Seven Days There

by Ruth Hay

  Valerie hesitated. She did not see any signs warning it was not permitted to sit. She could see other visitors chatting on a bench nearby. She stepped up to the peacock bench and sat, leaning against a section of carved panelling. At once she noticed she was looking at the window exit she had seen from the outside of the house and that informed her this whole baronial room was occupying most of the exterior wall and explained why she had noticed windows at different heights. There were so many large and small windows tucked away in this room. Altogether it was completely original with decorative elements everywhere including a Tudor-style wall effect that started at about head height and continued up to the high ceilings.

  The purpose of the room was not clear. Valerie decided it must be intended for many purposes. It was certainly large enough for a ballroom, if needed. The overall effect was not as soothing as she had wanted so she moved to an adjoining room on her left, past the exit door to the side lawn.

  This was set up as a dining room on a much smaller scale but highly decorated in a colour theme of blue and purple.

  She smiled. Her outfit consisted of a blue jacket and trouser suit over a patterned top in shades of purple. This was obviously the place she was meant to be. Even the fireplace, again a major feature in the room with blue and white delft tiles and the usual fireside seats, had a stone lintel with alternating grey and lilac stones.

  Valerie chose a seat near the window so she could see the entire room. It was quiet. The voices from the larger room were hushed. There was a lone bee buzzing against the window trying to escape.

  Suddenly the sound thrust her back to the time when David was occupying the dining room at their home with his hospital bed and all the equipment he needed to keep his remaining months tolerable. It was a difficult memory to revisit but she knew she had ignored that memory for too long. Here in this far-away place, she could finally, safely, feel what had been concealed.

  Sandra left Zoe in the gift shop looking at books about the house, and entered the long, dark hall.

  She immediately felt the atmosphere there was claustrophobic so she walked quickly to the far end where there was some kind of bright light coming in.

  She found herself in a white room. The light from large windows bounced around so that her eyes needed a moment to adjust. There were a few touches of colour from books on matching shelves on either side of the fireplace and a kind of display cabinet right above the fireplace, but the overwhelming sensation was one of purity and peace. Sandra sank down on the cushioned seats and breathed a sigh of relief. The room was perfect. The kind of room a mother of three active children could only dream of.

  Each item was placed in exactly the right position and no one would ever dare to move a single thing.

  She laughed out loud when she noticed the delicate white-painted wooden columns projecting from the walls had small inserts of mirror so that sunlight shone into her eyes. Even on a dull day, she thought, this room would be bright and cheerful. It really demanded a special outfit to match. She tugged self-consciously at her faded green skirt and old beige cardigan. She could not imagine why she was alone in these beautiful surroundings. Surely others would soon discover this treasure but she decided to relax for now and look out of the window at the lawn and the far view across fields to the lake.

  She was almost drifting off when the sound of children’s voices startled her. Out on the lawn in the sunlight four children were chasing each other around to the kind of screaming laughter that is universal when children run free. A wave of emotion swept over her and it was a second or two before she could identify its source; she was feeling homesick for her grandchildren! Of course it was Monday, one of the days when the littlest ones came to spend the day so her daughter could work. Had she wedded herself so closely to this part of her weekly routine that the absence affected her when she was supposed to be on holiday?

  She watched the children play and wiped a tear from her cheek. She would stay here, thinking, until another visitor arrived in the white room to claim her place.

  With the Blackwell guide book in hand, Zoe followed the floor plan. It was her intention to approach the interior in her usual methodical way, but after reading that Blackwell House was designed by Arts and Crafts architect Mackay Hugh Baillie-Scott and featured ‘a treasure trove of handicraft, carvings, stained glass, metalwork, textiles and furniture’ she was intrigued enough to abandon her initial approach and seek out the unusual aspects. She puzzled about something listed as a Minstrel’s Gallery. What could that represent in an early twentieth-century house? She set out to find it and was stunned by the dimensions of what was described as the Main Hall. Its proportions and intricate decorations were overwhelming.

  What kind of family would require such a room in the centre of their home?

  Quickly bypassing a monster of a fireplace, she escaped by way of a set of stairs to the Minstrel’s Gallery from where she had an elevated view of the huge room below. So, the idea was medieval. All it lacked was a small orchestra of players to entertain the guests in the fashion of a royal castle’s Great Hall. Truly, it was a mishmash of styles without a clear focus. The predominance of dark wood everywhere was depressing.

  To her right was a small bay window looking out on the bright garden view at the side of the house where Valerie had first taken them. She moved there to escape the gloomy atmosphere surrounding her and wondered why she had been so affected by it. Accustomed to analysis of motives in her business world she applied the same mental discipline and soon came up with a startling reason. In a strange way this vast, empty space below her reminded her of her own London apartment .

