Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
BANCROFT MANOR
I wake up early, in the bedroom I used on my very first night here. It seems so long ago now, so much has happened.
To start with, I know how to make a coal fire, which I do immediately. I also seem to have acquired a dog – one who doesn’t seem especially enthusiastic about getting off the bed.
‘Oh Eejit,’ I say, ruffling his fur. ‘You’ve come so far, boy! When I first met you, you were a street dog – look at you now, snuggled up in four poster luxury!’
He agrees by thumping his tail once on the comforter, and keeps his eyes on me as I open the balcony doors. The snow is still here, but has been trashed by a couple of days of rain. The sky is dark grey, and even the village below looks dim. So many people have gone home for the holidays that it feels a bit like a ghost town.
I go back inside, and check my phone. It’s in the early hours back in the States, but I smile when I see a message from June. Well, more a string of Christmassy emojis and some love hearts to be accurate, but it’s the thought that counts.
I start to compose a message of my own – to Ryan. A simple one, wishing him a happy Christmas. One that should be easy to write. Except, of course, that it’s not – because Ryan no longer just feels like a flirtatious friend who I can share casual greetings with. Ryan feels like something altogether more dangerous.
I’d woken up the morning after our kiss feeling absolutely terrible. It was a combination of a hangover, the emotional rigours of Nanna Nora’s tale, and, most importantly, a big fat dollop of embarrassment. No, not just embarrassment – it was more than that. I didn’t just invite him to kiss me, I practically begged him to stay. I threw myself at him, and he turned me down.
I’d rolled over in bed, my head clanging and my mouth dry, gratefully grasping the soda he’d left for me.
I felt sick, and nauseous, and deeply ashamed. But underneath all of that, I could still remember that kiss – I could still remember how he made me tremble. How much I desired him. I’m glad that he went when he did – glad that he acted honourably – but part of me still wishes that he hadn’t.
I’d also been left with the mystery of his rules, and it was really hurting my brain trying to understand what he meant. His rules dictated that he wouldn’t fool around with anyone married, anyone who lived in the village, or… anyone he thought he might fall in love with.
I’d slapped myself on the forehead and given myself a good telling off. I was obviously remembering it all wrong. Ryan has never given any indication that he feels that way about me. He only even kissed me because I basically forced him to, and then he left. I go over and over it, feeling worse and worse each time, and I totally get why they call it ‘the fear’.
In the end I’d messaged him.
Thanks for getting me home
Hope I didn’t behave too badly. I am paying penance with the world’s worst hangover. Let me know if we’re good?
Even the pinging sound of his reply landing seemed to make my sore skull vibrate, and I’d gobbled down a couple of the pills along with the soda.
We’re good, Cassie
Always. Safe travels.
Since then, nothing. I tell myself I’m being stupid. That Ryan means nothing to me. That even if he did, he isn’t doing anything wrong – I haven’t exactly been communicative myself. What do I expect from the man? I’m probably being a typical woman and over-thinking everything, analysing it all from every angle while he hasn’t even given it a second thought.
I take a quick snap of the dog on his throne-like bed, and send that to him with one line:
Happy Christmas from Eejit. Woof!
There, I think, standing up and deciding to forget about it all for the rest of the day. I’ve done it. Now I need to get on with enjoying myself.
Charles invited me over to spend Christmas Eve night with them all, and I’d gratefully accepted. The village was so quiet, and the lack of its usual energy and liveliness was a little depressing.
I’d barely seen anything of him since our night in Oxford. As soon as I was back from Cork, he’d taken Allegra to London to see a specialist for a consultation and they’d stayed in the city to see family. I don’t ask which family, just in case it’s too regal for me to handle.
Last night had been wonderful, in the way I’ve come to expect from this family now – fish and chips from the restaurant in Marshington Grange, several spirited games of charades, and a treasure hunt around the grounds. Even in the drizzle it was fun, and Roberts had obviously spent a long time carefully composing clues and hiding them. In the end, the treasure turned out to be a mechanical duck perched in the branches of a tree. It has a remote control that makes it flap its metal wings and quack. They all insisted I should keep it as a memento, and it pretty much sums them up I guess. Totally quackers.
