A Room at the Manor

by Julie Shackman

  ‘I’m sure it would,’ I agreed. ‘And if we recruited one person to work in it, that would be fine.’

  Morven shot me a quick look as she ran a hand along one of the shelves. ‘Well, what I actually thought was that we could suggest we take, maybe, two part-time staffers and see how things pan out.’

  I gave her a playful jab in the ribs. ‘Careful! You’re beginning to sound like me.’

  Morven laughed, examining the empty room again.

  ‘Do I detect that you have two particular people in mind for this job?’

  ‘I might.’

  ‘You’re a woman of mystery, Morven Knight. Okay, let’s take your idea to Gordon now.’

  ‘Now?’

  I linked my arm through hers. ‘Why not? No time like the present, as they say.’

  Forty

  ‘He said yes!’ cheered Morven, as we spilled out of Gordon’s study. ‘He said yes!’

  ‘I know. I was there! So come on then,’ I teased as we headed back to Thistles, ‘don’t keep me in suspense.’

  ‘About what?’ asked Morven innocently.

  ‘What do you think? About who you have in mind to approach about working in the gift shop.’

  Morven smiled. ‘They are both lovely ladies who you’ve already met.’

  I furrowed my brow. ‘Well, that doesn’t narrow it down much.’

  She favoured me with a mysterious look. ‘I’m going to ring them right now and ask if we can pop round to speak to them. Are you okay with that?’

  ‘You’re the boss.’

  Once we’d tidied up for the day, I jumped into my car and followed Morven into Fairview for the first of our two appointments. The air now had a distinct chill to it, but even the coming colder months couldn’t dampen my spirits.

  Soon, I pulled up behind Morven on a side street close to Fairview’s train station. Morven gave me a cheeky grin as she led me through a gate to a house covered in white pebble dash that looked clean, if a little tired. A hall light glittered through the front door’s frosted glass and there were enthusiastic yelps from a West Highland terrier in the front window. Morven rang the silver doorbell.

  Claire McNaughton opened the door, looking flustered. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, ladies,’ she gushed. I’ve only just got back from collecting Flora from choir practice. Please come in.’

  She ushered us into the front sitting room, where Eddie was reading a newspaper. We exchanged pleasantries before he removed himself, saying, ‘I’ll leave you ladies to it then.’

  ‘Would you like a tea or coffee?’ Claire asked.

  After yet another day of having tea and cake between serving customers at Thistles, we politely declined, and Morven got down to business. ‘We’ve got a job proposition for you. Our new venture won’t be up and running for a few weeks but we really wanted to approach you about it.’

  Claire’s eyes swivelled between us. ‘Oh?’

  Morven smiled warmly. ‘We wondered if you might be interested in working in our new gift shop part-time?’

  Claire’s expectant expression bloomed into one of delight. ‘What, you mean working in that beautiful, big house?’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ I grinned.

  Morven’s enthusiasm was equally infectious. ‘It would be great to have someone who can do first aid too. If somebody else should choke, heaven forbid, you’re right there.’

  Claire smiled with pleasure.

  ‘But we should emphasise,’ added Morven, ‘that the pay won’t be huge and we’re planning on keeping things small and simple to begin with, to see if the gift shop takes off.’

  Claire rose to shut the sitting room door quietly before resuming her seat on the sofa opposite us. ‘As far as I’m concerned, your job offer is perfect. But there’s something I want to tell you first, before you hear it from anyone else.’

  I glanced at Morven, curious.

  Claire looked down at her hands. ‘You’ll probably remember what that Kitty woman said about us when we came to Glenlovatt for that guided tour we won.’

  Morven curled her lip in disgust. ‘Everyone knows what a gossiping old witch she is. Don’t worry about it.’

  Claire half-smiled. ‘I did get that impression, but what she said was partly true. We used to live in a lovely part of Stirling. I worked as a senior nurse in a local hospital and Eddie was project manager for a construction company.’ She fiddled with her brown bobbed hair nervously. ‘Everything was fine until Eddie started gambling.’ A flush crept up her neck. ‘Our financial situation became a disaster very quickly and things got desperate.’

