by Daisy Waugh
CHAPTER 14
India wanted to pick up the children from their riding lesson, and so it was left to Egbert to give the guided tour. He could hardly get a word in, though, because Violet seemed to know everything about the place already, and gave a running commentary, from her wheelchair, on the myriad ways in which the place had deteriorated since last she was here. She was upset, above all, by the number of safety notices everywhere.
‘Don’t go here, don’t tread there, step this way, don’t touch that! It’s not like a home anymore, Mr Tode. I hope you and your wife can make it more like a home again.’
‘We’d like to try… The problem is of course—’
‘It’s like going on the London Underground, isn’t it Alice? Remember? When we went on the Underground in summer? I couldn’t believe it, could I Alice? You’ll be telling us to “stay hydrated” next.’
Egbert laughed. ‘The problem is, when you have as many people as we do coming through the gates… We can’t afford to have them suing us.’
Violet scoffed. ‘What are they going to sue you for? Having a lovely house?’
‘People will sue, I am discovering, for just about anything, if they think there’s a bit of cash to be made… For example, Mrs Dean, there’s a case we’ve just had to settle – somebody broke their toe climbing into the fountain. Well. They’re not actually allowed in the fountain, as they perfectly well know. There’s a very large sign prohibiting it. But you see, they said they hadn’t seen the sign, because they approached the fountain from an angle where it wasn’t immediately visible, and somehow, believe it or not, that leaves us coughing up £1700 in damages. I’m not keen on the signs, either, Mrs Dean. But we have to have them, or we’d be liable every time someone’s dog took a leak on the lawn.’
‘A leak on the lawn?’ repeated Mrs Dean, who (unlike Alice) was not a good listener. ‘What are you talking about?’
Alice would have liked to see the cottage which came with the job, but Egbert didn’t want to show it to her yet, for fear of putting her off. It was in the village, and very nice, he assured her – or it would be. It had belonged to her predecessor, Mrs Camer, whose job Alice would be filling, but she’d left it looking like a tip. Nobody had been into the house for years, and the state of it, after she left, revealed a side to Mrs Camer’s character nobody had guessed at.
‘Fact is,’ said Egbert, ‘she scrawled all over the walls. I’m not sure if they were meant to be paintings… They were religious – pictures of devils and so on. Plus she’d smashed things up – it looked very much as if she’d gone at the place with a sledge hammer. So – we think she may have had a screw loose. It was rather upsetting… My aunt, Lady Tode, was very upset when she heard about it. In any case. The point is, it’s a super house. Or it will be. We’ve got the estate carpenter licking it into shape literally as I speak. But honestly at the moment, it’s not in a fit state… As I say, we don’t want to put you off!’
The cottage was a mile or so from the Hall, in a hamlet the entirety of which belonged to the Tode estate. Violet knew the hamlet very well, and asked Egbert if they couldn’t at least drive by and look at the outside of their future home. ‘And since we’ll be in the car,’ she added, ‘would you mind very much driving us up to Africa Folly and down to the mausoleum on the other side? I should love that so much, just for the view of the house. I used to walk up there every Sunday, on my day off. Could we do that, Mr Tode?’
He didn’t much want to do that. It would involve using his aunt’s Range Rover again, which would involve dealing with Carfizzi, who would be bound to find a reason to obstruct things, since he always did. Aside from which Egbert had a lot to do this afternoon and had been hoping to leave Violet and Alice to wander about on their own for a few hours before dinner. This, it appeared, was not going to be possible. India had whispered strict instructions into his ear as she left, reminding him that he must do ‘whatever it takes and whatever they ask’ to persuade Alice to come and work for them.
So he said, ‘What a brilliant idea, Mrs Dean, and by the way I do wish you’d call me Egbert.’
Half an hour later they were travelling the same bumpy path that Sir Ecgbert (11th) had taken in his cardboard coffin only a few months earlier. Violet kept up a running commentary. She was fairly certain the path had deteriorated since her day. ‘It was never so bumpy back then,’ she said.
‘Well Granny, you weren’t ninety-six the last time you came here. Things feel bumpier when you’re ninety-six.’
