A Room at the Manor

by Julie Shackman

  As I pulled into the parking area, the Monday morning sky was carrying puffs of cloud behind the buttery façade of Glenlovatt, the contrast accentuating its grandeur and beauty. I snatched up the large, square plastic container from the back seat, having undertaken some additional baking at home last night to get ahead. The weight of my latest batch of raspberry and white chocolate fudge, cherry and coconut scones and vanilla cupcakes was heavy in my hands. A crisp breeze weaved its way through the treetops and a chubby wood pigeon cooed noisy greetings.

  I carefully negotiated my way across the gravel with my awkward load. Tiredness crept over me. Not only had I been furiously baking until late into the night, I’d also been jotting down a scramble of ideas to generate more income for the place. My suggestions were a bit random, to say the least, but having to get this expensive dry rot treatment meant anything was worth a try. Glenlovatt had snuck her way into my heart (as had a grumpy sculptor, I acknowledged) and I refused to entertain any thoughts of the place going to rack and ruin. As I unlocked the patio doors I inwardly promised Hugo I wouldn’t give up.

  Gordon and Vaughan’s raised voices were coming through the door to the great hall. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Dad? Why did I have to find out from Lara?’

  Oh no. Why would I have expected Vaughan to approach any subject with a degree of tact? He was such a hot-headed, passionate man. And that’s why you are so attracted to him, singsonged a voice in my mind.

  Dumping the container on a nearby table, I nervously left the tea room and approached them in the hall. They both swivelled round.

  ‘Bloody dry rot or Rhiannon Kincaid,’ grunted Vaughan to no one in particular. ‘I don’t know which is worse.’

  Gordon raised his hands helplessly. ‘I didn’t want to worry you, son.’

  ‘But that’s the whole point, Dad. I don’t want you shouldering the burden of this place on your own.’

  Gordon visibly tensed. ‘Glenlovatt isn’t a burden. It’s our home.’ He turned and offered the spiralling staircase a fond smile. ‘Everywhere I look, your mother is there.’

  Vaughan’s expression softened. ‘I know she is.’ He rubbed a hand down his face. ‘Look, Dad, I know how this place eats up money and that it has its problems, and that’s why I considered marrying Petra. I couldn’t bear the thought of Glenlovatt failing.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I mean, the existing issues you told me about were bad enough . . . I just wish you had told me the full story before now.’

  ‘I didn’t want you worrying about that as well as everything else. Things were problematic enough as it was.’ Gordon gave his son a soft smile. ‘When I heard you were thinking about marrying her, I hoped you’d come to your senses. Then when I found out about the dry rot, I just knew that if I told you, you would be even more tempted to rush into something.’

  ‘But you were prepared to marry Rhiannon Kincaid for the same reason?’ questioned Vaughan. ‘How does that work?’

  ‘I had the most wonderful marriage to your mother and I cherish every day I had with her. But you’re only thirty-two and the last thing I want is you throwing your life away like that.’

  I looked at the father and son, and bit my lip. ‘Sorry, Gordon, but I had to tell him. Both of you were thinking the same thing and about to make the same stupid mistake.’ I came closer and reached out, touching Vaughan’s arm. Under the ice blue wool of his V-neck, I could feel his warm skin.

  Gordon watched us with dawning recognition before a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. I moved further forwards, almost placing myself between them. They towered over me, their similar heights and broad shoulders casting shadows on the chequered floor.

  ‘I’ve got twenty minutes before opening up,’ I said. ‘Why don’t we go to Gordon’s study and look over some ideas I’ve had for this place?’ Their enquiring expressions encouraged me to speak again. ‘I’m not saying Glenlovatt will be rolling in money because of my suggestions, but I’m hopeful one or two of them might help a bit.’

  Gordon and Vaughan exchanged glances before nodding. ‘Pity we can’t offer the grounds to some A-lister for a concert,’ Vaughan said with a short laugh.

  ‘You won’t need an A-lister.’

  A familiar male voice had travelled from the entrance.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ blurted Travis to Gordon, ‘but this lady and gentleman insisted on speaking with you and Master Vaughan.’

