The House in the Clouds

by Connelly, Victoria

  * * *

  The drive down to Sussex was quick and uneventful and Abi sighed in relief that she’d made it safely, arriving shortly after the removal van so she was able to supervise her things being taken inside. It was a little chaotic with the builders working, but they all got on with things.

  Edward hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said there was still a lot of work to do. It was soon obvious to Abi that they’d both be living with builders for the foreseeable future. But that was fine with her. She was at Winfield now and that was all that mattered.

  One thing Edward had made sure of, though, was that her apartment and his were the first to be tackled and Abi was thrilled with the results. Where there had once been only one large room on the ground floor, there was now a living room, a kitchen diner, and a spacious study that she was going to use as her studio. A staircase had been built which allowed Abi to live on two levels in this part of the wing and, walking up it for the first time, she saw that it opened into a large airy room with stunning views across the walled garden from its three sash windows. There were also two bedrooms and a bathroom. She couldn’t have been happier with it. Edward had done his best sending her photos of the progress as it had happened and consulting her on fittings and fixtures, but nothing could have prepared her for seeing it herself and she took a few minutes to drift from room to room, looking out of each of the sash windows and standing by the double French doors which opened out into the garden, taking it all in with slow, happy breaths. She was really here, she told herself. She’d done it.

  It was just as she was about to sit down once the removal men had left that there was a polite knock on her door.

  ‘Come in!’ she called.

  It was Edward. ‘Okay in here?’

  ‘I am!’

  ‘Welcome to Winfield.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  She beamed him a huge smile. ‘I think it’s amazing. I can’t believe how much has been done since I visited in March.’

  ‘Yes, well, I got my whip out and made sure it was all done for you here. At least so you could move in comfortably. There’s still the odd thing to sort out and no doubt there’ll be a few teething troubles, but you know where the builders are if and when you need help.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s more than I ever imagined could be done in the time and thank you for paying for it all before I bought in,’ Abi said, knowing that Edward had taken a huge risk in doing so.

  ‘My apartment’s still got no stairs or ceiling between the upstairs and downstairs so I’m living on the ground floor.’

  ‘But you’ve got everything you need?’ Abi asked.

  He looked amused. ‘If I’ve learned one thing in all this, it’s that you’d be surprised by how little you really do need in life.’

  Abi nodded. ‘I had a good sort out before moving. I’d accumulated so much stuff! I honestly don’t know where it all came from. Papers, folders, and books and music I no longer read or listened to. All these things come into our life and just seem to stick. But I made a decision that I didn’t want to bring all that with me. This is a new start.’

  Edward glanced around the room.

  ‘Can I get you a cup of tea? I was just about to make one,’ Abi said.

  He shook his head. ‘I’ll let you get settled in.’ He made to leave, but then stopped. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner tonight. Nothing too fancy – just a little pub I’ve discovered that does the most amazing food. My treat. A kind of welcome to Winfield.’

  ‘That would be lovely. We should celebrate this, shouldn’t we?’

  ‘And maybe we can talk about this old place then? Where we are now and our plans for the future.’ He looked awkward. ‘Nothing heavy,’ he added, as if afraid he’d scare her away.

  ‘No, that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Okay, then. I’ll call for you at seven?’

  Abi nodded and watched as he left. It was a kind suggestion of Edward’s, which she hadn’t expected, but it would be good to get to know him a little bit better and the last thing she wanted to worry about was what to cook for herself that night. She was exhausted. So she made herself a cup of tea, sat in one of the armchairs that faced the garden and let herself daydream until it was time to take a shower and change for her evening out with Edward.

  * * *

  The Swan was a couple of miles away and was postcard pretty with its low, thatched roof. Edward parked his car and the two of them got out and walked into the pub. Abi smiled as she took in the old wooden floorboards that creaked underfoot and a huge fireplace dressed with horse brasses and copper kettles.

  ‘This is lovely,’ she said.

  ‘Wait till you taste the food,’ Edward told her.

  They ordered drinks and then, while still at the bar, glanced over the menu on the board and chose what they were going to eat. They then made their way to a corner table by the window which looked out over the garden at the back of the pub and towards the river beyond, and Edward filled Abi in on all the work that had been going on at the hall and told her the funny stories he had about the builders and some of the things they’d discovered about the building.

  When the food arrived, Edward asked, ‘How are you settling in? If it’s not too early to ask such a question?’

  Abi smiled. ‘It’s really funny, but I feel at home already. Is that a strange thing to say?’

  Edward shook his head. ‘Not at all. I felt the same when I spent my first full day and night there. It was as if I’d found my one true home at last. Like the search was over.’

  ‘Why is that, do you think? Why does Winfield have that effect on us both?’

  Edward looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, isn’t it? Like finding the right job or the right partner, I guess. You just… know.’

  ‘Talking of knowing,’ Abi said, ‘we don’t really know that much about each other. Well, you’ve met my sister and nieces. But what about your family?’

  Edward’s fork stopped half-way to his mouth and he put it back down onto the plate. ‘My family?’

