A Winter’s Tale

by Trisha Ashley

  Now I was starting to see it coming to life and colour too. ‘Where are you putting the big topiary trees?’

  ‘The pyramid yews are for either end of the terrace and the holly balls for the corners of the central knot. I’ve got a large spiral for the middle that I’ve been nurturing for years—but then, topiary takes time. It’s the wrong time of year to do all this, but to be ready by next year, we have to push on when we can.’

  ‘It should look pretty good by Valentine’s Day, and absolutely amazing by the time we open for the season at Easter,’ I said optimistically.

  ‘The major work will certainly be finished by February, so when Derek takes over as head gardener he should be able to keep the place up with just Hal and Bob’s help.’

  Startled, I turned to look at him, but he was gazing off across the valley. ‘Why, where are you going?’

  ‘Well, you won’t want me once it’s finished, will you?’ he said diffidently. ‘I know you’re just letting me stay on to complete the scheme.’

  I stared at him, astonished—until I remembered that that was pretty much what I had thought at first…It seemed a long time ago. ‘But Seth, I don’t want you to leave!’ I exclaimed. ‘You’re family, for one thing, and you belong here.’

  ‘I’m only family by marriage, not related at all, really.’

  ‘You feel like family.’

  ‘Do I?’ He gave me one of his more unfathomable looks.

  ‘Yes, and you have a stake in the garden too. You know you love it.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but—’

  ‘Look, Seth, do you want to go?’

  ‘Well, no…but—’

  ‘If it suits you to stay here as before, then that’s fine by me. I really don’t want to lose you.’ I found I was gripping his arm as if I could hold him at Winter’s End by force, and snatched it away, going a bit pink. ‘Free gardeners don’t grow on trees,’ I finished lightly.

  ‘That’s what Ottie says, and that the arrangement seems to suit both of us. Have you seen that sculpture yet, the one we’re suppose to fit into the garden? I don’t know where she thinks we’re going to put it!’

  ‘I thought we’d decided on the rose garden. And do you think I should go and look at it? I thought she might not want me to see it until it’s finished.’

  ‘She won’t mind. In fact, she may not even notice you’re there.’

  ‘She does seem pretty engrossed—Jonah takes her dinner across to the studio to her every night. The lights seem to be on in the studio day and night, so she must have a very extreme work ethic—or maybe a work addiction.’

  ‘Yes, you can’t say she isn’t focused.’

  ‘Every time I pass, there she is working away—wearing one of those enormous lumberjack shirts too. She’s so elegant, they seem an odd choice of overall.’

  ‘They were my father’s,’ Seth said shortly. ‘I think she’s practically worn them to death.’

  ‘Really? I think that’s very touching.’

  ‘I suppose it is. They were pretty wrapped up in each other, though my father’s passion was the garden and Ottie’s her sculpture. I suppose it equalised out.’

  ‘So where did you fit into the scheme of things?’

  ‘Around the edges, mostly. Ottie was always kind to me, and my father loved me in his own way, but neither of them was very good with children. Things got better once I was older.’

  ‘I always longed to be part of a large family,’ I confessed, ‘or at least to get back to the feeling of family I’d had when I lived here. Of course there was the commune in Scotland, but that felt more like belonging to a tribe. And then, when I did come back here, I found Jack had taken over the place I once had and I was horribly jealous.’

  ‘Natural.’

  ‘I suppose so and now I know Jack I don’t really mind quite so much, because I’m fond of him too.’

  He got to his feet and looked inscrutably down at me. ‘Yes, you are, aren’t you?’

  ‘It was lovely to find I had a relative I didn’t know about,’ I explained. ‘Oh, well, I’d better go and get on. Mr Yatton has drawn up a list of all the children who will be coming to the party on Christmas Eve, so I’m going to go and buy presents for Father Christmas to hand out. I suppose I’d better get some spares, too.’

  ‘And I’d better get back to work.’

  ‘Yes…Seth, there aren’t any box trees down here, are there?’ I asked tentatively, because something had been puzzling me.