‘Is that right, Alice Liddell? And how would you know?’
Alice didn’t bother to reply.
They drew up in front of Africa Folly. There was a gate across the path that led on to the mausoleum and it was locked, as all gates on the estate had to be, due to the problem of tourists forgetting to close them and leaving the livestock to escape. Egbert had grown accustomed to travelling everywhere with a giant collection of keys. (Often the wrong ones. People deliberately, Egbert sometimes suspected, put them back on the wrong hooks.) In any case he had a bunch of them with him now. He was hoping Violet wouldn’t ask to travel beyond the Folly, and that maybe they could admire the view of house and mausoleum, from here – from inside the car – and then head back to the house. He waited.
‘Well, are you going to open it?’ Violet asked.
‘Trouble is, it’s locked,’ he said weakly.
‘Well you’ve got all those keys there. Can’t you unlock it?’
‘I could certainly try… If you’re sure. I always think this is the best view you get – south to the house, north to the mausoleum. Not sure we can top it! Also I don’t want to disturb the cows… Apparently quite a few of them are pregnant.’
‘Pah!’ said Violet. ‘There’s no cows in there, Mr Tode! Can’t you tell the difference?’
‘What? Oh—’ He was embarrassed. She was right – the field was full of grazing sheep. He hadn’t bothered to look. ‘What a dope I am! Usually we keep cows in there – I think. Still a bit new to me, all this! Wait there – I’ll go and unlock the gate.’
The padlock was fiddly – rusty from the Yorkshire rain. Plus it took him ages to find the right key. By the time he turned back to the car, Violet was seated in her wheelchair, a blanket on her knees, and Alice was standing to attention behind her, waiting to push.
‘Oh!’ he said. ‘I thought we might drive down…’
But Violet wanted to breathe the air. She wanted to go down to the mausoleum and touch the stones, and remember what her life was like when she was young. So they set off down the path together, bump bump bump.
There was a smell of sheep in the air. Egbert, who’d grown up in a large house in South Kensington, didn’t like it much.
‘Sorry about the whiff,’ he said. ‘Sheep. Eat grass and live in the fresh air their entire lives – and yet manage to give off the most almighty pong. Funny old world, isn’t it?’
‘They are quite stinky,’ said Alice, who’d grown up in Acton.
‘Nonsense,’ Violet said, because she was argumentative. Egbert and Alice were right though. There was a nasty sheep-smell in the air.
Violet’s eyes were old and weak but as they drew closer to the mausoleum she saw for the first time the state of the place: the rusty gate, the broken balustrades, the cracks in the long, high walls, the signposts.
‘My goodness!’ she said. ‘Well you’ve certainly let this run to rack and ruin!’
Egbert nodded: ‘Yes it’s definitely in need of a bit of maintenance, currently. But the sad truth is, these things are cataclysmically expensive, Mrs Dean. Plus the entire building is Grade 1 listed, so we’re not really allowed to do anything. It’s all a teeny bit of a nightmare, if I’m honest with you… But so beautiful,’ he added quickly. ‘So beautiful…’ They paused to gaze at it. For a brief moment the sun – what was left of it – found a gap in the Yorkshire cloud and the mausoleum’s huge, domed roof shone blinding white.
Egbert broke the silence. He said: �
�… Trying to get my head round the idea of being buried in there one day… India doesn’t want it at all. Not sure I do either, tbh. Teeny bit grisly, really… In this day and age…’
‘It’s death that’s grisly,’ said Alice, who hadn’t spoken for some time. ‘Not where you put the body once it’s finished with. You have to put it somewhere, don’t you?’
Egbert sent her an odd look. Reminded himself how much India wanted to employ her. ‘Well yes I suppose,’ he said politely. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it like that.’
Violet asked if they could go inside the crypt. She said she’d been in the room above, but she’d never in the crypt before.
But Egbert thought that really was a bit much. They were meant to be conducting a job interview, after all, not wandering around peering at his dead relations. In any case, he hadn’t brought the key with him. Couldn’t have, fortunately. It was one of the many keys in the key cupboard that, as usual, had not been returned to its correct hook. He suspected Carfizzi of purposely confusing the system to maintain control… But that was for another day. Egbert said: ‘Sorry, Mrs Dean. Really sorry. Of course I would’ve loved to show you inside, but I left the key back at the house… Shall we head back? You must be freezing.’
