Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay

by Ali McNamara

  ‘Well, if we do come here we’ll definitely need some warmer clothes,’ I’d murmured, shivering. ‘How chilly is it up here – even in the springtime!’

  But although the castle was vast, the walls were thick, and the rooms that I’d seen were a bit tired looking, there was definitely something about this place. Something that made me feel not only positive about the future, but a little excited, too, about the thought of coming to live here. I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason I already felt very content at Chesterford.

  ‘Come again!’ a cheery-looking woman had called across the courtyard as I headed for the exit. She’d smiled warmly at me. ‘We could do with a few more visitors.’

  ‘You know something? I think I just might,’ I’d called back as I’d waved goodbye. ‘And sooner than you think,’ I’d whispered to myself.

  And now, as I smile at Charlie and put the car back into gear, I’m about to make my return visit to Chesterford Castle; not as a paying guest this time, but as its new owner.

  Six

  Charlie and I drive through a pair of huge wrought-iron gates at the centre of the high stone wall that encircles the grounds of the castle, and continue up a long driveway. We pull up in the visitors’ car park, just outside the entrance where I’d paid to go in last time, and we climb out.

  ‘Wow, it’s even bigger than I thought it would be!’ Charlie exclaims, his neck tilted right back as he gazes up in awe at the impenetrable castle walls. ‘Can we live in one of the towers, Mum, purrlease?’

  ‘We’ll be living in the apartments we’re allocated,’ I tell him, ‘like Benji told us.’

  Benji really has been too good to us. In addition to assisting me with the practicalities of moving to a castle, he’s been really helpful about finding out everything we needed to know before moving – like exactly where we would be living when we got here. He’d joked to Charlie that it would be in the dungeons, but instead of being horrified, Charlie was even more thrilled to hear this.

  We’ve spent so much time with Benji over the last few weeks that I was quite sad when I realised that when we finally did move we wouldn’t be seeing him any more. He’s become more than just an advisor to us; I like to think he’s become our friend, too.

  But as friendly as our transition has been so far, I had no choice but to be very formal when I requested that both Benji and the staff at Davies & Davies were on no account to tell Charlie about his title. I haven’t fully decided what I’m going to do about that yet, and I don’t want the issue confused by Charlie knowing about it. So they’ve agreed that for now the title Earl of Chesterford will be a silent one. I think they were so grateful to have found someone to take on the castle at last that names were the least of their worries. Plus, I’ve been having enough trouble making Charlie understand we aren’t going to be lording it up in grand halls with servants dancing to our every whim without informing him he is actually an Earl!

  ‘Well, I hope our apartments are in one of those towers,’ Charlie says, still gazing at the castle. ‘That would be so cool. But how are we going to get all our stuff inside, Mum, if we have to park out here?’

  ‘I’m hoping someone will open up the big gate over there, so that we can park inside the courtyard.’

  I point to a second set of black gates that bar the entrance to unwanted (or these days – non-paying) guests. These gates are the last barrier between the exterior castle walls we’ve just driven through and the inner part of the castle. I’d entered through a much smaller side gate when I’d come on my day trip, but even that seems to be closed at the moment.

  ‘Let’s see if there’s anyone about,’ I say, walking with Charlie towards the gates. ‘Maybe the castle is closed to visitors today?’

  The little wooden ticket kiosk is indeed closed as we arrive at the entrance.

  ‘Damn,’ I say, looking around. ‘I’m sure Benji said they’d be expecting us.’

  ‘Is Benji coming to live here too?’ Charlie asks keenly. ‘I’d really like him to.’

  Benji and Charlie, to my surprise, had hit it off incredibly well in the few times that Benji had popped around to the flat. Benji seemed to have a natural easy way about him that Charlie liked, and Charlie, continually wary of men since his father left, had always been sad to see him leave.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. Benji has his own life back in London, hasn’t he? We talked about that.’

  Charlie’s face drops.

  ‘But he has promised to come and visit us when we’re settled in.’

  ‘Goody!’ Charlie grins now. ‘I like Benji, he’s fun.’

