by Rachel Hore
‘We’re determined to buy something witty – maybe the doggy fire irons,’ she said, ‘though it’s fun just to be here, soaking up the atmosphere.’
‘It’s lovely to see you. I hope the children weren’t too angry about being left behind in London? Though if they’re with Leo, I’m sure they’ll be fine.’
‘Oh, they’re having an even more exciting time than we are,’ Liz said. ‘A male au pair. It’s the answer to every freelance woman’s dream.’ Kate smiled as Laurence rolled his eyes. ‘Anyway, it’s ages since we had a few days off by ourselves, isn’t it, Laurence? It’s one of the great things about me not having to be in the office all the time now.’
‘She’d never allow me any holiday when I reported to her,’ said Laurence, a twinkle in his eye. ‘Now, if you’ll forgive me, I just want to have another quick look at those prints of Blythborough. Oh fantastic – look, it’s Claire. And Alex and Mina!’
Kate spun round to see them enter the tent. Claire came first, petite in a long skirt and loose blouse, both of course black, and lugging a huge pink bag with teddies all over it.
‘It’s amazing that you’ve come. Thank you!’ Kate hugged her before greeting Alex. A dark, heavy-set man, Alex wore a baby sling over his chest and, inside, the tiny shape of sleeping Mina pressed against her daddy’s heart. Kate reached out and stroked her silky head with her fingertips, but she didn’t stir.
‘Claire’s just fed and changed her, so with any luck we’ll get some peace and quiet for a bit,’ Alex grumbled, one large hand gently rubbing the baby’s back through the sling.
‘She’s just started on the mashed banana and baby rice,’ said Claire proudly. ‘And it certainly makes her sleep well.’
Kate studied what she could see of Mina’s little face in wonder. It seemed only a short few months ago that she had first seen her in an incubator, a fragile little doll with tubes strapped to every visible part of her. In January, Claire’s blood pressure had shot right up and she was taken into hospital for an emergency Caesarian. When Mina was delivered she weighed only 4 pounds and her first month in the world was touch and go.
Just as moving for Kate as seeing the tiny baby struggling to thrive, was meeting Alex for the first time. When she arrived in the baby unit, Claire was out taking a shower, but there was a man sitting by one of the incubators whom Kate recognized instantly from the opera programme Claire had shown her on Walberswick beach. His clothes were crumpled and he looked drawn from lack of sleep, but his eyes were full of joy and tenderness as he gently stroked his daughter’s chest with two fingers through a hole in the glass. When he became aware of the visitor he looked up.
‘Hello,’ he said, offering her his other hand. ‘You must be Kate. Come and meet Mina.’ Just then, the baby opened her eyes. Her navy-blue gaze was unfocused, but Alex slowly rose and moved into her area of vision, and it seemed as though she looked right back at him.
Later, Kate went down to the café with Claire. ‘It’s incredible,’ Claire said. Despite her obvious tiredness, she seemed elated. ‘He’s been completely different since the birth. He was with me in the end, came in the ambulance and held my hand during the operation. He was brilliant. And the thing is, once he realized I was all right, he has hardly been able to take his eyes off Mina. Babies must be born with a dose of magic, you know.’
‘Some secret potion that makes people fall in love, you mean. It should be patented.’
‘He’s asked me to marry him!’ Claire whispered, her eyes sparkling.
‘I’m so pleased,’ Kate said, squeezing her arm.
‘I told him I’d think about it,’ Claire said with mock hauteur.
‘You didn’t!’
‘OK, I didn’t. I said yes, please.’
Kate watched Claire and Alex go inside the marquee now, hand-in-hand.
‘And they lived happily ever after,’ said Laurence wickedly as he started to follow them in.
‘Course they will,’ said Liz, swatting at him. ‘They deserve to, don’t they? Catch up with you later, Kate.’
And here’s my happy ever after, thought Kate, watching Dan come up the path in the sunshine, one hand in Daisy’s. She waved and hurried out to meet them.
‘Hi,’ she said, kissing each of them in turn. ‘Is Sam all right?’
‘He was painting,’ said Daisy, who wore a superior air, being allowed to miss school to attend this grown-up event for which Sam was Too Young. ‘Making an awful mess.’ Sam had got his own back by being sick the night before and Joyce had offered to look after him. It was fun to go to Granny’s. The rented modern bungalow Kate had moved them into just after Christmas was nice because it was so close to Debbie and Jonny’s family, but the garden was a small square of weed-infested grass and there was no Bobby.
‘The next Jackson Pollock,’ said Dan, smiling. ‘Joyce was spreading newspaper all over the floor when we left.’
