Chapter Thirty-Six
Christmas Day. 12 noon
When the Squad arrive, the house is as Christmasy as it could be, considering all the building materials. The guys have cleared a safe path across the ballroom with hazard tape and tinsel. It’s not quite velvet rope and red carpet, but it’s good enough.
Llewellyn has rigged up his conferencing speakers everywhere, so Christmas carols play throughout the house. But as soon as the first vanload of guests arrive, Ricky puts his head round the kitchen door. “Leonie? You’re wanted outside.”
“Why?”
“Geries are here” he throws the answer at me and disappears before I can tell him not to say things like that.
So, I have to grab my coat and go outside. There’s nothing. Then I realise they’re all at the front not the side door.
Bill and Deniro anre talking to Alex, the professor and Evan while Vanessa and Shirley hover by the parked cars. Both look very glamourous in fur coats. They must be fake fur because Vanessa’s is white and far too fluffy around the collar. She’s also wearing a furry white hat with a pearl ornament pinned into it.
Shirley is in a black, floor-length coat with a purple fur collar that sets off her cascade of red hair. Even Philomena has knotted a gold and silver shawl around her shoulders. They all carry very elegant handbags.
Thank God for the pretty green dress and silk scarf hanging in my room. There’ll be little lull once we put the roasties in the oven; I can leave Meredith to hold the fort while I change and do my hair and make-up.
For now, I’m in faded jeans and a jumper worn inside-out to hide a smear of red berry sauce on my sleeve.
I hug Shirley, Philomena, then Vanesa, I see Gethin in his wheelchair. He’s wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a potted poinsettia on his knees. “For you, gorgeous.” He offers it. “But I need my hug first.”
Laughing I hug him and even kiss both his cheeks.
“You’re shameless.” Shirley tuts disapproving.
But the others don’t even notice me. All the men are clustered around a section of wall pointing at something and talking.
“You must have noticed the house tends to look pink from a distance. It’s only when you get close up it’s just grey stone.” Bill is saying.
“Isn’t it just a trick of the light?” Evan asks.
“That’s some trick,” Alex says. “You can see it much more clearly from the top of the hill, as if, I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Look here.” Bill points to something underneath one of the window frames.
When I walk closer, I see it’s a patch of reddish or perhaps pinkish rendering.
“Suffolk pink?” Evan asks, bending close to examine the section of wall.
“I knew it must be,” Bill says. “Has to be. It’s mostly eroded in the decades of neglect and weather damage. But there’s still a hint of colour in the walls. That’s why it seems pink from a distance.”
“Pink-washing was very common in the past.” My father has his professor voice on. “But it’s unusual in a stately home of this size.”
“Yes but this house was unusual in lots of ways. “Evan says. “They had architects and artists working on it. We don’t really know if it was all pink but it seems likely because if the cherry trees.”
“What cherry trees?” This is Alex again.
Evan turns to point towards the drive. That double line of trees, used to be an avenue. The trees are mostly dead, but they’re cherry trees.”
“You have to get this replaced,” I say, excited. Very excited.
They all turn towards me. “The cladding? It’ll cost a fortune on a house this size.” Evan says.
“Do it gradually.” Bill suggests. “One small section a year.”
“How long does pink wash last before it needs redoing?” DeNiro asks.
I huff loud enough to interrupt the engineering talk.
Honestly. Men!
“Not the walls,” I say. “The trees. Whoever you hire to restore the gardens must plant new cherry trees. An avenue will look gorgeous with pink blossoms every spring.”
“Shall we finish this discussion inside before it starts to snow?” The professor says.
“Oh my God. He’s here.” Shirley cries suddenly.
I look towards her but she’s not looking at any of us, she’s facing the other way towards the side entrance. A taxi has just pulled up. the passenger door opens and a tall figure steps out.
A tall figure with long hair and a beard.
There’s a shriek from somewhere. Only when everyone looks at me that I realise it came from me. By then I’m running, running, running until I’m in his arms.
And oh my God, how I’ve missed his strong warm embrace. The way he crushes me to him and envelopes me with his body.
“What are you doing here?” I ask but with my face pressed into his chest it just sounds like. Woffa loo wee ya .
He understands anyway. “We had two days off for Christmas.” His hand rubs the back of my head, lacing his fingers through my hair.
Eventually we have to move apart because too many others want to greet him.
The men shake his hand and clap him on the back. the women hug and kiss him.
“What time is lunch?” he asks at last.
“Not for two and a half hours.” I answer. “You’re all early. But if Raff will lend me a hand, I can rustle up some tea and gingerbread to keep you going.”
The ploy works.
“Let me take you inside. Evan starts to usher them towards the front entrance.
“Not in the orangery yet.” I call to him. “Not until everything is on the table.”
“Don’t worry.” He replies cryptically and leads them away. Where? It’s not as if we have lots of sitting rooms. In fact we have none.
Then Raff snakes an arm around my waist and I decided to let someone else worry about seating.
We escape to the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to come for Christmas?” I ask as we start to make tea.
