3. River
3
The house looked exactly the same. River wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. An impressive new extension? A neon ‘welcome home’ sign flashing above the porch? But Brellasham Manor was just as he remembered it from sixteen years ago, when he’d looked over his shoulder as his mother drove them away for the last time.
And now, he was back. His stomach began to churn and he felt his shoulders stiffen as he drove closer to the house that he sometimes saw in his dreams.
Beside him, Bartie was leaning towards the windscreen. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! Old Geoff has organised a welcoming committee. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s killed a fatted calf for you.’
When he laughed, River wished that he’d made this trip alone. It was going to be awkward enough, without his cousin’s asides. But Bartie had insisted on coming too and, initially, River had been pleased to have company on the long drive from London. Returning to a house which held so many memories was never going to be easy.
His father, hard to miss in brick-red trousers and a tweed jacket, had taken a step forward and was peering at the car. He was flanked by two stone pillars and a large dog River didn’t recognise.
A line of people was just visible through the wide-open front door. Bartie was right about the welcoming committee, and now he would have to smile and make small talk, when all he wanted was for this awkward arrival to be over.
River swallowed as the car wheels crunched over gravel. Memories of that sound, as he and his mother drove away, were punching into his brain, disorientating him and dragging him back to the past.
He brought the car to a halt at the foot of the wide stone steps that led up to the front door, and took his hands off the steering wheel.
‘Are you getting out then?’ asked Bartie, undoing his seat belt. ‘Your dad’s champing at the bit, and I bet you can’t wait to set foot again in this impressive pile. Not a bad inheritance, eh?’
‘Mmm,’ murmured River, before summoning up his courage, opening the door and unfolding himself from the driving seat. A breeze was blowing through the trees and he inhaled the fresh smell of the sea.
River plastered on a smile and said, ‘Hello, Father,’ before walking up the steps towards him. The older man stepped forward and River had a sudden urge to throw his arms around this man whom he hadn’t seen for almost three years. But his father, as always, stuck out his hand to be shaken.
‘River, old chap. It’s good to see you. You look…tired…but it’s a long drive from London.’
‘It is,’ said River, noting the slight hitch in his father’s sentence. He knew he looked tired because he was still jet-lagged after his flight from Sydney. But he couldn’t help feeling that ‘tired’ wasn’t the word that had first popped into his father’s head. Perhaps the word he’d left unsaid was ‘disappointing’. He ran a hand down his jeans, the smartest pair he owned.
His father suddenly looked past him to the car and a smile broke across his face. ‘Bartie! You didn’t tell me that Bartholomew would be accompanying you today.’
‘It was a last-minute decision,’ said River, as Bartie bounded up the steps, two at a time.
‘Hello, Sir Geoffrey! How marvellous to see you again. It’s been too long.’
‘It has, indeed.’
Before Geoffrey could say anything more, Bartie pulled the older man into a bear hug and patted him on the back before releasing him.
Geoffrey’s face registered surprise at this unexpected manhandling but he didn’t look unduly annoyed.
Maybe I should have ignored his outstretched hand and hugged him, thought River, feeling that he’d somehow fallen at the first hurdle.
‘Can you stay for a few days, along with River?’ Geoffrey asked Bartie, who nodded his head.
‘Absolutely. You and I have lots to catch up on and, of course, I’m happy to help with the issue that’s brought River home.’
Geoffrey glanced at the people patiently waiting and frowned. ‘That’s good to hear, but we should discuss that later, rather than here.’
Bartie touched the side of his nose. ‘Of course. Mum’s the word.’
‘And now you must both come and say hello to a few people,’ said Geoffrey, leaning over to pat the dog which was running in circles, chasing its tail. ‘Calm down, Grayson! I’m afraid he’s always like this when he encounters a stranger.’
River supposed that’s what he was now, in this magnificent old house that he’d once called home. A stranger making a fleeting visit before jetting back to his real life. A cuckoo in the nest.
As Geoffrey led the way into the hall, Bartie murmured into River’s ear: ‘Servants lining up to greet us. It’s just like Downton Abbey.’
Hoping no one had heard his cousin’s remark, River made his way along the line, shaking hands and feeling acutely embarrassed by all the fuss.