  I followed her gaze out the sitting room window, taking in the small, well-cut patch of grass and two stout rose bushes. A dark cloud scudded past.

  ‘Eddie wasn’t thinking straight,’ she continued. ‘He’d never committed a crime in his life before.’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked carefully.

  Claire’s fingers knotted together. ‘He got caught stealing food from our corner shop.’ She shuddered as she recalled it. ‘Eddie regretted it straight away but by then it was too late.’

  ‘What happened?’’ asked Morven.

  ‘He got a caution but, as you can guess, it still hit the local paper and the gossips round our way had a field day. The kids had a hard time of it at school.’

  I sighed. ‘And so, you moved?’

  Claire nodded. ‘I gave up my job and we decided to start again elsewhere.’ She picked up her tea, clutching the cup in both hands. ‘Eddie got help for his gambling and has managed to get a job as a labourer in Glasgow.’ She gazed fondly at a photo of Robbie and Flora on the sideboard, their faces bathed in sunshine, and a sapphire blue swimming pool behind them with palm trees dotted around it. ‘I did think about returning to nursing but the kids really needed me around when Eddie had his problems.’ She smiled gratefully at us. ‘I don’t want to be away from them for long shifts. Not until they settle in more here and regain some confidence. So your job sounds perfect. Thank you.’

  As we left, Morven confirmed to Claire that she’d send her more details and keep her posted on when the gift shop was due to be up and running.

  ‘Now on to prospective employee number two,’ smiled Morven mysteriously. ‘I just hope you approve and that she’s as enthusiastic as Claire was.’

  I followed Morven in my car. We swung past the train station and carried on through a roundabout beside the park. The swings moved slightly in the breeze and the surrounding trees reached out into the sky like searching fingers. Morven pulled in to the kerb and I eased the Cleo in behind her.

  ‘It should be over here somewhere,’ she explained, glancing down at Google Maps on her mobile. ‘We’re looking for number thirty-three.’

  When we found it, it looked to be a former council house, semi-detached with a newer conservatory jutting into the back garden. Ivy trailed down next to the black front door.

  Before we could knock, an attractive woman with enquiring eyes and sharply cut blonde hair answered the door. After warm introductions, she ushered us down the hall. ‘Aunt Nancy’s just through here. Please come in.’

  The hall smelled of cranberry and a small lamp glowed on a side table. As we were led into a sitting room, I saw who was in front of me and broke into a fond smile. There, with her pale pink lipstick carefully applied and a purple cardigan draped around her shoulders, was Nancy Stewart.

  ‘Perfect,’ I whispered to Morven, moving towards Nancy, who rose from her seat. She aimed the remote at the TV screen, and the quiz show she had been watching fizzled and died.

  ‘So what’s all the mystery?’ she asked, tugging off her gold spectacles. My eyes drifted to a photograph on the mantelpiece of Nancy and, I presumed, her late husband on a cliff top, craggy rocks propping up a bank of blue sky. He had a kindly smile, and whispery flaxen hair brushed away from his forehead.

  Nancy looked at us with a worried expression. ‘Is the red oak alright?’

  ‘Oh yes, don’t worry about that,’ said Morven. �
�That’s not why we’re here.’

  She smiled pointedly at me, so I snatched the opportunity to kick off our discussion. I explained about Morven’s idea for the gift shop and that even though it was still in its infancy, we were eager to get things moving.

  ‘So,’ Morven exclaimed with an edge of trepidation, ‘we wondered if you might be interested in becoming our other part-time assistant in the gift shop?’

  Nancy’s shocked expression made me raise my hands in concern. ‘If you’d rather not, then we completely understand. Or if you feel you may not be up to it, for whatever reason, that’s fine too.’

  The room was silent apart from the ticking of a clock somewhere. Then, Morven leaned forward, smiling. ‘I did tentatively mention it to Janet and she thought it was a wonderful idea.’

  I grinned at my best friend. ‘Did you, indeed?’

  Nancy gave a deep breath. ‘I would like that very much.’

  We both smiled with relief.

