by Ali McNamara
Benji and Tom greet each other with a handshake and a brief hug.
‘Thought I’d better call in on Amelia and see how she’s faring,’ Benji says. ‘I didn’t realise until today you’d listened to my advice and come up here. How’s it going?’
‘Well, the boss is a bit of a slave driver,’ Tom says, winking at me, ‘but other than that I’m having a grand time.’
‘I hope you’re referring to Arthur,’ I tell him sternly, then I smile.
Benji watches the two of us with interest.
‘Amelia says she’s seen you in action, Tom,’ Benji says, his eyes glinting. ‘And she commented to me how thorough you are . . . ’
My face reddens again. ‘At restoring things,’ I insist.
But Tom just grins. ‘You always were a troublemaker, Benj,’ he says good-humouredly. ‘Take no notice of him, boss. How long are you here for, anyway?’
‘Benji’s not staying with us,’ Charlie pipes up dismally. ‘Are you, Benji?’
‘It’s not that I wouldn’t like to, Charlie,’ Benji says sadly. ‘I’d love nothing more than to stay here in a castle – especially with you and your mum. I bet there’s loads of interesting and exciting stories to uncover here, and you know how much I like a story.’
Benji had entertained Charlie for many an hour while I’d been sorting out our move, telling him stories of the families he’d reunited and the history he’d uncovered while doing so.
‘That’s it!’ I suddenly say. ‘The answer to both our problems.’
‘What is?’ Benji looks confused.
‘You can stay here with us at Chesterford while you write your book.’ I wave my hand at him before he can protest. ‘No, let me finish. You’ll have to earn your keep, mind – no freebies here.’
‘But how? I’m not like Tom, am I – built like an Olympic athlete with the power to lift heavy objects and the ability to wield a shovel in a muscular manner?’
Tom helpfully flexes his biceps for us in a comical way.
‘No, you’re not, but luckily your muscles aren’t what I want you for – it’s your brain.’
‘That’s a relief, then!’ Benji grins. ‘But I still don’t understand.’
‘You can stay here with us at Chesterford and write your book, but in exchange for board and lodgings, I would like you to discover all of Chesterford’s secrets – you know, the juicy stuff that visitors would be interested in hearing from our new tour guides. Not the bog-standard historical facts, we have tomes of those already, but all the gossip about the past residents, the real stories that made this place what it is today. What do you say, Benji? Would you be up for it?’
We all look eagerly at Benji.
‘Please, Benji,’ Charlie begs. ‘Please come and stay with us at Chesterford. It would be ace.’
Sixteen
‘When is he getting here?’ Charlie asks me for the umpteenth time this morning.
‘Later,’ I tell him. ‘He didn’t specify an exact time – it depends on traffic and all sorts of things.’
‘Is he bringing a big van like we did?’
‘No, just a big car, I think, with a big boot. Benji doesn’t have as much cr— er, stuff, as we did when we moved.’
Benji, to my delight, has finally agreed to move here. It had taken us the rest of the day, and a wonderful and plentiful dinner provided by Dorothy, to finally persuade him.
But eventually we established that he would come and stay here for free in exchange for research into the castle’s past, so that I could provide my new tour guides with tales of heroes and heroines, mystery and intrigue, with which to delight the many visitors I hoped would pour into the castle grounds over the summer.
‘Hopefully the traffic will behave for him,’ I tell Charlie. ‘It’s Sunday, so it shouldn’t be too bad on the A1.’
‘I’m so excited!’ Charlie says, hopping from one foot to the other.
‘I know you are,’ I tell him from my place by the window of our living room, where I’m currently sitting at my desk going through some paperwork that Arthur said wouldn’t wait until Monday. ‘Why do you like Benji so much anyway?’ I ask Charlie, turning away from the paperwork for now. ‘Obviously I like him. But I’m interested to know why you do too?’
Charlie stops hopping around for a moment and thinks. ‘He’s funny,’ he begins, ‘and he makes me laugh. He’s good at telling stories – he makes them sound really interesting – even when they’re not.’
I smile – that is indeed a talent.
‘And Chester likes him too.’