  My eyes threatened to roll out of their sockets.

  ‘Mum! Wolf!’

  Thirty-seven

  Vaughan’s attention shot between me and the pair standing inside the door. ‘Did you just say “Wolf”?’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘Long story,’ I replied, my mouth suspended open at the sight of my mother and her young beau.

  They were almost unrecognisable. Wolf was rocking a sharp navy suit teamed with a white shirt and crimson satin tie. He’d got rid of the scraggly beard and in its place was a neat peppering of brown stubble. Not to be outdone, Mum was decked out in a pretty maxi dress in slate grey. The fluted material fell in deep pleats and enhanced the colour of her hair, which she’d gathered to one side with a sheaf of white ribbon. She’d teamed her outfit with a deep blue jacket and carried a leather case, giving her an air of Grecian goddess ready to do business.

  ‘If you remember,’ I finally croaked, ‘this is my mum, Christine, and this is her partner, Wolf. Sorry, I mean Brodie. Or . . .’

  Wolf stepped forwards to put me out of my misery, and shook hands enthusiastically with Gordon and Vaughan. ‘Just call me Wolf,’ he smiled. ‘Oh and, Lara, you can close your mouth now.’

  Mum handed the leather case to Wolf. I tried to grab her attention with a series of imploring ‘What the hell is going on?’ looks, but she chose to avert her eyes and ignore me. Why had they turned up at Glenlovatt dressed like two marketing executives?

  ‘If you have a moment, Mr Carmichael, I’d like to discuss a business proposition with you and your son.’ Wolf winked at me, seeing my shocked expression.

  ‘I think, right at this moment, we’re open to any suggestions,’ admitted Vaughan ruefully.

  We all moved to Gordon’s study, where Travis furnished us with tea and shortbread. Extra chairs were placed in a semicircle around Gordon’s desk.

  ‘What’s going on, Mum?’ I implored.

  ‘Patience, darling.’

  Wolf reached into the leather case and handed a glossy leaflet to Gordon. ‘Have you heard of the Aspirations Arts Festival, by any chance?’

  Vaughan nodded. ‘Of course. It’s a huge event.’ I knew that this festival had been going on for years and drew large crowds, as well as lots of publicity.

  ‘Isn’t it held in Edinburgh?’ added Gordon.

  ‘Yes,’ confirmed Wolf, loosening his tie a little. ‘It usually is. At the Longleavie Estate.’

  Gordon smiled. ‘Ah yes. That’s right. The home of the Curnow family, isn’t it?’

  I presumed this was another aristocratic dynasty, and risked a sly glance at Mum. She raised her eyebrows slightly but, thankfully, refrained from one of her rants.

  ‘Well,’ explained Wolf, cutting through my relief, ‘the Curnows are good friends of my parents. They’ve known each other for years.’ He took a sip of tea and leaned forwards. ‘The Aspirations Arts Festival is the Curnow’s baby but now they’ve got a new and lucrative business that they want to concentrate on. They feel that if they continue with the festival, it would just all be too much.’

  At Wolf’s pregnant pause, my stomach rolled with butterflies. Was this conversation going where I thought it was?

  ‘I’ve spoken to the events company they always use for the festival and they think it would be a great idea if Glenlovatt took over the mantle. That is, if you’re interested?’

  I couldn’t prevent a thrilled gasp. Mum smiled at my very public reaction.

  ‘But we’ve never done anything like this before,’ admitted Gordon nervously, ‘at least, not on that scale.’

&nb
sp; Wolf leaned back confidently in his chair. It was hard to believe that just a week ago he was slouching around my flat in faded clothes and sporting a beard a dormouse could nest in. ‘But that’s the thing,’ he grinned, ‘Glenlovatt would simply be the new location for the festival. The event itself would be overseen by a professional events team.’ He leaned forwards again, his face alive with enthusiasm. ‘This is a gorgeous venue and you certainly have the grounds to accommodate the festival.’

