.
Hugo’s eyes followed mine as I drank in the details. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ he sighed. ‘My late daughter-in-law loved this room.’
‘I can see why,’ I breathed, tracing my fingers along the nearest wall.
‘Lydia used to love coming here to paint and draw . . .’ His voice trickled to a sad whisper.
‘I’m sorry.’
He quickly pinned a smile back on. ‘Let’s go out into the grounds for a moment.’
We walked back to the front entrance and out into the crescent-shaped drive. A path by the side of the house took us down into the patchwork of gardens and grounds. The sun had fought successfully against the clouds again and was now warming the chocolate brown earth of the flowerbeds. A perfume of mint rose up from the nearby herb garden. ‘I used to love strolling around here in my youth.’
‘It’s a beautiful garden.’
Hugo shuffled forwards and opened his mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by my trilling mobile.
‘Excuse me,’ I apologised, reaching into my back pocket. Kitty’s name screamed on the screen.
‘Where are you?’ barked my disembodied jailer. ‘Have you seen the time? I need a hand here. Members of the Fairview Players theatre group have just arrived and you know how demanding they can be.’
Before I could articulate a reply, Kitty continued, ‘They’ve gone all thespian and I can’t cope with it all!’
‘I’m on my way,’ I placated, giving Hugo an apologetic eye roll. I hung up.
‘Travis will take you back,’ said Hugo.
I gave him an appreciative smile. ‘I’m sorry to dash off. Thank you for such a lovely lunch.’
Then a thought occurred to me. ‘Hugo, did you want to ask me something?’
He paused. ‘It can wait—for now.’
Eight
Umbrellas popped open like multi-coloured mushrooms outside the window of True Brew.
It had been a few days since my strange rendezvous with Hugo. As I’d departed Glenlovatt, Hugo promised to come
back to the tea shop to speak to me ‘as a matter of urgency’. But so far, he’d failed to appear. All I had to show for my lunch with him was a severe ear-bending from Kitty for being half an hour late back, and not feeling like I could eat another morsel for the next twenty-four hours.
Funny how her attitude had been much more conciliatory towards Hugo, when he’d rung her that afternoon to apologise. From what I could hear of the snatches of conversation, Hugo had insisted that my lateness was entirely his fault. Not surprisingly, Kitty had spread herself prostrate across the tea room’s carpeted floor while emitting a series of sycophantic noises. It made my skin crawl just to watch her.
In true Jekyll and Hyde form, she’d ended the call with a girlish giggle before presenting me with one of her angry snarls. ‘No more taking liberties’ she’d threatened over the top of a fruit scone mountain, ‘otherwise you’ll be out of a job.’ She contorted her mouth. ‘There are girls queuing round the block to work here.’
I looked out towards the tea room’s dark bevelled door; all I could see were cobbles slick from another shower. With a heavy heart, I muttered an apology and occupied myself by rearranging some orange and chocolate fancies.
Unwanted pictures of Malta and Anton resurfaced in my mind. How much longer could I carry on working for Kitty before I impaled her with a cake slice? Okay, it was a job. It was local and just ten minutes’ walk from home. But was being treated to daily tongue-lashings worth it? Jobs in PR were better paid but hotly contested, and did I really want to go back to that world anyway?
As Kitty’s selection of Scottish pipe bands continued unabated from her dilapidated cassette player, my heart sank further towards the floor. I’d returned to Fairview in the hope of giving my life a jump-start. Right now, with more rain peppering the shop windows and the feel of Kitty’s stare striking my back whenever I turned it, I felt my life had well and truly juddered to a halt.
Lost in a web of self-pity, I failed to notice Mrs Kendrick, a member of Kitty’s coven, burst through the door in an emerald headscarf and tightly fastened raincoat until it was too late. Her heavily powdered face was alive with gossip. Oh no. The thought of being sandwiched between the pair of them was too much to bear. I dashed into the kitchen to remove the next batch of scones from the oven. They were like golden puffs of delight nestling on the hot tray.
A Room at the Manor Page 4
