Chapter 21
The next morning, after a very – ahem – active night and an enormous breakfast at the Bella Dame Hotel, James and Felicity were finally ready to explore. And Felicity knew the first place she was going to take him.
The sun was beating down on their heads as they poured themselves into their tiny hire car, essential for the equally tiny Guernsey roads, and headed across to the west side of the island.
The sky was blue and the sun’s rays sparkled off the sea every time they got a glimpse of it.
James could not stop making noises of appreciation as they went.
‘It’s so…’
‘What?’
‘Just…’
‘What?’
‘…it’s beautiful.’
‘Yup.’ Felicity felt an irrational sense of pride.
‘It’s like England, Devon or Cornwall maybe, with that amazing coastline, and then also a bit like France and also it looks a bit like a model village in places, do you know what I mean?’
Felicity, who was concentrating on driving through the narrow stone-walled roadways, nodded. ‘I know just what you mean. It’s like a miniature snapshot of what I imagine England used to be like.’
James snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it, exactly. But also a tiny bit French,’ he said, as they passed a stone farmhouse with blue-painted shutters. ‘Why is that?’
‘It was part of Normandy originally I think,’ said Felicity, cursing under her breath as she spotted a car coming down the narrow track towards her and had to pull into yet another passing place.
‘But it’s been partially under the UK government for hundreds of years.
They still use the French language for official business, though, which I always think is kind of cool. ’
Felicity had known very little of her first home until she visited the previous year, her first trip since she was a child in fact, but she’d spent months since then googling everything she could find about this mysterious and beautiful island.
It was lovely to finally be able to share it with someone else.
Especially, she reflected as they drove, someone as wonderful as James.
‘So where are we going exactly?’ said James.
‘You’ll see.’
‘Is it…?’ said James, his voice tailing off.
‘It might be,’ said Felicity with a grin.
And sure enough, a few minutes later they were pulling up outside her childhood home in the St Peter’s region of the island.
Known locally as Le Manoir, the house was a large white building set back from the road, with huge mature trees all around it and high iron gates.
Last time, she’d managed to have a sneaky little poke about in the grounds.
It was still, to Felicity’s knowledge, completely empty ever since the bank reclaimed it from her family due to unpaid bills, a thought that still filled her with shame.
What she wasn’t expecting to see, however, was the large For Sale by Auction sign on the fence.
‘Woah,’ said James, stretching his long legs out of the tiny Fiesta and staring through the iron gate towards the house. ‘This is incredible.’
When he didn’t get an answer he turned, a frown on his face, to see Felicity still staring at the for sale sign.
‘This wasn’t here last time,’ said Felicity, feeling inexplicably choked up all of a sudden.
James gave a low whistle. ‘Shit.’
‘Yup.’
‘They can’t sell it. I haven’t had a good trespass yet,’ said James, pulling open the gate.
Felicity swallowed. ‘Apparently they can.’
James took her hand. ‘Well then, we’d best go in and get it all out of our system now.’
‘Lead on,’ said Felicity, with a smile, although her insides had turned to scrambled egg.
Up close, Felicity could see the house was looking even more sad than it had before. As they crunched up the driveway they could see the cracks in the plaster, crumbled bricks and peeling paint on the windows. It still had a certain haunting beauty.
James was in awe. ‘It’s so lovely. I can’t believe you grew up here.’
‘I can’t believe someone else is going to buy it.’ Felicity’s voice caught in her throat at the thought.
They peered in through the windows, where old, abandoned furniture was dotted at odd angles amongst the dust and leaves scattered across the floors. It still had that feeling of stepping inside a Victorian novel.
‘It looks like the sort of place where someone might be trapped in the attic, you know?’ said James.
Felicity wiped her eyes, momentarily impressed. ‘Do you mean like in Jane Eyre?’ she said.
‘Do I mean what?’ said James, running his hand over a window frame like he knew what he was looking for.
‘It’s a book. A really famous one. Where a guy has his mad wife locked up in the attic. Ringing any bells? No?’
James shrugged. ‘Nope. Sorry. I was thinking of a horror film I watched once.’
‘Never mind,’ said Felicity.
Just as they were turning to leave, they heard a noise that stopped them in their tracks. It was coming from the back of the house. It sounded like a person was being strangled but also was somehow being very loud about it.
‘Oh my God, there is someone locked in the attic,’ said James, only half joking.
The noise came again, astonishingly loud. It almost sounded like laughter. Sad laughter.
Realisation dawned suddenly. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ said Felicity, already moving towards the source of the sound.
‘It sounded like…’ said James, close on her heels.
‘A donkey,’ said Felicity, as she pushed open the back door to reveal exactly that.
There, in the old kitchen at the back of the house was a small brown fluffy donkey, yelling its little head off.
Mercifully, its enormously loud bray softened to a series of gentle huffs when Felicity and James appeared.
They exchanged glances.
‘Why can I never have a normal holiday?’ said Felicity, keeping her voice low so as not to startle the poor creature.
‘You love it,’ said James, his eyes wide.