  ‘Then that’s settled,’ confirmed Morven as she rose to her feet. ‘We’ve got our two members of staff lined up. Now all we have to do is create a gift shop!’

  Since Wolf and Mum’s momentous visit to Glenlovatt earlier that week, plans and preparations for the arts festival were going full throttle.

  Gordon had spoken about the Aspirations festival to the Curnow family, who had been more than happy to help with any enquiries. They had even invited Gordon over to their estate in Edinburgh.

  Once I’d had a chance to catch up with them, I’d learned that Wolf and Mum’s visit to his family seat had been ‘entertaining’, by all accounts. Once they’d recovered from getting their only son home again after he’d been missing for several months, they’d turned their attention to my mum, the silver-haired cougar. However, Wolf took great pride in recounting for me how Mum had charmed his parents from the beginning. She had simply been her confident self and they had been heartened by how close she and Wolf were.

  As he was regaling me with their visit, Wolf became thoughtful for a moment. ‘It was obvious to my parents how I feel about Chris, and they know how much I’ve changed since I’ve been away.’

  ‘And the stationery empire?’ I asked.

  Wolf sank his head back against the sofa. ‘We’ve come to an agreement with that too. I’ll concentrate on the family business on a part-time basis for now, as long as my writing comes first.’

  The air of contentment swirling around Mum and Wolf was contagious. I’d skipped out of my front door that morning, armed with the most annoying grin on my face and a constant, fizzing sensation in my heart. Vaughan was forever hovering at the corner of my thoughts. The thought of seeing those long legs and tousled hair when he returned late today, and then at our dinner date, caused an excited lump in my throat.

  The sun spiralled its way through the clouds and onto Glenlovatt’s rolling lawns. As I opened up for the day, I spotted my reflection in one of the windows. I’d chosen a blue Breton top with three-quarter-length sleeves, a quilted navy jacket and tight black trousers. My unruly red curls tumbled down my back in a springy ponytail. Happiness brimmed in my grey eyes. The whole package, from my carefully selected clothes to my glowing skin and expectant eyes, screamed, ‘I’m in love and I can’t bloody help it!’

  Yes, I was behaving like a love-struck fifteen-year-old.

  I patted another gingham cushion into place before turning back to setting up before Becky and Jess arrived. Clicking on the iPod, I hummed along as I arranged today’s selection of cherry and coconut slice, apple strudel and Viennese whirls. Every time my mind wandered towards this evening I’d grin inanely. I’d barely been able to sleep with thoughts of Vaughan, the new gift shop and the festival churning through my mind.

  I finished tweaking the cake counter and decided to treat myself to a cup of steaming tea and a corner of slice. Taking them out onto the patio, I sat down at one of the tables, and admired the view and the faint tinkle from the stone water feature further down the incline. I took a bite of the slice, the sweet taste filling my mouth and teasing my tastebuds.

  A noise from inside attracted my attention. ‘Jess? Becky?’

  No response. I stood and popped my head inside and thought I saw a flash of movement out the door to the great hall. As I turned to go back outside, the light flutter of an open newspaper on the table nearest the patio doors startled me. I didn’t recall seeing it there before.

  I picked it up and took it back to my breakfast table to flick through as I ate. Lord knows I was unlikely to get another chance to catch up on the news today. I savoured the burst of cherries in my mouth as I glanced down at paper; then almost choked when I saw the photograph on the open page.

  Forty-one

  I slumped backwards in my chair.

  Vaughan was concentrating on something to his right, while the blonde beside him was servicing the camera with a dazzling smile. The photograph had obviously been taken at night, as stars were popping in the inky sky above their heads, and a striped restaurant awning fluttered airily in the background.

  Petra’s triumphant grin repeatedly stabbed me in the chest. Her long legs were encased in tight black trousers and her hair streamed out behind her like a glossy flag. Vaughan, in his dark suit, resembled a strong-jawed aftershave model far more than the clay-encrusted, furrow-browed sculptor I knew. I really didn’t want to read the accompanying gossip column but the words shouted up at me deafeningly.

