Chapter 16 #2
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I get that not everything in the past was perfect, but even so…’ She sighed.
‘It’s a safe haven, isn’t it? Somewhere where all the good stuff is locked away and no one can ever touch it.
Whereas, what’s to come is scary. Unknown.
And now is…’ She sighed. What was now anyway? ‘Confusing. Uncertain. Difficult.’
Last night she’d craved a pepperoni pizza, but Rosie had made them tuna salad. Difficult didn’t begin to cover it.
‘Would you like me to show you round the house now?’ Mac asked brightly, as if he’d heard the tone of gloom in her voice and had decided to do something to lift her spirits.
Rosie beamed at him. ‘Ooh, yes, please!’ She drained her mug of tea and sprang to her feet, ready and eager for a tour. There was nothing Rosie liked more than looking round other people’s houses. She was completely addicted to Location, Location, Location.
Watersmeet was even bigger than they’d expected.
Downstairs was the kitchen–diner, and a room that Mac referred to as a snug, which was actually a good-sized living room big enough to house two sofas, a bookcase, a coffee table and a television unit, complete with a small but attractive fireplace and open fire.
There was a second reception room that was much larger, with a massive picture window giving views over the garden, plus a larger fireplace with a wood burner.
There was a downstairs cloakroom and a room that Mac said briefly had once been his father’s office, then an extension on the back which contained yet another cloakroom and a large utility room.
At the mention of Mr MacMillan, Alison wanted to ask more about him, and she knew Rosie was dying to, but something in Mac’s voice told them he didn’t want any further conversation about his dad, so they said nothing.
Upstairs there were five large bedrooms – two with en suite bathrooms – and a large family bathroom with another separate toilet.
‘Wow, you’re never going to get caught short in this house, are you?’ Rosie asked, laughing. ‘I’ve counted six toilets in this place now. Do the cat and the dog get one each, too?’
‘It was because of Dad’s work,’ Mac said briefly.
‘They used to have people round for dinner to discuss business, and because of its remote location they were always invited to spend the night. Mum hated the thought of sharing the facilities, as she put it, so the house was reconfigured accordingly. It all became a bit pointless in the end.’
After his dad left? Alison vaguely remembered some sort of scandal that had been the talk of Kelsea Sands when she was little, but she wasn’t sure what it had been about. She’d have to ask her mam.
‘It’s massive,’ Rosie said as they padded downstairs in their socks, having taken off their shoes because of the beautiful, thick carpet.
‘I suppose it is,’ he agreed. ‘I hadn’t thought about it much.’
He hadn’t? Alison wondered what his home in Oxfordshire had been like then. It sounded like he was used to luxury.
‘Come and look at the animals,’ he said, smiling. ‘I think you’ll enjoy meeting them.’
Rosie and Alison exchanged glances. Everyone in Kelsea Sands knew Mrs MacMillan had kept some strange pets.
They’d all seen the Highland cattle grazing in the fields and there’d been the odd glimpse of ponies in the distance from the footpath, but they’d never seen them close up.
Sometimes, there’d been trays of eggs on a box outside the gate, and a sign:
Free range hen’s eggs ￡2 per half dozen. Duck eggs 60p each. Please use honesty box.
She wondered if everyone had paid for the eggs.
She had no doubt that the villagers would have, but there were a lot of strangers here, especially in spring and summer.
Then again, she didn’t think money had ever been an issue for Mrs MacMillan, who was rumoured to have come from an extremely wealthy family.
The hens and ducks were the first to be introduced. Mac led them to a large, shady area at the end of the garden where there were two secure runs, with wooden houses in each.
There was a pond near the runs, which was essential for the ducks.
‘Meet Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty and Lydia Bennet,’ he said solemnly, as he showed them the hens. ‘Ex-battery hens, taken in and lovingly restored to full health.’
‘Oh, bless them,’ Alison said. ‘How long have they been here?’
Mac shrugged. ‘Honestly, Mum rescued so many of them that it’s hard to keep track of how long these particular ones have lived here. Every time a couple of them died she adopted another two to replace them and even gave them the same name so there’s always a full contingent of the Bennet Sisters.’
‘I’ll bet they’ve been here a while,’ Rosie said, ‘since they’ve got their feathers and they’re looking really healthy and happy.’
