Chapter Thirteen
Hattie stood in the hastily refurbished building that for years had been used to home generations of canine guests.
Wooden cages with metal grilles had long gone, leaving an open space with thick stone walls and a smooth quarry-tiled floor.
Two large windows faced the sunny courtyard and as Hattie closed the stable door against the chill, she rubbed her hands together.
‘Blimey, there’s a sharp nip in the air,’ she exclaimed as she studied the room and decided what to do.
The girls in housekeeping had rounded up a selection of oil-filled radiators, which were stored in the cellar in case of emergencies.
They’d been placed around the room and Hattie ran a length of cable to connect the power.
A tall arc lamp stood in a corner and after plugging it in, she dragged it to the centre of the room then stood back to contemplate the positioning.
She’d whipped it from the pottery studio, where it was used to light a cabinet displaying finished work.
Potter Paul would miss it and might come searching, but for now, it was perfect for the art class.
‘Where’s tha’ want these?’
The door burst open and a face peered above a stack of chairs on a trolley, which wobbled on the courtyard cobbles.
‘Set ’em up in a circle,’ Hattie said as Alf staggered into the room. She reached into a box and pulled out a pile of artists’ pads, complete with a selection of pencils, charcoals and pastel crayons and, as chairs were unloaded and positioned, placed the objects on each seat.
‘Nip into the Green Room and get the chaise,’ Hattie said. ‘We could do with some wall art too.’
‘Leave it with me,’ Alf replied and made his way past with the empty trolley. ‘I’ve got just the thing.’
Satisfied that everything was ready for Lucinda and her budding artists, Hattie stepped into the courtyard and closed the door. She hoped that Jo had set off with Pete and with only an hour to go before Lucinda showed everyone what she was made of, Hattie hurried to get ready.
* * *
Kate sat at a table in the writing studio and stared at her notebook.
James had set a tutorial and, together with the rest of the class, she was working her way through his instructions.
But her heart wasn’t really in the lesson and she longed to get on with her novel.
She was fired up with ideas for the story and keen to set them down.
She looked up and studied her classmates; they were a decent crowd and she enjoyed their company.
Andy had decided to give the session a miss and Kate was pleased. It was too distracting to have him close by.
She watched James as his students worked on the task that he’d set. He stared at the screen on his laptop and looked concerned and Kate wondered what he was thinking about.
But James was oblivious to Kate as he digested the content of an email that had appeared in his inbox, for Helen was on her way to Westmarland.
On receipt of his message, she’d telephoned and after he’d explained Jack’s situation, burst into a fit of temper criticising James’ lack of parental skills.
He’d heard her gulp wine as she ranted. It had been impossible for James to understand what she was saying and he’d ended up disconnecting the call.
Now, she’d decided to respond in writing.
James, I am very disturbed by your news and thought that you would have more sense.
To encourage Jack is absurd and surely our own pitiful relationship speaks volumes.
We cannot allow history to repeat itself.
Jack must get over this infatuation; he needs to travel and see the world, not marry in haste and make the mistakes that were ours.
He is too young. Alors! If you are not prepared to deal with the situation, I must take it into my own hands and visit.
I need to speak to him personally, face-to-face.
I will make arrangements to travel and let you know in due course. Jusqu’à ce qu’on se rencontre. Helen.
James sighed. The last thing he wanted was for Helen to come roaring across the Channel and cause mayhem, but unfortunately it looked as though there was no way of stopping her.
He’d made things worse and now could only hope that she wouldn’t just turn up. Deciding that he’d better let Jack know, he began to write a new email.
Hey, Jack
Just a heads-up. Your mum and I have discussed your news and she is so pleased that she has decided to pay us a visit. It would be good for us all to get together and meet your future wife and I’ll be in touch as soon as we have Mum’s travel dates.
Love, Dad.
He must make sure that he met with Helen first, to calm the situation. He wracked his brains for a solution on how to get Helen on board and happy about the union.
