Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay

by Ali McNamara

  ‘Mmm, interesting . . . So it’s not just to do with a spectrum in the sky caused by the reflection, refraction and dispersion of light in water droplets?’

  ‘Aha!’ Benji grins. ‘You know your science! Not in this case if the books up there are to be believed. But rainbows aside, I’ve spent a number of hours this morning up and down that ladder looking through all the books in that particular section of the library over there.’ He waves his hand in the direction of the bookshelves. ‘Sadly it’s just your usual stuff – facts and figures, and details about the previous Earls. All important stuff,’ he adds, ‘and I’m sure I can use some of it for your tour guides, but there’s nothing juicy to get my teeth into – no intrigue.’

  ‘I see.’ I look up at the book-filled walls. ‘Perhaps there hasn’t been any?’

  Benji laughs. ‘I hardly think that’s likely in a place as old as this. Believe me, there’s always some intrigue, even in the most modern of families.’ He snaps the book he’s been reading shut. ‘Don’t you worry, though – I’ll dig some out. It’s in my blood! Now, how’s everything with you?’ He hops up on to the desk and perches himself on the edge looking enquiringly at me.

  ‘Everything’s fine.’ I shrug. ‘As far as I’m concerned all our plans for the castle are progressing very well right now.’

  Benji nods. ‘Good, good. Now answer my actual question – how is everything with you, Amelia?’

  ‘That’s fine too . . . Why wouldn’t it be? Like I said, everything is going really well. Charlie is happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. I’ve got a steady wage coming in at last – well, I will do for the first time at the end of this month – and I have a permanent home to live in. Life couldn’t be better.’

  Benji narrows his eyes. ‘You’re still avoiding the question.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, you are. How’s your love life?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ I say, stunned by his question.

  ‘Don’t play the innocent – you heard me.’

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Benji,’ I say, moving away from the desk towards one of the long windows that look down towards the sea, ‘but I’m not quite sure how that’s any of your business?’

  ‘True, it’s not. But I just thought I’d ask in case there was anything going on?’

  ‘Well, there’s not,’ I say stoutly, still a little surprised by the frankness of his question.

  ‘Could there be, though?’ Benji says, pressing on. ‘Do I sense a frisson of excitement when you and Tom are together?’

  ‘No!’ I say a little too vehemently. ‘You most certainly do not.’

  ‘Not a tremor of desire passing invisibly between the two of you?’

  ‘No,’ I repeat, folding my arms protectively across my chest.

  ‘Oh, I must have got it wrong, then,’ Benji says innocently, picking up his book and heading towards the ladder. ‘Perhaps your heart beats that little bit faster when Joey is around then?’

  ‘I don’t think so! Joey is way too young for me.’

  ‘Like an older man, do you?’ Benji says with his back to me so I can’t see his expression.

  ‘No, not at all. I don’t have a preference, actually, and again how is this any of your business?’

  Benji climbs back down from the ladder and turns to face me. ‘Let’s just say I’m an interested party, that’s all.’ He winks at me. ‘Now I’ve done my time here for today. I need to get on with my other job or my book will never get written. See you later, alligator!’ And with that he glides elegantly through the library door and is gone.

  What was all that about? I think as I’m left standing in the middle of the library. Why is Benji so interested in my love life, or more accurately, the lack of it?

  Eighteen

  ‘How’s it going, Dorothy?’ I ask as I put my head around the kitchen door.

  Dorothy jumps. ‘Ooh, m’lady, don’t you be making me jump like that, not when I’m getting ready to prepare one of me soufflés.’

  ‘Sorry, is that for dinner?’ I ask, my mouth watering. I hadn’t had time to prepare anything for Charlie and me yet, and the smells in Dorothy’s kitchen right now are amazing.

  ‘It is, yes. I’m going to try a new cheese soufflé recipe as a starter tonight. It’s a bit fancy for Arthur, but I’m sure the others will like it.’

  ‘I’m sure they will.’