  ‘I was moving a couple of container box spirals on the top terrace earlier—do I reek of it?’

  ‘Yes, you do rather,’ I said with a grin. ‘It’s not the nicest of smells, though you may attract the odd vixen.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ he said obscurely, then went off to admire Derek’s bricklaying while I took my frozen and numb bottom back to the house.

  Later, I did what I had been longing to do and went over to the studio. I could see Ottie standing in her usual contemplative pose in front of the sculpture, back towards me, so I tapped gently on the glass door before opening it.

  ‘Hi, can I come in? I don’t want to disturb you,’ I said cautiously, though my eyes were irresistibly drawn to the large shape beyond her

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said, turning and refocusing her bright blue eyes on me with, it seemed, an effort. ‘I was just about to make a cup of tea. Want one?’

  ‘Yes, please, but really I wanted to see how the garden sculpture was coming on, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Look all you like—and there’s the maquette; that will give you more idea of how the finished thing will look.’ She pointed out a small model on the work surface, then plugged in a clay-smeared kettle and got out a battered tin tea caddy decorated with a portrait of Charles and Di on their wedding day.

  I looked from the sculpture to the model…and back again. There seemed to be a face, half-animal, half-human, at the heart of it, amid a whirlwind of spiky wings—the Spirit of the Garden, presumably? It was masculine and vaguely familiar…

  Then I got it.

  ‘It’s Seth—and he looks like a lion exploding out of a spiky horse chestnut casing!’ I said without thinking, but Ottie just grinned and said that that was it in a nutshell.

  The tea was Earl Grey, just as it came out of the pot, but after some rummaging about she produced a box of gingernut biscuits, and proceeded to dunk hers.

  ‘I’ll be sending The Spirit away to be cast soon. Have you decided where to put it, yet?’

  ‘Yes, I thought it might make a good focal point in the rose garden,’ I said, following suit and dunking my biscuit. Ginger and Earl Grey make an interesting combination. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘That should brighten it up a bit. I find roses so boring. They stand about looking hostile and thorny for months and then suddenly decide to have masses of flowers.’

  ‘I think Hebe would find that idea practically heresy.’

  ‘So would my husband have done too. You know, I thought Seth would want to hide the sculpture away in the wilderness or in the trees on the other side of the valley: he’s such a traditionalist.’

  ‘But the rose garden is new; there’s no reason why it shouldn’t fit there very well. We’ve planted lots more roses too and winter-flowering hellebores—Christmas roses—so it won’t look quite as bare as you remembered.’

  ‘Speaking of hellebores,’ she said obscurely, ‘are you still managing to resist Jack’s untrustworthy but not inconsiderable charms? You had me quite worried at first and Seth is still convinced you’re in love with him.’

  ‘Then Seth’s wrong!’ I snapped, nettled. ‘I admit I did fall for Jack, and I’m still very fond of him, but in a sisterly sort of way. I’ve tried to tell him, but he’s very…’

  ‘Vain? Overconfident? Won’t take no for an answer?’

  I laughed. ‘Well, yes—all of those! I keep thinking that I’ve finally got through to him how I feel, and also convince him that I’m here to stay at Winter�
��s End, and then the next minute he bounces right back again.’

  ‘So you’re not even going to share it with him, married, partnership, or otherwise? Good,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘because although he’s a charming rogue and I’m quite fond of him, he’s not good for Winter’s End—or you.’

  ‘Seth should stop worrying about my love life and think about his own,’ I said darkly, his remark still rankling. ‘I wouldn’t trust Mel as far as I could throw her!’

  ‘Ah, yes—Mel. From what I hear she does seem to have been at Winter’s End rather a lot while I’ve been away.’

  ‘She has, but not up at the house,’ I said pointedly, not mentioning the one occasion when she had called in and found Seth and me in a slightly compromising-looking position. ‘But she’s so beautiful it is hardly surprising if he’s fallen for her all over again—and she’s a rich widow now, so I suppose that’s an added attraction.’

