“Here we all are. Sorry, I hope we haven’t kept you waiting.” She dumped the basket on the floor, then, straightening up, raised a clenched fist as a sign of victory.
“Done it,” she told Elfrida.
“Got through to Nicola, talked her into a good mood, and everything’s okay. Parental approval has been bestowed. Lucy can stay and go to school in Creagan, and Nicola says she’ll be in touch about contributing a bit of cash to the household for board and lodging.”
“I never thought of that,” Elfrida admitted.
“No, I don’t suppose you did. And, as well, she will honour you with her presence next time she comes back to this country. I suppose that means driving north in some fantastic car with Randall Fischer at the wheel, in order to flaunt her newfound riches and cast a beady eye over you and Oscar….”
“Carrie, don’t be unkind.”
“She’ll probably patronize.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got our way. Oh, well done.” They hugged in triumph. Then Carrie drew away, and her expression became serious.
“Elfrida, you promise it’s not going to be too much for you?”
Elfrida shook her head.
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s a lot you’re taking on.”
“Don’t say that. Ever.”
“What’s the house like?”
“Cold. That’s why we lit the fire.”
“Can I nose around?”
“Of course.”
“Is this the kitchen?”
“Isn’t it. gruesome “But full of sunshine! Oh, look, there’s Oscar….” She drifted out into the garden by way of the kitchen door.
“Oscar!”
Elfrida picked up the basket, humped it into the kitchen, and set it down on the table. As she did this, she was joined by Sam, hefting a grocery box close to his chest. It looked very heavy.
“Is this all picnic?” she asked in some amazement.
“A feast. Where shall I put it?”
“Here, by the basket. Where’s Rory?”
“Trying to deal with Major Billicliffe’s old car. It looks dreadful standing there. Have we got the ignition key?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“We can take the brake off and shove it out of the way. It lowers the tone of your newly acquired property.” He went to the window and stood looking down the garden to where Oscar, Carrie, and Lucy had started to walk back to the house. He said, “What an amazing view. It’s a good house, Elfrida. It’s got a good solid feel to it.”
And she felt warmed, like a mother whose child is praised for its beauty.
“That’s what I think, too.”
The Christmas Eve picnic at Corrydale, the first one they ever had there, was something of a movable feast. It started with a glass of wine by the fireside, in the warmth of the blazing logs, but slowly progressed out of doors, because the day was so beautiful that it seemed almost sacrilegious to be inside. Rory and Lucy were the first to make their way out into the garden, and the others, one by one, joined them, to perch on kitchen chairs, or cushions from the sofa, or the thick rug that Rory fetched from Sam’s car. The air was cold, but the sun beamed down upon them, and in the shelter of the house there was no breath of wind.
Carrie and Sam had done a splendid job. They had brought hot soup laced with sherry, drunk from mugs; fresh rolls filled with thick slices of ham and English mustard; a bacon-and-egg quiche; chicken drumsticks; tomato salad; crisp green apples; and chunks of cheddar cheese. Finally a flask of fresh, boiling-hot coffee.
Elfrida, sitting on a cushion with her back against the wall, turned her face up to the sun and closed her eyes.
“That was the best picnic ever. Thank you, Carrie. I feel quite stunned with wine. Maddened by drink. I could be in Majorca.”
Oscar laughed.
“Discount the fact that you’re still wrapped up in your blanket coat.”
Rory and Lucy, having finished their picnic and shared between them a large bag of potato crisps and a bar of chocolate, had disappeared, gone indoors to inspect the layout of the little house. Now, they appeared again.
“It’s so nice, Oscar,” Lucy told him.
“The only thing,” said Rory bluntly, “is you’re going to have to do something about the heating problem. It’s arctic.”
Carrie protested.
“Rory, it’s been standing empty, and there’s been snow. Come on, it’s December. Nothing’s particularly warm in December.”
“No,” Oscar said firmly.
“Rory’s right. Heating will be our first priority. Where are you two off to now?”
