A House to Mend a Broken Heart

by Sherlock, Alison

  He brightened up at her words and when he saw the small smile on her mouth. ‘Goodnight, Annie.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  But as she went inside her bedroom, Annie began to wonder if she would ever be able to forget about the kiss that afternoon.

  It was probably for the best that it would never happen again, she told herself. They had to work together. It was best to keep it professional.

  So why did she feel completely miserable?

  *

  Sam stood where she had left him and looked down at the chandelier hanging high above the entrance hall below.

  The trouble was, Annie had got under his skin. Annie with the shy smile and lonely past. Annie with the incredible green eyes and soft lips. Those same lips that had filled his dreams until he had been unable to stop himself kissing her.

  But he had to stop thinking of her like that. She was his grandad’s housekeeper.

  They were friends now, weren’t they? They were getting along and working together. He shook his head and tried not to think about how hard it would ever be to think of her as just a friend.

  Chapter 26

  Annie had a new, secret love. It was the unexpectedness of it that had surprised her the most.

  Yes, it was only Rose’s bathroom but it was incredible, with its power shower, mood lighting and, best of all, a beautiful deep bath.

  Rose had encouraged her to use it because the staff quarters were still out of action.

  For the first couple of nights after it had been finished, Annie had only used the shower, a revelation enough with its massage setting and powerful needles of water that seemed to pummel all the stress and angst away. But on the fourth night, alone once more as Sam had left for London, an easterly cold wind had caused her to feel so shivery that she wondered whether she should draw a bath. In the end, the temptation was too great and she had succumbed.

  Alex had decorated the room with huge glass bottles of fancy bubble bath. There were also candles but she didn’t want to ruin the whole look by burning them. She dropped a tiny amount of bubble bath into the water as it gushed out of the taps. It was only when she sank into the deep, warm water that she realised what she had been missing all these years. The scented bubbles enveloped her, as if she were wrapped in an expensive but delicate blanket.

  It was the most marvellous treat she had ever experienced and she continued to have a bath every night. To justify the indulgence to herself, she bought herself some cheap bubble bath so she didn’t use up the fancy stuff. But somewhere deep inside, she secretly hoped that the renovation of the staff quarters would take a little longer until it was completed. After all, she only had a tiny shower in the attic.

  But some changes were not so good. Annie began each day wrestling with the fancy new coffee machine that Sam had demanded was an absolute necessity. Even if the rest of the kitchen was still a dilapidated mess, apparently they were going to get a proper cup of coffee to start the day. But the coffee machine was driving Annie mad. It was silver, Italian and extremely expensive. It was also impossible to figure out and she hated it. The machine seemed intent on driving her insane. Sometimes she longed for the ease of just switching on the kettle and dropping in a teaspoon of dried coffee. But no, she had beans to grind, filters to organise, milk to froth. By seven o’clock in the morning she was normally in the depths of despair and had given up with the thing.

  And yet she had to persevere. Everyone would want a lovely cup of coffee after the perfect Christmas lunch. She had ordered the turkey but the cake needed decorating and she hadn’t even started on the mince pies, but what could she do in a kitchen filled with builders most of the day.

  Thankfully, she was able to use Megan’s kitchen, although it came at a price.

  ‘I haven’t got time for this,’ she said, waving the glue stick about in the middle of the chaotic lounge.

  ‘Nor have I and yet it has to be done,’ said Megan with grim determination. ‘I lobbied for Barnaby to be a shepherd then I could have just thrown a dressing gown on him and been done with it but no! He’s a sheep!’

  They were surrounded by cotton wool which had so far been stuck in Annie’s hair, to her jeans and on the carpet. ‘I’m sure it will be worth it when you’re sobbing in the audience at the nativity play on Friday,’ Annie told her.

  Megan grimaced. ‘Last year one of the kids threw up at the end and nearly wiped out the front row.’ She shuddered.