Chester is Charlie’s go-to about most things now. When he’s allowed to, the little dog follows him everywhere. I know it won’t be long before Charlie wants him to come and live here with us in the tower, and I’ve already thought of my excuse – too many floors to go down then up again when Chester wants to go pee-pee in the middle of the night.
‘Chester likes Tom as well, but you’re not so keen on him, are you?’
Charlie thinks about this in the deep way he always does with his brow furrowed.
‘No, that’s not right. I like Tom.’
‘You do?’
‘Yeah, but he’s different to Benji.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose he is,’ I reply, not really sure where Charlie is going with this.
‘Benji is like my friend, and Tom is like . . . ’ Charlie struggles to find the right word. ‘He’s sort of like what I want to be like when I grow up.’
I’m stunned for a moment. This is not what I was expecting him to say.
‘Really?’
Charlie nods in a matter-of-fact way.
‘You want to be like Tom. Why?’
‘He’s cool,’ Charlie says, and he gazes out of the window at a seagull that’s landed on the window ledge. ‘And sort of handsome – like a hero in a book or a film.’
‘Yes, I suppose he is.’ I think about this. ‘Well, I’m glad you like him. I thought for a bit you didn’t.’
‘No.’ Charlie shrugs. ‘He’s just not Benji, that’s all.’
‘We’ll see a few new faces around the castle this week, you know. We have more new staff starting tomorrow.’
‘What are they going to do?’ Charlie turns his head away from the window for a moment to look at me. ‘The café and shop aren’t finished yet.’
‘Well, they’re going to do all sorts to begin with – a bit like Tom did when he first arrived. They’re going to help out where needed.’
‘I expect Dorothy will have lots of dusting for them to do,’ Charlie says knowingly. ‘There’s a lot of dust here.’
‘There is indeed,’ I say, smiling at him.
‘Benji!’ he suddenly shrieks out of the window. I stand up too, so I can see Benji arriving in the courtyard in a large four-by-four vehicle.
‘Charlie, go steady on those stairs!’ I call in vain as he leaps from his seat and heads for the spiral staircase.
‘Stop fussing, Mum!’ he calls, his footsteps growing fainter as he descends safely to the bottom.
I watch Benji climb out of his vehicle. He must be able to sense me because he looks up and waves. I wave back, but Benji is already wrestling with Charlie who has enveloped him in a huge hug.
It’s good to see Charlie so happy again. He’s smiled so much more since we’ve been here at Chesterford, and now Benji’s here too I know he’ll smile even more.
‘How’s it going?’ I ask Dorothy the next day as I watch her overseeing her new team of cleaners polishing and dusting in the long drawing room.
‘Very well,’ Dorothy says, looking on proudly. ‘I can’t remember the last time the old place looked so clean.’
‘Super. It is looking good – even I can see that.’ I wander over to one of the ladies, who is currently wiping a painting that’s been lifted down from its place on the wall. ‘How are you getting on?’ I ask her.
‘Wonderful, m’lady, thank you,’ she says, blushing a little.
‘Please call me Amelia. W
ell, this is only the first of many jobs around the castle, Mrs . . . Lewis?’ I say, desperately trying to remember her name from her interview. To my relief she nods. ‘I’m hoping to keep everyone’s roles as varied as possible.’
‘I’m more than happy working here with Mrs Davidson. I’m having a lovely time.’
I wonder for a moment who she’s talking about, and then I realise she means Dorothy. I only knew her and Arthur by their Christian names.
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘What’s going on in here?’ a voice suddenly calls, bursting into the drawing room. ‘Why are you polishing that? Oh my God, what are you polishing it with?’
‘Tom!’ I say, surprised to hear him talking in this way. ‘What on earth is wrong?’
‘That painting is a sixteenth-century oil – it can’t simply be wiped down with a cloth. Please tell me you didn’t use that on it,’ he says, looking with horror at a can of Mr Sheen.
‘But it’s bringing it up lovely, it is,’ Mrs Lewis says proudly, looking up at Tom. ‘See?’ She shows him her dirty cloth.
‘No!’ Tom says, barricading himself in front of the painting. ‘No, don’t touch it with that ever again, do you hear me?’