“We thought we’d take Horace for a walk, down to the water and the beach.”
Oscar tipped back the last of his coffee.
“I shall come with you.” He had eaten his picnic sitting on the step of the kitchen door. Now he set down the mug and held out a hand to Rory, who took it and pulled Oscar to his feet.
“After that feast, I need exercise. Who’s coming with us?”
“I shall,” said Carrie.
“I shan’t,” said Elfrida firmly.
“Why can’t you all sit around, just for a moment? It’s all so blissfully peaceful.”
“If we do, it will be dark before we know it, and too late for a walk. What about you, Sam?”
“I shall stay with Elfrida. I would like to do a building inspection.”
Showing Sam Howard around Major Billicliffe’s house was quite different from looking at it with Oscar. With Oscar, Elfrida had simply gone from room to room, and ended up grateful that it was neither as poky nor as decrepit as they had feared. But Sam was infinitely more practical and meticulous, just as she had suspected he would be. He tapped walls, turned taps, inspected window frames and power points, and made no comment when she revealed to him the horrors of the breeze-block bathroom. Finally they were finished, and back in the sitting-room. The fire was dying, so she put another couple of logs on the embers and stirred it up with a poker. Sam had said so little, made so few observations, that she began to feel afraid that, mentally, he had condemned Oscar’s inheritance, and was about to break the news that, in his opinion, it was unfit for human habitation.
“What do you think, Sam?” she asked nervously.
“I think it has great possibilities. And the location is out of this world … hang on a moment, I just have to fetch something from the car. Is there electricity? Could we have a light or two on? It’s beginning to get a bit dark in here….”
When he had gone, she turned on lights. A faint gleam emanated from an overhead shade. Was the bulb on its last legs, or was this simply another example of Major Billicliffe’s parsimonious lifestyle? A lamp by the fireside, another on the desk. After that, things looked a bit better. When Sam returned she saw that he had brought with him a yellow scratchpad and a ball-point pen.
They sat together on the sofa.
“Now,” said Sam, reaching into his pocket for his spectacles and putting them on, “let’s talk turkey. Do you intend living in the place just as it is, or do you want to change a few things?”
“It depends,” said Elfrida cautiously.
“On what?”
“How much it would cost?”
“Supposing …” He began to draw a plan on the scratchpad.
“Supposing to begin with, you demolished the existing kitchen and bathroom. They’re ugly, impractical, and shut out the light from the south. And then, I think, you should demolish the wall dividing the living-room and the lobby … it’s only plasterboard, and doesn’t seem to support anything. Then you’d have one big, open-plan room. And my suggestion would be that you make the dining-room into a kitchen, and maybe build a small dining area out to the south. The south and west walls could be glassed … you’d get all the view and every ray of sun. And it would give you a sheltered corner for sitting out. A little terrace. Good for warm summer evenings.”
“What would we do about the staircase?”
“Move it around to the back wall.”
“And things like fridges and washing machines? Appliances, I think the word is.”
“Incorporate them into a fitted kitchen. There’s a chimney there already, so you could install an Aga or a Raeburn. Continual steady heat, winter and summer, and if you’re visited by a heat wave, which isn’t very likely in this part of the world, you just open all the doors and windows.”
“Would that do instead of central heating?”
“I would reckon so; this house is so well-built, and of stone, that once you get it properly insulated, it’ll stay warm. As well, you’ve got this fire in your sitting-room. As for the bedrooms, you could put in electric radiators, and heat your water by electricity as well. It’s enormously efficient, and if you have a power cut, you’ve still got the Aga.”
“Bathroom?”
“A new one.” He sketched it in on his rough plan.
“Over the dining room.”
“Lucy would have to use it, too.”
“No problem.”
“The small bedroom, where she would sleep, is terribly dark.”
“Once you’ve got rid of the old bathroom, and the passage, she’d have a southern wall for another window.”