She said she wasn’t freezing. But at that point, Egbert really felt he had had enough. The feelings that came upon him when confronted by the mausoleum were, though he couldn’t have known it, very similar to the feelings of his aunt, Lady Tode. The sight of it made him miserable. Added to which the smell of sheep seemed to be getting stronger. One way and another the situation was beginning to make him feel sick.
Alice said: ‘Smells like when a mouse has died under the sofa, doesn’t it?’
‘Only if you don’t clean under your sofa,’ Violet replied.
‘Well I do clean under the sofa,’ said Alice. ‘Of course I do, especially when there’s a dead mouse…’
A gust of wind sent them all an even stronger whiff. ‘It is rather pungent,’ said Egbert. ‘Maybe you and I are just a pair of feeble townies, Alice, but I might send someone up here to investigate. If it’s a dead animal we don’t want the tourists complaining.’
They returned to the house. It was 4.30 p.m., and Egbert had work to catch up on. Dinner, he said, would be at eight o’clock sharp in the Red Dining Room, ‘which is the one—’
‘I know which one it is,’ interrupted Violet. ‘Thank you very much.’
CHAPTER 15
There were just the four of them at dinner. Mrs Carfizzi served up Yorkshire pudding, mushy peas and brown roast beef. India beamed at her: ‘Thank you so much Mrs Carfizzi… So delicious. Maybe one day you’ll treat us to some of your amazing Italian cooking?’ Mrs Carfizzi beamed back, but didn’t reply. ‘I can smell it, you know, coming out of your flat downstairs… Smells so good…’
‘Inglesi non like.’
‘But Mrs Carfizzi,’ Egbert laughed, ‘we like Italian food very much!’
She shook her head, put the dish on the side table and left the room.
‘It’s crazy,’ India confided to Alice. ‘Something’s got to be done. She’s an amazing cook. I know it. But she refuses to cook anything for us except Mad Ecgbert’s favourites. I swear, I’ll be joining him in the Funny House, if I have to eat much more of this.’ She left everything on her plate.
Violet ate it all, but also drank too much, due to her intense discomfort at being waited on, and as the short evening wore on, she became vaguely abusive. Egbert and India were too good natured to take offence. India, especially, was sweet. She said to Violet, with her usual frankness:
‘Gosh, it must be strange for you, being on this side of that kitchen door. Is it? I suppose you would have been one of the people waiting on people, last time you were in this room? How weird must that be?’
‘Not at all,’ Violet said. ‘When I left Tode Hall, young lady, I was the housekeeper. Previous to that I was Emma, Lady Tode’s lady’s maid. And previous to that, I was of course the late Geraldine, Lady Tode’s lady’s maid. I certainly wasn’t waiting in the dining room. And of course, in my day, when the house was running properly, there would have been Mr Jeeves, the butler – no. Wait a bit, was it Mr Jeeves? Am I confusing myself with the character on the telly? That would have been – oh goodness – Well, there were two footmen after the War, of course. We had Mr… Mr…’
Bedtime.
Alice and her grandmother were booked onto a train that left Todeister at 11.30 the following morning, but India begged them to stay on until the end of the day. She said she would pay for the new tickets, and for a taxi from King’s Cross to take them back home. ‘Alice, we need you!’ she said. ‘It’s Tintin & Dogmatix Day and Emma Tode’s buggered off to Capri. And Dominic’s not picking up his phone and I’ve honestly not the foggiest idea what’s going on. It’s going to be mayhem. Also, by the way, I desperately want you to meet Dominic before you go. It’s so important you two get along. And I know you will. He’s incredibly handsome.’
‘Bit much, Munch,’ said Egbert. ‘He’s not that handsome.’