Paradise Cottage had not quite returned to its pristine prechild state because the children were round there so often, but Joyce didn’t complain. It was clear to both parties, without anyone saying so, that their relationship was all the better for them being queens of separate castles, and Joyce’s great fear, that she would see too little of the children, had been quickly laid to rest. Paradise Cottage was the children’s third home – after Simon and Meredith’s London flat, of course – followed closely by 2, The Row, Dan’s home, where they often visited and occasionally met Shelley. They took all this extended family in their stride.
‘Come on, Daisy.’ Dan ruffled her hair. ‘Let’s leave Mummy to say hello to people and go in and find our seats.’
‘They’re near the front, Dan. You’ll see the cards. Mum and Dad are in there somewhere, so are Debbie and Jonny. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
When they had gone, Kate went and picked up a spare catalogue from the table where two women from Farrell’s were busy registering the financial details of would-be buyers and supplying them with numbered paddles with which to make bids during the auction.
She flipped to the timetable. At ten o’clock was the picture sale, to be followed by books. During the afternoon, furniture and antiquities would go under the hammer.
Tomorrow it would be the turn of the silver, the ceramics and the textiles.
She flicked through the catalogue thoughtfully. It had been a difficult job deciding what to sell and what to hold on to. In the end, her rule of thumb had been to keep what she really liked and anything she knew would have been of particular sentimental value to Agnes. So, for instance, the lovely painting of Dunwich remained in the hall, some of the more useful and attractive items of furniture, the grand piano and the faded suite, the miniature that had been the start of Agnes’s collection, the big dining table and chairs. But the catalogue, with its meticulous listing of each object for sale, accompanied by photographs, still ran to two hundred pages. Today was Monday, and during the Thursday and Friday of the preceding week, hordes of visitors had swarmed into the grounds to view the contents of the auction, some of it displayed downstairs in the house, much of it in two great marquees that Farrell’s had erected in the grounds. It had been a huge operation, effortlessly masterminded by Ursula and her team.
Ursula herself approached Kate now. ‘Have you seen the local paper yet?’ she asked, passing her a copy. Kate unfolded it and stared in amazement at the front page. Treasure to be Auctioned Today the headline blared under a colour photograph of Seddington House. On pages two and three was an article with pictures of some of the artefacts, together with a short interview that Kate had given the journalist last week.
It was only the latest in a whole wave of publicity generated by the event. Not only had the local paper flagged the auction over the previous few months, but The Times and the Telegraph had both sent journalists down and Farrell’s had made sure that the sale had been fully written up in all the relevant journals, magazines and websites for the art and antiques trade.
‘Everything’s ready now,’ sai
d Ursula, who was today dressed in a severe navy trouser suit in readiness for her role as chief auctioneer. ‘We’ve record numbers for registration and the big players are all in place.’
Kate knew that long-distance telephone bidding from key dealers would decide the fate of some of the more valuable pieces.
‘We’ve just run over all the equipment again to make sure there will be no technical hitches. You’ve found where you’re sitting? Good. Well, I’ll see you in a few minutes, then. And don’t worry, Kate. It’s going to be terrific.’ And Ursula hurried off in the same direction as Dan and Daisy.
Kate stayed to welcome the vicar, who had arrived with his wife, the belly-dancer, a lively woman with a mane of fair curls cascading over her shoulders and an Indian print dress. Close behind was Peter Overden, the chairman of the school governors. And there was Raj, hurrying over from the refreshments tent, a Styrofoam coffee cup held out before him. She had spoken to him earlier, when he joined her conversation with a collector.
‘This is one of the most important sales of miniatures outside London that there’s been for some time,’ the man was saying.
‘Miss Melton was a most wonderful person,’ Raj told him. ‘An expert in her field. She would be happy to think that her collection would be admired and valued by others, wouldn’t she, Mrs Hutchinson?’
‘Most definitely,’ Kate agreed. ‘And you know, part of me feels that she’s here with us today. I wanted this sale to be in memory of her.’
It was Kate who had suggested the preface to the sales brochure, which commemorated Agnes’s life and work. Farrell’s had even unearthed a photograph of Agnes from years before to accompany it. The picture had illustrated an article she had written for a magazine and showed her in lively conversation with the then director of Christie’s.
‘Have you seen Max?’ Kate called to Raj now.
‘He was looking for his ladyfriend,’ said Raj. ‘Look, here they come now.’ Max appeared from the direction of the house deep in conversation with a slender dark-haired woman.
‘They look so much like brother and sister, those two,’ Raj said, amused.
And it was true. The doctor Max had met at a Christmas party in Norwich had small round glasses and the same earnest expression that he did. As Kate and Raj watched, the couple stopped and Olivia brushed a leaf off Max’s dark sheen of hair, then kissed him quickly.