The courtyard clock struck twelve and Kate stopped writing, then stood up and went over to James’ desk. She touched him on the shoulder. ‘You seem engrossed,’ she said.
James turned and saw that the class had broken up and people were moving about the room.
‘Why? What time is it?’
‘It’s break-time. You seem distant?’
‘I’m so sorry, I was miles away.’
‘News from abroad?’ Kate raised an eyebrow.
‘Only an act of God would stop this confrontation,’ James replied. ‘Helen is heading this way.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘Sorry, shouldn’t bore you.’ James closed his laptop. ‘Have you had a good morning?’
‘Yes, it’s been very positive. Having another class member read my work is useful.’
Everyone had been given a section of work by a fellow student, to read and write a critique.
‘Don’t take it too seriously at this stage; it’s only intended to get you to think from another perspective.’
‘I understand,’ Kate said. ‘I can’t wait for the afternoon session.’
For the second part of the day, James gave his students an opportunity to work on their own pieces or do more exercises and Kate chose to work on her novel, taking a seat by the window, making notes on a pad as she typed.
‘Let me know if you want to chat any time before Helen arrives. Two heads can be better than one.’ Kate touched James’ arm again before moving away.
He watched her circulate with the other students and wished that he could reach out and pull her into his arms. Problems with Helen would disappear into oblivion when buried in the warmth of an embrace that he longed for.
Kate had an aura of calm and kindness, combined with a bewitching twinkle and he imagined her luscious body lying across his bachelor bed.
Her skin would be soft like velvet and her limbs strong as they wrapped around his body.
Stop it!
James was horrified that he’d let his thoughts run so freely, especially during a class.
He stormed into the kitchen and poured a black coffee, wishing that he had something stronger to add to the steaming liquid.
He stared out of the window where Alf was wheeling a trolley along the cobbles.
James thought about Helen and shuddered at the thought of her arrival.
Would she be inebriated and impossible to reason with?
He blamed himself for her drinking and thought that he should have done more to stop her all those years ago, when it became apparent that it was getting out of hand.
A flurry of movement in the courtyard made James look up.
Alf was buckling under the weight of an object on his trolley, which was covered by a sheet.
James thought he should go out and assist the handyman but Hattie appeared and beckoned Alf to hurry.
She grabbed two tapered wooden legs, sticking out of the sheet, and together with Alf clattered along the cobbles.
Hattie’s breasts and bottom bumped along and James was fascinated as he watched Alf push and Hattie pull, until they reached the building that had been the former kennels.
They disappeared inside.
James wondered what they were up to and wanted to go and investigate but his break was over and his students were waiting. With a sigh, he ran his mug under the tap and, leaving it to drain, returned to his class.
* * *
Bob was in his bathroom. He was looking forward to the art class that afternoon and as he stood at the sink and lathered soap over his hands, he stared at the mirror.
‘What does an artist wear?’ he asked his reflection and, tilting his head from one side to the other, visualised a cotton smock with jaunty cravat and soft felt hat cocked at a rakish angle.
He reached for a towel and dried his hands and, folding the soft fabric neatly, placed it on a radiator and stepped into his bedroom.
He opened the wardrobe and flicked through the outfits.
With nothing fitting the occasion, he chose casual slacks, a shirt and a cashmere sweater then added a liberal splash of cologne and hurried out of his room.
He didn’t want to be late.
As he passed the Red Room he noticed Andy, Sir Hugo and Henry, sitting by the fire.
‘Be along in a jiffy!’ Sir Henry waved his cane.
Bob held up a hand in acknowledgement and continued on his way.
He marvelled at the constitution of the brothers.
They’d packed away the best part of two bottles of claret and a three-course meal at lunch and instead of slipping into a peaceful oblivion for the afternoon, would forgo their snooze to partake in yet another class.
With Lucinda running the art class for the first time, everyone was curious to see what she had to offer and Bob could understand why the brothers remained alert.
They were hardly likely to miss out and deny themselves a valuable source of gossip for discussion over dinner.