Chapter 3
THREE
We stepped out of the car and, as the driver removed our luggage and my mother walked up to the front door, I took Runcible into the slightly overgrown grass to the side of the driveway. This gave me a good opportunity to look at the house in which I would be living for the next few weeks. Now, I’m a typical Londoner, used to displaying a certain calculated disinterest when presented with anything impressive, from a soufflé to a film star, but even I stood open-mouthed at the building that rose up before me. It was perfectly symmetrical, with two rows of five huge windows across its grey stone frontage. The middle double window was above the imposing wooden front door, and above it were two smaller, arched windows. These were side by side and set into a triangle, the point of which rose high up into the leaden afternoon sky and was flanked by four gigantic, hexagonal chimneys, two on each side. Smoke puffed cheerily out of two of them, and I hoped that meant that the house would be warm, which it didn’t appear to be from outside. It was all a bit too Wuthering Heights for me, with the wind slipping its icy fingers up my sleeves and down my neck and the uncompromising landscape stretching out beyond. It certainly didn’t scream Christmas cheer. Once again, the image of my cosy, if messy, place in London flashed into my mind and I felt resentment spike in my heart. Or maybe it was nerves. But here I was, so I had better get on with it. Looking down, I saw that poor little Runcible had finished her wee and was shivering violently. I scooped her up and tucked her inside my coat, as the front door opened. I had half expected a uniformed butler to appear, complete with silver salver, but it was Douglas who emerged. A tall man with thick greying hair and kind blue eyes, he gathered my mother into a warm hug, and they kissed before he waved at me.
‘Fallon, welcome! Come on in, quickly, before we all freeze!’
I scuttled over gladly, and he hugged me as well, provoking a small squeak from Runcible.
‘Is this your little dog?’ He tugged gently at the collar of my coat to see her better, then recoiled slightly, a reaction I’m used to. ‘Oh! She’s very, er, small. She must be cold too. Come on, we’ve got a fire going in the Hall, and it must be about time for tea.’
I followed him in, thinking that the hallway was an odd place to sit and have tea; indeed, I could see no fire there, although it was twice the size of my living room at home and had a magnificent, sweeping oak staircase which rose up to a galleried landing. There were also several of what I assumed were Bond-related items on display that I didn’t manage more than a glance at: a briefcase with a strip of coins protruding from the side, a golden gun in a case with a single gold bullet and some vintage-looking posters. It was only when Douglas led us through a door to the left of the staircase (past a suit of armour, of course) that I realised by ‘hall’ he meant Great Hall. We were standing in an enormous room with a stone floor covered in faded rugs. The timber vaulted ceiling soared above us, and a welcoming fire was indeed blazing in the cavernous stone fireplace.
‘Ah, Alexander, there you are. And Annabel. This is Jacqueline and her daughter, Fallon. Are you joining us for tea?’
It was only when Douglas spoke that I noticed there were two people already in the room: a dark-haired man with blue eyes and a tight-lipped expression, undoubtedly Douglas’s son, and a reed-slim blonde woman dressed in a high-necked, ditsy print floral dress and a chunky beige cardigan, clutching a lidded orange cooking pot. She issued us all with a gracious smile and opened her mouth to speak when Alexander barked:
‘No! That is, I’m going to go and find Theo, and Annabel is heading home.’
It seemed that Annabel did not agree. She perched on the arm of a sofa, and I thought she was more daring than her flowery appearance suggested; not only was she clearly being shown the door, but the sofa also looked about a hundred years old and in a slightly shaky state of repair. I wouldn’t have put my bodyweight on the arm, but then mine was probably twice hers.
‘I’m sure Theo will love this casserole, Alex darling, so why don’t I just wait until you fetch him, and I can show him?’
Alexander, now glowering, started towards the door.
‘Thank you all the same, Annabel, but we can’t accept it. Theo is experimenting with vegetarianism anyway, and we wouldn’t want it to go to waste. I must go and find him and welcome our guests.’
