Chapter 2
TWO
The kitchen, a few steps away from the bathroom, was also large and, to my eyes, the epitome of the perfect country kitchen, straight out of Country Living magazine.
A large wooden table with turned legs and dressed in a pretty flower-patterned oilcloth stood centrally.
Wooden cupboards lined the walls, which were painted a warm ivory, with a fawn tiled splashback behind the deep butler’s sink.
A cream-coloured aga stood on one side, emanating a gentle, comforting warmth and Steve lay on his side in front of it, fast asleep, a look of absolute bliss on his face.
A bay window with a wide sill, cluttered with books, vases and other bits of life’s ephemera, looked out over the gardens and let in the weak November sunshine.
Nick was sitting at the table, laughing to himself as he tapped away at his phone, and Angela was placing a fat, brown teapot on the table.
‘Come and sit down, love. Now, how do you like your tea?’
‘Just milk, no sugar please,’ I answered, pulling out a chair and finding an enormous, extremely furry black and white cat lying there. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ I said, and stroked its soft body. It instantly started purring so loudly that it made Nick look up.
‘I see you’ve found Tolly,’ he said, smiling. ‘Scoop him up and put him on your lap, he’ll be perfectly happy.’
I picked up the cat, wincing slightly at the surprise of his weight, and sat down, whereupon he wriggled until he was comfortable and promptly went back to sleep again.
‘He’s so sweet,’ I said. ‘And I like his name, Tolly.’
‘We adopted him,’ explained Nick. ‘Some wag had named him Bartholemew, but that was too long, so Tolly he became.’
I took my tea from Angela, and a macaroon from the plate she pushed towards me.
‘Thank you. Are you sure Marilise won’t be waiting for me?’
‘Not at all, her routine is as regular as clockwork. Don’t worry, I won’t let you be late. You found the place all right, then?’
‘Yes, my parents aren’t far from here. This house is so beautiful – it must look amazing all decked out for Christmas.’
‘Actually,’ said Nick, ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do this year.
We normally all decamp to London.’ He glanced at Angela, then continued.
‘There aren’t any decorations or anything here at Lyonscroft.
When I was a child, my father wouldn’t have anything up at all – he said it was unbearably tacky – so although we always spent Christmas here, it was pretty bleak. ’
‘What a shame,’ I said, as a stab of disappointment hit me. I may find Christmas difficult, and look to keep myself busy working for others, but the prospect of no celebration at all felt even worse.
Angela reached over the table and patted my hand.
‘Maybe we can sort something out.’ She turned to Nick. ‘You don’t mind the place looking more festive, do you?’
‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘Anyway, I’ll be heading back to LA soon.
Now, the Angelinos know how to do tacky decorations!
You’re sprinkled with fake snow from the moment you step out of your front door and constantly startled by life-sized snowmen and Santas.
One year they managed to string a huge sleigh across the street, complete with eight reindeer and a Santa Claus that bellowed ‘ho ho ho’ every time anyone broke an electric beam.
’ He put the back of his hand to his forehead and pretended to swoon.
‘I ended up taking a two-mile detour every morning to get a coffee… my nerves were shot to pieces.’
Angela and I laughed.
‘Well, we won’t attempt anything that ambitious,’ she said. ‘How long are you staying this time?’
The merriment left Nick’s face, and he shrugged.
‘I haven’t decided. Not long enough for anyone to get sick of me.’
Angela tutted as I asked, ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m an app designer, I work freelance. People hire me with an idea, and I make it work. The best thing about it is that I can work anywhere in the world, as long as there’s a decent Wi-Fi connection and I can take Steve. Who knows, maybe I’ll be in Timbuktu by February.’
‘You don’t miss home?’
‘Home!’ He spat the word out as if I had made an utterly ridiculous suggestion. ‘No, I don’t miss home. Home never missed me,’ he added petulantly.
My eyes darted over to Angela. I was aware that I had made a mistake and wasn’t sure what to say next. She gave me the slightest comradely eye roll before speaking.