Charles and I haven’t had any time alone to discuss my future plans, and I have to say I’m relieved by that. I still haven’t come to any conclusions, and after what happened with Ryan, I also feel weirdly as though I’ve cheated on him. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t quite shake it. Charles is gorgeous, and kind, and he has made his feelings clear – unlike a certain Irish man I know. I do find him attractive, extremely so, and maybe under different circumstances I’d feel more inclined to give it a try.
Right now, though, I am too unsettled. Too distracted. Too confused by everything I’m feeling.
I get dressed, grab my gift bags and make my way downstairs, followed by Eejit. Jasper meets him half way, and excitedly runs around him, wagging so hard his whole little body shakes. Jasper is up, which means that Georgie is. It’s only just seven, and this is insanely early for her – I guess Christmas still floats her boat.
I find all of them in the Blue Room, lounging around in their nightclothes, the fire roaring. The table is laden down with desserts of every kind – sponges, tray bakes, fruit loaves, scones, dainty little fruit tarts.
‘We only eat cake for breakfast at Christmas,’ Allegra shouts out. ‘Family rule!’
She’s been in good spirits since London, taking heart from a new doctor and a new programme of medications. Today, she is wearing a magnificent silk robe decorated with peacocks, and her hair is held on top of her head by knitting needles. Despite this, she looks elegant and relaxed.
I plate up a scone, and join them on one of the couches. Charles is opposite, looking freshly showered but still wearing a set of blue cotton PJs. Another family tradition, I guess.
‘Can we do presents now?’ Georgie asks excitedly. ‘I think I’m on a suitable sugar high! Cassie has parcels, look!’
She pokes at my bag, and I snatch it away.
‘Who’s to say there’s anything in there for you?’ I ask.
‘I bet there is! Come on, everyone, I’m bored already!’
There are groans all around, and Charles finally says: ‘All right. If we must. Cassie, just to warn you, this year we decided to only give gifts that we managed to find on the estate, or in the house. It’s been rather hectic since you got here, and there’s been very little time for shopping.’
As this place is pretty much a museum, I can’t say that I object to their logic – it beats getting battered in Macy’s, anyway.
We take it in turns giving and receiving, Jasper helping with the unwrapping, Eejit going off to mooch – he knows where the dog bowls live these days. Allegra gives Charles a first edition of the poems of Tennyson that he’s never even seen before, and Roberts hands out little boxes full of exquisite home-baked candies in the shape of fruit. Georgie has made everybody extravagant tie-dye T-shirts from old clothes, and I laugh as Allegra immediately puts hers on. Between the silk peacocks and the neon colours she’s looking pretty amazing.
‘Do I look groovy, baby?’ she asks, doing a little shimmy.
I hand out my comedic Irish keepsakes – Baileys chocolates for Allegra, a Guinness hat for Roberts, a cuddly leprechaun for Georgie and a hideous green tie covered in shamrocks for Charles.
His eyes widen when he sees it – they’re probably dazzled – but he quickly recovers and puts it on, managing to find a way to let it hang around his pyjama shirt.
‘I love it,’ he declares convincingly. ‘I’ve never felt more chic!’
‘Count yourself lucky,’ I reply, laughing. ‘My dad’s getting a dickie bow!’
The gifts continue to flow, Georgie exclaiming that every single one of hers is exactly what she wanted, until eventually, Charles hands me a jewellery box. I have a moment of concern, worried at what I might find inside – and hoping that he hasn’t done anything extravagant.
‘Don’t worry,’ he says, a glint in his eyes telling me he has successfully read my mind, ‘this is from all of us. And it did come from inside the house.’
I feel all of them watching me as I open the ribbon on the box, and gasp out loud when I see a beautiful pair of drop earrings. I take one out and hold it up to the light, admiring the way the emerald green of the stones shimmers.
‘I love them!’ I say, delighted. ‘But… they’re not real, are they?’
