Chapter 8
I was still mindful of the fact that I was taking my time and settling in as Constance had kindly suggested, but having unpacked her groceries and said goodnight, I then couldn’t resist the lure of the new notebook and sat up on the patio until late in the evening, scribbling away and further developing the plans for what I envisaged I could set up in wonderful Willowell Woods.
Some of the ideas were pie in the sky, but what was life without a little imagination?
That was something else Dad had always said, and I realised that part of the reason why I already felt so settled was because I could sense that he was here at Fernside with me.
There was no doubt in my mind that he would have heartily approved of the adventure I was considering and there was someone else who wanted to be kept up to date about it, too.
I was just about to turn off the lamp next to my bed when my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Zack.
‘Hey, Tilly! How are you getting on?’ he asked, the second I answered. ‘The photos you sent look so good!’
‘I’m having the best time,’ I told him. ‘And the apartment is perfect. It’s so cosy and compact. I’ve been swimming in the river, too, which is the most wonderful feeling, and I’ve met Rick, the gardener. He’s hilarious… Zack?’
‘I’m so… been ages since…’
‘Zack?’ I said again.
The call cut off because of the reception on his side of the world and seconds later a message landed. It was just three words.
‘Potential love interest?’ I read the question out loud and laughed, then spent the next couple of minutes composing an email response which set the scene of my introduction to Rick and declared that he was definitely not love interest material. Not for me, anyway.
Zack knew all about how Lee, my ex, had ended our relationship when he realised I was turning into someone who would rather spend a Sunday out in the woods wearing waterproofs as opposed to watching TV from the sofa indoors, and my brother still worried that I had been hurt as a result of the rejection.
I had tried to reassure him multiple times that I was confident in myself, fine following the split, had in fact fallen out of love long before it, but his protective big brother gene had overridden all and he was intent on vetting anyone else who came along.
Even though he was having to do it from the other side of the world.
And as much as I didn’t want him to fret, it did feel wonderful to be so loved.
‘Can I help you?’ I asked, when I spotted a woman I didn’t recognise peering through the gate on my walk back up the garden after my swim early the next morning.
There was no sign of Rick, and as the sunroom door was still closed, I hadn’t caught a glimpse of Constance, either.
‘I’m looking for Miss Clarke,’ the woman said primly. ‘She knows I’m coming because I have an appointment, but she isn’t answering the front door.’
She sounded rather cross about that.
‘Constance doesn’t use it,’ I told her, from my side of the gate. ‘If you tell me your name, I’ll go and see if I can find her for you, if you like?’
I didn’t open the gate to let her in because it wasn’t my place to.
‘Miss Lyons,’ she said in a crisp tone. ‘And you are?’
As I didn’t know the purpose of her appointment, or why Constance hadn’t responded to her knocking on the door, I didn’t feel obliged to explain who I was.
‘I’ll only be a minute,’ I said instead and walked around to the sunroom. The door was unlocked, so I slipped inside and then into the kitchen. ‘Constance?’ I called, but there was no answer.
The kettle was warm, so I knew she was up and had made a drink, but with no sign of her, and Miss Lyons impatiently waiting, I felt I had no choice but to open the door that led into the rest of the house and call her again.
‘Constance!’ I shouted, as I tried not to be distracted by the dusty state of the large circular entrance hall or the thick motes my opening the door had caused to dance.
I could see doorways into the rest of the downstairs rooms but didn’t venture further.
‘Constance, are you there? You’ve got a visitor. ’
The air felt heavy, unaired and smelt slightly musty.
There was a beautiful mahogany table in the centre of the hall, along with piles of newspapers precariously stacked near the unused front door, a jumble of shoes and racks groaning with coats, and from what I could see of the stairs, something on practically every step that was probably waiting to be carried up.
It was a literal incline of trip hazards and things to hinder the smooth and safe movement of the stairlift that I could see parked at the top. It all looked as chaotic as the kitchen had when I first arrived and I wondered if the whole of the rest of the house was in a similar state.
I had started to discreetly tame the clutter in the kitchen and Constance could now walk safely, rather than shuffle around the room.
I would have to think carefully and shrewdly if I wanted to help in the rest of the house, because as I was staying in the garden apartment, it wasn’t my place to have knowledge of or worry about anywhere else.
‘Any luck?’ came a voice behind me and I realised that Miss Lyons had not only let herself through the unlocked garden gate, she’d also made her uninvited way into the house.