‘River, you must remember Mrs Netherway, my housekeeper,’ said his father when they reached the end of the welcoming committee.
So, Mrs Netherway was still here, keeping the house going. River remembered her, all right. Both for her kindness and for the choc-chip cookies she used to make him. He could almost smell them still, as they came out of the oven, caramelised and golden.
She looked much the same – small and slight with dark hair, now greying – but she still had the air of a coiled spring, ready to leap into action. She’d always been a human dynamo, keeping his father and this house going.
‘River, it’s so wonderful to have you home at last,’ she said with a beaming smile. She stepped forward as if she planned to hug him but then stepped back.
River smiled. ‘It’s good to see you too, Mrs N.’
‘And this,’ said his father, ‘is Clara, who helped out while Mrs Netherway was absent following the sad death of her husband last year. She’s Mrs Netherway’s daughter. You knew each other when you were children.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ said River quietly, saddened that Mr Netherway had died and he hadn’t known about it. He had fond memories of the man who had taught him to ride his bike and to whittle arrows from fallen branches in the garden.
‘Hello, River,’ said Clara, her voice low and soft.
He looked at her properly for the first time. The house didn’t appear to have changed over the years he’d been away. But Clara certainly had.
Back then, she was a tomboy with scraped knees, who explored the grounds of the manor house with him while her mother worked. They’d swum in the cove together and climbed trees. And he’d told her things. Things that he should have kept to himself.
And now she was grown up. Her dark auburn hair was longer and falling in waves, and her face was leaner. But the big grey eyes were the same. The same colour as the sea when it crashed into the cove in winter.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ she said, holding out her hand, though her solemn face said the opposite. They’d parted on bad terms and the intervening years of no contact had obviously done nothing to mend their relationship.
‘You too,’ he said, giving her hand the briefest of shakes.
Why was she still here, at Brellasham Manor? River, who’d been sure that she’d be long gone, experienced a pang of envy. She had been enjoying this amazing place while he had been, effectively, banished. But he blinked and pushed the thought from his mind. He had been with his mother. He had been seeing the world. He was the fortunate one.
Clara’s eyes suddenly slid past him to Bartie, who had just approached, and her face broke into a wide grin.
‘Little Clara. You’re all grown up!’ Bartie declared, grabbing her hand in both of his and leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘And you’ve grown up so well,’ he added, giving her a huge wink that made Clara’s cheeks redden.
River stood stiffly, envying the ease and charm that his cousin was displaying. Back at Brellasham Manor for five minutes and he felt like a teenager again. A gauche teenager without a clue. But Bartie had never been afflicted by the insecurity and lack of confidence that had dogged River his whole life.
‘Do you work here too, now?’ Bartie asked Clara, finally letting go of her hand.
She shook her head. ‘No, not really. I help Mum out sometimes if Geoffrey has guests, but I mainly work as a virtual PA.’
‘That sounds exciting and intriguing.’
Was Bartie being sarcastic? Apparently not because he was gazing at Clara with what looked like genuine interest.
‘Those aren’t words I’d use to describe my job. It’s all very ordinary, really. I basically provide administrative services to clients.’
‘Such as?’
‘Everything from helping to organise conferences and setting up travel arrangements to buying birthday presents for CEOs’ children. I do whatever’s needed.’
Bartie stared at her for a moment and then leaned forward. ‘I bet you do. And, for the record, I never thought of you as an ordinary girl. You were always rather extraordinary, if I remember rightly.’
River shifted from foot to foot, feeling acutely uncomfortable. Bartie was very good at flirting but here, in the hallway at Brellasham Manor, five minutes after arriving, was neither the time nor the place.
Mrs Netherway apparently felt the same way because she stepped between her daughter and his cousin. ‘Shall I show you both to your bedrooms?’
‘I don’t want to put you out, Mrs N,’ insisted Bartie, shifting his gaze from Clara. ‘You didn’t know I was coming.’
‘No, but it’ll only take a few minutes to make up another bed for you. It’s no bother. Follow me,’ she said, her hand already on the polished bannister.
