by C F Dunn
No. 5 The Mews
Castle Hill,
Stamford
My dears,
Such excitement. I wish I were here to welcome you to your new home, but time has taken its toll on both it and me and, whereas you will inject some life into its old bones, I am afraid that this carcass will have to stay put and wait for you to come and visit me.
I feel that you know the Old Manor already and it is fitting that you should become its custodians. My husband would have been delighted to have a distant cousin take on the place, Matthew, and I know your dear grandfather would have approved, Emma. It is high time it heard the sound of children’s voices again and perhaps one day little Rose will have a brother or sister to keep her company. I do so love the photograph you sent of her first birthday – you both look blooming – but I would appreciate a photograph of Matthew if you have one to spare.
I have been unable to leave the house as shipshape as I would wish and, although I planned to leave the furniture for you, I am afraid that Roger insists on it being sold to cover expenses. I really did not have the heart to argue with a banker, as figures were never my thing, but I’ve left the few bits and pieces I think really belong to the house. I could not bear the thought of strangers having them and Roger won’t notice their loss.
When you are settled and visiting your parents, Emma, perhaps you might spare me a few minutes. I would so like to meet Rose and to see you both again. Please do not leave it too long, however, as time is not on my side.
Until then, this is the first time in nearly eight decades that I have lived anywhere other than the Old Manor – what an adventure!
Joan Seaton
Perhaps it was the stress of the last twenty-four hours and jet lag from the flight, but all I could do was stare at the paper until the letters blurred. A crash from the great hall brought me to life. I ran back. Theo had pulled the standard lamp over and he now sat on his round bottom looking rather surprised. The remains of the bulb lay perilously near. I picked him up and wiped his fingers free of dust and grit. If he had cut himself, there was no evidence of it now.
“Mummy, there isn’t anyone here,” Rosie said a little crossly, emerging through the screens from the outer hall.
“No, you’re right; it’s just us.” I looked around the unlit room, the tatty moth-eaten curtains and the broken spring in the sofa surfacing for air through threadbare chintz. The gallery above the screens looked unsafe, and a stain darkened the broad stone flags where I suspected a roof slate had slipped and let in the rain. My breath stood pale in the air when I spoke. “This is where we’ll be staying for now.”
“When is Daddy coming?” she asked for the umpteenth time.
“I don’t know, Rosie, but we’ll have to make the best of this, so that when he does, he’ll have a lovely surprise.”
Rosie flapped her arms sceptically, looking around her, then eyed me with all of her four years of wisdom. “Mummy, I won’t have to go to school, will I?” School. Doctors. Dentists. Local Authorities. Telephone and the utilities – where did I start? If I registered for any of them, wouldn’t our names come up on some database or other? Would someone come looking for us? What were we going to do for money if my credit card could be traced? “No, you don’t have to go to school, darling.”
“Good,” she chirped, “then I can help make this castle booootiful.” She twirled on the spot.
“Moated manor,” I muttered absently, wondering how on earth I could educate her in sciences and maths and all the things in which she showed a propensity and at which I sucked. I felt an overwhelming desire to find a corner somewhere and curl up and hide.
“Moated manor, moated manor,” she sang, the gilded nutmeg bouncing on its chain, and then suddenly stopped, looking thoughtful. “I’m hungry,” she announced.
“Rosie, you can’t be; you’re never hungry!”
“Theo is, too.” It was true, Theo had pulled my jade beads free of my jacket and was mouthing them hopefully.
A car rumbled uncertainly into the courtyard, stopped, and my sister climbed out, crackling amid a plethora of plastic bags. She dumped them at my feet. “This place isn’t easy to find, is it? I went through Oakham twice before I found the turning from Brooke. What’s going on, Em? What are you doing here?” She returned my wordless embrace. When I didn’t answer because I couldn’t, she said, “Golly, you look terrible. Where’s Matthew? Have you two fallen out or something? Where’re the kids?” She followed me through to the kitchen while I composed myself and gave her the ragged half-truths of a story I thought she might believe.