What a cheek. I had no idea who she was, so I certainly wouldn’t have given her entry without Constance’s express permission.
‘No,’ I said crossly, as I loudly closed the door behind me. ‘And I think you should wait outside.’
‘Miss Clarke won’t mind,’ she said, putting the briefcase I hadn’t noticed she was carrying on the kitchen table. ‘It looks better in here, I must say. Has she finally got herself a cleaner? We did talk about the state of—’
‘Thank you, Miss Lyons,’ Constance snapped, as she stepped into the room behind her.
I’d no idea where she’d sprung from. ‘I have no desire to hear you discussing my business with anyone other than me. And, if I’m being honest, not even then.
’ The woman did at least have the grace to blush.
‘How did you get in? The sunroom door was shut.’
‘I didn’t ask her in,’ I said quickly. ‘She was on the other side of the garden gate when I came in to find you.’
Constance nodded. ‘Thank you, Tilly,’ she said. ‘I think we’d better keep that gate locked from now on. Why don’t you go and get dry before you catch your death, my dear? And you,’ she frowned at Miss Lyons, ‘can wait in the sunroom. Half past we said and it’s nowhere near that yet.’
‘Would you like me to come back when I’ve got changed?’ I asked Constance.
‘No,’ she said, ‘but thank you. I’ll be fine. She won’t be staying long.’
‘All right,’ I reluctantly agreed, ‘but I will come back later if that’s all right because there’s something I’d like us to discuss?’
‘I’ll see you in a while then.’ Constance smiled and I left her and Miss Lyons to it.
I had wanted to eat breakfast outside on the patio, but when I opened the apartment doors, I could hear voices, tense and slightly raised, and quickly closed them again for fear of overhearing a conversation slash argument I wasn’t supposed to be privy to.
‘Knock! Knock!’ I shouted, when it was almost lunchtime and once I was certain that Miss Lyons had left and I had given Constance long enough to compose herself or work off her temper. Or both.
‘Come in, come in,’ she called back, sounding like her usual self. ‘My unwanted visitor was sent off with a flea in her ear a while ago and with any luck she won’t darken my door again.’
‘I really am sorry she just walked in,’ I apologised. ‘Had I realised she was likely to intrude—’
Constance wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Not your fault,’ she said, waving my apology away. ‘Though I’m pleased she saw you because you’ve rather saved my bacon.’
‘Oh?’ I frowned. ‘What have I done?’
‘We’ll get into that in a minute,’ she said, with what looked like a mischievous smile. ‘First you can tell me what you’ve got under that tea towel?’
‘Egg and ham salad,’ I said, as I followed her into the cool kitchen and put the plates on the table, ‘and before you tell me off for making one for you, the ham needed using up. There were too many slices for me to eat and I hate waste.’
‘As do I,’ she said, as I had known that she would. ‘Are they for now or tonight?’
‘I thought we could have them now if you like. Are you hungry?’
‘I am rather,’ she said, rooting through a drawer for some cutlery. ‘Going to battle always gives me an appetite.’
She sounded positively gleeful.
‘I thought I heard raised voices.’
‘We didn’t disturb you, did we?’
‘No, I went back inside so I didn’t hear anything I wasn’t supposed to.’
‘Probably just as well given that your name came up. You might have inadvertently ruined the ruse if you’d interrupted.’
‘Did my name really have anything to do with saving you from Miss Lyons and whatever she was here for?’
‘It had everything to do with it.’ Constance smiled as she sat at the table.
I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but she seemed to sit down without so much as a wince and I noticed she was wearing some jewellery, too. A lovely string of pearls. I hadn’t spotted those earlier.
‘Go on then,’ I said. ‘Tell me.’
‘Fetch the salad cream and then I will.’
I did as I was asked, but a strong vinegary scent assaulted my nostrils when I opened the lid and set me off coughing.
‘Crikey, Constance,’ I spluttered, ‘we can’t eat that. However long have you had it?’
She looked thoughtful.
‘A while,’ she conceded. ‘You best put it in the bin if it’s as bad as all that.’
‘I’ve got some mayonnaise in the apartment; shall I get that instead?’
‘No, thank you. Not unless you want it?’
‘All I really want is to hear about how I’ve somehow saved the day for you.’
Constance picked up her knife and fork and after a few mouthfuls, set them down again and dabbed her lips with an embroidered linen napkin.