  ‘At least you’ve done all your shopping,’ said Annie. ‘I’m so behind.’ She looked over at Megan’s artificial tree which was leaning at an alarming angle. ‘We haven’t even got a tree up yet.’

  ‘What’s the point in the middle of a building site?’

  ‘They’re plastering the rest of the hallway this week. But we’ve got to have a tree. It’s all got to be perfect.’ Annie sighed.

  ‘Look, why not just make do?’ asked Megan.

  ‘Because that’s what I did for years,’ said Annie. ‘I pretended each Christmas with my stepfather wasn’t even worse than the one before. Then I made do on the ships by pretending that the turkey dinner hadn’t been cooked for hundreds of people. That the other guests were our friends and not customers. That the Christmas tree app on my phone was a real one that smelt of pine. It was all a bit hard when you’re in the middle of the ocean.’

  ‘So this year your Christmas is going to be sponsored by Hallmark?’ said Megan, raising a cynical eyebrow.

  Annie nodded. ‘It’s going to be just right,’ she declared in grim determination.

  At least, she hoped it would be.

  *

  Sam sat back on his heels, nodding his head in approval.

  The large fireplace in the drawing room was working a treat. In fact, the whole house felt more warm and cosy now that the only draughts were from the front door being permanently opened by the builders. The radiators downstairs were warm and far more efficient, thanks to another new boiler which had been installed only that day. The whole place was starting to feel like a home again.

  He looked around the room. The walls were in the same places but everything looked and felt so different. Mr Reynolds’ team of builders had kept a lot of the period features, so the ornate woodwork had been carefully restored and painted in white gloss and the fireplaces were now just crying out for a warm fire to snuggle up in front of.

  It was still a struggle to keep the budget in hand, though.

  Only the previous day, he had asked Alex, ‘Is that a massage shower?’ when he glanced into his en suite bathroom.

  Alex shrugged his shoulders. ‘I told you. I’ve only ordered the absolute essentials.’

  Sam rolled his eyes. ‘We’re not the Kardashians, you know.’

  ‘Thank god!’ said Alex, quickly hiding an email on his phone which confirmed the order for a whirlpool bath.

  In the drawing room, the painting had been completed and the smooth walls were now a soft shade of green. The oak floorboards gleamed. Some of the recovered sofas and chairs had begun to arrive. Alex had added lots of colourful, textured cushions and throws which meant it was a room to relax in and suited the family’s needs. It was a joy to look at.

  All that was left were the finishing touches. Alex had left out the antiques that he wanted placed in that room. But the rest of the pieces were in a pile of boxes that had been stacked at the side of the room. Sam was once more grateful that Annie had labelled each one as there were still an awful lot that needed unpacking. But he had been amazed by the contents of the first crate. He brought out handful after handful of old LPs.

  ‘Grandad’s still got these?’ he asked, turning to face his aunt who had come to help out.

  ‘Of course,’ Rose told him. ‘We used to play a record every night. She looked sad suddenly. ‘It’s been too long since there was music in this house.’

  Sam nodded. He could recall many parties where music filled every room. But that had been a long time ago.

  ‘You know he’s always l
iked having music playing,’ said Rose. ‘ That’s probably where you get it from.’

  Sam realised that his own father had never really been into music. Perhaps his aunt was right.

  ‘My brother can’t even sing a note,’ said Will, who had also arrived back that afternoon.

  ‘Is that true?’ asked Annie, with a mocking grin.

  Sam shrugged his shoulders. ‘I leave all the singing to my superstars.’

  But he and Annie exchanged a knowing look, remembering Cassandra’s inability to hold a tune.

  ‘Doesn’t it look lovely in here?’ said Rose, staring around the room in wonder. ‘Just like it always did but a million times better.’

  Sam gave her a quick hug. ‘Yes, it does.’

  ‘You know, this is one of my favourites,’ said Rose, spotting Phil Spector’s Christmas album on top of the pile of records.

