But Astrid seemed almost physically hurt, as if she’d looked down to see a knife plunged into her chest and couldn’t account for how it got there.
What had prompted Mrs Toon’s vindictiveness? Did she really despise Astrid that much? Was this an attempt to oust her from her job, so that she could step into the role herself? What had Astrid meant when she said there were no scandals at Addleston? On the contrary, it was a hotbed of political intrigue and betrayal, all going on about them, in the here and now. Ourselves shall be actors.
Well, if she wasn’t going to defend herself, Charlie would do it for her. ‘And it’s legitimate for you to break into your manager’s office, is it?’ he demanded.
‘It wasn’t locked,’ said Mrs Toon, ‘and the lights were on.’
‘They’re love letters,’ Astrid floundered. ‘We were reading them, that’s all.’
‘And that’s all you’ve been doing, is it?’
‘It’s none of your business,’ said Charlie, ‘what we’ve been doing.’
Mrs Toon inclined her head and gave them a sickly sweet smile. ‘Let’s see what everyone in Monday’s meeting thinks about it, shall we?’
‘That’s it,’ said Charlie reaching forwards. ‘The letters are going back in the box! Astrid can put them in the safe, or a drawer, and if you don’t want to get locked in the office with them, I suggest you perform a prompt exit.’
Mrs Toon’s angular lenses winked in the glow of the desk lamp as she attempted to fight him off.
‘Be careful!’ Astrid cried, ‘You’ll tear them, they’ll rip!’
Reluctantly, Mrs Toon stepped away from the desk and watched as Charlie replaced the letters back inside the box, closed the lid, and handed the whole thing into Astrid’s care. Astrid secured the treasure inside the safe, locked the office door, and all three of them left the house.
It must be difficult, Charlie thought, working with colleagues who actively made it their business to undermine your authority. How childish it must seem, like being back in the playground. Astrid wasn’t quite the universally adored Great Leader, as he’d first assumed. Not everyone was fond of her, the way Megs was.
Mrs Toon, the fell demon, marched confidently in front of them down the long drive, quite at ease in the dark. ‘Oh, Astrid, I nearly forgot! Louis’s girlfriend had her baby this morning. A little boy. Six pounds, seven ounces.’
Charlie could have sworn Astrid’s step faltered. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Who told you that?’
‘He phoned me himself. How funny that you didn’t know. I thought you would have been the first to hear it. Oh well…,’ Mrs Toon resumed her inexorable march towards the B road and the distant lights of the village.
‘Should we go with her?’ Charlie asked. ‘It’s not very well lit out here. She might get her foot trapped in the cattle grid and be stuck there till morning.’
‘Not her,’ Astrid said grimly. ‘She knows exactly what she’s doing.’
Chapter Eleven
The red light on the answer machine flashed in the darkness as Astrid unlocked the cottage door and led Charlie inside. ‘Probably the Big Boss,’ she said. ‘Following up on Mrs Toon’s complaints.’
‘Why on earth didn’t you tell her where to stick it?’
‘Yes.’ She sounded tired. ‘Why didn’t I?’ She turned to face him. ‘This is a disaster, isn’t it? I should treat you to dinner or something. To apologise. We could always go to the pub.’
‘We could,’ he said, making no move to do so.
‘Of course. You have to get home. I’ve kept you too long.’
‘I can come back for Monday’s meeting if you like. Back you up.’
‘It’s not necessary.’
Conversation died. The only noise that could be heard was the immersion heater switching itself off, a tinny echoing noise fading away to nothing in the scullery beyond. It might be possible to try again, he considered, move closer; away from any disturbances, the presence of Amelia or Harry, he might actually let it happen this time, but he left it a split second too long. ‘Why did Mrs Toon mention Louis just then?’
She made a face. ‘Because he’s our colleague and his girlfriend’s just had a baby.’
‘What happened?’
‘When?’
‘With Louis.’
