Chapter Twenty-Five
Later that day, Haneen fills in the blanks. I’m back in the kitchen, peeling potatoes; Evan has driven away somewhere. I desperately want to do something to help, having caused so much trouble already, but I can’t seem to fix the house problem, so peeling potatoes for dinner is all.
“Kendric Park was the old family estate two hundred years ago.” Haneen explains. “There’s lots of land and believe it or not, an old silver mine somewhere upstream. But the House itself is the jewel in the crown, a magnificent place, as you can see.”
“It is.” I agree. “I had no idea but I’ve been watching Alex’s work on the mosaics. Even the grand ballroom with those stairs. It’s gorgeous.”
“But Owen didn’t want it. As the older brother, Kendric Park was his.” She explains. “Unlike Evan, Owen had zero interest in the Welsh part of the family. Their father had made money on the stock market and left them property in London too, so he was all for selling Kendric Park to the first property developer that came along.”
“They’d have turned it into a hotel or something.” I guess
“Or a factory or a car park, he didn’t care.” Haneen can’t hide her anger. It shows in the jerky motion of the knife as she cuts vegetables. A slice of carrot rolls away and falls on the floor. “Evan was the one who always dreamed of restoring it. He offered to give up his share of the London property in exchange for this.”
I pick up the fallen carrot and wash it quickly under the tap before dropping it into the large pot on the counter. “It sounds like a fair deal, but I’m guessing something else went wrong between the brothers?”
“You remember Rhys?” she asks.
“The boy who…” Is it insensitive to say deaf? “Who uses sign language?”
“Hmm. His mother was their sister. She died. Rhys was left with Owen’s family. That poor boy was traumatised, Evan had to step in and take over the guardianship.”
“Ah.” The pieces fall together and complete the picture. “Don’t tell me. There was money?”
“Got it in one.” She sweeps all the chopped carrots into the large pot and moves it to the stove to boil. “An inheritance brings out people’s true colours.”
My own problems seem so small. I have no home or savings, but no one has threatened to sue me. I have nothing worth taking. Unlike Evan.
I watch Haneen in her big kitchen in this massive house. “Do you wish Evan had no money?”
Haneen places three butternut squashes, whole, into the large baking tray. “He doesn’t have money. We barely have enough to pay the electricity bills. If it wasn’t for my shop, we’d struggle. We’re very careful with the household budget. Why do you think we eat simply?”
“Haneen what are you talking about, your food is delicious.”
“Simple doesn’t have to be boring. I loved being poor, it taught me to be creative with cooking. With everything.”
Suddenly other details fall together too; potatoes and carrots and onions are part of every meal she cooks. She just has different ways of cooking them, roasted, charred, steamed, mashed, mixed with different flavourings. They’re always amazing.
She starts washing up.
In my mind I remember her description of the Kendric House profit-participants. The people who invested their own money to restore the house in return for a share in the profit. I also Llewellyn when I asked if he needed help. He said he accepted payment-in-kind only. And that I’d soon find a way to pay people back.
And the teenagers, Wyn expelled from school and would have been destined for a life on the dole at best, crime at worst. Now he’s going to be a computer specialist because Llewellyn will help him in return for the boy paying it forward by helping me.
This is a wonderful community, it would be criminal to destroy it. And Evan was right, it would hurt not just him but everyone else who invested their own money here.
Same Day, After Dinner. Kendric House.
At about 7:30 that night, I get a call from Raff. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You never came.”
Oh Gosh. We’d arranged to have a game of charades with the Squad after their tea. It clean went out of my mind after Owen’s call this morning.
Subconsciously, I think I’m also trying to avoid Cynthia. The urge to challenge her would be too strong and that might escalate matters and make them worse. Also, if I went to visit Bill and everyone, we’d have to talk about the next tea party. After what’s just happened, would having everyone over again be appropriate? It’s a shame to stop the teas, I’ve just ordered a few more varieties, Even white oolong for Alex which took a lot of searching, let me tell you, before finding an online shop that sells it. I had high hopes for the next tea party too, but not if it’s going to get Evan and Haneen and everyone at Kendric house into so much trouble.
As for Christmas dinner, that won’t happen with the house closed up and everyone homeless. We might need to beg The Glyn for Christmas dinner.
No, of course not. But the Squad had better inform Cynthia they’re staying so they can be included.
It’s too late to tell them, now, people at The Glyn tend to go to bed early. “I’ll explain when you come over?” I say to Raff.
“I’m on call tonight.” He reminds me.
Another thing that’s slipped my mind today. Raff has to cover two nights a week in case of emergencies. It’s a bit of a cheek because it should be a member of the care staff not the untrained handy man. Cynthia justifies it by saying they need someone strong enough in case a resident has a fall and needs to be carried back to bed.
“Can you call me when you’re alone tonight and can speak without being overheard?” I need to tell him before my visit with Bill and the Squad tomorrow afternoon.
Besides, it’s better they don’t find out the full story. Maybe just tell them it’s a dispute between the owner and his brother, no mention of the care home role. They’re angry enough at Cynthia; it’ll just add fuel to the fire. I myself am having trouble not going round to confront that bloody cow for throwing a spanner in the works.
Not even a spanner, a hand-grenade, a bomb that’s likely to blow up all of Kendric house and its community. Just when the Squad is rebelling against Jenkins and Cynthia, telling Bill that his son might be made homeless because of them isn’t a good idea.