15. Mind My Valise!
Chapter 15
Mind My Valise!
‘ J ames isn’t here,’ Amy admitted, with a quick glance at Matt. There was no putting it off.
‘Not here?’ said Diane, as Matt picked up a tea towel which was hanging on the kitchen door handle.
‘He’s still in Saddleton. He … um … had work commitments … he’s not here right now.’ Amy said. The story that Matt had suggested yesterday sounded weak and implausible in the face of Diane’s curiosity. She was never going to believe it.
‘Work? On the day before Christmas Eve?’
‘It’s difficult. There are … He’s very …’ The tangle of anxiety beneath her ribs became more and more tightly knotted.
‘He couldn’t,’ Matt added. ‘His work is very important.’ He wiped the glitter from his hands onto the tea towel.
‘I see. And will he make it in time for Christmas?’
Amy looked awkwardly at Matt.
‘I … um … we need to talk to about something,’ Matt began, putting down the tea towel on the back of the sofa, leaving a trail of specks of glitter .
‘I do hope it’s nothing to do with my presence that prevents him from being here.’ Diane said.
‘No, of course not,’ said Amy – although it wouldn’t be altogether a bad thing if Diane did think it was her presence that had scared James away. It was a more plausible excuse than important work. ‘Oliver, go and get Harry from the utility room and then take him to play upstairs, please. Your dad and me need to talk to Diane.’
‘No, no. I’m sure you don’t. Whatever it is, it can wait. It’s been a long drive and I want to spend some time relaxing with my grandson. Though perhaps after he’s washed the glitter from his hands.’
Oliver ran off into the downstairs cloakroom to wash his hands.
‘I’ll get your luggage, Diane,’ said Matt.
Amy didn’t want to be left on her own with Diane. ‘I … think I’ll go and put the kettle on, we could all do with a nice cup of tea, I’m sure.’ She disappeared into the kitchen. She watched Matt from the kitchen window as he parked Diane’s car round the side of the cottage and she didn’t go back into the living room until she could hear Oliver in there. Diane sat at the end of the sofa next to the fire. When she saw her from behind, silhouetted against the firelight, Amy was reminded of her own mother who used to sit in that exact place all those years ago, but the flash of recognition died as quickly as it had arisen. Diane was nothing like her mother, who would have been in the kitchen making her own tea, not sitting decorously expecting to be waited on.
Matt struggled through the door with two heavy suitcases, and Amy crossed the room to take one of them from him.
‘Shall we take these upstairs for you?’ Amy volunteered.
‘Ah yes. I’d like to see the rest of the cottage, and my bedroom of course.’ Diane got to her feet and brushed her skirt down as if she was concerned that there was glitter on it. To be fair, there possibly was, as Oliver’s hand washing wasn’t always as thorough as it could be.
The stairs were narrow and twisted round a corner halfway up the flight, so they walked up one behind the other, Matt at the front and Diane at the back with Amy in between them.
Diane seemed to be struggling with the ancient oak treads, carefully placing her feet as they climbed, even though she only held her own handbag and not the heavy suitcases that Amy and Matt carried.
‘I don’t want to slip on this funny old staircase. Are you sure it’s quite safe?’
‘It’s an eighteenth-century cottage with a Grade Two listing. They’re not allowed to alter the original staircase.’ Matt looked back at her over his shoulder.
‘Oh. Oh, I see. Listed. Are you sure they didn’t mean listing?’ She laughed at her own pun, and Amy gave a polite smile.
Once upstairs, Matt opened to door to Diane’s bedroom. There were two steps down from the landing into the bedroom. It was above the kitchen and had only just been converted, so the floor and tongue-and-groove panelled walls were clean, modern pine and the room smelled of new wood. It had steeply sloping ceilings and two tiny skylights set into the roof, as the space had been nothing more than an attic until a few months ago. This room was long and narrow with space for a single bed, a set of drawers which doubled as a bedside table, and a small bedroom chair. The pitch of the ceiling only allowed headroom for Matt to stand upright in the very centre of the room. A long, thin bedside rug made the room appear even narrower than it was, however the bed was new and topped with a plump feather duvet. Because it was the smallest bedroom, and above the AGA-warmed kitchen, it was also the cosiest.
‘Here you are!’ Amy placed the smaller of Diane’s cases down on top of the bedside table.
‘Mind my valise!’ Diane snapped, as if Amy had hurled it carelessly to the floor. ‘It needs to stay upright.’ Amy quickly righted the small case, which she’d unthinkingly placed flat.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise,’ she said.
‘Is where I am to sleep? I don’t suppose there is such a thing as an en-suite?’ Diane said. ‘I need my privacy, especially in a house full of boys.’
‘No en-suites, I’m afraid. It’s an ancient building and there wasn’t any place to put one.’ Matt stacked the two bigger cases in the space behind the door.
‘The boys usually use the downstairs shower-room anyway – Harry prefers showers,’ Amy said. ‘So the upstairs bathroom will be mainly used by you and me.’
‘This isn’t what I was expecting. I’d assumed something a little less … basic.’ Diane’s upper lip twitched. ‘No carpets. And there isn’t even a wardrobe. I need somewhere to put away my dresses.’
‘Dresses?’ Amy stuttered.
‘One for Christmas Eve supper, a nice warm one for church and something slightly more formal for dinner on Christmas Day. If I leave them in my case they’ll get creased.’
‘I’m not sure we’re planning on dressing for dinner.’ Matt sounded perplexed. ‘Or going to church.’
‘But of course, you’re welcome to go,’ Amy assured her.
‘I always go to church at Christmas,’ she said defensively and touched the gold cross she wore around her neck.
‘Perhaps you can hang your dresses in the wardrobe in my room,’ Amy offered.
‘You have a wardrobe?’ Diane looked directly at Amy for the first time since she’d walked through the door.
‘Yes. There’s a big old wardrobe in our room,’ Amy said, catching herself out. ‘I mean my room. No, I mean, mine and James’ room, obviously … Our room.’ She tried to slow her panicked breathing.
‘And I’m not using the hanging space much because I only brought jeans and jumpers. There’s plenty of room.’
‘May I see?’
Diane marched through to the large double bedroom. This was the room where Amy’s mother had slept all those years before, a bright airy room with a big window at the front of the house. Even with a king-sized bed it still had plenty of space, though it was draughty when the wind blew down the chimney and out through the unused fireplace, which the Thompsons had filled with a big bowl of pine cones. The portable heater in the corner had barely warmed the air when they’d turned it on yesterday and they’d been glad of the cosy bedding.
Diane walked straight over to the wardrobe and peered inside. Amy had hung up her shirts and her best black jeans as well as her Christmas jumper.
‘Oh yes. Yes, this will do nicely. Plenty of room in here.’
‘There are six or seven free hangers.’ Amy gestured towards them.
‘Excellent. If James isn’t coming tonight, you won’t be needing this big room, will you? So you can take your things into that back bedroom and Matt can fetch my cases into this room for me.’