  ‘You’d be more than welcome to join us, you know,’ Dorothy says coyly, not looking up at me, but concentrating instead on her ingredients. ‘I know it isn’t the done thing, the family dining with the staff, but I don’t like to think of you and young Charlie eating up in that tower all on your own.’

  I cringe at her words. I wasn’t avoiding eating with the others because I thought I was of a higher standing than them, far from it. I’d avoided it because I didn’t want Dorothy to make a fuss. But eating in the kitchen with all the others wasn’t exactly being waited on hand and foot, now, was it? Arthur wasn’t going to don his old butler gear and put on white gloves. What harm could one night do?

  ‘I’d love to if you’ve enough to go around,’ I reply eagerly. ‘I know Charlie will jump at the chance, he’s always going on about your cooking, Dorothy. I don’t think mine quite lives up to your high standard.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Dorothy says, shaking her head dismissively. ‘I’m sure it does. We’d be delighted to have you both dine with us though,’ she adds, flushing with pride. ‘Ooh, perhaps we could get Arthur to set up the dining room if there’s to be enough of us. We wouldn’t eat in there of course, but—’

  ‘No, no dining room,’ I insist. ‘We’ll eat right here in the kitchen with everyone else. It’s cosier,’ I add when Dorothy looks surprised at my outburst.

  ‘Of course, m’lady.’

  ‘Dorothy . . . please call me Amelia,’ I beg.

  But Dorothy’s mind is already elsewhere. ‘I wonder whether the silver is clean?’ she mutters, popping her head in a cupboard.

  ‘Dorothy, no fuss, please,’ I sigh. ‘Just carry on as you usually do. Charlie and I will fit in with everyone else.’

  ‘Of course, m— I mean, Miss Amelia.’

  It’s better than ‘m’lady’, I suppose.

  ‘Great, we’ll both see you later then. Ooh, Dorothy, you’ve been here at the castle a long time, haven’t you?’

  ‘Born in the very cottage me and Arthur live in now, miss.’

  ‘Gosh, really? I had no idea you’d been here that long . . . Anyway, I was wondering if you knew any stories about the castle’s past residents – you know, gossipy stories?’

  ‘Gossipy stories?’ Dorothy repeats as though she’s never passed on a bit of gossip in her life.

  I smile. ‘Yes, Benji is looking for some to pass on to the new tour guides when they start, but we’re having trouble finding any.’

  Dorothy’s face immediately fills with joy at the mention of Benji’s name. ‘Lovely young man that Benji is,’ she says knowingly. ‘Polite, knows his manners. Very clean looking too – if you know what I mean?’

  I didn’t, but I nod anyway.

  ‘I know a few stories . . . ’ Dorothy says, thinking. ‘But the place you want to go is up in the west wing.’

  ‘The west wing?’

  ‘Yes, in them corridors at the back of the office. There’s rooms filled with stuff up there. I’ve wanted to get up there for years and sort through it all – but there’s never been the time. It’s on my list of things to do one day.’

  ‘But isn’t that all junk?’ I ask. ‘I saw some of those rooms when we were looking for Charlie that day he went missing.’

  ‘A lot of it probably is,’ Dorothy agrees, ‘but I think I saw some diaries and books the last time I was up there. The last Earl had a fancy dress party to go to and we were looking for his old robes for him to wear. Ah, he looked mighty fine that night—’

  ‘Thanks, Dorothy,’ I say, aware that she’s likely to launch into a long story about the
past at any moment. ‘I’ll be sure to take a look. Sorry, I have to dash right now. I’ve got to collect Charlie from school.’

  ‘Of course. You go. I’ll look forward to seeing you and the young master for dinner later.’

  Eager to get away, this time I don’t even try to correct her.

  *

  ‘Why do you want to go rooting about in there?’ Arthur asks the next morning when I tell him what I’m thinking about doing. ‘I thought we talked about this yesterday?’