She stretched across the dining table and patted Egbert’s hand. ‘Not as handsome as you, don’t worry Egg! Too old for me anyway,’ she added. ‘But I think he’s just right for you, Alice. If you happen to be on the lookout for a new man. You’re so gorgeous and so’s he. So it’s a perfect match. Plus he’s an actor. You’ll recognise him. He does coffee commercials on TV – the ones where you put the capsule in? Very debonair! I swear you’re going to love him. He’s our resident “celebrity”.’
‘Actually Munch – I think strictly speaking Dominic’s our archivist. Not sure he’d appreciate being called the “resident celebrity”! Yes, he’s an actor, or was. Indeed, a rather successful actor. He’s also a very learned, very impressive man. Knows absolutely everything about everything we have here at Tode.’
‘Yawn,’ India said.
‘Well you say that, Munchkin. But someone has to know it.’
‘Do they?’ India turned to Alice. ‘He keeps records on every little watercolour, every little water jug, every loose button in the entire house. But it’s just an excuse – don’t say I said so – so he can stay in his cottage. And by the way whatever you do,’ she looked earnestly at Alice, ‘DO NOT get him on the subject of Tode Hall and its history. He’ll literally never shut up. Get him to talk about the TV show. And what it’s like being famous. He likes that. And he is famous, you know! Whatever Egg may say. People still recognise him… Anyway you’ll see for yourself. He’ll be back in time to do the teddy tour tomorrow. He’d better be – I don’t know what we’ll do if he isn’t.’
Violet spoke up: fully emerged from her alcoholic funk. So excited she was shaking.
‘Dominic on the coffee ads – you don’t mean Dominic Rathbone?’
‘That’s right,’ said Egbert. ‘He has a cottage in the village – actually it’s the one next door to what we hope is going to be yours, Alice. Fingers crossed.’
‘Dominic Rathbone?’ Violet looked from Egbert to Alice and back again. As if the world were spinning upside down (which it may have been). ‘Tintin?’ she said. ‘Alice – they’re talking about Tintin! Off the TV show, Alice! For goodness sake, wake up! Tintin lives at Tode Hall!’
‘Well, he lives in the village,’ Egbert corrected her.
‘He’s going to be our neighbour, Alice!’
‘Fingers crossed!’ Egbert laughed.
‘So you’ll stay ‘til a bit later?’ India asked her.
‘You bet we will!’ said Violet.
* * *
The following day was a Saturday, and the forecast was good, and it was, as India had mentioned, a popular day with the tourists: Tintin & Dogmatix day had become an annual tradition, instigated by Lady Tode and the late Sir Ecgbert fifteen years previously, as yet another way to cash in on the famous novel.
In the show (and the book) Tintin had always carried a teddy with him, Dogmatix, named after the well-known Italian
druid. It was one of the things, aside from Tintin’s handsomeness and wit, that made his character so delightful to TV audiences. The Old Stable Yard did a good trade in Dogmatixs, identical to the one on the show, which they sold for £56 a pop. This being Tintin & Dogmatix day (in which tourists could dress up and compete to look most like Tintin or his bear) they were likely to do a roaring trade.
CHAPTER 16
The day got off to a bumpy start due to Mad Ecgbert making one of his unannounced visitations to the Hall. He tended to drop in about once a week, arriving in a minicab (leaving Mr Carfizzi to deal with the bill). He’d roam around the house, picking things up and making a nuisance of himself. Over the past few months, Egbert and India had grown accustomed to this pattern, and despite Mad Ecgbert’s relentless hostility, they greeted him with equanimity. He came with the house, after all, and – as young Egbert often pointed out, in his reasonable manner, if his cousin Mad Ecgbert weren’t so mad, they would never have been offered Tode Hall in the first place. The very least he and India could do, therefore, was to put up with his little visits, and to pay the minicab bills without a fuss.
On that day, he turned up at 6 a.m., before anyone in the house was awake. He knew the alarm code to the family’s private entrance, which accessed the part of the house never open to tourists – and when his more sensible cousin Egbert surfaced, in Lycra biking gear, at a quarter to seven, Mad Ecgbert was sitting at the breakfast table in the Red Dining Room, munching his way through a pile of burnt toast.
Egbert said: ‘Ecgbert! You’re up with the lark! What a lovely surprise! Would you like some coffee?’