The uncharitable thought crossed my mind that what I could really do with was being given a peaceful bedroom and left alone, rather than welcomed by anyone, especially this haughty man, but I stood patiently, hoping things would move on quickly.
Luckily for me, even the tenacious Annabel couldn’t ignore the door being held open for her and, simpering at us, left with a dignity I’m not sure I could have mustered in the circumstances, wafting by in a cloud of lily of the valley.
‘Maybe I’ll make a lovely bean dish next time!’ I could hear her trilling, but she received no reply other than the front door being closed firmly behind her. Alexander came back into the room, his face saturnine and his blue eyes shadowed.
‘Right, not much of a welcome. Hello, Jacqueline, it’s lovely to meet you. And welcome to Blakeney Hall. Hello, Fallon.’ We all shook hands and murmured greetings in return as he continued, clearly still irritated by his unwanted guest. ‘Annabel can be somewhat…adhesive, and if it’s not her, then I’m infested with her clones, all seeming to think that just because a man and his son live alone, we somehow need looking after. We’re perfectly fine, and now she’s taken up yet another half an hour I can sorely spare. I’m going to go and find Theo.’
He stamped across the room – his father patting him warmly on the shoulder as he passed – and left by another door on the far side. I rather hoped he might get lost in the bowels of the vast house and not reappear; I already had my mother to contend with, the last thing I needed was to have to be polite to Douglas’s ill-tempered son. Given how rude he had just been to the woman who had brought him a casserole, I didn’t think I would fare much better when all I had to offer was my little dog and my current exhausted state.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Douglas, waving us to sit down on the enormous sofas that flanked a table which looked like a slab of tree trunk on legs and were angled perfectly to catch the warmth of the fire. ‘Since his own accident and then what happened to Holly, he’s been determined to prove that he can have a career and bring up Theo, but I’m not sure who he’s trying to prove it to. I know he’s more than capable, and there isn’t anyone else who matters.’
‘When you’ve been hurt that badly, it can take a long time to heal,’ said my mother, in never-before-heard sympathetic tones. ‘From what you’ve said, he’s wonderfully good at everything, and so handsome, which never hurts. He’ll be fine.’
Douglas reached over and squeezed her hand.
‘Thank you, my darling, I knew you’d understand,’ he said, gazing at her. ‘You have such insight into people – I suppose it must come from being an actress and inhabiting different characters.’ He turned to me. ‘Your mother has opened my eyes to so many things in life.’
I refrained from comment. One thing she was right about, though, and that was true-to-form for her to mention, was that Alexander was ridiculously good-looking, even – or maybe especially – when he was throwing out women bringing him casseroles. I started to imagine what he looked like when he smiled, but shut that thought down instantly when my mother finally finished simpering at Douglas and turned to me.
‘Didn’t you think so, Fallon? That Alexander is frightfully handsome?’
I could hardly say ‘no’ when his father was standing there, and it would have been an outright lie anyway, but to admit that I thought he was gorgeous could open a door with my mother that I wanted to stay decisively shut: her involvement in my love life. Besides, good-looking he may be, but it hardly made up for his grumpy personality. Thankfully, I was saved from answering her by the return of Alexander himself, holding hands with a small boy who continued the family resemblance as if he had been the next one plucked out of a stack of Russian dolls: thick, dark hair, cobalt eyes and strong bone structure. He was also smiling, shyly, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I didn’t know any small boys – or small girls, come to think of it – but this one struck me as particularly nice. Maybe he took after his mother.
‘Everyone,’ said Alexander. ‘This is my son, Theo.’
The boy gave a little wave, and I lifted Runcible’s paw and had her wave in return.
‘Is that your dog?’ Theo asked, his smile growing.
‘Oh, I didn’t notice it before,’ said Alexander, peering at her. ‘It’s, er, very unusual-looking.’
I suppose that’s an aristocratic way of saying ‘ugly’ . I forced a smile. ‘Yes, this is Runcible. She’s a bit of a mix of breeds and very sweet. Do you like dogs, Theo?’