  But why? The two could not have been more different in style. Hers was a loft space, originally a warehouse converted to high-priced industrial apartments. It was lit by enormous windows reaching to the ten-foot ceilings and was minimalist in décor from its polished concrete floor to the white and grey modern furnishings. The granite countertops and seldom- used stainless steel appliances repeated the monochrome theme. Where her living space was at one extreme of a spectrum; the main hall below was at the other.

  Was that why the comparison had sprung to mind? Did it mean that each style was equally insufficient? Did it matter? Hers was a twenty-first century apartment and she hardly spent any time there. She had given the job of decorating to a fashionable modern stylist and changed nothing since then. Perhaps that was the problem. There was little in her living space that declared the interests of the owner. She had never taken the time to personalize it. It struck her that she could sell the place tomorrow and, other than her clothes, she would not choose to take anything with her.

  This seemed to suggest she was a very boring person. Was there something to be learned in this house?

  She knew enough about the Arts and Crafts style to understand the importance its devotees gave to the beauty of every item in a house, no matter how prosaic its uses. Such details as wrought iron door handles and hand-crafted wall coverings, were chosen with the greatest of care. She had once visited Standen, the William Morris house near East Grindstead and there the link to Blackwell was obvious in the tiniest items like candlesticks as well as in the larger furnishings and stained glass.

  She began to speculate on what changes she could make to warm up her own living quarters. A touch of colour here and there might be a pleasant addition without causing much disruption to her surroundings.

  Zoe sped out of the Ministrel’s Gallery and up the shallow steps to the upper level. She was on a mission to find small, telling items which she could adopt for her London apartment. She would take photographs to remind her.

  Corinne had started the day outdoors and now she felt as if she had spent enough time in her life indoors. On such a glorious day it was a crime to waste it inside any building, no matter how interesting. After peering over the stone wall for a while, she reversed her direction and walked back around the end of Blackwell House with only a brief stop to glance over the chalkboard menu in the
tea room.

  Whereas the south side of the building was covered in windows, the north was quite plain. The only major feature appeared to be a large double door surmounting a set of stone steps. This door looked like solid oak; the kind of thing you would see in a cathedral perhaps. It was set in a porch that projected out from the building and there were decorated windows to either side. No one seemed to be entering or leaving by this door and Corinne wondered if it was once meant to be the main entrance to the house.

  She continued across the gravel area which could have parked a number of cars or carriages but was now hosting visitors wielding glasses of what looked remarkably like wine.

  As she walked forward, she came to a stone wall which might have been a continuation of the one on the other side of the house. This wall, however, dropped down about ten feet and enclosed a narrow terrace set with small tables and chairs. She considered this as a location for lunch but dismissed it reluctantly. Despite a very pretty flower display on the wall facing out to the lake, the tables only suited two people and would, at that, be a tight fit.

  There was one more possibility. A set of steps led down between the terrace and the wall of the house.

  At the ground level she discovered a much longer, wider flagstone terrace with a series of wooden tables and chairs ample in size for four diners and with large umbrellas to shade from the sun, now high overhead. Past the end of the house the terrace was sheltered by the depth of the stone wall buttressed at regular intervals and between the stone buttresses was a garden of summer flowers and trailing or climbing plants where bees buzzed happily and lavender gave out its seductive scent.

  “Exactly right! We can all eat here in comfort.”

  Corinne noticed numbers on metal plates set into the centre of each table. She took a minute to wander along the terrace checking out the view across the green lawn toward the lake and hills beyond. She found the perfect table right in the centre, noted the number and left her jean jacket on one of the chairs to claim it.

  Far above her, Zoe was gazing out of a bedroom window and spotted Corinne in pale blue jeans and dark short-sleeved top walking purposely along the edge of the lawn. Zoe looked at her watch and realized the time had flown by. If she wanted to join the women for lunch she had better find her way back to the tea room.

  Sandra was first in the tea room and soon found it necessary to order her meal and find a table. It was a small area and filling up rapidly with pairs of older women who had relatives with them on a day out, and who were determined to reserve their portion of the delectable home-cooked meals on offer for the day. It looked as if some items might be sold out before the others arrived to join her.

  She was dithering about ordering for the others, just in case, when Valerie appeared. She had wisely left a pre-order earlier and joined a smaller queue to the side of the counter to collect her food. Returning with a loaded tray, Val assured Sandra she had brought enough for two people at least. Since Sandra had been generous with her own order, they felt secure that the latecomers would not be left out.

  Next to arrive was Corinne, looking very pleased with herself. She spotted her friends and told them she had found an ideal spot to eat outside. This idea was quickly accepted as the tea room was not only crowded but also very noisy with chattering females everywhere.

  Corinne approached the counter and nabbed a young server who agreed to find someone to carry the trays of food to the designated table and who prepared a separate tray with wine and glasses for Corinne to carry there.

  With Corinne leading the way, the trio soon found the location and all exclaimed at the perfect weather and marvellous views. They poured the wine, toasted each other, and settled down for a grand meal to come.