  ‘Yes. Brothers, sisters? Parents?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘None?’ Abi said in surprise. ‘No family at all?’

  For a moment, she thought she saw a look in his eyes as if he was trying to recall the information, but he merely shook his head.

  ‘No. No family.’

  Abi wasn’t quite sure what to say. She’d thought her own situation was odd enough, but to have no family at all seemed like a pretty hard blow.

  ‘I don’t have much in the way of family either. My sister and I were raised by my aunt. Aunt Claire. She doesn’t really bother with us much these days.’ Abi gave a tiny smile. ‘She didn’t really bother with us much when she was bringing us up either.’

  ‘How come?’

  Abi shrugged. ‘Just one of those people, I guess. She had her own interests and they didn’t include us. I mean, I think she had her own interests. She never really talked to us so I can’t be sure.’ She laughed, but it was a hollow sort of laugh even to her own ears.

  ‘What happened to your parents?’

  Abi took a sip of her drink. ‘Our father left when my sister and I were really small, and Mum died really young. I can’t remember much about her.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. What about your parents?’

  Edward looked awkward again, but then he spoke. ‘My mum died and then Dad… Dad’s dead too.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, well. Families are difficult,’ he said. ‘They can get in the way.’

  Abi wasn’t sure she agreed with that. ‘Maybe some do, but not all, surely?’

  Edward gave a wry smile. ‘I guess I’ll never know now.’

  ‘But surely you’d like your own one day?’

  He looked confused by this. ‘My own what?’

  ‘Your own family,’ Abi said. ‘A partne
r and children? Winfield would make a pretty amazing home for a family.’

  ‘That’s not why I bought it,’ he told her.

  ‘Maybe not, but it would still be a wonderful place for children to grow up in.’

  He didn’t reply and, for a few moments, the two of them got on with the business of eating.

  Edward had been right about the food. It was delicious and it was good to know about the place. She could bring Ellen, Douglas and the girls here sometime.

  ‘So, did you leave many friends behind in London?’ Edward asked, breaking the silence at last.

  ‘One or two,’ Abi confessed. ‘I had a bit of a party with them when I left the company. But I don’t suppose I’ll see much of them now.’

  ‘No?’

  She shrugged. ‘Oh, you know how people move on. You always part with good intentions when leaving a job or moving house, don’t you? You always mean to keep in touch or visit one another and, for a while maybe, you might post a Christmas card. But then the slow fizzle happens, doesn’t it?’

  Edward gave a wry smile. ‘I suppose it does.’

  ‘And I’ve got my sister nearby.’

  ‘You two are close, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Abi felt a naughty smile dance across her face. ‘She can be…’ she paused, knowing that she was probably confessing far too much about her personal life.

  ‘What? What can she be?’ Edward pressed now that she’d fed him such an enticing titbit.

  Abi could feel her face flaming in embarrassment. ‘She can be a little tricky,’ she told him, deciding that was a fair word to choose to describe Ellen. ‘But she has a good heart and she’s always looked after me. She was kind of like a mother to me growing up. Big sister, you know?’

  ‘No. But I can imagine.’

  They ate some more of their dinner.

  ‘You were in London before Sussex?’ Abi asked.

  ‘Yes. I had a place in Richmond.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘It was. It’s a shame I couldn’t keep it.’

  ‘You sold it?’

  ‘Last month. I was hoping not too, but Winfield…’ his voice faded. ‘Anyway, I don’t really need a place in London anymore. I just shoot in and out for the day now. But you know I grew up here – in the next village?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes!’ He laughed at her surprise.

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Not one of the pretty cottages, I’m afraid. One of those dull box houses from the eighties just off the main road.’

  ‘I didn’t know. So you’re kind of coming home.’

  ‘In a way. Although everything feels different now, you know? That old me and that old home don’t really exist anymore. I left them both behind years ago. The new me – the London me – was quite different. And now I’m back. I’ve left London and everything’s changed again.’

  ‘A new version of you?’

  ‘How many incarnations do we get in one life?’ he asked, staring at her as if he genuinely wanted an answer.

  ‘As many as it takes to get it right?’ Abi suggested. ‘I feel like I’m getting another one here at Winfield.’

  ‘A place for new beginnings.’

  ‘Yes,’ Abi agreed.

  They both finished their meals and took a sip of their drinks.

  ‘I know it’s early days,’ Edward said, ‘and that it’ll be a while before the apartments are ready to be rented out, but I was wondering if you had any particular plans for that. Short-term lets? Long-term?’

  Abi nodded. ‘Actually, I have been thinking about that.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘I’d like to rent mine to artists.’

  ‘Artists?’

  ‘Creatives of all type really. Writers, painters, potters, healers–’

  ‘Healers?’

  She shrugged. ‘We’ll have to wait and see who applies. As you said, it’s early days.’

  ‘So you mean New Age-type people?’

  Abi bit her lip and did her best not to laugh at Edward’s anxious expression.