  ‘Not to Seth. He’s never been interested in money. Jack’s the one who ought to find that irresistibly attractive.’

  ‘But Jack says it’s Seth she’s mad about…though actually, I did see Jack and Mel kissing in the shrubbery once, which made me wonder if he was being entirely truthful.’

  ‘Hmm…well, I heard some odd rumours when I was in London and I don’t think Mel’s husband did leave her as well off as everyone assumes. It would make sense, because we were all surprised when she moved back to live with her mother. She picked up with Seth again, then when Jack turned up made a dead set at him, probably because she knew he had money and thought he was William’s heir. But then suddenly it was all off and she was all over Seth again.’ She shook her head. ‘But I’m sure he’s got her measure. He knows she’ll only marry someone rich, however fascinated by him she is.’

  ‘She seems pretty cold-blooded. I hope Seth knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘He hasn’t been pining away for love of her all these years, you know. I’m sure he quickly realised he already had everything he wanted right here at Winter’s End, just as his father did.’

  ‘So have I,’ I said, absently gazing at the sculpture.

  ‘I think it’s time I told you the last family secret,’ Ottie said abruptly—and did so.

  When she’d finished I stared at her. ‘You can’t be serious!’ I said, and broke into a peal of laughter. Hyenas had nothing on me. I think Ottie was a bit put out.

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Battle Positions

  Sir Ralph came again. I see he now believes that his wife’s jealous imaginings were no more than the truth, and is afraid of mee. I told him he must swear that my carved oak chest and all it contains should go to my daughter, and none other should have it. If he did not do this, I would curse him through eternity. He said it would be done.

  From the journal of Alys Blezzard, 1582

  Once I’d turned the family secret over in my head for a while, it occurred to me that, true or not (and how could it possibly be true?) it would make for absolutely marvellous publicity!

  Releasing a story like this just before the opening season would hugely increase visitor numbers and could make all the difference between financial success and simply making ends meet.

  And even if the story is apocryphal—well, lots of families have their legends, don’t they? It’s only when people start researching their family history and discover that actually Uncle Bernard had never even set foot in a rowing boat, let alone gone down with the Titanic while playing ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee’, that the boring truth is revealed.

  Unfortunately, Ottie was adamant that the secret be kept clutched fast to our bosoms for ever, and a fat lot of good it would do Winter’s End like that.

  It was frustrating not being able to talk it through with anyone else, but Hebe couldn’t be trusted not to tell Jack and I didn’t like to discuss it with Lucy over the phone.

  I still think the revelation was the funniest thing I’d heard for ages, and somehow the person I most wanted to share it with was Seth, who unfortunately, being a mere man, was forever to be excluded from knowing about our dramatic little skeleton in the family cupboard.

  I was still mulling it all over a few days later, but a worrying feeling that something threatening was about to happen had started to distract me from it a bit.

  I hoped Mel wasn’t planning any more little booby traps—even though Jack assured me he had had it out with her and she had contritely said that she couldn’t believe she could have done anything so spiteful and potentially dangerous.

  Neither could I—an apology might have been nice.

  But it turned out that the gathering shadows threatened Lucy, and when she phoned me up I knew something was wrong the moment I heard her voice.

  ‘Mum, I’m coming home, and so is Kate,’ she said abruptly. Kate is the girl she had been sharing a room with, and they had become good friends.

  ‘What, straight away? But has something happened? Are you both all right?’

  ‘Yes, we’re fine, Mum—calm down,’ she said, though sounding strained. ‘We’ve just had a bit of a scare, that’s all, and it’s really spooked Kate. She wants to get the first plane out and I don’t fancy staying here without her.’

  ‘You’d better tell me what’s happened.’

  ‘You know I said the geek following me was just shy, and really he only wanted me to give him extra English conversation lessons? Well, his friend asked Kate too, and since they seemed harmless she persuaded me we should do it together, for some extra money.’

  ‘Oh, Lucy!’