  ‘I know you do.’ I put my arm around Charlie’s narrow shoulders protectively as we both look up at the ominous gates in front of us. Having Benji with us today would have made things that little bit easier, no doubt. But I have to be brave and stand on my own two feet now. ‘Benji gave me a number to call if we have any problems,’ I tell him. ‘I think it’s for the caretaker. I’ll see if he can help us.’

  I call the number stored in my phone, but it just rings out and there’s no answer.

  ‘Damn,’ I say, looking down at the phone in my hand. ‘What now?’

  ‘We could press this bell,’ Charlie says, pointing to a brass button on the wall. ‘Maybe someone might come then?’

  ‘Worth a try. Go on, you press it then.’

  Charlie pushes hard on the brass bell. We don’t hear anything our end, but we can only hope someone does inside the castle.

  Then we stand back and wait.

  After a couple of minutes of nothing happening, I press the bell this time, and again we wait.

  ‘I could get over those gates easy enough,’ Charlie suggests, looking up at the gates, which must be over nine feet high. ‘I’ve got over some that size before. These look like they’d be easy enough to climb, then I could go and see if I can find anyone inside.’

  ‘Ha, I don’t think so,’ I reply, not wanting to know under what circumstances Charlie has been climbing over gates like these. ‘There’s a reason those gates are that high and have those nasty points on top: to prevent intruders from getting in.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t be an intruder, would I? It’s our castle now.’

  ‘True. But if you fell from up there then you’d be dead, or severely injured at the very least, so there would be no living in a castle for you then, would there?’

  ‘If I was dead I could be a ghost and haunt the place instead,’ Charlie says, quick as a flash. ‘Ooh . . . ’ His eyes light up. ‘Do you think there are any ghosts here?’

  ‘Don’t be silly – there’s no such thing as ghosts.’

  ‘But this building is really old – I bet loads of people have lived and died here, some of them probably really gruesomely too.’

  I shake my head. What is it with boys and the macabre?

  ‘A lot of them from ringing this bell when it clearly says on the kiosk we’re closed,’ a gruff voice says behind us.

  I jump at the new voice, and turn to see an older, thick-set man standing on the other side of the gate with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a tweed suit with a shirt and tie and green wellingtons, and he looks annoyed.

  ‘Oh, hello there; sorry to disturb you. I do know you’re not open today but—’

  ‘Exactly, we’re closed to visitors.’

  ‘But we’re not visitors.’

  ‘Then we don’t want any,’ the man says brusquely.

  ‘You don’t want any what?’

  ‘Whatever it is you’re selling,’ he snaps, turning his back on us and beginning to walk away.

  ‘But I’m not selling anything!’ I call through the gates after him. ‘I’m Amelia. Amelia Harris . . . I mean Chesterford. I’m the new owner of the castle.’

  The man stops walking and turns slowly around.

  ‘You? You’re the new owner?’

  I nod hurriedly.

  ‘But the new owner isn’t due to arrive until tomorrow.’

  ‘No, I’m sure
I have it right. I was told I could move in on the fifteenth of April, and today’s the fifteenth.’

  ‘We were told the new owner would be here on the sixteenth,’ he says suspiciously.

  ‘Er, no, it’s definitely the fifteenth. Look, I have it right here on my phone.’ I begin to look for the email I had from Davies & Davies.

  ‘No matter, miss,’ the man says, walking back towards the gates. ‘You’re here now. Let me just unlock this gate and we’ll get you inside. No doubt that silly girl got it wrong again.’

  The man pulls a large bundle of keys from his pocket and begins to unlock the side gate.

  ‘I think we might need the big gates open, I’m afraid,’ I say apologetically. ‘We have a car outside loaded with our things.’

  ‘The big ones?’ the man says, looking anxiously up at the gates. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ I smile apologetically, ‘and there’s a rather large van not that far behind us, too, with the rest of our stuff.’

  ‘Hmm.’ The man eyes us up and down. ‘If we need to open the big gates I’ll need Joey to come down and help me.’ He pulls a large old-fashioned walkie-talkie from his pocket. ‘Joey, are you there?’ he asks, speaking into it.

  There’s a sort of hissing crackling sound and then a voice at the other end says, ‘This is Lancelot here. What’s your beef, King Arthur?’