  Last night we’d all sat down together and eaten a delicious dinner around the huge kitchen table. There had been the odd comment about ‘the fancy china’ and the ‘good cutlery’ from Joey, to which Dorothy had thrown him a fierce look that might have singed the top of the soufflé if we hadn’t already been tucking in to it. But other than that everyone had been in good spirits and appeared to be behaving completely normally in the presence of their extra guests.

  ‘No, you said there was nothing to find in there, Arthur,’ I tell him now. ‘But Dorothy appears to think otherwise.’

  Arthur purses his lips shut, obviously thinking Dorothy should have done the same. ‘Why do you want to rake up the past anyway?’ he asks. ‘Why do you need tales and gossip about folk? Can’t we just remember them by what the history books tell us?’

  ‘We could, but that isn’t much fun, is it? People like a bit of intrigue; I want to make their visit here exciting, not just full of facts and dates.’

  ‘On your own head be it then,’ Arthur says, sighing. ‘You’ll be days if not weeks sorting through all the rubbish in them rooms.’

  ‘It’s fine; I’ve got a bit of time. There’s not too much I can do now until the stable renovations are closer to completion, and everything out here seems to be running smoothly thanks to you and Tiffany.’

  Arthur makes a sort of harrumphing noise, and mutters something about there being ‘always something to do’.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Arthur,’ I say purposefully, heading towards the door at the back of the office. ‘Wish me luck!’

  ‘You’re going up there now?’ Arthur asks, looking horrified. ‘I thought you were just thinking of doing it sometime?’

  ‘No time like the present,’ I say, already turning the door knob. ‘See you later.’

  Arthur simply shakes his head and returns to the paperwork on his desk.

  About an hour later I’m beginning to wish I’d listened to Arthur’s advice. I’m currently waist high in boxes, most of which contain a lot of junk. Old tennis rackets and antique fishing gear sit alongside shabby curtains covering boxes of paperwork and books. But the books I’ve found so far are just old trashy novels, and any paperwork appears to be ancient electricity bills and poll tax statements, of all things, followed by their council tax equivalent. It seems you still can’t escape the mundane, even living in a castle! There’s some furniture – nothing that Tom might be able to restore, just seventies and eighties stools, chairs and some melamine bedroom furniture. I’ve even found an ancient Amstrad computer tucked away in a corner with some even older-looking computer games.

  I’m currently trying to sort the junk into piles – rubbish to go, things that might have some saleable value and things we need to keep.

  Sadly, the keep pile is by far the smallest. My recent ancestors had obviously all been hoarders.

  Jeez, if I was back on the Spencer estate I’d be rubbing my hands in glee at some of this stuff, I think as I look at the possibly saleable pile. I’d have eBay-ed a lot of this, and maybe even had a car boot sale with some of it to make a bit of cash.

  Wait, that’s it! I think as I stare at the ever-growing piles. We’ll have a giant car boot sale and try to sell a lot of it. The proceeds can go to the renovation work on the stables. I might not be interested in keeping some old vinyl records and a pile of vintage detective novels, but I bet there would be a few people who would like them.

  With new-found vigour I begin sorting again and by the end of the morning I’ve managed to clear one room. It’s not a bad start, but considering there are at least six rooms up here just like this, I’ve only just dipped my toe in the ocean of junk.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Benji asks me at lunch-time when I find him sitting outside on one of the benches that line the inner courtyard eating a sandwich.

  ‘Slowly,’ I reply, grimacing. ‘How about you? Did you get many words done this morning?’

  ‘Not enough,’ Benji says equally grimly. ‘I got caught up doing some research, and time just flew away . . . ’ He illustrates this by waving his hand in the air like a bird flapping its wings.

  ‘Research for your book, I hope?’

  ‘Research on the castle, actually.’

  ‘Benji, you know we agreed you’d split your time evenly.’

  ‘Yes I know, but I found out some really interesting facts about one of your ancestors and once I started searching I couldn’t stop – occupational hazard, I guess.’

  I tut and shake my head disapprovingly, but I can’t help asking, ‘Which of my ancestors would that be?’

