A Winter’s Tale (23 page)

‘We’re
not
stopping,’ I said patiently. ‘Weren’t you listening? I’m not taking the gardeners away entirely, just asking them to help with things they wouldn’t normally do, when necessary, especially in the run-up to the visitor season. If we don’t all pull together as a team my plans won’t work, I’ll have to sell Winter’s End—and that will be an end of it.’

‘What about Jack?’ Hebe asked doubtfully. ‘Have you discussed all this with him?’

‘Well, I’ve certainly told him all my plans,’ I said with perfect truth. I swept a glance over the rest of the room. ‘So, what do you all say?’

‘Hear, hear,’ Mrs Lark called. ‘You’re a sensible lass and your grandfather would be proud of you.’

‘He wouldn’t be too happy about delaying the garden scheme,’ Seth snapped, ‘especially rebuilding the retaining wall of the lower terrace. I think you’re making a big mistake. Old manor houses are two a penny, but the garden scheme is
unique
.’

‘William may have been as blinkered on the subject as you, Seth,’ Ottie informed him crisply, ‘but it’s more than just an old manor house to Sophy, and I think you’ve met your match. She’s as passionate about it as you are about the garden. It won’t hurt for you to lend a hand and
I’ll
certainly do what I can to help.’

‘Like what?’ Seth demanded sarcastically. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to start cleaning the windows or polishing the furniture?’

‘No, I’m going to make a sculpture for the garden,’ she said simply.

‘Oh,
that’ll
get the crowds in!’

‘It’ll certainly get a different crowd in from the usual visitors,’ she agreed, ‘
and
help with publicity about Winter’s End. And if times get really hard, Sophy can flog it.’

‘Thank you very much, Ottie,’ I said, grateful for the thought even if unsure how one of her very modern sculptures would fit into the garden. From the look on Seth’s face, the same thought had just struck him too.

‘A mixture of verdigris green and shining copper, I think…’ she mused, her eyes going distant.

‘Regarding the lower terrace, Seth,’ I said boldly, encouraged by Ottie’s stance, ‘and our discussion about it, since we’re going to create a Shakespeare garden, I thought it would be an interesting idea to have some of the stones in the rebuilt retaining wall inscribed with short quotations from the bard.’

This was a brilliant idea that had come to me in the unsleeping night watches, probably due to looking up all those Shakespearean plants.

I was about to add a joke about a bard in the hand, but after a glance at Seth’s face, thought better of it.

There was a horribly silent pause vibrating with tension and leashed energy, of the kind that you get before a thunder storm. Then one of the toddlers burst into noisy tears, shattering the silence, and Seth raised his voice above the yelling and said shortly, ‘Sir William didn’t want anything out of keeping with the sixteenth-century design of the other terraces. I think that would look incredibly naff, anyway.’

‘Not if they’re carved into the original stones that you’re rebuilding the wall with,’ Ottie put in thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t know you were having a Shakespeare garden, Sophy? I’ve visited one in the States—Boston, I think.’

‘Now, just hold on a second! Nothing has been definitely decided yet about that and—’ began Seth.

Ottie talked over him. ‘I think it’s a great idea and the inscriptions are too: and I know a young stonemason who could do them. We’ll all have to think of our favourite quotes.’

‘“The truth is out there somewhere”,’ suggested Jonah.

‘I’m not entirely sure that’s Shakespeare,’ I said doubtfully.

‘“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”!’ Grace piped up suddenly from the darkest corner.

‘That’s more like it,’ Seth remarked gloomily.

The rest of the gardeners, who had been in a huddle talking in low voices, now said they were agreeable to lending a hand with anything needed, especially if it was that or Winter’s End having to be sold up and their jobs going, and also if there was a possibility of any overtime, they were up for a bit of extra money.

‘I don’t think
I
could do much more cleaning than I’m doing now, love,’ Grace said. ‘Five mornings and a bit of extra help when visitors come round.’

