Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
JESSY
I f I was cold in the village hall, it was positively tropical compared to this place.
Angie glances around in dismay at the crumbling walls and floors with holes in them. The furniture is old, although Karen describes it as antique, and her positivity is the only good thing about this place.
“I never realised it was so–” Angie shrugs. “Decrepit.”
I nod, shivering as an icy gust from the nearby sash window creeps around my soul like an icy gloved hand.
It’s the kind of place you want to wipe your feet on the way out and I shake my head sadly. “Poor Lady Townsend. I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did in this igloo.”
Karen bustles into the room with a heap of linen. I would say fresh, but from the yellow tinge, I would surmise it’s been relocated from the attic trunk.
“She never lived in these rooms. She had two rooms that are adequately heated and more than enough for her.”
She thrusts the linen at Angie and groans, peering around the room with an expression of defeat before the challenge has even started.
“There are ten bedrooms spread over three floors. I suggest we start on the first floor and work our way up. Valerie and I will begin on the left-hand side of the staircase while you can start on the right.”
“What do we have to do?” Angie says in dismay, and Karen shrugs.
“Try to make it habitable, I’m guessing. Make up the beds, clean the dust and the bathrooms. I’ll hoover through when we’re ready and Bert is gathering whatever passes as floral decoration from the garden in an attempt to brighten the place up.”
“When is he coming?”
Angie asks the only important question and Karen groans. “Tomorrow, can you believe.”
She ticks off the names with her fingers. “Luke Adams, of course, and his girlfriend, Morgana.”
“Wow!” Angie’s eyes widen. “You know, she has five million followers on Instagram, and I watch all her vlogs. I can’t believe she is coming to Granthaven. I’m so excited.”
Karen doesn’t look quite so impressed and huffs, “I wouldn’t know anything about that. Anyway, they are bringing a film crew with them to record a fly on the wall reality series about their move to the country and the inheritance. They will be filming throughout the Christmas period and I can do with this like a hole in Santa’s sack as he flies around the country.”
“Well, I can’t wait.”
Angie’s eyes are shining with excitement, but I share Karen’s dismay. She is right. This is the last thing this village needs. Some arrogant, spoilt premier league footballer, with more money than sense and his vapid girlfriend with fake hair and nails and a fake life, probably. I hate them both already.
I’m already regretting volunteering at all, but the chance to peer inside Granthaven Manor was an opportunity too good to pass up and as we climb the grand staircase, I can sense the history creaking in the walls and under every footstep I make.
We find ourselves in one of the bedrooms and Angie gazes around in awe at the faded chintz and threadbare rugs on the floorboards.
“I bet this was so grand back in the day.” She says reverently, and I must agree. The entire house has been neglected and allowed to fall into ruin and all because one family fell apart and the owner no longer had the ability to maintain it.
I wander across to one of the floor to ceiling windows that gazes out on the vast grounds, at the end of which is the pride and joy of the village – the huge lake.
Angie groans and says over her shoulder, “I’ll take the room next door. Good luck with the dust.”
As she leaves me alone, I stare out of the window and a sparkle of sunshine touches the window pane. It’s as if I am transported back in time as I gaze out on a scene that has probably never changed. It’s as if time has no consequence and I picture the many people who have also enjoyed this view and wonder about their lives.
If anything, I am incredibly sad as I realise how far this house has fallen and reluctantly, I tear my gaze away from the view and set about making the space liveable again.
There are five bedrooms on the first floor, along with one dressing room adjacent to the master suite and four bathrooms. There is also an ironing room, a staff sitting room and a lift to move between floors without coping with the stairs.
Somehow, we manage to make them barely liveable and Karen appears satisfied as she inspects our handiwork.
“Bert will light the fires in every room the morning before they arrive. It’s a lot to do and I doubt the guests will know how to work the wood burners, but they’ll have to learn fast if they don’t want to freeze.”
Karen rolls her eyes. “I give them one night before they’re heading back to their pampered lives and forgetting this place even exists before they place it up for sale and pocket the proceeds.”
“I heard they can’t.” Valerie interrupts. “Mr Spalding told my Bert that the footballer who inherited it all must live here for one year before he can list it for sale.”
She laughs. “It will be fun to watch him slum it with the rest of us and who knows, we may even score some repairs out of him before he sells up.”
I gaze at her thoughtfully, because this is right up my street.
Business.
I have just finished a business degree at university and am waiting to hear back from several interviews I have attended since graduating. I’m hoping to move to London, or at least an actual city because my shelf life here has long since expired. As a child, it was the perfect place to live, but as a young woman with hopes and dreams, it’s the last place I want to be.
Yes, the suggestions I could make regarding this place would be many, and yet I doubt I’ll even meet the new owner, let alone offer him the benefit of my freshly learned wisdom.