Elfrida gazed at his simple suggestions, all drawn out for her on the yellow scratchpad, and was astonished that he had so quickly solved the dilemma. And as for a single open-plan living space, she rather liked it. She imagined herself and Oscar sitting, just as she was now, by the fire, with the comfort of a modem kitchen at the far end of the room.
“The lobby?” she ventured.
“Get rid of it. It’s simply a draught trap. But double glazing and a new front door will keep the cold out.”
Elfrida chewed her thumbnail. She said, “How much will all this cost?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Would it… would it cost more than eighty thousand pounds?”
He laughed, his face creasing up with amusement.
“No, Elfrida. I don’t think it would cost as much as that. You’re not, after all, rebuilding. Simply adapting. The roof seems to be sound, which is the most important thing. No sign of damp. But I think you should get a surveyor in. And you’d be better off to have all the electricity rewired. Even so, eighty thousand should be more than adequate.” He took off his spectacles and looked at her.
“Have you got eighty thousand?”
“No. But I hope to have. Jamie Erskine-Earle is going to sell my little clock for me. We never told you, but apparently it is very rare. A collector’s piece. Worth a lot of money. So I told him to sell it.”
“Eighty thousand?”
“That’s what he said. Top price, eighty-five.”
“In that case you have no problems. I am delighted for you! Go for it, Elfrida.”
“We’ll have to get an architect. And planning permission. And things like that.”
“How about the doctor’s wife? Janet Sinclair. She’s an architect. Give her the job. The bonus there is that she’s local, and she’ll know all the best builders and joiners and plumbers.”
“How long will it take?”
“I suppose six months. I don’t know.”
“We’ll have to stay in the Estate House until it’s ready for us to move in.”
“Of course.”
“But you, Sam? You want the Estate House.”
“I can wait. I’m certainly not about to throw you out onto the streets.”
“But you’ll be working in Buckly. So where will you live?”
“I’ll be okay.”
A brilliant idea occurred to Elfrida, and in her impulsive way, she immediately shared it with him.
“You can live with us. At the Estate House. You and Lucy and Oscar and me. You’ve already got a room there. You might just as well stay.”
Again, Sam laughed.
“Elfrida, these are the sort of suggestions you should think about very deeply.”
“Why? Why should I think?”
“Because you may change your mind. And you must talk it over with Oscar. He may not like the idea at all.”
“Oh, Oscar will love to have you. And so shall I. It will be a new job for me. Letting out lodgings. You know, I’ve been a lot of things in my time. An actress, albeit not a very good one. A waitress, when I wasn’t working. A lady of not very respectable repute. A cushion stitcher. And now I shall become a landlady. Oh, please say yes. I feel the Estate House is already yours, in a strange way, even though you don’t own it yet. As though you were always meant to come and live there. And that’s where you should be.”
“Thank you,” said Sam.
“In that case, I accept, subject, of course, to Oscar’s approval.”
The sun was beginning to dip down out of the sky by the time the walkers returned. Oscar and Carrie were first, with Horace, who was badly in need of a cooling drink.
“How was it?” Elfrida asked, searching a cupboard for a suitable bowl for a dog.
“Perfect,” Carrie told her, unknotting her scarf.
“Such a heavenly place. And all the birds down on the shore! Ducks and cormorants and gulls … how did you and Sam get on?”
“Sam is brilliant. He’s practically drawn the plans. You must come and look, Oscar. We hardly have to do anything. Just knock bits down and build other bits, and get rid of a wall and find an Aga. Don’t gape, Oscar, it’s all very straightforward. And we’ll ask Janet Sinclair to be our architect. And Sam says we must have it all surveyed and rewired, but he doesn’t think there’s a thing wrong anywhere … come and see….”
It was half an hour before Rory and Lucy finally joined them, by which time Oscar had seen and listened to all Sam’s ideas, been persuaded, and given his consent. Carrie approved as well.