‘We do miss you. Home is where the heart is, Nick, and I don’t believe that’s twelve feet above a Los Angeles sidewalk with a plastic reindeer. It’s about the people.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued.
‘Your father’s long gone; it’s time you laid his ghost to rest. There are people here who love you, and we believe you love us, too. Including Marilise. But you know best, I’m sure.’
She pressed her lips together and stood up to empty the teapot. Nick glared at her back.
‘I suppose you mean do I care if Marilise dies while I’m away? Well, of course I do, but she’s got all of you, she’s very well looked after.’
Had I heard him right? He seemed to care more about his dog than his grandmother. Mind you, I meet plenty of callous family members in my line of work, so I didn’t feel shock, just disappointment.
Angela turned back to face him.
‘Nick, you’re her grandson. It’s only you, your sister Victoria, and her little Sofia left of Marilise’s blood relatives, and that sister of yours hasn’t visited for longer than an hour or two in years.
And that’s always when the family’s in London.
Marilise loves this house, she loves you and she loves Christmas.
Even if it sounds like it, I’m not trying to emotionally blackmail you.
But I wish I could make you understand that whatever happened in the past, you are wanted here. ’
A look of anguish crossed his face. Maybe there was more to this than met the eye.
I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable as witness to this conversation, but I had no idea where I should go, other than back to the bathroom.
I had made up my mind to excuse myself, when Nick started speaking again, quietly.
‘Of course I love Marilise, and all of you. But this house…’
‘You loved that, too, when you were little,’ said Angela.
‘I did,’ he replied. ‘But only until I realised it was a millstone and that the only reason behind my birth was so that someone could inherit it. My father’s only love.’ He sounded bitter now. ‘Well, I can’t wait to sell it.’
‘Sell it?’ gasped Angela.
‘Yes,’ he said, his mouth settling into a stubborn line.
‘Astrid will be moving to Texas soon, when she marries that awful man…’ He broke off, frowning theatrically.
‘Do you think that my stepmother marrying him makes him my stepfather? More opportunities for happy families?’ Angela and I just stared at him, and he continued.
‘Anyway, with his oil billions I doubt Astrid will care about Lyonscroft. Victoria will be glad of half the money. Obviously, I hope that you and Greg stay on, in London.’
He switched on his charming smile again, but the colour drained from Angela’s face and she turned back to the sink without speaking. His smile faltered as he looked at me.
‘Welcome to Lyonscroft,’ he said, irony tinging his voice. ‘It always was such a happy home, and I clearly have my father’s knack for keeping it that way.’
He stood up, whistled to Steve, who scrambled to his feet instantly and glued himself to his master’s side, and they went to leave the room. However, as they reached the door, it was flung open and in swept India, the girl we had seen earlier on the horse.
‘Don’t go anywhere, Nick, I need to talk to you about tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ said Nick.
‘Tonight!’ shrieked Angela.
‘Tonight,’ repeated India. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?’
Apparently sensing that this one was going to run, Steve collapsed in front of the Aga again, with a blissful sigh. I felt like joining him. There had been more excitement at Lyonscroft in an hour than I usually see in a month on jobs, and I hadn’t even met my patient yet.
‘Oh, dear me, I had completely forgotten,’ said Angela, bringing the now clean but empty teapot back to the table and attempting to pour herself a cup.
Clicking her tongue in irritation at its inability to produce tea from thin air, she put it down and turned to me.
‘Laura, I should have told you at the interview, but it flew out of my head. There’s a party tonight at a neighbour’s house and we’ve all been invited.
Marilise dearly wants to attend. She’s been looking forward to it since the summer, when we were first invited.
’ She must have seen the look of surprise on my face at a party being arranged so far in advance.
‘Oh, it was originally meant to be a Halloween party, but the entire family got Covid, so they had to reschedule. Anyway, the doctor said that Marilise’s nurse – you – would have to decide if she’s up to it, and would have to go, too, to be with her. ’
‘That’s okay,’ I replied in my best soothing voice. I stood up, ushered her to a chair and filled the kettle. ‘Late notice isn’t a problem for me – I’m here at your disposal and I’ve got a dress that will be suitable.’