‘They don’t live for that long, though,’ Mac admitted. ‘They tend to have a shorter lifespan than other hens, even after they’ve been rescued. But they maybe get a couple of years of freedom before they pass on, which is something.’
‘Poor little things,’ Alison said tearfully. ‘After all that suffering!’
‘You could say that, or you could say how lucky they are that they get to end their days in such happy circumstances,’ Mac pointed out. ‘Come and meet the Dickensian Ducks.’
Nancy, Estella and Peggoty were, he explained, three large white Aylesbury ducks named after Dickens’ characters.
‘They look like Jemima Puddle-Duck,’ Rosie observed, who wasn’t familiar with the works of Charles Dickens but had been a huge fan of Beatrix Potter back when she was a child.
‘I think Jemima was modelled on an Aylesbury duck,’ Alison agreed. ‘They’re so pretty, aren’t they?’
‘And very friendly and amiable,’ Mac added. ‘I was a bit wary of them at first but they’re no bother. I’m just glad Mum didn’t get any geese. I think they’re way too scary for me!’
‘They make great guard dogs, though,’ Rosie told him. ‘Well, guard geese. Better than a burglar alarm.’
They carried on to the winter fields, where the two magnificent red Highland cattle grazed.
‘Let me guess,’ Rosie said. ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie and Flora MacDonald.’
‘They’re not literary characters, though,’ Alison said. ‘Go on. Surprise us.’
Mac laughed. ‘Would you believe, Ellen MacKenzie and Jamie Fraser?’
Rosie whooped and clapped her hands. ‘At last, someone I’ve heard of! Outlander. Yay!’
‘Ellen’s Jamie’s mum, isn’t she?’ Alison asked. ‘In the books, I mean.’
‘And here, too,’ Mac told her. ‘When Mum rescued her, she was in calf, and young Jamie Fraser here arrived not long after they arrived at Watersmeet.’
‘He’s very handsome,’ Rosie said, leaning on the fence and watching the cattle admiringly. ‘Are they safe?’
‘Gentle as anything,’ Mac said. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t be able to cope if they weren’t. They’re beautiful, aren’t they? I never thought I’d get fond of cows, but they’ve won me over.’
‘Strictly speaking,’ Rosie said smugly, ‘Ellen’s a cow, but Jamie’s a bull.’
‘Strictly speaking,’ Mac corrected her, ‘Jamie’s a bullock. That was the first thing Mum took care of, as soon as he was old enough. Come and meet the ponies and then we’ll get back inside the warmth.’
It was another lovely sunny day, but the winter sunshine struggled to provide much heat and despite the blue skies it was still cold.
‘Not as cold here as it is near the sea,’ Rosie remarked.
‘You’re not kidding,’ Alison agreed. ‘It’s quite sheltered here today in comparison. Once you get to the beach, you’ll really feel it. The wind blowing off the North Sea is biting.’
Mac frowned. ‘Are you warm enough in that caravan?’
‘Oh yes! We’ve got central heating and double glazing. It’s lovely and snug in there, don’t worry about that.’
He nodded and led them to the paddock where the two ponies immediately wandered over to introduce themselves.
‘Aw, they’re lovely,’ Alison said, rubbing the bay pony’s nose. ‘I’ve caught sight of them a few times in the distance. Your mum’s had them quite a long time, hasn’t she?’
‘They were her first rescues,’ Mac said.
‘We’d always had cats and dogs, but nothing bigger here.
Then she wrote to me about, ooh, must be fifteen years ago now, and told me she’d taken in two ponies whose owner didn’t want one of them any more because he had leg problems which meant he couldn’t be ridden.
That was Jacob Armitage. Nothing else wrong with him, but they said they couldn’t afford to keep him as a pet, so Mum stepped in and offered to take him.
She bought Heatherstone off them, too, because they’d always been together and she didn’t want them separated, and they’ve lived here ever since. ’
Alison tilted her head, thinking. ‘Jacob Armitage and Heatherstone…’ She sighed, exasperated. ‘Nope, sorry. I’m not getting it. Who are they named after?’
Mac laughed. ‘Bit obscure if you haven’t read it, but they’re named after characters in Children of the New Forest – I guess with them being New Forest ponies.