  Will set up the record player on a nearby table so that it could be used. As the first song, ‘White Christmas’, began to play, Rose clasped her hands together.

  ‘How lovely,’ she sighed, looking a little teary. ‘I’ve missed hearing the old records.’

  ‘There’s talk that we might even get a white Christmas here,’ said Will.

  But Rose was too busy swaying in time to the music.

  ‘Shall we?’ asked Sam, taking her hand and leading her to the middle of the room. As he began to gently dance with her, he was pleased to see Rose’s face light up.

  He was, however, less pleased to see Will take Annie in his arms and twirl her round a bit more enthusiastically.

  After they had danced for a while longer, Annie and Rose went to make a cup of tea in the kitchen.

  ‘Take care,’ said Sam, giving his brother a warning look above the music which continued to play.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Will, looking confused.

  ‘She’s grandad’s housekeeper.’

  Will raised his eyebrows in a mocking gesture. ‘So? We’re not Downton Abbey, are we? This is the twenty first-century, isn’t it?’

  ‘Just don’t, OK?’ snapped Sam, turning away from his brother’s wide grin.

  He didn’t know why he was so uptight with Will. After all, his brother flirted with everyone so why should Annie be any different?

  To divert the worrying turn in events, he opened up another crate. With a soft sigh, he pulled out a couple of photo frames. The top one was of his parents’ wedding day. He looked down for a long time at their smiling faces which were so familiar to him.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Will.

  Wordlessly, Sam held the frame out for his brother to see.

  Will smiled. ‘I was just thinking about them. Do you remember them dancing to this record every year?’

  Sam focussed on the song, which was ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’ before nodding. ‘With Dad in that tatty old Father Christmas outfit?’

  ‘Did he really think we didn’t know it was him?’ said Will, laughing.

  Sam thought how nice it was that they could finally talk about their parents. To not just remember the sad times but the good as well.

  Would he and Will have got together as a family this Christmas if Grandad hadn’t hurt himself? He wasn’t so sure. He probably wouldn’t have come, he knew. So he wouldn’t have got to know Arthur all over again. He wouldn’t have danced and laughed with his aunt. He had a horrible thought that he might even have been with Cassandra. And he wouldn’t have met Annie, he reminded himself.

  It didn’t help that they had fallen into a routine of having a nightcap in front of the fire each evening whenever he was at home. Once the dinner plates had been cleared away, he and Annie would sit down in the freshly decorated drawing room and enjoy a drink whilst looking at the flames. Sometimes they would talk about the updates to the house or even Sam’s own work problems. Other times they would just sit quietly, reading or flicking through the iPad.

  ‘It’s so nice to not be on a plane,’ Sam had found himself blurting out only the previous evening. He had been relaxed in his chair, relishing the peace.

  But Annie had frowned. ‘You’re not leaving again this week, are you?’

  He caught the tension in her voice and shook his head. ‘No,’ he had told her softly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  She smiled and nodded her approval. ‘Good,’ she told him.

  Their nightly chats were becoming his favourite part of the day.

  *

  On the last Sunday before Christmas, a fiercely cold wind blew around Annie as she walked through the churchyard on the outskirts of the village.

  The church looked beautiful that morning as the sun lit up the stained-glass windows and ancient stonework. The sound of a Christmas carol being sung by the congregation drifted out into the air as she walked down the stony path alongside the church.

  She weaved her way past some very old gravestones until she arrived at a selection of newer ones. She went towards the back to stand in front of one that read, ‘Geoffrey David Rogers. Beloved husband and father.’

  And he was, thought Annie, as she lay a holly wreath onto the frost-covered grass in front of the headstone. Much-loved.

  She wondered how lovely it would be to turn back time to when her life had been simpler, happier. She had had a wonderful, safe, happy childhood right up until he had died of a sudden heart attack.

  The trouble was, after that time the only father figure in her life had been completely wrong. Her stepdad was a wrong fit for both her and her mother. She shook her head sadly, wondering how different her life would have been had her mum not felt the need to get remarried. If only she had put her daughter first, as so many other parents managed to do, then they would have remained a family unit.