“OK,” she said slowly, perching on the wheezy vinyl-topped stool in the kitchen, “and in the meantime you’re supposed to live here, in this dump?” Huddled in the warm spot by the old Aga, we waited for water to boil in a small saucepan I’d found, to which I added a couple of the teabags Beth had brought with her. She viewed the resulting brew with suspicion. “If there’s no running water…”
“The tap doesn’t work, but the old hand pump over the sink still functions. It should be potable if boiled.” I waved a hand at the contents of the table. “And thanks for bringing the food and the nappies and the cleaning things. Oh, blast, toothbrushes…”
She dug in a carrier bag. “I thought of those – and the toothpaste and the soap. And towels. Oh, and here’s my old mobile and lead; I’ve put a tenner on it to get you started. Yell if you need more.” Her hands flopped on her knees, the cord dangling. “Oh, but you haven’t got electricity, have you? You can’t charge it. Really, Em, you can’t live here. You can stay with Mum and Dad until you’ve sorted yourself out.” I shook my head. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s better than this.”
“We’re staying here, Beth. This is our home now.” The idea felt alien, the word “home” stiff on my tongue. “And don’t tell Mum and Dad – not yet. Give us a few days.”
“What about getting Rosie to school or if Theo needs a doctor? And there’s no heating. What about baths? Don’t tell me you’ll be lugging water for a bath by the fire. I know you’re obsessed with living in the past, but this is ridiculous.” She put her arms around my shoulders and gave a light squeeze. “Look, putting your pride aside, let me give Mum a call…”
“No, Beth.”
“Em, come on, be sensible…”
“No.” Pride didn’t come into it. Pride was the last thing on my mind, but my husband had arranged for us to be here and this is where he would expect to find us, when… if. I closed my eyes, seeing the last urgent, desperate look he had given me. “We’ll be OK. And Beth, please don’t tell anyone else we’re here.”
Her dark eyebrows curled into a question. “Who would I tell?”
“Oh, anyone, I don’t know… a neighbour, a teacher at the twins’ school… you know.”
Standing back, she became serious. “No, I don’t, Em. Are you in trouble?”
I laughed hoarsely and flipped a hand at the kitchen with its peeling green walls. “What, more than we are now, do you mean?” I went to the window and ejected the intruding tentacles of ivy, replacing them with a piece of screwed-up newspaper to stop the steady stream of winter air cascading through the gap. “I just want us to be left alone without some… some… salesman turning up on our doorstep wanting to sell plastic double glazing or solar panels to a historic listed building.” I turned to find her – purse-mouthed – summing me up.
“And I’m Madonna. You’re a lousy liar, Em; I wasn’t born yesterday. If you’re hiding from Matthew…”
“I’m not.”
“All right, for whatever reason then, I won’t say anything to anyone, except Rob, but don’t treat me like an idiot. Now, what else do you need?”
“A job. I haven’t any money.”
Her mouth slackened before she snapped it shut. “But you’re loaded.”
“We were. Not any more, or at least not that I can access.”
“How?” she spluttered. “Why?”
“It doesn’t mat
ter. I haven’t any more than a few dollars and a bit in my bank account here. But I can’t get it, so I’ll have to work.”
“At least with your qualifications, Em, you should be able to get a teaching position easily enough. You could reapply to Cambridge, surely?” That meant PAYE – National Insurance contributions – application forms – security checks – becoming visible.
“Do you have any jobs going at the restaurant – for cash?”
“Golly, that’s not like you; a bit underhand, isn’t it?” She almost laughed, but saw my expression and sobered. “I’ll have a chat with Rob. A job, huh? You don’t have a car to get to work – and what about the children? You can’t afford childcare.” She chewed her lip. “School’s very handy for Rosie… no, no, all right, not school. Mum and Dad could look after them, I suppose. Gosh, Em, what are you going to tell them?”