The gems are enormous, the setting is antique gold, and they’re possibly the most beautiful things I’ve ever held in real life.
‘Of course they are!’ pronounces Allegra. ‘Do I look like the kind of woman who wears paste, darling?’
I glance over at her, in her tie-dye T-shirt and peacock robe, now complemented by the careful positioning of an enormous Guinness hat on top of her head.
‘Umm… right now, yes? But seriously, I can’t accept these. They must be worth a fortune!’
‘They’re worth no more than you deserve, dear,’ she says seriously. ‘And that’s the last I’ll hear of it. I have all sorts sitting in my jewellery case, and I’m unlikely to use most of it. I might sell it all off, and go on a world cruise!’
I’m still protesting when Charles reaches out, and takes my hand.
‘Stop arguing,’ he says simply. ‘And put them on.’
I meet his eyes, moved by the sincerity I see there, and do as I am told.
‘There,’ he says, leaning back and looking satisfied. ‘Perfect. Now, can I read my newspaper in peace, Georgie? Or will you be a pain all the way through until lunch is served?’
‘At a guess, yes, I will,’ she snipes back. ‘Merry Christmas!’
I sit and look on as they bicker good-humouredly, as Allegra eats her chocolates, and Roberts stokes the fire.
I love them all, I realise, feeling tears come to my eyes. I love their kindness, and their resilience, and their crazy English quirks. I love this house, and the estate, and the village. I love everything about being here, and I have been made so welcome. It would be so easy to stay. So easy to picture myself with these people forever – sharing in their triumphs and their losses, their ups and downs. So easy to relax into this life, this family.
Except, I realise, it wouldn’t be right. I’d be doing it for all the wrong reasons, and I’d be living a lie. I touch the dangling earrings, and suddenly know that although I will keep them and treasure them, I cannot accept any more from them. I cannot accept what Charles has offered – I care about him, about all of them, too much to do that. Charles wants more than I can give, and it is not fair to keep him in the dark about that, even for one more day.
I’m here, with them physically, but I have to face the truth. I’ve been trying to hide it away, even from myself, but something about the purity of this Christmas scene makes that impossible to do for even a minute longer. I’m here, but my heart is still in Ireland. Still with Ryan.
‘I’m… I’m just going to find Eejit,’ I say, rising to my feet unsteadily and leaving the room. I feel overwhelmed, shaky both physically and emotionally. I sit on the bottom of the stairs and take a few deep breaths.
I don’t know why this feeling has suddenly and spectacularly turned up on the scene, but I cannot fight it. All the time I was sitting there with them, I was waiting for my phone to ping. Waiting for Ryan to reply to my message. Like a besotted teenager, all I can think about is him – my handsome, charming, damaged playboy.
I can’t stay here, because I cannot give Charles what another man already owns. I hate myself for it, for being such a fool, but I can’t help it. Whatever Ryan feels about me, I know that I am in love with him – and that is a terrifying and powerful thing.
‘Are you okay?’ Charles says, appearing in front of me. He looks concerned and serious, despite his stupid tie. Life would be so much simpler if I could fall for this man instead, I think – but it wouldn’t be fair to even try. He deserves better. He deserves someone who feels about him the way I feel about Ryan.
I stand up, and give him a quick hug.
‘Not really. Charles, I can’t stay for lunch. I think Eejit and I will walk back to the village.’
‘Why? Is everything all right? Have I done something wrong?’
I smile at him, and say: ‘Not a single thing, Charles. I just… I can’t. The thing you asked me in Oxford? About staying here, with you? I can’t do that. I’m so sorry.’
I see a flash of hurt cross his face, but as ever he reins it in with supreme control.
‘Right. Well, I’m sure you have your reasons, Cassie. Is it… is it the mess? The mess of my life? Has that put you off?’
‘No! No, please don’t think that, Charles – I love your mess! I love every last scrap of it! You’re wonderful, and I’m probably an idiot, but… well, as a wise woman once told me, I have to follow my heart, even though it might lead me into trouble.’
He stares at me for a moment, then says: ‘Ah. And would your heart happen to lead you to Ireland, Cassie?’