‘I love them. Can I stroke her?’
‘Of course you can, she loves being stroked and cuddled.’ He came and sat next to me, and I put Runcible on his lap. She gave his hand a tiny lick and settled down to be petted. ‘I think the two of you are going to be best friends.’
He beamed at me, and I grinned back, then glanced up to see a matching smile on Alexander’s face. Dear God, now he had knocked ‘handsome’ right out of the park; he looked positively beautiful. I looked away again quickly.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Theo loves all animals – he was so happy when he heard that a dog was coming to stay. Now, who would like tea?’
Feeling dehydrated from the journey and champagne, I was a fan of this idea, but Mum was quicker.
‘Yes! Why don’t you help Alexander fetch it, Fallon, darling? It doesn’t look like Runcible needs you for a bit.’
I could feel my lips tighten, and I quickly smoothed them out. I didn’t care about the wrinkles, but I didn’t want to get off to a bad start with the Knights, especially having seen how rude Alexander could be.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Which way?’
Runcible had now closed her eyes and was snoring gently, with Theo looking on adoringly.
‘Oh, er…thank you, Fallon,’ said Alexander, looking doubtful. ‘The kitchen’s through here.’
I followed him out, ignoring my mother’s smirking face.
‘Wow,’ I said, as I followed him through two doorways, along a gloomy passage and past a narrow flight of servants’ stairs before we emerged into the kitchen. ‘The tea will be cold by the time we get it back!’
‘That’s one of the problems with living in a huge house like this: everything’s always likely to be cold unless you’re right in front of a fire. Luckily, we have an assortment of hideous tea cosies, so that solves the tea problem.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ I replied gravely, as he opened a drawer to show me about five tea cosies, each one uglier and more lumpy than the last. ‘Ha – and you had the nerve to look askance at my dog! Who knitted them for you – your army of female admirers?’
He had the decency to look ashamed.
‘Look, I’m sorry about that. I must have looked like an arrogant so-and-so. I just try to fit a lot into the day and Annabel does take up a great deal of time if you let her. She’d interrupted me right in the middle of a piece of work that was already taking me away from Theo and his reading homework. She’s an old family friend, though, so I should have been more patient, I suppose. And I’m sorry for not being more enthusiastic about your dog. She’s sweet, and Theo is besotted.’
I hoped he wasn’t going to keep up this new charming yet self-effacing behaviour. Combined with his looks, he was already making it extremely difficult not to fancy him, and there was no way I was going down that path. I had a hard and fast rule in my dating life, which was that men with children, or who wanted children, were a no-no. I was terrified by the thought of inflicting myself on some poor child, given the chance I might follow in my own mother’s footsteps – and anyway, I wasn’t giving my mother a front row seat to my love life this Christmas. No, this holiday was to be strictly R and R so that I could get back to my business and life in London. I returned my attention to the tea cosies, passion killers if ever I’d seen one.
‘Thanks. Theo seems a lovely boy. Right, I’m going to choose the worst of these, just to see the look on my mother’s face.’
Alexander busied himself with kettle, mugs and a tray.
‘Does she have high standards then, your mother?’
I snorted. ‘Oh yes, the highest. Higher than our recently departed queen at times.’ Then I remembered that she was in a relationship with his father and added hurriedly, ‘But she’s mellowed as she’s got older and more successful – I think she doesn’t feel she has so much to prove anymore.’
He nodded. ‘I can relate to that.’
My eyes flicked to his right hand. I could see the end of a scar between his thumb and forefinger, which ran through to his palm – how bad was it? He was using the hand without any difficultly that I could see, except perhaps for a slight stiffness as he grasped the handle of the kettle.
‘It’s healed quite well,’ he said calmly, as he poured water into the teapot.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Mum mentioned you’d been injured.’
‘A while ago now. Have you chosen one of the monstrosities yet?’
I hurriedly plucked an orange and green tea cosy with purple pompoms out of the drawer and handed it to him, glad of the change of subject.