  ‘Looks like society beauty Petra Montgomery-Carlton has bagged herself a handsome beau. She and dashing sculptor Vaughan Carmichael are set to tie the knot after a whirlwind romance . . .’ There was more about how they met and the extortionate price of Petra’s trousers, but my mind had raced ahead. Could this be true? Was this the mysterious ‘business trip’ Vaughan was currently on? It would explain why he’d avoided any specifics of what exactly he was going away for.

  I thought back to all the protestations about Petra, the way he’d kissed me . . . Why had I thought I was any different from all those other girls he’d toyed with? Why hadn’t I listened to my brain instead of my heart? Vaughan Carmichael had obviously been trouble but, yet again, I’d blundered in, ignoring all the alarm bells. Obviously I hadn’t learned a thing since Anton and Malta. Vaughan viewed me as a nice little distraction until he finally married Petra. I struggled with a painful sob, pushing the newspaper angrily back across the table, where it fluttered gently in the autumn sunshine.

  What was I going to do?

  I looked back in at Thistles, with its white-painted walls, polished tables and Lydia’s artwork proudly displayed. Sunlight pooled on the wooden floor in golden puddles. I’d put so much passion and commitment into this project. More importantly, Hugo had made my dream a reality and I felt I owed him so much. Add to that all the support from Morven, Gordon, Becky and Jess. What would this place be like when Ms High-and-Mighty became Vaughan’s wife? Imagining her sashaying around Glenlovatt in her Burberry wellies as lady of the manor made more tears congregate on my lashes.

  Glenlovatt and Thistles would always mean the world to me. I couldn’t and wouldn’t leave now, even if Vaughan was about to marry someone else. I dragged a hand down my tear-stained face. I’d just have to throw myself into helping with any arrangements for the festival and keep out of Vaughan’s way for good.

  Huh. Easier said than done when my business was situated inside his ancestral home.

  I motored through the next few hours on autopilot.

  Thank goodness Vaughan wasn’t due back till later. The very thought of seeing him at that moment made me shudder with pain and embarrassment.

  I served an elderly couple their cream teas with an empty smile on my face, then moved robotically back behind the cake counter and fussed unnecessarily with a stand of carrot and banana cupcakes I’d arranged earlier. Pausing to look out on my little kingdom from behind the counter was not a good idea. From the circular wooden tables to the proud high-backed chairs, Lydia’s thistle artwork dotted around,
the huge windows beckoning in the flowers outside and the little patio laced with a busy hedge of tiny white buds—all of it pressed against my heart. I’d worked so hard and, again, I wasn’t prepared to give all this up, even if it meant watching Vaughan and his fiancée playing happy families right under my nose.

  ‘Do you mind if I take a five-minute break, Morvs?’

  Morven snapped her head up from her laptop. ‘Of course. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, fine,’ I protested, far too quickly. ‘I just need some air.’

  I was about to move towards an empty table on the patio when I heard my mobile give the sharp trill of a text message from the depths of my bag. I pulled it free and stepped outside.

  The heavy scent of honeysuckle was in the air as I sank down onto a quilted seat and looked at the house. Its grand windows winked from the cream and butter stone like wise old eyes. Trying desperately to compose myself, I looked down at my mobile.

  It was a text from Vaughan.

  I’ll be back this evening. Can’t wait to see you. V x

  A shocked laugh rumbled up from inside me. Of all the sodding cheek!

  I read it again, just to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. No, sure enough the arrogant cretin had indeed sent me that message. Had he seen the photo of him and Petra blazoned across the newspaper? It didn’t sound like it.

  I’d been counting the hours till our date. I’d planned all my beauty treatments and what I was going to wear. I’d not been sleeping or eating properly with all the anticipation. I felt an utter fool.

  Maybe he had seen the photo and had decided to try to brazen it out? Perhaps he was banking on the possibility that I hadn’t? Or maybe he hadn’t seen it at all?

  I blinked back the pain. Well, he would receive a homecoming from me that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

  After we’d tidied up at the end of the day and Morven and Becky had gone home—not without sending some sidelong enquiring glances my way—I loitered around in Thistles, angrily awaiting Vaughan’s return.