  ‘I don’t think we should start categorising people. You don’t have to be New Age to be a healer or a creative.’

  Edward was frowning. ‘But you will be charging rent?’

  Abi sighed. This was something she’d given a bit of thought to. ‘Yes. But not much. Let’s call it a peppercorn rent.’

  ‘Peppercorn.’ Edward tried the word on for size and his expression told Abi that he didn’t like it. ‘Can you afford that?’

  ‘Oh yes. It’s something I’d very much like to do. I’ve always been fascinated by almshouses,’ Abi confessed.

  ‘Wait – aren’t they for poor people?’

  ‘Well, yes. Traditionally. But I’m not specifically targeting poor people with my apartments – just those who are maybe struggling.’

  ‘You mean those who don’t have a job?’

  ‘No! I think you’re confusing artists with… with unemployed people. Artists do sometimes make a living, you know.’

  ‘But you’re talking about those who aren’t?’

  ‘I’m talking about those who are struggling, perhaps. Those who need a bit of help. A bit of space and time somewhere beautiful. The people who give to the world through their art, but who, for one reason or another, don’t always get much back. Writers who are struggling to find a publisher or an audience for their work, artists who need a little bit of help while they’re finding their way, or healers who are learning how to reach out with their skills. These people matter to me because I could so easily have been one of them. I got lucky with my art and my timing. I won’t say it was easy for me. It took years of hard work to achieve what I did, but I’m very aware that I could have worked all those years and not achieved the same result. So many don’t, you know. I’ve seen them – talented designers who just haven’t had a lucky break. Artists whose work is good – really good – but who have been placed with the wrong gallery or whose exhibition came at the wrong time when the world’s focus was elsewhere. By doing this – by renting to these people – well, it would be like I’m investing in them. Kind of like my way of paying my good fortune forward.’ She paused, anxious that she’d said too much and scared Edward even more.

  ‘You’re really passionate about this, aren’t you?’ Edward said.

  She smiled. ‘Does it show?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’

  She laughed and she hoped that Edward understood what it was she was hoping to achieve at Winfield.

  ‘Of course, that part of the house is yours to do with as you wish,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. As yours is.’

  ‘Then I hope we can all be happy there – whoever comes to live with us.’ He lifted his glass and Abi clinked hers against it.

  * * *

  Edward Townsend was not, by nature, a liar. Yet he’d sat in the pub that evening with Abigail and told her lie after lie. Why had he done that? He felt awful about it now, but it had seemed the only option he’d had in the moment.

  He paced up and down his living room as a builder banged in the hallway outside. He should go out, he told himself, picking up his car keys. But, once outside, he gazed up into the blue sky above him and decided to go for a walk instead, taking the path that led directly from the grounds of Winfield up onto the down. It would be quiet up there. He’d be able to think. The walk would do him good too. He was feeling particularly stiff after a restless night. Worse than normal. The pain was usually worse at night for some reason, but was it the guilt about lying to Abigail that had made him sleep even worse than normal? He wouldn’t be a bit surprised. Lies didn’t become him and yet he’d managed to come out with so many of them the night before.

  First, he’d told Abi that he had no family. No siblings. Nobody. He’d then said his father had died. Well, he had in a round about kind of way. He was as good as dead. To Edward at least. But saying that out loud to somebody else, somebody he was growing to like and respect. Well, he hated himself for it. />
  He strode across the white spine of the chalk footpath, breathing deeply and trying not to think about the pain in his left hip. It would loosen a little as he walked. He wondered if he should have brought his walking stick with him just in case he got into trouble, but he hated the blasted thing. It made him feel like an old man and he wasn’t anywhere near the age to accept that role yet. But he did, on occasion, use it – when his balance was so poor because of the pain and he had little choice if he wished to remain upright.

  He cursed. It was three years since the incident and he had hoped that the pain would have gone by now, but he was beginning to realise that it probably never would. This, he thought, as he struggled along the path, was something he was going to have to learn to live with.

  He stopped walking and looked down onto the rooftops of the village. It gave one a wonderful feeling of grandeur gazing down from above. Not that Edward felt godlike or anything. It was more a feeling of appreciation – that he could see the whole of the village in one sweep – the church and the huddle of cottages at its centre, the little shop, the brilliant red of the post box, the narrow footpaths that wended their way up to the downs, and the curves of the lanes that slowly made their way to the main road. Edward could see his old family home in the next village from up here too. He looked at it now and realised that he felt absolutely nothing for it. He’d completely separated himself from the old place. Maybe that was one of the reasons he felt able to come back here. He could still walk the footpaths he’d adored in his youth although he probably wouldn’t climb quite so many trees these days.

  He continued his walk, his mind drifting once again over the events of the evening before in the pub with Abi and he felt himself heating up in anger about the lies he’d told. He could go and apologise to Abi immediately, he supposed. If he was truly sorry, surely he should do that. But he knew that he wouldn’t. For one, it would be way too embarrassing, but he also knew that things were simpler this way. It was easier to write-off his entire family rather than trying to explain them to somebody else.