She became irritable. ‘Why do you keep mentioning him? What’s with the inquisition? Can’t you ‘see’ it all for yourself? In your mind’s eye? Everything I’ve ever done and everyone I’ve done it with?’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ he said, insulted. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but strangely enough, I do appreciate communication, conversation, insight and intimacy, all the usual human behavioural traits.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ she said, sounding anything but. ‘I was being crass. I do that, when I’m being attacked.’
‘Who’s attacking you?’
‘You! Mrs Toon! All of them! They all think they know what’s been going on, but they don’t.’
‘What?’ he retorted. ‘That your boyfriend went off and shagged someone else?’
Astrid’s gaze never wavered. She marshalled her words in readiness, perhaps weighing up the pros and cons of an honest answer.
‘Louis and I,’ she said slowly, ‘did have a brief relationship, it’s true. We’d spent some time working together, and when he was seconded to Langston Manor I found that I – missed him – and when he came back, we saw each other a few times, but I don’t know, the long and the short of it is, he decided to go back to his girlfriend. Which he was perfectly entitled to do…,’
‘And the baby?’
‘He didn’t tell me she was pregnant.’
‘Oh.’
‘They decided to give it another go, simple as that. And why shouldn’t they? It’s their business, their family.’
Her indifference was manufactured, of course. ‘And you’ve regretted it ever since,’ Charlie surmised. ‘You gave up on him too soon; you missed out on what might have been… Did you love him very much?’
‘What if I did?’ she challenged. ‘Things can change rapidly. No one knows what’s around the corner. I suppose you’ve never made any mistakes? Never acted with your heart not your head, never allowed yourself to get carried away, indulged your passions, done something you knew wouldn’t be approved of, but you did it anyway?’
‘True. For example, I had no inkling that I’d be summoned here, unprompted, by a woman desperate for distraction.’
She stepped away from him, obviously hurt. ‘I had no idea you thought I was so fallible. I can see I’ve failed to live up to your expectations.’
‘I don’t have any expectations. This has never happened to me before.’
‘What hasn’t?’
‘This,’ he gestured, ‘you, me…,’
She looked at him a good long while before she answered. ‘But it’s not even about you and me, is it? It’s Harry Bramall and Amelia Tunney! You said our voices would become theirs. Is that what’s happened?’
He rubbed his forehead. ‘Maybe it has. Of course I feel sympathy for Amelia, who wouldn’t? And if Harry wasn’t such a ditherer I’d have expected him to drop everything and rush to Amelia’s side, but is that really what’s been happening? We’ve been reading their letters and becoming them? I don’t channel,’ he insisted.
‘What other explanation could there be?’
He ignored the slightly aggressive tone in her voice and fluffed up the front of his hair. ‘If Amelia and Harry’s blighted love is confusing the issue then we’re absolutely right not to give in to it. We should keep things professional.’
She was blunt. ‘Well, you can either pretend there’s nothing between us, or carry on fighting it. What’s it to be?’
Chapter Twelve
Astrid had told him his presence wasn’t required but he returned to Addleston first thing Monday morning for the ‘extraordinary meeting’, anyway. Half an hour before opening time, the tea room was thrumming with activity. Convert
ed from the old stables, the horse stalls had been turned into individual dining booths, although a dip in the stone flagged floor where a gulley used to run made the trestle tables list on one side. Alongside Megs and Victoria, Gareth and Moustache Maureen, Charlie recognized Northern Gordon, the man who regurgitated the guide book in its entirety, and Matthew, the Head gardener.
Head bowed, Astrid made her way through the group to the middle of the room. Once there she drew herself up to fullest height, and without preamble thanked everyone for attending. She then invited Mrs Toon centre stage.
Exuding haughty regality, Mrs Toon pulled her cardigan across her neat bust, tucked a wing of hair behind her ear and dispensed a thin smile around the audience. ‘I’ll cut to the chase everyone.’
‘That’ll be a first,’ said Megs, perched on the edge of the trestle table next to Charlie.