‘No, that’s fine, Grace, I wasn’t expecting you to do more. So, what do you all say?’ I waited expectantly.

‘They say yes, of course,’ Aunt Hebe said feudally, giving them the cold blue eye. Agree with my plans or not, she certainly wasn’t having any dissension in the ranks. And maybe the thought of cashing in by selling her potions and lotions in the shop might have helped swing the balance, too—that and my having deviously given her to believe that Jack knew all about my plans. (And if he didn’t, it was his own fault.)

A chorus of ragged ‘that’s rights’ came from most throats, except Seth’s. He turned on his heel and walked out.

As if this was some kind of signal, Mrs Lark folded up her crocheting and rose to her feet, then she, Jonah and Grace began serving tea and three sorts of cake from a trestle at the back of the hall, while Charlie walked around hoovering up dropped crumbs. The children, released from their corner, ran about shrieking. A good time seemed to be being had by all and I was so relieved it was over that I’d eaten two giant rum truffle cakes before I realised it.

‘I’ll have to put my whole stillroom operation on a more professional basis,’ Hebe said, appearing at my side.

‘What?’ I said, swallowing a mouthful of truffle.

‘I’ll need to produce a line of basic products with nice jars and labels—have to put my prices up too, because of the bigger overheads. Shall we say two per cent of the profit goes to Winter’s End?’

‘Shall we say twenty?’ I countered, which I thought was moderate considering she was growing most of the ingredients in
my
garden, and producing it, rent free, on the premises.

In the end we settled on ten. I thought I’d been done.

Then the Friends of Winter’s, who also seemed to be
friends of Hebe, surrounded me and promised their support.

‘We will discuss it among ourselves at our regular meetings—we’re a historical re-enactment society too, you know—and then talk it over with you at the Christmas gathering,’ said Mr Yatton’s sister, Effie, who looked just like him.

‘
Which
Christmas gathering?’ I asked blankly.

‘Have you forgotten?’ Aunt Hebe asked. ‘The staff, tenants, Friends and all their families—
anyone
connected with Winter’s End—come here on the morning of Christmas Eve.’

Into my head came a sudden memory of Father Christmas sitting by the fire handing out presents…the smell of fir trees, mulled wine and mince pies in the air. ‘Yes…I think I
do
remember.’ And come to think of it, Christmas now wasn’t that far away—weeks, rather than months—and I really hadn’t given it a thought until now.

Soon people started to drift away home, though some stayed to give Mrs Lark and Jonah a hand to clear the plates and urns back to the kitchen. Ottie returned to her studio and when Hebe vanished in the direction of her stillroom, I picked up the last of the piles of crockery and followed her towards the kitchen door.

I’d barely nudged it an inch open with my shoulder when the sound of voices in discussion stopped me in my tracks, even though I know that eavesdroppers rarely hear any good of themselves.

One of the gardeners—it sounded like Derek, the morose one—was saying: ‘But Jack said he would either overturn the will or buy out the new owner, and when he did all our jobs would be safe.’

‘Ah, but he says a lot of things, does Jack, and it’s mostly hot air,’ Hal said. ‘Who knows what would happen? I heard him trying to order Seth to just shore up the wall on the
bottom terrace and leave it at that—not that Seth took any notice. But it doesn’t sound to me like he means to finish what Sir William started. No, I reckon Sophy’s ideas are worth a go, at any rate.’

‘Seth isn’t going to like it. He’s like a bear with a sore head.’

‘Looks like Seth will have to lump it, then.’

‘Sophy’s got some odd ideas in
her
head,’ Mrs Lark said, ‘like wanting me to cook less food. But her heart’s in the right place. She’s letting me have a kitten, which is something Sir William didn’t hold with.’

‘And she said she didn’t expect me to work more hours than I do now,’ fluted Grace.