It wasn’t Mum who named them, by the way.
They were already called that, and I think that’s what gave her the idea to name all her animals after book characters from then on. ’
‘That one looks like he’s covered in frost,’ Alison said, nodding at Heatherstone. ‘How old is he?’
‘Twenty-two now,’ Mac said. ‘Jacob’s twenty-four.
The frosty look is because Heatherstone’s a roan, which means his base coat is bay, but it’s interspersed with white hairs.
Jacob’s a pure bay but you can see how grey he is now on his muzzle and round his eyes especially, and he’s lost muscle mass with age.
They’re both in good health, though. The vet came out to look at them the other week and he’s pleased with them. ’
‘You sound like you know a bit about horses,’ Rosie observed.
‘A bit. I used to have riding lessons at the stables in Weltringham,’ he said briefly. ‘Many, many years ago.’
Alison remembered the stables all too well. She’d wanted riding lessons, too, but her dad was scared of horses and had been convinced she’d be trampled to death if she went anywhere near the place.
‘They’re still there,’ she told him. ‘The stables, I mean. Different owners of course, but you can still have riding lessons if you ever need a refresher course.’
Mac laughed. ‘You must be joking! My old bones couldn’t stand it these days. No, I’m happy enough with the company of these two.’
After fussing over the two ponies for a while, the three of them headed back into Watersmeet, glad to step back inside the warm and welcoming kitchen.
‘I love it here, Mac,’ Alison said. ‘It’s a gorgeous house.’
‘It is,’ Rosie agreed. ‘Even better than I expected it to be. Bit big for one person, though, isn’t it? You’ll be rattling around in here all by yourself without any company.’ Her eyes slid over to Alison, whose face burned as she gave her cousin a warning look.
‘You’ve got a great-sized garden,’ Alison said, determined to change the subject. ‘What are you planning to do with it? It looks a bit neglected.’
‘Mum was never really interested in gardening,’ he admitted, ‘and to be honest, I know next to nothing about it myself. I guess it’s just a case of keeping the lawn down in warmer weather and getting rid of any weeds.’
‘That seems a shame,’ Alison said. ‘It could be beautiful. I love gardening. I always wanted a big garden but ours is really small. We’d planned to buy somewhere with a bigger garden – sacrifice the house for land, if you like.
We didn’t need a big, three-bedroomed house any more so it made sense.
But as it is…’ Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.
Mac nodded. ‘That is a shame.’
‘Maybe Ali could help you with the garden,’ Rosie said brightly. ‘I’m sure she’d have loads of ideas for what you could grow in it, and she’d be able to help you plant it all out, wouldn’t you, Ali?’
Alison gritted her teeth. Could her cousin be any more transparent?
‘I’m sure Mac doesn’t need any help from me,’ she said firmly.
Mac dug his hands in his jeans pockets and leaned against the worktop. ‘If you’ve got any ideas I’d be happy to hear them,’ he said. ‘I haven’t a clue, and of course I’d pay you if you don’t charge the earth.’
‘I wouldn’t charge you anything,’ Alison assured him, surprised that he was agreeable to the suggestion. ‘It would be a pleasure to help, although it does depend on time.’
She thought wistfully that if Jenna didn’t allow her to see the twins she might have a lot more time on her hands after all, but she did hope that wouldn’t be the case.
She hadn’t wanted to be their main caregiver, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to see them at all, and she was missing them.
She wondered how Jenna was getting on and if she’d managed to sort out alternative arrangements for picking them up and dropping them off at school.
She felt a sudden longing to see her daughter and give her a hug. Put all this mess behind them. If only.
‘Well,’ Mac said, ‘there’s no rush. Let’s see how it goes, eh? Now’ – he pushed away from the worktop and clapped his hands – ‘shall I put the kettle on again? I might have some biscuits in the cupboard, too.’
He turned away to wash his hands and Rosie and Alison exchanged glances. Biscuits! How was she going to refuse those? But Rosie was giving her a stern look, and she knew she’d have to find the strength somehow, because it was certain that Rosie would make sure she didn’t eat anything she shouldn’t.
Her cousin was doing her job far better than Alison had imagined she would. More’s the pity.