  Seeing Gordon’s and Vaughan’s hopeful but uncertain expressions, Wolf carried on. ‘If you agree to be the venue for the Aspirations Arts Festival, we are talking publicity that money simply can’t buy. You’ll have artists and bands clamouring to use your grounds. This festival can guarantee you and your family home a secure future.’ He straightened his shoulders and added temptingly, ‘You’re looking at profits stretching into six figures.’

  ‘Almost all the festival participants for this year are signed up already,’ interjected Mum. ‘It’s just a case of notifying them of the change in venue . . . which we took the liberty of running by them earlier in the week.’ She laughed at my expression. ‘Please close your mouth, Lara.’

  Gordon and Vaughan simply stared at each other.

  ‘When is it on?’ I asked finally, as both the Carmichael men seemed incapable of stringing a coherent sentence together.

  ‘October twenty-seventh to twenty-ninth; a long weekend of activities,’ confirmed Wolf, enjoying a bite of buttery shortbread.

  ‘The twenty-seventh of October,’ repeated Vaughan. ‘That’s when we open Grandfather’s letter.’

  It was also, I realised, my late great-aunt Hettie’s birthday. Another strange coincidence! Goodness knows what Hugo would have thought of it all.

  Gordon threw his hands in the air with uncharacteristic exuberance. ‘That seems like an excellent omen to me!’

  ‘Great!’ beamed Wolf, reaching for Mum’s hand. He gave it an affectionate squeeze. ‘I’ll email you all the details and then you can speak to the Curnow family. They’ve said they are more than happy to give you any advice or help you might need.’

  Handshakes were exchanged all round and we exited Gordon’s study in a bubble of chatter. Mum lingered beside me. ‘I probably should tell you this more often, but I am so proud of you, Lara. You’re such a strong and determined young woman!’

  ‘I wonder where I get that from?’

  Mum grinned. ‘When Wolf told me his plans about bringing the festival to Glenlovatt, I thought it was a wonderful idea.’

  Then she sighed. ‘When I lost your dad, I was so preoccupied with being both a mother and a father to you, that I lost my way a bit.’

  ‘Mum, don’t be silly.’

  She stared into the middle distance for a moment, before turning her attention back to me. ‘I should have lectured you less and mothered you more . . .’

  ‘Mum,’ I argued, ‘you were, and still are, terrific.’

  She smiled. ‘Thank you, but I’d like to start fresh, in any case. What do you say?’

  I threw my arms around her, inhaling her chemical-free shampoo. ‘I’d like that.’

  We pulled back and grinned at one another ‘Thank you so much for doing this,’ I said.

  She brushed off my appreciation. ‘It’s not me you should be thanking.’

  Wolf was exchanging pleasantries with Gordon when I marched up and planted a huge kiss on his cheek. ‘What was that for?’ he blushed.

  ‘You know very well what for,’ I choked. ‘You really didn’t have to do this.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wanted to.’ He glanced at Mum, then back to me. ‘Could we have a quick word?’

  Mum and Wolf guided me away from the others. Wrapping his arm around my mum’s shoulders, he announced, ‘We’re moving in together.’

  I blinked. ‘You’re leaving me?’

  They grinned. ‘I’m afraid so,’ Wolf said, ‘I hope you won’t be too heartbroken not hearing my meditation CDs on a continuous loop.’

  ‘Where are you going to live?’

  ‘In a flat on the outskirts of Edinburgh, so not that far away.’

  ‘And Wolf’s just heard that a publisher has made a generous offer for his book,’ Mum added. ‘I think all the publicity about the “discovery” hasn’t done him any harm.’

  Sporting a wide smile, Wolf explained, ‘My book is about a tormented heir to a fortune, who decides to take off and then meets the woman of his dreams.’

  ‘That sounds vaguely familiar. Can I get a signed copy when it’s published?’

  ‘I think that could be arranged.’

  ‘Well, I’m really pleased for both of you,’ I grinned at the two of them. ‘And I will miss the sounds of those meditation mantras—at least to begin with.’

  I hugged and kissed them both. ‘And please remember, if your book is turned into a film, I’d really appreciate an invite to the premiere.’

  Wolf performed a playful salute. ‘I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem either.’

  Travis was instructed to drive Mum and Wolf back to my flat and, as I watched them glide away in the glossy Daimler, Vaughan appeared by my side. Gordon had vanished and we were alone by the granite front steps.