A solitary crow left the branches of a tree and rose in ragged flight, calling. I followed it until it had crossed the width of the stone-mullioned window and disappeared from view.
“I don’t know, Beth. I don’t know any more.”
She stayed as long as she could, injecting her warmth and brightness into the barren stone, chasing Rosie and playing pata-cake with Theo, but she was as overwhelmed by the enormity of the task as I was and, eventually, admitted defeat.
“I’ll bring Arch’s old playpen over for Theo and some Lego for Rosie, as well as anything else I can lay my hands on – winter clothes, for a start. The kids must be freezing. Look, Em, are you sure you don’t want to come back with me? Mum’ll crack bolts if she finds out you’re here and didn’t tell her.”
“What, and miss the chance to live like lords? Cheers, but we’ll rough it here. Thanks for the things – for everything.”
“That’s what family’s for,” she said simply, and gave me a hug.
Her absence made the house seem bleaker. Now fed and asleep on the high-sided sofa in some of Archie’s old baby clothes, Theo looked content enough, and Rosie entertained herself going from room to room exploring. I pushed the second sofa against the first to create a makeshift cot, and went to find her.
She came running towards me down the long corridor, her cousin’s trousers sagging at the waist. “I’ve found a secret!” she exclaimed, hitching them up.
I peered closely. “And you’ve found the biscuits!” I brushed her top free of crumbs and she giggled. “I’d better find you a belt. Now, what secret have you found?”
At the wide stone arch, decorated with intricate carvings curving over our heads, she stopped. “It’s a secret door, Mummy. Why is it here? Can we go in?” In answer, I heaved the door open and we stepped into the heart of St Martin’s church. It took a minute to adjust to the low light. Flakes of distemper littered the red and white floor tiles, and green mould grew up columns where light couldn’t reach, but little else had changed. Rooted, my daughter seemed in awe.
“This is the church of St Martin’s, Rosie, and it is very, very old. A long time ago, long before you and I were born, Daddy came to church here with his family.” I picked her up, feeling her warmth against me, and together we went to the Lynes tomb. “This is where his mummy and daddy are buried. They are your grandparents.” She didn’t say anything and I wondered how much of this she understood and whether I should say anything at all. But it seemed important that she know, and perhaps more so because this was the only tangible link that we had left.
“Rosie, you remember what Daddy and I have told you about where he comes from?” Her fingers had found their way to her mouth, and she nodded. “Look up, darling,” and I pointed to the window above us. She gazed at the family captured in glass, the fair-haired young man vibrant despite the dull day. Solemn-eyed, she removed her fingers.
“It’s my daddy,” she said.
“Yes, it’s Daddy,” I confirmed, a lump forming in my throat, my eyes burning. “And when we miss him, we can come in here at any time and here he’ll be, waiting for us.” I pointed again, this time at Henry and Margaret Lynes. “There, you can see his parents, your grandparents.”
“Who is the sleepy baby?”
“Daddy’s baby brother; he died.”
Rosie inspected the window and then looked down at the tomb. She reached out to touch the face of her grandmother, her fingers marking her high cheekbones, her neat nose, her lips. “Is Daddy dead?” she whispered. Her directness knocked the breath from me, her sorrow an all-consuming smoke, like a shroud. I held her tightly and she wrapped her legs around my middle.
“No! No, Rosie – he’s not dead, he can’t be!” I controlled my voice.
“Then why isn’t he here?”
How could I answer when I had nothing to give? “We’ll visit every day and ask God to bring Daddy home to us.”
“Then are we going home?”
“We are his home, and this is where we live, and this is where he’ll find us.” My voice broke, the weight of his absence growing like a tumour. “Why don’t you explore the church and see what else you can find?” Fatigue leaching any residual strength, I sank to the floor against the nearest column and closed my eyes. Behind the lids, figures from the window bowed and danced.