‘You’re all aware,’ Mrs Toon went on, ‘that a collection of letters was discovered some time ago, in the Taffeta Silk bedroom. A collection that had been secreted there over two hundred years earlier. As you know, Addleston House has been unfortunate in the past, in losing much of its original treasures and artefacts. Old documents relating to former inhabitants and owners are therefore extremely precious and extremely rare. It is beholden upon us in such circumstances, to record, analyse and preserve these documents with the utmost care and professionalism. Unfortunately for us, our manager, Miss Buchanan, took it upon herself to blatantly disregard such expediency, and has not only failed to properly authenticate the documents, but has allowed them to be taken off the premises!’
A gratifying murmur of disapproval rippled around the gathered throng. Matthew shook his head in a derogatory manner. Northern Gordon chewed on a mint.
‘Ooh, I feel quite whatsit,’ said Megs, ‘tense.’
Mrs Toon’s mistrustful eye fell on Charlie. ‘I have already contacted head office, and although I realize that many of you might think it presumptuous of me to do so, I hope you will allow that I felt that I had no choice in the matter, having already raised the issue with Miss Buchanan on several occasions.’
There was a lull as the audience digested this information, and then Astrid stood up again. ‘Well, there we have it. Thank you, Mrs Toon, for being so frank and for keeping us informed of your actions. I understand your misgivings, I really do, and perhaps there is a case to be made that I didn’t act with sufficient speed or alacrity in this matter, but I can assure everyone here, that myself and Mr Gilchrist have been studying the documents solely in order to assess their worth and importance. I had every intention of contacting the relevant authorities in due course.’
Northern Gordon raised his hand. ‘Surely the delay occurred because our curator is away? If he’d been on site, Miss Buchanan would have given the letters to him?’
‘Thank you, Gordon!’ said Astrid. ‘You’ve hit the nail squarely on the head. In fact, I phoned him almost immediately. As you know he’s been rather busy recently…,’
Gordon nodded appreciatively and swallowed the rest of his mint. He proceeded to dig another mint from the packet and pop it into his mouth. As far as he was concerned the argument carried sufficient weight to be fair and credible.
Mrs Toon wasn’t so easily fobbed off. ‘Er, Miss Buchanan, that’s as may be, but it does not explain why you were so eager to allow – let’s be blunt – a minor acquaintance of yours to handle these precious documents before anyone else. Let me remind everyone, including you Gordon, that any one of us could have managed the task proficiently well. I, myself, would have been only too pleased, as would Maureen, or even, heaven preserve us, Megs.’
‘Eh!’ said Megs. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You have to understand, Miss Buchanan, how much I care about this place.’ Mrs Toon pounded her palm with her fist. ‘I have accepted that there will be weddings and marquees and jazz bands and all the rest of it, but I can’t sit idly by when Addleston’s historical reputation is being compromised!’
‘Of course I understand,’ Astrid said, ‘and I appreciate all your consistent effort and loyalty. I really do.’
Charlie shifted uncomfortably. There were no two ways about it; his presence didn’t sit well with any of them, save Megs perhaps. It wasn’t his curatorial inexperience that was the problem; it was the fact that he was an interloper, no more no less. It was Gordon’s question about the curator’s absence, however, that prompted his next thought.
If Louis hadn’t been on paternity leave, he would have been first to read the letters; first to discover their secrets. It would have been him sharing the intimacies of the summer house and the Taffeta Silk bedroom with Astrid, not him.
‘It seems that now would be the perfect time for Mr Gilchrist to take to the floor and explain to everyone, why he’s here. Would you mind, Charlie, telling Mrs Toon, Gordon, Megs, Victoria, exactly what we’ve been doing?’
Astrid was talking to him. For a moment he remained seated, not sure what it was she wanted him to do.
‘Would you, Charlie? Tell everyone?’
Charlie disentangled his legs from the bench and stood up straight. Megs moved aside, giving him some space. All eyes were upon him. Could this be right? Astrid wanted him to come clean? He generally struggled with public performances. Explanations didn’t come easily to a misfit frequently singled out for ridicule. It was hard out there on Planet Gilchrist. The phrases that formed themselves in his mind refused to roll their way around his teeth and lips, refused to express themselves audibly to the gathered throng.