“You know, I’ve always loved the idea of an open-plan ground floor, specially in a small house. And with the new extension, it means you’ll get masses more light. Sam, you are clever. You actually are very clever. How did you learn so much about knocking down walls and drawing plans?”
“For the last two months I’ve been living with plans and projects and elevations and architects’ blueprints. I’d be pretty dumb if I hadn’t absorbed a bit of know-how….”
Now the light was fading. Carrie looked at her watch and said that it was time to go back to Creagan. Lucy still had to finish laying the table for Christmas dinner, and Carrie was going to cook a large and satisfying dish that they could eat that evening.
“Are we going to Midnight Service, Elfrida?”
“I think so. Oscar doesn’t want to come, but I’ll go.”
“Me, too. And Lucy and Sam are coming as well. We’ll have a late meal, otherwise it’s a very long evening.”
Oscar said, “We’ll play cards. I found some packs of cards in the bottom drawer of the bookcase. Who knows how to play three-pack Canasta?”
“Samba, you mean?” said Sam. “I know how. There was a great craze for it in New York when I was there.”
“I can’t play,” said Lucy.
“Never mind,” he told her.
“You can play with me.”
Eventually, having packed up the remains of the picnic, found hats and gloves, and generally sorted themselves out, the first party took their leave in Sam’s car. Elfrida, Oscar, and Horace were left behind, to lock up and follow later, but they went out of doors to see the others off.
By now, at only four o’clock, the blue dusk had crept in, and a fine new moon, delicate as an eyelash, hung above them in the sapphire sky. The snow-capped hills became almost luminous in the strange half-light, and the ebbing tide was draining the firth, revealing sweeps of beach and sandbank. Curlews still flew, skimming the shore, but other birds were silent, their song finished for the day.
The big Discovery, tail-lights shining, disappeared up the drive. Oscar and Elfrida waited by the door until they could hear the sound of its engine no longer, and then turned and went back inside.
Elfrida said, “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want today to end.”
“Then we’ll stay for a little.”
“If I had any tea, I would make you a cup.”
“We’ll have one when we get back.”
He sank tiredly down on the sofa, where, earlier, Sam Howard had sat. He had walked, with the young ones, farther than he intended, and felt weary. Elfrida put the last bit of wood on the fire and then sat opposite him, stretching her cold fingers to the blaze.
She said, “We will live here, won’t we, Oscar?”
“If you want.”
“I do. But do you?”
“Yes. I admit, I did have reservations, but now that I have seen it again, and Sam has come up with all these ideas and possibilities, I think it is exactly what we should do.”
“It’s exciting. A new start. Architects and builders, and everything made new. One of my most favourite smells is that of wet plaster. And the next most favourite is the smell of fresh paint.”
“Furniture?”
“We can manage with what’s here for the time being. Maybe look around, pick up some pretty bits at auction. The first priority is to get the place the way we want it. Warm and light and airy. With an Aga, and a good-looking kitchen. Warmth is the most important. I can’t imagine how Major Billicliffe lived here for so long without dying of hypothermia.”
“He was one of the old school. A thick tweed jacket and long woolly underfugs, and no nonsense about feeling the cold.”
“You won’t ever be like that, will you, Oscar? I couldn’t bear it if you started wearing long woolly underfugs.”
“No. With a bit of luck I won’t ever do that.”
The shadows lengthened. Beyond the window, the bare trees faded into the darkness. Elfrida sighed.
“I suppose we should go. I mustn’t leave everything to Carrie….”
But Oscar said, “Wait. I want to talk.”
“What about?”
“Us.”
“But-” She had been about to say, We’ve been talking about us all day, but Oscar interrupted her.
“Just listen. Just listen to me.” And his voice sounded so serious and intent that she got up from her chair and went to sit beside him, close, on the old sofa, and he put out his hand and laid it upon her own. And she remembered his doing this once before, as they sat at the kitchen table at the Grange, with Gloria and Francesca dead, and neither of them able to find the words to comfort each other.
Winter Solstice Page 52