  Then she realised that it wasn’t only her life that had changed back then. Perhaps it was time to reach out to her mum. Perhaps she was finally strong enough. With a deep breath, she brought out her mobile and rang her mother for the first time in months.

  ‘Hello?’ she answered.

  ‘Hi Mum,’ said Annie, as always both happy and sad to hear her mother’s voice.

  ‘Oh! It’s lovely to hear from you,’ said her mum. ‘And thanks for the Christmas card, love. The words were very nice.’

  ‘And yours too.’

  ‘That’s OK.’ Annie struggled to think of what to say next. Her mother’s whole life in Spain was entwined with her stepfather and she wanted no part of it. ‘Are you up to anything nice today?’

  To her surprise, her mother gave a little giggle. ‘Well, there’s a group of us girls going to the cinema later. We want to see that new Judi Dench film. We’re going to have a meal out beforehand.’

  ‘A girly night out, eh?’

  ‘We go out at least twice a week now. Just us girls, of course. There’s a lot of us ex-pats here on the coast. It’s such fun nowadays. Besides, your stepdad is mostly down the golf club these days so I get quite a bit of time to myself.’

  ‘That must be, er, nice’

  ‘Yes,’ her mother replied, in a firm manner. ‘It is. In fact, I’m thinking I might move in with one of my friends down here in a while.

  Annie was shocked into silence.

  ‘I think I’ve been a bit numb these past 20 years,’ her Mum carried on. ‘As if I’m just waking up from a really long sleep.’

  ‘Really?’ Annie’s voice was full of emotion.

  ‘Yes, love. My eyes are well and truly open now.’ She heard her Mum take a deep breath. ‘And I’m sorry. For everything you ended up having to go through.’

  Annie gulped back the tears. ‘That’s ok,’ she said, her voice small.

  ‘It’d be nice if maybe we could talk a bit more,’ said her Mum.

  ‘I’d like that,’ said Annie.

  She would still need a bit of time. After all, so much trust had been broken between them. But she was hopeful for the first time in many years that perhaps they could finally grow closer. Sam had shown her that even estranged families could fi
nd their way back to each other.

  The conversation carried on for a while longer before they said their goodbyes.

  ‘I’ll ring you Christmas Day,’ her mother told her.

  Annie was surprised but pleased. ‘That would be lovely,’ she replied.

  As she slipped her mobile back into her pocket, she realised that her stepdad didn’t hold any fear for her any longer. It wasn’t the distance in miles that made the difference. It was knowing that his words would cause no pain now.

  She would probably always have to remind herself that she was OK but she tried to remember better times. She thought about her dad calling her his princess. Tried to hold onto the feeling that she was special.

  And perhaps she was happy now. She realised that the loneliness that she had carried with her for so very long had finally eased. She was enjoying seeing Megan every week. They felt closer than ever because of the time they were spending together. Willow Tree Hall was a far more comfortable place to live and would be even better when Arthur and Rose came home later that week.

  She wished her dad was alive so they could talk face to face just one more time. She was desperate to ask his advice as to what to do with her future. But in a way, she knew what he would have said. He would have told her that all he ever wanted was for his daughter to live a full and happy life.

  The bells began to peal to announce the end of the church service. She glanced down at the grave once more.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Dad,’ she whispered, touching the stone with her fingers.

  Then she quickly walked away, just as the doors opened to release the congregation.

  Perhaps for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful that she would finally have a happy Christmas.

  Chapter 27

  Annie spent the rest of Sunday organising the drawing room. With a sigh of satisfaction, she smiled that finally one room was finished. But with one week until Christmas, there was so much to do. Thankfully everything looked to be going to plan. They would all enjoy a lovely traditional Christmas day meal. The family would eat around the dining room table and then everyone would come into the drawing room to open their presents in front of a roaring fire. It would be perfect.