  Zoe arrived shortly thereafter with news that tea, coffee and desserts would arrive in due time.

  There was immediately a party atmosphere which continued all through the food consumption and until the last crumbs of the delicious puddings and cakes had been spooned up.

  As she looked around at her guests relaxing with full stomachs and contented expressions , Valerie felt hopeful that the moment was right to start on her plan to bind the women closer together.

  “So ladies, what was your favourite spot in the house?”

  Corinne answered at once with an apology. “I have to confess that I really didn’t see the inside of the house. It is such a grand day, I couldn’t force myself to go indoors so I have been wandering around outside imagining what it would be like to own such a place in such a spot.”

  “Well, you get a pass, Corinne, after finding this amazing spot for us to enjoy lunch. Anyone else want to respond?”

  Sandra was feeling slightly inebriated and able to speak more freely than she normally would.

  “I loved the white room two floors above here. It was the most peaceful place I have been in years and made me think about myself and the things in my life that are really important to me. I had a long time alone in that fabulous room and I think it has changed me.”

  No one wanted to push Sandra to describe what she meant by this personal statement.

  Zoe took a cue from her and announced, “I know what Sandra means. I had a bit of a change experience at Blackwell. For a start, I love the architectural features. It is a most unusual design incorporating crafts and elaborate detailing. I really should not have liked any of it. My style is modern and minimalist but there was such art in every corner of the place and I think it has made me re-think the decorating elements in my own flat. I might even add a spot of colour here and there.”

  This revelation caused the others to break into laughter.

  “What?”

  “Zoe, look at what you are wearing. You don’t own anything coloured.”

  “Other than her red lipstick,” added Sandra.

  “Now you’ve introduced the topic, Zoe, why only black and white?”

  Zoe had to think about it. She had made the decision years before and now it was like her trademark.

  “Well, it began as an answer to a problem. When I started work in the cosmetics industry I found it difficult to keep up with the clothing standards. I had little time to shop as I worked so hard to gain a foothold and I found it easier to have a simple plan. Black and white was the cheapest and most practical scheme I could think of and it worked in all seasons.”

  Corinne’s eyebrows raised as she considered this answer. “I suppose it’s no problem to get dressed in the morning. Pretty much everything in your closet matches!”

  More laughter met this observation and Zoe joined right in. Of course, they were right!

  Valerie felt encouraged by this result and hoped it meant the four women might make a happy group and enjoy the rest of the week together. Even if Zoe left tomorrow, which seemed likely, this time with her had broken down some barriers.

  Zoe was totally surprised at her own reactions. She thought she had nothing in common with the group and yet she was actually laughing at herself, with them, and feeling quite good about it. How different this was from her usual, limited interactions with women in the work place. There she was seen as the boss and no one acted normally with her. They were afraid of her power and she was afraid of losing that power.

  She stood up and excused herself, walking quickly over the lawn and talking into her phone.

  “Have we upset Zoe by laughing at her?” asked Sandra, shocked at the abrupt change of manner.

  Valerie watched Zoe’s back and suggested she had just been reminded of her business responsibilities and was concerned about keeping in touch. “She isn’t used to taking time off, I think.”

  The others nodded in agreement and talked about other things until Zoe returned.

  “Everything all right?” queried Valerie.

  “Yes,” was the reply. “Suzanne’s doing a wonderful job and she says I should stay longer.”

  Valerie refrained from sounding too enthusiastic about this idea in case she chased Zoe away but she did say she was more
than welcome to stay; a sentiment that was echoed by Sandra and Corinne.

  “I, for one, need to stretch my legs after that feast,” said Valerie. “Who’s joining me?”

  They took a walk around the property together and took turns pointing out features gathered from their varied experiences inside. It was decided that Corinne’s observation about the site of the original front entrance was correct and Zoe proved it by opening the floor plan she found in the guide book. She was able to fill in a few facts about the history of the house, including that it had been a girls’ school for a period and that the Holt family, who had commissioned the house, had not occupied it for very long owing to the death of their only son during the First World War.

  The four women were in the taxi heading back to the steamship harbour when Sandra thought to ask if anyone had discovered why the house was named Blackwell. No one had. Amidst more laughter they all decided it was a good excuse to return some day to find out.

  Much later that evening, Valerie and Sandra had a quiet talk as they prepared for bed.

  “It’s been such a good day, Val. I can’t believe we never thought to do this kind of thing before. It’s all thanks to you, of course.”

  “Don’t imagine I’m not getting as much out of this as every one of you!”

  “I know you are, my dear friend, but what a great plan for a day. The return trip on the lake and the great food at the Waterside Restaurant before we headed back here were the perfect finale. Remember how Corinne laughed when she realized we could eat outdoors again? I don’t think she has had such a good time in years and, come to think of it, neither have I. I just realized I haven’t watched television once since I came here. Now that’s a change for me.”