Mrs Lewis’s face now changes to anger. She ignores Tom and simply marches over to Dorothy. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Davidson, I don’t want to cause a fuss, but I will not be spoken to in that way.’ She puts down her cloth with purpose, then she folds her arms across her chest.
I glare at Tom, but he looks equally unwavering as he stands in front of the painting.
Dorothy, now looking equally as annoyed as Mrs Lewis at Tom’s outburst, turns to me with a look that suggests ‘you’re the boss – it’s up to you to sort this out’.
I swallow. The other staff in the room are all gawping at this unfolding drama, so I beckon those involved over to me and we step outside into the hall.
‘Mrs Lewis, I do apologise,’ I say quickly, trying to think how to resolve this without upsetting either party. ‘You’re new here; of course you weren’t to know the best way to clean the painting. Perhaps Tom here needs to give Dorothy – I mean Mrs Davidson – a list of all the more valuable items in each room?’ I look at Tom. He nods. ‘And then those items can be left for Tom to look after. Would that make things easier?’
‘Good idea,’ Tom says gruffly.
‘I think that might be best,’ Dorothy says, looking at Tom reprovingly. ‘I didn’t know that Mrs Lewis had the can of Mr Sheen anywhere near the painting. But as you pointed out, madam, she’s new to this so she wasn’t to know.’
‘That still doesn’t give him the right to speak to me like that,’ Mrs Lewis retorts huffily.
I look at Tom with my eyes wide.
He sighs.
‘I can only apologise, Mrs Lewis,’ Tom says with as much grace as he can muster. ‘I should not have spoken to you in the way I did.’
Mrs Lewis nods.
‘It’s just I’m very protective of the contents of this castle – as we all are,’ he says, looking at me and Dorothy. ‘And I would be gutted if anything should happen to ruin any of its mighty history.’
‘Yes . . . well,’ Mrs Lewis says, visibly softening, ‘I think we all feel like that. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come and work here – to help preserve the past. My family have lived in Chesterford since the eighteenth century. This castle is part of my family history too.’
‘I think we’re agreed that the castle is at the forefront of all our minds,’ I say calmly, glad the explosive situation seems to have been defused. ‘So how about we all calm down and go back to what we do best – looking after it? Tom, perhaps you could make that list for Dorothy asap, just for this room to begin with, so she knows what she’s doing in here.’
‘Sure,’ Tom says, looking a little ashamed now. ‘And then I’ll go around doing the same in the rest of the state rooms.’
‘That would be good, thank you. Dorothy, are you happy with that?’
Dorothy nods.
‘Great! Then we’re all friends again. Tom, when you’re finished your list could you come and find me – I’d like a word.’
‘Of course,’ Tom says, glancing warily at me.
I leave everyone getting on with their jobs, and as soon as I get a safe distance away I lean my head back against the wall and sigh.
‘I think you dealt with that pretty well, Ms Chesterford,’ I whisper to myself. ‘Even if you do say so yourself.’
‘Very well,’ I suddenly hear whispered back to me. I turn quickly in the direction of the voice, but there’s no one in the corridor but me.
‘Who’s there?’ I say in the most commanding voice I can muster. ‘Who said that?’
But just like the bedroom and the stables before it – when challenged, there’s silence.
Seventeen
‘Ah, found you at last,’ Tom says, bounding across the grass towards me. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere.’
‘I’ve been inspecting the renovations on the stables,’ I tell him. ‘And now I’m on my way to look at a tree that Joey’s found, it’s got some disease that might mean it has to be chopped down. It’s really old, apparently, and Joey won’t do it without my say-so.’
‘Never a dull moment here, is there?’ Tom says, falling into step next to me.
‘No, there’s not, especially when certain members of staff that I’ve come to rely on make a scene in front of our newer employees . . . ’
‘Ah,’ Tom says, looking ashamed. ‘That.’
‘Yes that. What on earth got into you, Tom? You can’t just burst in and start having a go at people. We’re lucky Mrs Lewis didn’t walk out.’
‘I know and I’m sorry – I said that, didn’t I? It’s just I feel very protective of everything here. I want the chance to restore it all to its former glory – or as close as I can get to that.’