‘Do you have a range of matching hats? Or a special festive tea cosy with snowmen cavorting round it?’
‘Ha ha. Sadly not. Biscuits?’
‘I never say no to a biscuit.’
‘Sensible woman.’
He handed me a tin, picked up the tray and led the way back to the hall.
As Alexander poured the tea, I found a dog biscuit for Runcible.
‘Put her down,’ I said to Theo, ‘and give her this – you’ll love what she does.’
He placed her gently on the rug in front of the fire and offered the treat, which she took delicately from his fingers. Then she lay down and, as she always did, propped the biscuit up neatly between her two front paws and started nibbling.
‘Oh, she’s so sweet!’ said Theo, lying down next to her and watching her, enchanted.
Alexander smiled over at me, and I dared to glance at my mother who, for once, looked slightly flustered. I don’t think she could decide where to focus her attention: the disgusting tea cosy, my scrap of a dog or the fact that Alexander and I seemed to be getting along. So, in true Jacqueline Honeywood style, she swung it right back to herself.
‘Douglas, darling, can we go into York tomorrow? There’s a restaurant there everyone says I must try – La Cosita – and I must keep my Instagram exciting for my fans.’
I stared hard into my cup of tea to prevent my eyes from rolling. My mother’s Instagram account is another whole world of madness, to which she is slavishly devoted, but with more than a million followers, who can blame her? It’s brought her in a tidy sum from advertising, and the adoring comments help her while away many an idle moment.
‘Of course we can, my love,’ said Douglas, ‘but I’ve heard of that place, and it’s booked weeks in advance.’
Mum waved an airy hand.
‘Don’t give that another thought. I’ll have Acanthe make the booking; I’m never refused tables.’
Theo suddenly sat up.
‘But Dad…’ He trailed off and then looked uncomfortably at my mother.
‘What is it, Theo?’ asked Alexander.
‘Well, it’s just that I thought Grandpa was looking after me tomorrow so that you could work, and we could go to the cinema in the afternoon to see that new Santa Claus film. That’s all.’
‘Can’t you go to the cinema another day?’ asked Mum, looking up from her phone, where she’d been tapping away. ‘I’ve emailed Acanthe now.’
‘My fault entirely,’ said Douglas. ‘Theo and I do love a Christmas movie; maybe we could go to lunch the day after, Jacqueline?’
She pouted.
‘That would be very disappointing on my second day here.’
A small silence ensued, before Alexander spoke.
‘Look, it’s fine. I’ll get some fayre work done this evening and squeeze a bit more in tomorrow – Hetty will be able to help too – and we can still go to the cinema after while Grandpa and Jacqueline can go to lunch. Everyone will be a winner, okay?’
Theo nodded, smiling, and resumed his observation of Runcible, who had now stretched out luxuriously to her full length of about thirty centimetres and was toasting her bald tummy in front of the fire.
‘Well navigated,’ said Douglas. ‘Thank you. I bet you wish poor old Annabel was so easily dealt with.’
Father and son exchanged matching amused eye rolls.
‘Yes, it’s very gracious of you, Alexander,’ said Mum, smiling. As if she had ever expected any outcome other than getting exactly what she wanted. I looked at Alexander, recognising the pull he must have been feeling to fit everything in and make everyone happy.
‘What’s the fayre?’ I asked.
‘It’s a local Christmas event,’ replied Alexander. ‘Lots of stalls for presents and food and so on. It will be my first big event for the artisan gin company I’m launching, so it’s a big deal for me.’ He spoke calmly, but I could hear the stress in his voice. ‘There’s still a lot to do, but I’ve got time – just – and the help of Hetty, who’s a part-time PA.’
An artisan gin launch was exactly the sort of job I do all the time, and I opened my mouth to offer some help, then closed it again quickly. I had come to Yorkshire to recuperate, not to take on yet another pressured piece of work. No, this Christmas I was going to have the break I needed.