Chapter 8 #2
‘Yeah.’ He swallows and puts the photo down. ‘I haven’t seen it for years, so aye, do that. If it’s not too passé.’ He nudges his arm into mine again, trying to lighten the melancholy mood.
The other photos show a castle full of Christmases gone by.
Smiling faces, young children, parties, family feasts, and decorations galore.
It’s very different from the cold, stark emptiness of now.
I recognise Nancy and Hamish’s much younger faces.
A cheeky young Ollie with a smile that looks like he’s always up to something.
I peer into the desk drawer and pull out a photograph album. It’s old with a brittle leather cover that’s starting to crack with age, and I’m surprised when the spine creaks open to reveal some very old photos indeed. ‘These are from way before your parents’ era.’
‘They’re from the castle’s earlier life,’ Ollie confirms. ‘Back in the 1920s and 1930s, it was a guesthouse or a retreat or something. Somewhere people came to get away from it all. There’s not much info about it, but we have some guest logs and guest comments about how restful it was.
My dad found them in a hidden drawer of the desk and wanted to preserve them. ’
‘Wow.’ I carefully lift another page of the old photo album, fearing it’s going to fall apart in my fingers as I look at the photos.
Black and white, but somehow you can sense the vibrancy of ladies wearing what must’ve been bright pink dresses and men in sharp suits.
The photos show the castle as more of a hotel.
Guests dining together. Guests walking through the grounds.
A couple waving in front of the fountain outside.
One thing that outshines everything else is how happy everyone looks. ‘That really is a time gone by.’
‘It became my father’s dream. He always said that when he retired from Galligan & Brenton, he’d return the castle to its former glory and open it as a wellness retreat, somewhere people could come to get away from the world.
He said, “We’ve been paying for the castle for years, one day it’s going to start earning its own money.
”’ The backs of Ollie’s fingers graze against mine as he reaches over to lift another page.
‘He inherited it from my grandfather, and he liked the thought of using it to give something back. He wanted it to be an escape. A place where people could appreciate nature and reconnect with themselves somewhere peaceful. Because he’d found those photos and his father hadn’t, he thought it was a nod from the universe – something meant for him. ’
I glance up at him again. ‘You ever thought of doing the same?’
He meets my eyes and hesitates like he’s carefully considering his answer. ‘I’ve thought of it…’
He sighs a weary sigh and drops the photo album page he was holding.
He pushes a hand through his still-wet hair and sinks down onto the windowseat and looks out of the window, despite the fact it’s impossible to see anything when it’s dark out there and bright in here.
‘But what do I know about running a guesthouse, B&B, or any kind of retreat? I’ve got enough work-related problems in my life without adding more. ’
‘I meant what I just said – people would pay good money to stay here. I feel like I’m conning you because you’re paying me to stay here when it really should be the other way round.’
He laughs, but it sounds quiet and tired. ‘I’m paying you to do a lot more than stay here.’
‘Yeah, but it’s fun. The kind of work that doesn’t feel like work at all. I’ve only been here a few days and I can already tell this is the best job I’ve ever had and ever will have.’
He laughs again, but it’s the indulgent laugh you do when you think someone’s winding you up. I probably shouldn’t but I go over and sit beside him and look out at the impossible-to-see view, even though he seems lost in thought rather than actually looking at anything.
‘How did your grandfather come to own this place?’
‘He bought it to impress a girl.’
I can’t help laughing at Ollie’s habit of coming out with the most unexpected sentences.
‘My grandad escorted his neighbour’s daughter home from school, and every day, they’d stand outside the gates looking in, and she dreamed of living in such a magical place. Apparently, he was eleven years old when he said he’d buy it for her one day and she promised to marry him if he ever did.’
‘And he actually did?’ My heart feels like it’s expanding inside my chest. I should have known there’d be an epic love story behind somewhere as magical as Hollybrae Castle.
‘It was built by a duke in the Victorian era, passed down through his family until one of his descendants did the retreat thing in the twenties and thirties. It became a safe haven for evacuated children during the war, but after that, it had changed hands to another descendant who left it empty and falling into disrepair. Post-war taxes drove a wave of country estate sales, but it was so neglected and needed so much work that it was unsellable. My grandad had been working since he was young, he’d saved every penny he earned, and he made a ridiculously low offer because it was all he could afford, and the owner was desperate enough to offload it that he accepted.
At twenty-two, my grandfather signed the papers, and went immediately to his neighbour’s daughter and proposed, not with a ring, but with the key to the castle. ’
‘Awww.’ I can’t help the noise that pops out of my mouth.
‘That girl became my grandmother, and they were crazy about each other, forever. He always said it was the most important thing he’d ever bought.’ He looks over at me with a smile. ‘So clearly where most love stories go wrong is that they don’t involve the purchase of any castles.’