  ‘Careful,’ he growled into my shoulder. ‘I get jealous when you kiss other men.’

  His teasing words trickled over me like warm honey. A lock of his hair was falling forwards and I so wanted to brush it back.

  ‘I wondered if I could take you out to dinner this Saturday?’

  I glanced up, burying squeals of excitement. ‘That would be lovely.’

  Try to play a bit hard to get, McDonald!

  A wide grin lit up his whole face, sending butterflies through my stomach.

  I knew I was playing with fire, but I was more than willing to risk getting burned—or at least slightly singed.

  For the remainder of the day I drifted around in a daze. I got several orders wrong, poured milk instead of water into three pots of peppermint tea, and gave six customers the wrong change—and that was just in the morning.

  Lunchtime rolled around and my head was still dancing with thoughts of what I should wear for my dinner date with Vaughan. I was putting together an order for an elderly couple of salmon and cream cheese bagels and two pots of Assam tea when I was interrupted by a sharp poke in the ribs from Becky.

  ‘Take a look outside.’ She led me over to the far window.

  The sky was delivering patches of grey cloud and Glenlovatt’s trees stirred gently. In the distance, ghostly rain was approaching. And over by one of the less formal flowerbeds strolled an elderly lady in a purple coat.

  Morven, who’d been casting her eye over the accounts, appeared at my shoulder. ‘I’ve seen her here a couple of times in the last week. Do you think she’s alright?’

  ‘She’s going to get soaked in a minute if she doesn’t come in.’

  Jess appeared from the kitchen, wiping a delicate smear of flour from her right cheek. ‘Is that the same lady again? I wonder what the attraction is up here, that she keeps coming back.’

  I weaved between the empty tables, heading for the patio doors on the other side of the tea room. ‘I’ll go out there. See if she’s okay.’

  There was an edge to the breeze as I closed the patio door behind me and walked down the few steps to the lawns. Blades of grass waved like green fingers and there was the occasional noise from the burn when the water made its force known to the rocks and boulders. The woman was pacing down a narrow path, her head bowed.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I called, waving slightly. ‘Are you alright over there?’

  She stopped and jerked her head around. I saw she had a rather distressed expression on her face.

  I moved tentatively towards her. ‘Rain is on the way and, believe me, if my hair gets wet, I look like a radioactive explosion.’

  A shadow of a smile crossed her mouth. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she admitted after a pause and began walking with me back up t
he path towards the warm haven of Thistles.

  ‘You sit there,’ I encouraged her, ‘and I’ll bring over some tea. How about an almond slice to go with that?’

  ‘Please don’t go to any trouble.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ I insisted. ‘Honestly.’

  As the woman self-consciously removed her coat, I set about preparing a tea tray. ‘Seems like something has upset her,’ I explained quietly to Morven, who had abandoned the accountancy paperwork for the time being.

  Morven’s brow furrowed. ‘Poor woman. Do you think she’s a bit . . . confused?’

  I scooped an almond slice onto a plate for her. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, she’s elderly but she’s very sprightly. Something is clearly bothering her, though.’

  I angled myself between a couple of tables, and set the slice and tea down in front of her. She was lost in her own thoughts again, drinking in every detail of the gardens that spread out in front of her.

  ‘Here you are,’ I said brightly. ‘That should warm you up a bit.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  I poured the tea for her and she cradled the thistle-sprigged cup in her papery hands, taking grateful sips.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I apologised, ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy, but in this job I find myself chatting to people all the time.’

  The lady dismissed my words with a shake of her grey hair. ‘Please don’t apologise. You must have thought I looked a silly old woman, wandering about out there.’ She placed her cup carefully back on the saucer. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I’ve been coming here as often as I have.’

  ‘Well, I was hoping it was our irresistible baking but I’m starting to suspect it’s not,’ I joked.

  She laughed briefly, crinkling her nose. ‘This house,’ she said falteringly after a few moments, ‘and especially those gardens hold a lot of memories for me. I hadn’t been here for years and then when he died, I knew I had to come back.’