  The man rolls his eyes. ‘Stop with all your gibberish, Joey. I need you by the front gate. The new owner is here and wants to be let in.’

  ‘The new owner? But I thought she wasn’t arriving until tomorrow, Arthur?’

  ‘So did I,’ Arthur murmurs. ‘But she’s here now, and they need the big gates opening, so I need you down here pronto, Joey.’

  ‘Got it!’ Joey calls. ‘Be there before you can say Camelot!’

  Arthur shakes his head and puts the walkie-talkie back in his pocket.

  ‘He’s a good worker,’ he says almost apologetically, ‘but he’d be even better if he zipped it shut sometimes.’

  I smile at Arthur through the gate. ‘Have you got many staff here?’

  ‘There’s four of us in all.’

  ‘Four of you to manage all this!’ I ask in amazement. ‘Isn’t that a lot of work?’

  ‘Aye, but we manage. We’re the ones that live in, anyway. We sometimes get in casual help from the village if we need it.’

  ‘Who are the four?’ I ask to make conversation until Joey gets here. ‘You, obviously. What do you do, Arthur? Is it all right to call you Arthur?’

  ‘It is, miss. That’d be my name. I was once the butler here many a year ago, but now I’m part caretaker, part manager, part everything really. The old Earl called me his right-hand man.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And then there’s Joey who you just heard from. He helps me out with whatever needs doing, really. Like I said, he’s a good lad. Not the sharpest tool sometimes, but a good worker, none the less.’

  ‘That’s two of you. Who else?’

  ‘There’s my wife, Dorothy; she was once the housekeeper, but now she cooks, cleans, and again does a bit of everything. We all pitch in here.’ He looks meaningfully at me.

  ‘Of course. So who’s the fourth?’

  ‘That would be the young girl; Tiffany she calls herself. Mainly works in the office – doing accounts and suchlike. I think the last Earl only hired her because he felt sorry for her. Her head’s always far too up in the clouds for my liking. I prefer to be on solid ground meself.’

  ‘Joey to the rescue!’ a voice calls, and I recognise the young man who sold me my entrance ticket the last time I was here zig-zagging back and forth across the path like he’s a superhero with his hands in the air.

  Charlie, who’s been pacing up and down impatiently behind me while I’ve been talking to Arthur, immediately looks up with interest.

  ‘Enough of your shenanigans, Joey,’ Arthur says. ‘Did you bring the key?’

  ‘I did!’ Joey says, brandishing a large silver key.

  ‘Good.’ Arthur takes the key from him and begins to undo the large padlocks on the gates. ‘You’d best go and get that car of yours, miss,’ he instructs. ‘It’ll only take Joey here a moment to lift the gates across.’

  ‘Superman, me!’ Joey says, flexing his biceps. He winks at Charlie, and Charlie smiles shyly at him.

  ‘Where should I park once I’m through the gates?’ I ask Arthur.

  ‘Just carry on through over the bridge and under the portcullis.’ He looks down the path past us. ‘This van that’s on the way will fit under there, I assume?’

  I look up at the ominous portcullis that I’d walked under the first time I came here. ‘Yes, I think so. At least, I hope it will.’

  Arthur looks at me like I should have thought of that before hiring it. He probably has a point, but I guessed the van-hire company didn’t have much call for large vans that were guaranteed to fit underneath a castle portcullis. I was pretty sure it wasn’t on the Frequently Asked Questions page of their website, anyway.

  Charlie and I climb back into Bella and drive ourselves and the mountain of luggage we have piled up in the back safely over the bridge, just as our removals van arrives behind us. Luckily it manages to squeeze underneath the archway with inches to spare, and we all arrive in the castle courtyard together.

  My vintage car doesn’t look too conspicuous as we climb out, but the large white van looks completely out of place surrounded by all this history. I’m sure not many past owners of the castle have arrived at their new home in this fashion: a horse and carriage would have been much more appropriate.

  Arthur has obviously radioed ahead to warn the others of our imminent arrival because two very different-looking women come rushing out of a door to greet us.

  ‘Your Ladyship,’ the elder and plumper of the two women says, curtseying before me. ‘What a pleasure it is to welcome you to Chesterford.’