  ‘Clara Chesterford? She was the wife of one of the Earls here in the early 1900s – apparently, she was quite the rebel.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard of her. There’s a huge portrait of her in the Ladies’ Chamber – it’s a secret little room off the Great Hall.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Benji says, his eyebrows raised. ‘I had no idea we had secret rooms here.’

  ‘It’s hardly a secret – everyone here seems to know about it. Arthur told me all about Clara when he showed me around. She was quite the party girl.’

  ‘I know; I’ve been reading all about her this morning – would you like me to forward the pages to you in case it’s stuff you don’t already know?’

  ‘Sure, why not? I quite like her, from what I’ve heard so far. She sounds like she had spirit.’

  Benji nods. ‘A bit like you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Uh-huh, and that’s not the only thing you have in common – she inherited the house through birth too.’

  ‘How do you mean? I thought it only went to males?’

  ‘Not in this case. Clara was actually the previous Earl’s daughter – the Earl she was married to became an Earl because he married Clara, not because he inherited it through his family.’

  ‘But I thought that couldn’t happen?’

  ‘It’s rare, but it did happen. Apparently, both of Clara’s younger brothers died without leaving any children, and there was a clause in her father’s will that stated on no terms should the family estate be passed down through his cousin’s line – he didn’t have any brothers either, so as long as Clara was married then she could inherit the estate – well, her husband could and so she would be allowed to live there.’

  ‘Her husband inherited her family estate, even though it was Clara’s by birth? That’s shocking.’

  ‘Yes, but not in the way you think. The clause in her father’s will was very forward thinking for the time: even if it did mean Clara’s husband was the benefactor, it meant she didn’t have to give up her family home. Otherwise it would indeed have gone to a distant cousin, and let me tell you, if it had, you wouldn’t be here now.’

  ‘I wouldn’t?’

  Benji shakes his head. ‘Your side of the family descends from Clara’s lineage – even if it is a bit distant now. If it had gone to her father’s cousin you wouldn’t have got a look-in, I’m afraid. I’d have been tracing a very different line of Chesterfords.’

  Good old Clara – well, Clara’s father. Seems like we have something else in common – not just our debt problems.

  ‘Funny how life turns out,’ I say, thinking out loud. ‘Just think, we might never have met – then where would you have written your book?’ I take a bite of my own sandwich, which is just starting to crisp a little as it’s been sitting untouched on my plate in the sun for so long.

  ‘Not in the grand surroundings of a castle – that’s for sure. Thank you, A
melia, I’m really enjoying being here.’

  ‘And we’re enjoying having you stay. It’s quite the little family we’ve got going on here now. I like it.’

  ‘So do I. It was good to see you eating dinner with the others last night. It made you seem more like part of that family.’

  ‘Didn’t I before then?’ I ask, a little shocked to hear this.

  Benji shrugs. ‘Eating on your own with Charlie does make you seem a little remote.’

  I put down my sandwich. ‘The last thing I want is to create a divide. I’ve been trying my hardest since I got here to do anything but that.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I thought I should say.’

  ‘Perhaps we should eat dinner with you all every night, then?’

  ‘Maybe not every night. I think it’s important for you and Charlie to have some time together too.’

  I nod in agreement.

  ‘What if you arranged with Dorothy which nights you’ll eat with us and which you’ll spend with Charlie, then she won’t be offended if you suddenly don’t appear at dinner.’

  ‘Good idea.’ I smile at Benji and place my hand on his arm. ‘What would I do without you?’ As I realise how this sounds, my face reddens.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Benji says, sensing my embarrassment. He pats my hand still resting on his arm companionably ‘The feeling is completely mutual, I can assure you.’

  ‘Can I join you in the sun?’ a voice calls across the courtyard, and we see Tom walking towards us carrying his own plate. ‘The rest of the courtyard is in shade at the moment.’

  ‘Sure, come on over,’ I call, and Benji and I shuffle along the bench a little so there’s room for three.