‘But she’s much prettier than he is,’ Kate told Raj and giggled. Max’s two daughters were delicate female versions of him, too. Grace and Emily had been to visit the Hutchinsons several times now, and Sam and Daisy were enchanted to have acquired two cousins, though, ‘I wish Emily was a boy,’ sighed Sam.
Despite briefcase and coffee, Raj managed to squint at his watch. ‘Five to ten, Kate. Time to sit down.’
‘And the maiden bid is two hundred and eighty. Am I bid two ninety, three hundred, yes, the gentleman over there, three twenty, three fifty, four hundred, five hundred, six hundred. Six hundred, are you all done? Seven hundred, eight hundred. At eight hundred against you all, eight hundred. Thank you, the lady here by the aisle . . . Now, Lot 46 . . .’
Kate could hardly breathe as she listened to the sale of the miniatures. There was particularly fierce bidding for a portrait of one of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s descendants and a little girl in an Empire-line dress, both of which made more than ten times the estimated value. The picture of the girl eventually went to a local lady who, one of Ursula’s colleagues told Kate as she gulped down a lunchtime sandwich, had reason to be convinced it was of one of her ancestors.
Nearly all of the paintings had also reached prices well beyond Farrell’s estimates. Kate was gobsmacked when a delicate watercolour by a fringe member of the Bloomsbury group sold for £30,000 instead of the estimate of £5,000. ‘This can happen at these country-house auctions,’ Ursula had explained earlier. ‘There’s such a mix of interests – international dealers, local people bidding for sentimental reasons. Caution will sometimes be thrown to the winds. It’s quite impossible to predict in advance how things will go.’
By the end of the first day, it was clear that almost twice the total estimated figure had been reached. Virtually everything had found a buyer.
By the end of the second day, only a few lots were unsold and Ursula was ecstatic. ‘We’re looking at over a million,’ she confided to Kate and Dan, when they cracked open the champagne early that evening, ‘though I would need to confirm that with you, of course.’
‘That’s amazing,’ said Kate. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much, Ursula.’ She turned to Dan, her eyes shining. ‘It means I can do everything I promised.’
They had worked it out between them, Max, Dan and Kate, over the previous six months. All three were to receive equal payments from the Melton estate – both Kate and Dan were determined Max wouldn’t lose out because of the discovery of Dan’s ancestry, proved, incidentally, by the DNA test Raj had gently insisted on. There was one further donation Kate intended to make. In her bag was an envelope with a cheque for £25,000 made out to the Save Fernley School appeal. £25,000 had already been promised from other sources, mostly through Jasmin Thornton’s efforts. When Mr Overden came to say goodbye, Kate gave him the envelope. His look of astonishment when he opened it made her laugh out loud.
‘I still can’t imagine myself actually living here,’ said Kate as she and Dan strolled through the gardens of Seddington House in the golden light of evening.
‘It’ll be a mess for a while with the builders and decorators,’ said Dan, ‘but you’ll make it yours all right.’
‘It’s not just a matter of interior decoration, Dan. It’s that I’ve seen the place for so long through Agnes’s eyes. Her spirit is part of it all. Do you believe in ghosts?’
‘I suppose I think that Agnes was ready to die when she did, and that she’s happy wherever she is now. So there wouldn’t be any reason for her to hang around here, would there?’
‘I just wondered – because of the dreams. I wondered whether I might have some special connection to her.’
‘You’ll remember her, won’t you? And you’ll tell your children and grandchildren about her. That will be your thanks to her. She will live on through our memories.’
‘You’re right, I’m just being fanciful.’ Kate stopped and turned to face him. ‘Dan, will you think about what I said? Would you come and live here, too? The children are so fond of you. I think it would work. And it’s a great idea to keep your house as your studio.’
Dan shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled the gravel with his shoes. ‘It would have to more than work,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘And what about you? Are you “fond” of me, too, Kate?’ he said, teasing her.
Kate’s answer was to wrap her arms around him and kiss him passionately. After a long moment, he raised his face and looked at her. His face was suddenly serious.
‘How about this? Will the lady in the big house,’ he said, stroking her hair, ‘take the man in the little house, to have and to hold?’
‘She will. But the lady in the big house,’ she said, trying not to smile, ‘would give up the big house without a single regret, to come and live in the little house with the man.’
‘The lady in the big house might find it a bit of a squash for her children,’ he said. ‘Especially if we have any more.’
‘Oh! We haven’t talked about that one yet.’
‘We’ve plenty of time to talk,’ he said, laughing. ‘And for everything else.’
And, taking her hand, he led her into the house that was to be their home.
Table of Contents
Author biography
Title page
Copyright page
Acknowledgements
Dedication page
Kate’s family
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