‘That’s right,’ Jonah agreed. ‘I think we should wait and see. And she didn’t say she
wasn’t
going to let Seth finish the garden, just that it would be slower than he wanted, so I expect he’ll come round. And if it all works out, things at Winter’s will go on pretty much as they always have, it seems to me, only better.’

‘You’re not going to do less baking, are you, Mrs Lark?’ said another voice, which was probably Bob’s, though it was hard to tell because he sounded as if he had his mouth full.

‘No, don’t be daft! There’ll always be a scone or a bite of cake for anyone who wants it in
my
kitchen, and Sophy’s got as hearty an appetite as any of you.’

I felt myself blushing hotly and vowed to stop being such a pig. If I carried on eating at this rate they would be able to roll me down the hill on pace-egg day.

‘Haven’t any of you lot got homes to go to?’ said Aunt Hebe’s voice suddenly—she must have opened the still-room door.

‘Just giving Mrs Lark a hand with the crockery, Miss Hebe,’ Derek said, ‘but we’ll be on our way now.’

I took a couple of quick backwards steps into the passage, so it looked like I was just coming round the screen as they came out, wished them goodbye, and went into the kitchen thoughtfully.

Jonah had begun to stack things into the dishwasher in a slapdash sort of way.

‘It’s only plain stuff. I don’t put the fancy china in there,’ Mrs Lark explained, ‘or the good glasses. Jonah or Grace do those by hand.’

‘I think that went quite well, don’t you?’ I said, suddenly filled with the euphoria of having got something tricky over with and, after all, what I had just overheard had been
mostly
positive. ‘I’m going up to change, then show by example and start cleaning again, but first I’ll just take Charlie for a quick walk round the wilderness, or he’ll be getting too fat now he’s got his appetite back.’ I could do with some fresh air too—what with the crowd of people and the roaring fire, the Great Hall had become overheated and stuffy.

‘All those things you sent Jonah to the shops for, he put in the cleaning room,’ Mrs Lark said.

‘Great. Everything else should come by delivery van next week, and can be put in there for me to sort out. I’ll explain it all to Grace later. Come on, Charlie!’ I added, dangling the lead before his little black nose.

Charlie would much rather have slept off his cake in front of the kitchen fire, so it was more of a quick drag than a walk until he gave in and condescended to trot by my side.

In the orchard a chilly, woodsmoke-scented wind was tossing the piles of dead brown leaves about like an invisible hand, though the bare-branched apple trees were covered with the surprisingly fresh spring green of mistletoe.

It was too cold to linger. Cutting back to the house
through the courtyard I came across a spectacular red sports car, which could only be Jack’s. My heart did a quick little hop, skip and jump.

Chapter Fifteen: Boxing

There is a priest in the house. They do not yet trust mee with such secrets, despite my father having entertained these dangerous guests. But I have observed their comings and goings and know it to be near where I often sit in the solar.

From the journal of Alys Blezzard, 1581

After leaving Charlie in the kitchen I went through the West Wing looking for Jack, but finding no sign of him, climbed the steep, winding solar stairs to my bedroom.

I had my hand on the doorknob when the floorboards suddenly creaked heavily overhead, and my first thought was that it was Grace—until I remembered that it was Saturday and she would have gone straight home after the meeting, not upstairs for a sneaky smoke. I ran up the narrow stairs and reached the upper landing just as the door to the attics opened and Jack stepped out, a canvas bag in one hand.

He stopped dead, looking totally taken aback and guiltily thrusting the holdall behind him, but he made a quick recovery, dropping it on the worn cord drugget so he could take me into a warm embrace and kiss first my cheek and then my lips before smiling warmly down at me. ‘Hi, Sophy, how great to see you again—and even prettier than I remembered!’

‘There you are,’ I said inanely, thinking dazedly that he
was twice as handsome as I remembered—if that was possible. My lips had gone all tingly and my knees weak just from one fleeting kiss…but with an effort, I managed to get a grip. ‘I just saw your car, Jack. Did you arrive while I was talking to everyone in the hall?’