  ‘Er, yes. Hello,’ I reply, somewhat taken aback by her formalities. ‘You must be Dorothy?’

  ‘I am, Lady Chesterford. I’m the housekeeper here.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve met before – briefly. I came to visit the castle a few weeks ago now.’

  Dorothy looks horrified that she hasn’t remembered this event.

  ‘Please don’t worry,’ I hurriedly assure her, ‘I was incognito that day; I wanted to see the castle like a visitor sees it to begin with.’

  ‘Oh, of course, Your Ladyship.’

  ‘And please, I’d much prefer it if you called me Amelia.’

  Dorothy looks even more horrified by this request.

  ‘And you must be Tiffany,’ I say, turning to the younger girl. I hold out my hand purposefully to her so she doesn’t curtsey this time. But Tiffany is even more confused by my request, and instead takes hold of my outstretched hand, bobs a curtsey, and then, to my horror, proceeds to kiss the back of my hand.

  ‘Please, all of this formality is not necessary. I would like you all to call me Amelia,’ I say to everyone as the men join the line-up now. ‘And this is my son, Charlie.’ Charlie turns a deep shade of crimson as everyone stares at him. ‘I want us to be friends as well as colleagues. You all know so much more about running a castle than I do, and I want us to work together to make Chesterford Castle the success it deserves to be.’

  Dorothy breaks out into spontaneous applause, which Tiffany quickly joins in with. Joey whoops, and Arthur simply stands there, his hands thrust into his pockets, wearing the same gruff look on his face that he’s had since we arrived.

  Seven

  ‘I love it here, Mum!’ Charlie says, racing up the spiral staircase for the umpteenth time. ‘Have you seen the view from the top windows? It’s amazing!’

  ‘Be careful on those stairs,’ I say, gazing around the room at the boxes and suitcases filled with all our things. ‘They’re steep and you’re not used to them yet.’

  Much to Charlie’s delight, our apartment is in one of the towers. Apparently, as Joey
explained as he helped us move all our stuff from the van up the many stairs of the North East tower, one of the previous Earls had been very forward thinking and had had this particular tower completely renovated in the 1950s, so he and his wife could live privately in this part of the castle, whilst allowing the rest of building to be open to the public.

  Our new accommodation is set over four levels. On the ground floor is the entrance, with a pretty black-and-white tiled hallway and a tiny scullery that is home to a washing machine and tumble dryer. Then on the second floor there is a cosy kitchen/diner with solid oak units, a white butler’s sink and a modern cooker. Up on the third floor there are two comfortable-looking bedrooms with amazing views of the castle and the beach from their pretty arched windows, then finally at the top of the tower, this time with a superb 360-degree view of the surrounding coast and countryside, is a large, bright, circular sitting room. Each one of the four floors is joined by the same spiral (and likely original) stone staircase that Charlie is enjoying so much right now.

  I’d been pleasantly surprised by how modern everything was. I’d imagined the last Earl to be a miserly old man who’d died in a dusty cobwebbed room all on his own. But according to Dorothy he was quite the opposite and liked his home comforts.

  ‘Daft as a brush, mind,’ she’d said as she’d showed me around my new home with great delight. ‘That’s why it took so long to find the new heir. He should have done something about it sooner himself, but I think the silly old bugger thought he’d live for ever. Ooh, pardon me French, ma’am,’ she’d apologised immediately, bowing her head a little, to my irritation.

  ‘Please, it’s Amelia,’ I’d insisted.

  ‘Yes, ma’am, I mean, Miss Amelia. Ooh, is that Arthur back with help?’ she’d said, glancing out of the window, and we’d seen Arthur followed by two burly-looking men traipsing across the castle courtyard on their way to help us move my belongings – most of which were currently scattered all over the castle courtyard – up into the tower. Apparently, in my haste I’d paid for a van and a driver only, and our driver had informed us that on no account was he climbing up several flights of spiral stairs carrying all my stuff like some sort of lackey, even after Arthur had offered him a hefty tip if he did. So our possessions had been unceremoniously unloaded on to the gravel, while Arthur went in search of help and the driver set off back down south.