I smile at Tom. It’s amazing how quickly this place gets under your skin. We’ve only been here a few weeks, yet I can’t imagine life anywhere else. Living here is a huge challenge on a daily basis, but it’s an enjoyable one, and most importantly this old castle with its dusty rooms and crumbling walls already feels more like home than anywhere I’ve lived in a very long time.
‘I completely understand, Tom – really I do. But can you at least try to curb your natural enthusiasm – just a tad? Otherwise it will get you into trouble – especially with Dorothy if you behave like that with one of her staff again.’
Tom nods. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to Dorothy. Are we okay, though?’ He sounds quite concerned. ‘I haven’t upset you, have I?’
‘No, of course not. You threw me in at the deep end, though – making me deal with my first staff crisis like that.’
‘I think you dealt with it admirably.’
‘Hardly, but thanks.’
‘You don’t give yourself enough credit, Amelia. I think you’re doing a wonderful job here, and so does everyone else.’
‘Do they?’ I ask in disbelief. ‘What about Arthur?’
‘Arthur is Arthur. You know as well as I do that under that hard shell of his is a heart softer than anyone’s.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘You know I am.’ He pauses for a second. ‘I’ll always be grateful to you for giving me a chance, Amelia. You didn’t have to, and yet you did. What made you take that chance? I was a stranger to you, I could have been anyone.’
I consider this. ‘Gut instinct, I suppose, and you seemed quite trustworthy.’
‘Trustworthy,’ Tom repeats. ‘I guess I’ll take that. Anything else?’
‘Are you fishing for compliments?’ I ask, smiling at him.
‘Maybe . . . ’ Tom casts out an imaginary fishing line.
I roll my eyes. ‘Er . . . Charlie seemed to like you, and he’s always a good judge of character. So that went in your favour, too.’
Tom nods. ‘He’s a good kid, your boy.’
‘Yes, he is. I bet you didn’t kn
ow he wants to be like you when he grows up, did you?’
Tom stops walking so abruptly I have to stop and turn around to see him.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
‘He wants to be like me?’ he asks, looking quite stunned. ‘But why?’
‘He thinks you’re a hero – for saving him in the tower, and also how you look, I guess – sort of . . . ’ I search for the right word. ‘Well, macho,’ I say, berating myself for not coming up with anything better. ‘All boys want to be heroes when they’re young, don’t they? All brave and bold and . . . ’
‘Macho?’ Tom finishes for me, grinning.
‘All right,’ I say, still annoyed with myself. Of all the ways I could have described Tom – intelligent, smart, funny, handsome – I had to say that! ‘I couldn’t think of a better word to describe you, could I?’
Tom pulls a serious expression. ‘So then I have a very important question for you.’
‘Go on.’
‘Is macho a good thing?’ His eyes glint mischievously.
‘Charlie seems to think it is,’ I reply, dodging his question.
‘But what about you, Amelia?’ he asks, his penetrating gaze holding me involuntarily captive now. ‘Is it a good thing in your book, too?’
I feel myself blush. ‘Who knows?’ I say, turning quickly away. ‘Oh look, there’s Joey,’ I say with relief. ‘And that must be the tree he’s talking about. It does look old, doesn’t it?’
‘There’s not much to go on, is there?’ Benji says when I find him later that day in the castle’s library – a stunningly beautiful room filled with hundreds of books that line the walls from top to bottom. There’s a small narrow gallery that runs around the outside of the room, and this can be accessed from some wooden steps on wheels that glide from shelf to shelf allowing the books on the higher shelves to be reached with more ease.
‘Are you telling me in all these books you can’t find “much to go on”?’ I ask, grinning down at him as he sits at a large dark wooden desk with a green leather trim. ‘What are they filled with then, fairy tales?’
‘Funny!’ Benji pulls a wry face. ‘There is quite a large section on the local area and the history of the castle, actually, and I found out more about the Rainbow Bay myth we talked about before. Apparently in times of trouble at the castle, a rainbow will always shine over the bay when things are right again. According to the records it’s happened numerous times throughout history – after sieges and battles, and in times of illness and plague. Whenever there’s trouble, seeing a rainbow means everything is A-okay again.’