“I wasn’t planning on it. Then when you told me about Jack.”
“You came because of Jack’s memorial?”
His eyes flick away slightly.
“What?” I ask
He makes himself busy pulling a chair over to sit down.
“Tell me.” I’m starting to worry.
“I also got an email from Evan yesterday.”
“Ah-ha! I emailed you five days ago, but not a dickie bird. Evan emails you yesterday and here you are.”
Raff grabs my hand and pulls me over to sit on his knee. “You know what it’s like on film sets. And we have no internet. Then every fucker wants to book the satellite session.”
“Your language has fallen in the gutter?”
“Yeah, when in Rome, swear like the Romans do.” he scowls. “Life was much more polite here working with the nice elderly gentle folk. Five minutes on set and it’s fuck this and arsehole that. Anyway, everyone wants to get online to say merry Christmas to their families. I was the last on the waiting list and only got online yesterday. That’s when I saw your email and Evan’s.”
“What does he want? Something to do with the repairs here? Maybe he needs a handyman. Would he really expect you to take time off from filming to work for him? Maybe between shoots?”
“Stop asking questions and kiss me before someone else come here looking for food.”
His kiss is nice and slow and so much sweeter than I remember. And it doesn’t fool me. Not for a second. There’s something in his eyes. Behind the green-grey. Something he hasn’t told me.
“Raff please don’t make me worry. What is it?”
He wrinkles his nose. “I was going to wait until tonight to tell you.”
Before I can ask, the door bangs open and Ricky barges in. “The geries want their tea and biscuits.”
“Ricky if you ever call anyone that, you won’t get anything to eat.”
“Okay, “ he makes an exaggerated huff. “The geriatric guests.”
“Ricky!” I snap.
“The nice guests. The young and beautiful Harry Styles and Taylor Swift guests.”
I turn my head so he can’t see my grin. It’ll only encourage him.
“I’ll get the tea.” Raff gets up, dislodging me from his lap and I have to move away
“Ricky can you find Meredith, please. She’s setting the table in the orangery.”
Ricky doesn’t go but saunters around the kitchen looking for things to eat. It’s the end of any private time with Raff. For now.
“What the hell is the orangery?” Raff lifts his eyebrows at me.
“Don’t you start.”
“Okay, okay. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing for now. We have a lull until the meat is done, then it’s all systems go with the gravy, vegetables and potatoes.”
So, we make a tray of tea cups and plates of gingerbread and give it to Ricky to take. “Where are they all sitting?” I ask him.
“In the hub.”
Ah of course. Llewellyn’s business hub is a large room with desks and computers and to further conference rooms with tables and chairs. It makes perfect sense.
As soon as Ricky is out of the kitchen I turn to Raff.
“I’m giving it up,” he says quietly.
I stare at him uncomprehending.
“Acting,” he says taking a seat again and popping his ankle over his knee.
“You’re giving up your career?” I can’t believe him.
He meets my eyes in a long steady look. “It was triggering me. Last year when I started with Narcotics Anonymous, my sponsor asked me this question. Are you willing to do anything, whatever it takes to get recovery? They tell you whatever you put ahead of your recovery you risk losing.”
He holds out his hand to me and I go back to sit on his lap, let him wrap me in his warm arms.
“Being back on shoot, in that world. It just felt like going back to the same shit. Every night, bottles making the rounds. I thought I could deal with that, and I might have if we’d been in England and I could go home at night. But not when you’re alone in the middle of nowhere. And the dealers hanging around, doctors who can prescribe you any poison you want, they’re all still there. Far too easy. I’d be back on the shit in no time.”
“So?” I say slowly trying to come to terms with this. “You’re not going back?”
“I have to. I’ve a contract. But I’ve spoken to my agent and told her this will be my final season. When this shoot is finished, next month, it’ll be the end. I might do the occasional advert or something local. But I’m not doing overseas shoots. That’s not an option.”
“And then what? Will you come to London?” in my mind I’m desperately searching for ways we can be together.
“I don’t know yet,” he says. “I’ll have to find a job.”
“London job market is pretty healthy.” Inside my head I’m frantically thinking. Now that I have to find a place to live, we can find a place together.
“I don’t want to live in London. I think I’d rather stay here. In Wales I mean.”
I’ve only just started to feel happy, to feel hope. Not even five minutes. And it’s gone again.
Because I can’t stay here. There’s nothing for me to do, not unless I’m going to hang around on the margins of his life.
“We’ll talk about it tonight.” He kisses my cheek. “Now let me go and see what Evan wants.”
I catch his sleeve making him wait.
“No need. I know what this is about. We already discussed it this morning.”
“Back in a minute.”
“It won’t be a minute. Nothing is ever a minute in this house. It’ll take you ten minutes just to cross from one wing to the other.”
But it doesn’t work. Raff is far too nice, he’ll get there and the Squad will keep him there. Not that I’m jealous, really. Honestly. But we have so little time; he’ll be off again tomorrow