  ‘Come on, Mum, we weren’t mad enough to agree to go to a house or anything like that, just meet after work at a nearby café. And at first it was OK, they bought us coffee and said they wanted to chat to improve their English conversation. But then, when Kate went to the loo, I saw the other man put something in her drink, so when she came back I just made some excuse and got us out of there, fast. They followed us out, so we ran all the way back to our digs.’

  ‘But that’s terrible! Lucy, what if you hadn’t noticed, or you’d both gone to the loo or—’

  ‘Well, we wouldn’t,’ she said bluntly. ‘We always watch each other’s drinks or take them with us, and that would have seemed odd with a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Did you report them to the police?’

  ‘No. I mean, how could we? It would be just my word against theirs. I’d no proof. And we are fine, just a bit shaken, especially since they trailed us back and hung around outside for ages. Kate got hysterical and phoned home, and her father told her to get on the next plane, which was easier said than done. I managed to get us two seats eventually, but it’s so near Christmas it was a miracle.’

  ‘Thank God,’ I said devoutly. ‘So, when do you get here?’

  ‘The early hours of the day before Christmas Eve. Kate’s family will pick her up in London, but I’ve booked a connecting flight to Liverpool. Do you think you could meet me, or will you be too busy? It’s the Winter’s End staff Christmas party the next day, isn’t it? I can get a taxi.’

  ‘I should really be here…but I’d much, much rather come and meet you. Look, leave it with me and I’ll sort something out. But I’m so glad you’re both coming home. I think it’s the sensible thing to do. Yo u will be careful before then, won’t you?’

  ‘Kate’s such a nervous wreck she doesn’t even want to leave the building, but we’re going out later with a whole bunch of friends to do some Christmas shopping and have a leaving party—but we’re all staying together, don’t worry.’

  Of course I was worried, but so glad she was coming back! And when I found Seth wolfishly devouring roast beef and horseradish sandwiches in the kitchen later, he offered to drive me to the airport to collect her. This was really kind of him, because I didn’t know the way there and was likely to be too nervous and excited to concentrate.

  ‘I think I’ll turn my mum’s old room into Lucy’s. Did you know it hasn’t been touched since she ran away, all those years ago? Grandfather wouldn’t have i
t changed in any way, which is quite touching, but now it’s time the ghosts were banished and maybe all the rosebuds too. Lucy isn’t a terribly girly girl, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I’m starting to get some idea,’ he agreed.

  ‘Only there isn’t much time between now and Christmas, and I’d like to paint the walls and perhaps move the furniture…’ I looked hopefully at him.

  ‘I’ll come in and help you—you leave Hal and Bob alone!’

  And he did too. I packed one small trunk of Mum’s things for the attic and the rest I sent to a charity shop. We flung open the windows to let out the last ghost of patchouli and let in the chilly, cleansing air, while obliterating trellised rosebuds with two shades of light mulberry emulsion paint.

  I had a shopping expedition to St Helens and bought some new fixtures and fittings for the room, then we carried down her boxes of belongings from the attic, so she could unpack and rearrange as she wanted.

  When we’d finished it looked lovely and my excitement must have been contagious, because I even caught Aunt Hebe putting two Coalport potpourri holders full of dried rose petals on the bedroom mantelpiece, as her contribution to the welcome.

  Luckily, Lucy had asked me not to send her Christmas presents out there, but save them for when she came home. Now I would be able to make her a Christmas stocking too…and maybe one for Guy. Is anyone ever too old for a Christmas stocking?

  Ghosts banished, the room remembered only the happy hours and, having had a memory like a particularly happy and spaced-out goldfish, I expect my mother had had a lot of those.

  It was a bumper mistletoe harvest this year, and for a few days it was all hands to the packing station in one of the big greenhouses, while Mrs Lark came in and out with sandwiches and hot soup.

  Jonah, as was apparently the tradition, spent a day down at the lodge selling bunches of it at the gate, and some of it went to local suppliers, but most was dispatched down to London where it would fetch the best price.