‘Come on Charlie,’ said Mrs Toon, ‘why don’t you tell us all about it?’
His mouth was dry, but there was no backing out; the time had obviously come. He scratched his chin and readied himself for the reveal.
‘I can see into the past,’ he said at last. ‘Or rather, scenes from the past appear in front of me. I hear them, I feel them; in short, I’m there.’
There was a brief silence.
Gordon stopped chewing on his mint.
Megs and Victoria exchanged glances. ‘Did he just say what I think he said?’ asked Megs.
‘I’m not sure...,’ said Victoria.
Mrs Toon cocked her head. ‘And how do you manage that, dear? Are you a Time Lord?’
Charlie persevered. ‘I have visions,’ he went on. ‘Psychic daydreams, if you will. There really isn’t a scientific explanation for it.’
‘Is that so?’ said Mrs Toon. ‘You amaze me.’
Astrid looked across at Charlie. An expression of acute alarm was on her face.
‘Er, herr,’ she cleared her throat. ‘I think we’ll leave that where it is for now, shall we? Thank you, Charlie. Any more points of order or are we done? Mrs Gibbs needs to open the tearoom.’
Megs raised an uncertain hand in the air. ‘The caterers want access to the kitchens a couple of days before the Anderson wedding - and I told them it wouldn’t be a problem?’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Speak to me regarding details in the week…,’
The meeting broke up. Megs and Victoria jumped down from the table edges, Gordon and Matthew joined the queue for refreshments. Mrs Gibbs resumed her place behind the tea and coffee machines. Amidst a babble of talk, the staff tried to make sense of the jumbled information Charlie had unceremoniously dumped on them.
Astrid took a deep breath. ‘Come here,’ she said, grabbing his arm and towing him out of the tearoom and away from the stable block.
She opened the gate to the formal gardens as if aiming for the summerhouse, but thought better of it and headed for the two hundred year old oriental plane tree instead. Bowing under its own weight the twisted branches now reclined along the ground. She let go of his arm. ‘What was all that about?’
‘You told me to explain,’ he said. ‘I was only doing what you asked.’
‘I only wanted you to tell them what was in the letters. I didn’t expect you to spill your guts. A sketchy outline would have been enough!’
‘I was just tryi
ng to help. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘For Mrs Toon to humiliate you like that? No, of course not.’
‘Well you’re the only sap that believes this crap, anyway. No-one else does. Or maybe you don’t? Maybe this is all one big joke at my expense?’
‘Hey! I might not know how you do it, but I know you can. Maybe one day the curtain will drop and I’ll see the hidden workings, but until then I’ll take it on trust.’
That was the problem. She might trust him, but he didn’t entirely trust her. ‘I can’t work like this, it’s too confusing. Your cogs began to whirr the second we uncovered the truth about the letters. Amelia’s story would add some much needed colour to the whole Addleston House experience, was your thinking, wasn’t it? Once you’d commercialised her, made her a paying attraction, along with the flower garden and the summerhouse and the lake, you’d be able to sit back and watch as your income and profits exploded!’
She stepped so far back she hit the ‘Keep Off’ notice pinned to the tree. ‘I work for a stately home,’ she said, as it bounced and wobbled beneath the force, ‘not a retail outlet. Or a banking giant.’
‘If you make any more discoveries, let me know. I’ll be fascinated to hear what they are.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘In the meantime, goodbye.’
It was a while before she responded to the formal gesture. When she did, her fingers were warm, her grip firm. ‘You don’t need to be on your guard, Charlie. Not with me. In fact, I’d rather you weren’t.’
‘That’s funny,’ he said, ‘that’s exactly what I was thinking about you.’
He loosened his hold, and let go - like Harry and Amelia on the Long Walk - conscious that their intimacy might be observed. He knew if he met her eyes he’d encounter the wounded, troubled expression, so he left her there, standing in the lea of the twisted, broken-down plane tree. He opened the gate, clanged it shut behind him, whirled in an arc on the gravel, wondering which way to go next – car park or tearoom – when the choice was made for him.
Secrets of the Past Page 9