I nod, and bite my lip. I hope that I’ve not hurt his pride, made him feel second-best to Ryan once again. The two of them have figured out their differences, but for a long time, he saw Ryan as a rival. This time, though, it’s actually true, and I can’t bear the thought of being the source of any more conflict between them.
‘I see,’ he says calmly. ‘Well, I have to admit defeat then. I’ve been beaten by a?—’
‘Don’t say better man! He’s not a better man, Charles – he’s not, at all. You’re an amazing man.’
‘True, I am. Okay then – he’s not a better man. But he is a good man. Go, Cassie, if you need to – with my blessing.’
I hug him once more, not quite able to stop myself from inhaling that gorgeous cologne of his.
‘Are you sure, though?’ he asks, grinning as I run away up the stairs. ‘I swear to God you were just sniffing me then…’
Within a few minutes I have packed up my stuff, and headed off into the rain. Eejit is collected from the kitchen, and together we slink off into the dull day. I will message the others later to say goodbye – I just couldn’t face them right now. My head is too messed up. I need to be alone for a while, and decide what I’m going to do.
The walk helps – yet another thing Nanna Nora was right about – and by the time I arrive back in Campton St George I am soaked but feeling a little calmer. I amble through the almost-deserted village, the pub and the tea rooms closed, lights off in most of the homes. I intend to simply get back to Whimsy, maybe have a long bath, and think things over.
Eejit, though, has other ideas – and he heads straight down the side of the bakery, barking outside Eileen’s door.
‘All right, all right, what’s with the racket?’ she says, opening the door to let him in. ‘Smell the bacon, can you?’
She stares at me lurking behind him, and shakes her head, grey curls bobbing.
‘Don’t just stand there, Cassie – I’m letting all the heat out!’
She shoos me inside with a dishtowel, and I head straight for the fire. It strikes me, as I sit there warming my hands and drying off, that this is exactly the position I was in the first night I got here, almost a whole month ago now. Taking refuge in Eileen’s cosy living room, surrounded by her knitting and her paperbacks and her knickknacks.
There’s also a small suitcase, and I remember that she is flying to Dublin today.
‘I’m sorry, you’re busy,’ I say, making to stand and leave.
‘Never too busy for you, my love. Now, what’s the craic? I thought you were off away to the big house?’
‘I was, yes,’ I say, falling back into the chair. ‘But I… well, Eileen, I had little bit of a revelation, and I guess you’re as good a person as any to talk to about it.’
‘Stop with the fancy compliments now!’
‘Sorry – you’re actually the perfect person to talk to about it. It’s Ryan.’
‘Ah, I see. Ryan. What’s he gone and done now?’
‘He kissed me, or I kissed him, I’m not so sure. We kissed, anyway. And then he told me he’d broken one of his rules, and left. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, what he might have meant. Do you think he meant the rule about women who live in the village?’
She throws the dish towel at me, and it flutters against my face and drops to the floor.
‘Jesus, you young people – you’re not half slow! Of course he didn’t mean that – I’d call you an eejit, but it’d be an insult to that perfectly clever dog. You and Ryan have something, and it’s more than his normal nonsense. And looking at you right now, it’s clear as the nose on my face that you’ve fallen for him.’
‘But—‘
‘There are no buts, Cassie. You might be able to fool yourself but you can’t fool me – I’ve seen it coming. So, the only question now is, what are you going to do about it?’
‘I don’t know – get therapy? Go home? Change my identity?’
‘Sure, all of those are options – but how’s about this? Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?’
She makes it sound so sensible, but the very idea of it paralyses me.
‘What if he doesn’t feel the same?’ I ask. ‘What if that kiss was just a fluke? What if he rejects me? I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime…’
She shrugs her shoulders, and replies: ‘Then you could always get therapy, or go home, or change your identity, couldn’t you? I’ve a feeling he won’t though, child. I’ve an inkling he feels exactly the same, but he’s too stubborn to do anything about it. Or too scared, maybe. One of you is going to have to be brave. Who’s it to be?’