River gave Clara an awkward nod – though he didn’t know why and wished he hadn’t – before he and Bartie followed her mother up the wide staircase to the first floor.
They walked past the rainbow window that dated back to the mid-nineteenth century, and into a carpeted corridor that stretched along the west wing of the house. Portraits lined the walls, along with polished tables holding candlesticks and other antiques that the Brellasham family had gathered over the years.
It was all so alien after his years in Australia, and yet so familiar at the same time. River had the strangest sensation that he was walking backwards through a rip in time.
‘Hell’s teeth!’ Bartie muttered beside him. ‘I’d forgotten how opulent this house is.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t visited for such a long time. Did you say it was more than three years since you were last in Heaven’s Cove?’
‘Something like that. I’ve been meaning to visit for ages but, you know what it’s like. Work, life, other things get in the way and, suddenly, a few years have whizzed by. But I’m here now.’
Mrs Netherway suddenly stopped next to a dark-oak door and pushed it open. ‘Would you be happy in this room, Bartie? I can come along and make up the bed in a short while, once I’ve shown River to where he’s sleeping.’
Bartie looked around the large, sunny room which had cream silk curtains framing a window that overlooked the garden. In the centre stood a four-poster bed, its wooden posts decorated with carved figures of animals.
‘I’ll be very happy in here, Mrs N,’ Bartie declared, kicking off his shoes and throwing himself onto the bed. He pushed himself up on one elbow. ‘Tell me, does Clara still live round here full time?’
Mrs Netherway nodded. ‘She’s back living with me at the cottage in the grounds, though she mentions moving out every now and then. I’m not sure why because the cottage is very cosy and so convenient for the manor.’
Probably because she needs independence and space and freedom, thought River, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t really know these people any more. He certainly didn’t know Clara.
Leaving Bartie sprawled on the bed, River followed Mrs Netherway up more stairs to the second floor.
‘I thought you might like to be in your old bedroom,’ she said over her shoulder, as they neared the end of the corridor. ‘Just let me know if there’s anything you need. I’d better go and make up Bartie’s bed.’
‘Of course.’ River stared at the closed door of his room. ‘And thank you,’ he called after Mrs Netherway, who was bustling back towards the stairs.
When he pushed open the door, a sudden rush of memories took him by surprise. His books and toys had gone, long packed away or disposed of, but the bed was the same, along with the ruby-red curtains and the faded blue wallpaper.
He walked across the room, to the window, and looked out. This side of the house overlooked the gardens that ran down to the cove, where waves were breaking on the red-tinged sand that was common in this part of Devon.
The sea was blue today, a pale blue edging towards turquoise, and the small patch of sand was empty. Grass grew right up to the cove, and the branches of the trees edging it were slanted by fierce winds that blew in with winter storms.
River turned again to the room. It felt familiar, but there were damp stains at the top of the wall, and torn patches of wallpaper that needed repair. The room had become shabby since he was last here. Or maybe it had always been that way but he’d been too young to notice.
He sat down on the bed – its mattress so saggy he wondered if it was the original one from his childhood – and took stock.
The arrival he’d been so anxious about was over, thank goodness, and he felt…River closed his eyes, unsure exactly how to describe, even to himself, the mixture of emotions he was experiencing.
He felt…happy to see his father again after all this time. Perhaps they could get to know each other better over the next few days, though there was always a risk that his father might decide River wasn’t worth the effort, just as he had done sixteen years ago.
River opened his eyes and looked around his childhood bedroom. Mostly, he was glad to see Brellasham Manor. Perhaps the place wouldn’t haunt his dreams now he’d set foot in it again. But he felt sorry about the approaching upheaval that would affect so many people who were, as yet, unaware of what was about to happen.
An image of Clara suddenly swam into his mind. It was good to see her after so many years. She’d changed, just as he and Bartie had. That was inevitable. But some things remained resolutely the same.
‘I’m still jealous of Bartie,’ he said quietly, into the empty room. ‘And Clara still thinks he’s wonderful.’
With a sigh, River got to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist. He’d forgotten how cold this house got. Even when it was sunny outside, there was a chill that seemed to settle in the bones. It appeared that hadn’t changed either – but change was definitely coming and soon everything would be different.