A branch of the yew tree brushed the window, jerking me awake. How long had I slept? I felt sticky and unkempt. Rosie was inspecting the Lynes tomb with thoughtful fingers. She held something up in the dying light of day. “Can we bring some more?”
I stood, shedding flakes of paint from my trousers. “What do you have there? Flowers? Somebody left flowers by the tomb?”
She waved the desiccated stems and they disintegrated in her hand. “They were on this plate.” In her other hand she held a small dish. It looked familiar.
“Rosie, let me see that.” It was heavy and dull with years and the metal cold and grimy. I used my thumb to rub away the dust. “Oh!” I almost laughed. “Look!” And in the centre a faint shape appeared. “Divers goodes,” I murmured. “It’s the missing dish. The Seatons must have had it all this time. How funny. We’ve lost the other twenty-three and after all these years find the twenty-fourth. Daddy would laugh if he knew.” I choked on the last word. Rosie peered into my face and I conjured a smile. “Come on, let’s go back to Theo and give this a clean.”
CHAPTER
19
Family Matters
Beth’s car trundled into the uneven courtyard, leaving tyre marks in the pristine frost. I went to greet her as the car came to a halt, the sun reflecting off the windscreen and mirroring my phantom reflection. “You’re an angel of mercy,” I called, wrapping my jacket around me. “I’m out of chocolate and in desperate need of clean clothe…” I stopped dead as the passenger door opened and my mother slid out, looking grim. From the rear seat, Dad heaved himself to his feet.
“Mum caught me in your room getting your things,” Beth said, throwing me an apologetic look. “Once she finished interrogating me, she insisted on coming here.”
Our mother took a long, hard look at the dilapidated house, the disintegrating gatehouse, the broken slabs of the courtyard, the slipped slates on the roof, and then turned her attention to me.
I cleared my throat. “Hi, Mum.”
She unpicked my dishevelled form like a seamstress. “Your father says he had no knowledge of this,” she stated, starchily. “Elizabeth tells me that you have been back in the UK for the last week.”
“Sorry,” my sister mouthed from behind her.
“And yet you didn’t think to tell us,” Mum continued. “Where are the children?”
My eyes shifted to the open doorway, from which came sounds of excited squeals and chasing. Without waiting to be invited, Mum stalked inside. Dad came up and I braced for the inevitable wire-brushing. Instead, he hugged me. “It is so good to see you – to have you home, Emma. I expect there’s a reason why you’re here?” I nodded. “Well, then, you can tel…”
“Hugh!” my mother snapped from the threshold.
He raised his eyes to Heaven and winked. �
��Perhaps it can wait until later,” he murmured.
Arm shaking with fury, Mum pointed to the heap of broken furniture draped in worn-out curtains in the middle of the great hall, and the two children in various states of disarray among it. “What is this?”
“Rochester Castle,” I began. Rosie popped her head out of the top.
“Granny, Theo is lord and I am King John and I’m going to siege it, but I need some pigs and some pickaxes.” I thought I heard Dad grunt a laugh behind me.
“We were just sorting the furniture to see if we can salvage any,” I explained, “but some of it is a bit too woodwormy and we thought we could burn it because I haven’t had time to collect any woo…”
“What do you think you are doing? Look at your children, Emma – Rosie says she hasn’t had breakfast, and she’s hardly wearing a thing in this weather, and Theo, he’s… he’s filthy!”
I looked at my sooty son and my daughter’s bare feet. “They were helping me clear out the bedroom and Theo climbed in the fireplace. Without a fire,” I hastened. “It was a bit grubby,” I added needlessly. “It’ll wash off.”
“With what?” she demanded. “Beth informs me you’ve no hot water or any modern conveniences. You haven’t anywhere to wash your clothes and no electricity for a refrigerator – not that you need one, it’s so cold in this place.”
“Mum…”
“Be quiet, Elizabeth, I’m talking. What is more, I understand you’re here alone; is that correct? Where is your husband?”
“He’s not here.”
“That much is obvious. Where is he? Have you left him?”
