Читать книгу A Year at Meadowbrook Manor: Escape to the countryside this year with this perfect feel-good romance read in 2018 - Faith Bleasdale - Страница 10

‘What do we do now?’ Gus asked, waving a copy of the document that David had handed over to them before he scarpered. He promised a meeting as soon as they’d had a chance to digest things. But after what they had just experienced, Harriet wasn’t sure they would ever digest it. The feeling of unease that her father’s video had left her with sat heavily on her stomach, and she couldn’t seem to order her thoughts. Lost, she poured and handed out brandies for them all. After all, it was supposed to be good for shock and they were definitely in shock.

‘Go and muck out some pigs, I am guessing,’ Freddie joked, but he wasn’t smiling. ‘Do we even have any pigs?’ He stared into his glass.

‘Daddy did love that sanctuary,’ Pippa mused. ‘Oh God, Mark is going to be so upset about this.’ She chewed her bottom lip, a habit she’d had when she was anxious since childhood.

‘But, Pip, what Dad said about him?’ Freddie started.

‘I don’t know what he was talking about,’ Pippa replied. ‘Mark and I are very happy. I just don’t understand where that even came from.’

‘God, are we grasping what he’s asking? Run a rescue centre for animals, fundraise and live here, all together? For a whole year!’ Why did their father think that they would, or should, give up their lives? It made no sense. Even his explanation didn’t add up. And Harriet felt guilty, but she knew there was no way she could do it, no matter what the consequences were. Oh yes, she could take some time out to sort out her father’s estate, but if it was more than a week or two, some hungry younger person would be snapping at her heels to take her place at work. And she would never, ever give up her beloved job. Never.

‘It’s so much, so so much.’ Gus’s face was ashen.

‘Look, we need time to think. Pip, you need to talk to Mark, so I suggest that we all take some time and I’ll go and see Gwen and tell her we’ll have a family dinner tonight to talk about it.’

‘Still the same old bossy, Harry,’ Freddie said.

‘And thank goodness – someone needs to be,’ Harriet bit back before leaving the room.

She found Gwen in the kitchen, pulling a freshly baked cake out of the Aga and then she saw Connor, sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. The large kitchen was the only room which didn’t have her father’s stamp on it. It had, as long as Harriet could remember, been Gwen’s domain and she had made it her own. It felt like a proper country kitchen. Huge pine table, the largest Aga they could get; it was always warm and welcoming, filled with the aroma of delicious food. But the main difference was that Gwen had filled the two ancient dressers with her personal knick-knacks as well as the crockery and dinner services that they used. The array of china chickens, pigs and her extensive egg-cup collection had been growing ever since Gwen had moved into the kitchen. There was something so charming about it. Not least that her father found it horrific, but he quickly learnt not to interfere in her kitchen. Harriet remembered her chasing him out once with a wooden spatula when he tried to tell her what to do. No one messed with Gwen’s kitchen.

‘Hello, love,’ Gwen said. ‘Can I make you a cuppa?’

‘No I’m fine, thanks.’ Harriet smiled; Gwen was wearing her apron, Harriet could count the number of times on one hand when she had seen the housekeeper without an apron tied around her waist. There was Pippa’s wedding, and of course yesterday, at her father’s funeral.

Gwen was younger than her father at sixty. She had grey hair, worn in a sensible bob, and a fair few lines scattered on her face made her look her age, but she was fit and healthy. She had the energy of a much younger person. Her loyalty to the family had been one of the few constants in Harriet’s life. Harriet remembered coming home from school to freshly baked biscuits or cakes, but Gwen didn’t overstep the mark, she never interfered unless they asked her to. Harriet felt a pang of love for the woman who had always been there for them.

‘So, obviously you’ve seen the video,’ Gwen said, chewing her lip nervously.

Connor locked eyes with Harriet; God, his eyes were piercing as she was hit by a jolt. He always had those mesmerising eyes which made her feel he could see inside her. She felt like a foolish little girl again. The girl whose childhood consisted of mainly trying to impress him.

She and Connor had grown up together, along with her other siblings. But the two of them would often sneak off from them to go exploring. Connor was fascinated by wildlife and he always had some plan to find animals which usually involved either climbing trees, looking in hedges or jumping into the lake. Harriet usually got roped into carrying his equipment around, nets, ropes, binoculars, cameras. She was his packhorse. But back then Harriet had been happy to trail around in wellies with him. Having so much land around Meadowbrook meant that they had enjoyed an almost feral childhood. Although of course they also had the best of everything, they were encouraged to explore the outdoors, running through fields, paddling in the lake, climbing trees; it was incredible, but a different world to corporate Harriet. Almost as if it had happened to someone else. Although Connor was clearly still living that life. Whereas for her, in New York, jogging in Central Park was as outdoorsy as she got these days.

‘Yes, Gwen “Spielberg” White, we certainly did,’ she joked, hoping to cover up how unsettled she felt.

‘Oh, Mum, was your filming that bad?’ Connor asked, lips curled up in amusement.

‘It certainly was not. Well, not for my first time,’ Gwen replied, giving her son a swat on the head. ‘Although I don’t know if I’ve got a future in it, to be honest.’ She smiled.

‘I don’t think the quality of the filming is the debate we’ll be having later,’ Harriet said. Gwen looked a little embarrassed. ‘Gwen, we’re going to have dinner together to discuss it, is that all right?’

‘Of course, I’ve got a roast on for you all, I thought you might need fortifying. What time do you want to eat?’

‘About seven-thirty? I think tonight we need to chat about what we are going to do.’

‘Quite right,’ Gwen said. ‘You’ve got decisions to make.’

‘We do. Big decisions.’ Harriet’s eyes narrowed.

‘I know it’s none of my business,’ Connor said. ‘But it must seem quite ridiculous at the moment.’

‘Yes, and as it involves the animal sanctuary it is your business. But it’s surreal. I heard Dad talk about his animals but I didn’t really give it too much thought,’ she said, pointing an accusing finger at Connor. ‘I guess we also need to have a conversation about the sanctuary, I know it’s your baby.’

Connor’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes, it is my baby and Andrew’s too. It’s something I’d always wanted to do, and well, Andrew had the land, so when he got involved it was wonderful. He loved it, Harry, he really did, but I’m not going to give you the hard sell. It’s important, not just to your father’s memory, but you’ll see that for yourself. When you’re ready.’ His eyes were full of passion, which only fuelled her guilt.

‘Right, I might go for a bath before supper, I’ve got so much to think about,’ Harriet said, leaving the warmth of the kitchen. She needed to clear her head, after the brandy and the pre-will, or whatever it was called, and, fingers crossed, a relaxing bath would help.