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 8

Harriet felt her hangover taunting her before she was ready to wake up. Her head was pounding, her mouth dry and, as she tried to process the events of the previous day, she wanted to vomit. Bury father, be polite to strangers at his wake, attempt to bond with siblings. Cry? No, her eyes were still resolutely dry.

It had been bittersweet spending time with her brothers and sister yesterday. They had got drunk, yes, and they had also talked, or at least tried to. It was still slightly awkward between them, they were all lost in their own thoughts about their father, but it was progress of sorts. There had been no terrible row, but they had all drifted and it felt as if she was in the company of three polite strangers – or two polite strangers and Freddie. Harriet knew that she had to ensure her siblings didn’t drift apart again, and she had to find a way for them all to reconnect. Keeping the family together would be her priority even when she was back in New York. After all, now that her father was gone, she was head of the family.

The summer house party had ended when Mark and Gwen arrived, asking if they wanted anything to eat. Pippa had got up, stumbled, so Mark had said he would take her back to the house for a lie-down. He practically had to carry her as they all went back up to the house where leftover food from the wake served as supper.

She woke up in her childhood bedroom, although at first it seemed alien. When each child turned twenty-one, the rooms had been redecorated one by one, starting of course with Harriet’s. Her father said it would always be her room but a grown-up version, suitable for her becoming an adult. It had been transformed, a beautiful king-size bed with a fabric headboard, the bed linen matched the curtains and the room was painted a pale blue. She had kept her dressing table, which once belonged to her mother, but that was the only thing left from her childhood. It was a gorgeous room, with an en suite bathroom, but she had barely spent time in it. As she stretched out in bed, she was hit with another bolt of regret. She wished she had visited more, she knew she would feel remorse for not seeing her father – in person rather than on a computer screen – before he died, for the rest of her life. She wished the house hadn’t become a stranger to her and she wished she hadn’t let her relationship with her siblings drift the way it had. But she also knew that all these thoughts weren’t going to do her any good. Self-pity wasn’t something that Harriet usually entertained; she wasn’t going to start now.

As she slowly sat up, she noticed she was only half undressed. Which meant she had committed the cardinal sin of not taking her make-up off. But then it wasn’t every day you buried your last remaining parent, so surely she was allowed this one sinful night? She wondered what time it was in New York. She wondered what the markets were doing, what her trading floor was up to? But then she realised it would be shut, quiet, sleeping right now. As she should be.

She assumed she was suffering from jet lag, as it was only five in the morning, either that or too much alcohol. Harriet liked a drink; her lifestyle allowed for the odd bottle of wine, or a few cocktails at the weekend, but she rarely got drunk. It was one of her many control issues. She had always been charged with being a control freak; she had only a flimsy argument against that accusation.

She reached into her still unpacked suitcase – another unusual thing, normally when she went anywhere the first thing she did was unpack and hang up her clothes – and rummaged for her gym clothes. She pulled them on and made her way downstairs.

The house was quiet as she went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and then made her way to the basement which her father had converted into a gym and swimming pool. She smiled at the memory of him doing it. It was an ambitious move, turning a dusty basement into a state-of-the-art fitness centre, and they’d all been over the moon at the idea of having a swimming pool. Gosh, she never fully realised quite how spoilt they were. They had had parties there as teenagers; weekends at Meadowbrook Manor were very popular among her friends. Her father liked having the house full, he said it gave the place life, and kept him young.

Andrew also said it was his way of taking good care of himself. He swam every day, and she replayed the pride in his voice when he told her: ‘Fifty lengths at least every day, Harry. I’m in tip-top condition.’ She felt her heart hurt as she heard his words. Because he was only seventy and for a man who ruled the world as he ruled his world, it was far too young to die.

Feeling angry, suddenly – angry, tired, and fed up – she made her way to the treadmill and started pounding as hard as she could. She wanted to outrun the hangover, she wanted to outrun the grief that was beginning to chase her and she wanted to outrun the feelings that were creeping into her. But she knew she would never really outrun any of it. She put her music on as loudly as she could bear and kept running.

It was nine by the time she had taken a long shower and made it downstairs to the dining room where a full breakfast was laid out waiting for them. Her father had probably studied Upstairs, Downstairs, when he first became rich, because breakfast was always laid out, buffet-style, in heated silver dishes on the sideboard in the dining room. According to Gwen, she did it even when it was just him. Harriet felt a pang at the vision of her father sat on his own at the huge dining table, eating a breakfast fit for a king. Not to mention poor Gwen who would have probably been happier serving Coco Pops and toast, but no, there was a full English – fried bread, toast, eggs, even kippers. He was a big fan of kippers.

Gus was sitting at the table, with a newspaper, Pippa was sitting opposite, Mark next to her. Harriet smiled at each of them.

‘No sign of Freddie?’ she asked, trying to sound breezy as she went to fill her plate. She was glad of the full English, goodness knows her hangover needed it. The treadmill had dulled it a bit but it was still there.

‘Probably still in bed,’ Gus replied.

‘Can I pour you some coffee?’ Pippa asked, picking up a silver coffee pot. No sign of a hangover on her face.

‘I’ll do it,’ Mark cut in before Harriet had a chance to reply. ‘So … does anyone know what the plan is?’ Mark asked as he leant across the table to pour Harriet’s coffee.

She tried to weigh him up, as she had no idea what he was like. He was older – ten years older than Pippa – but handsome and well dressed. Conservative. Pippa, who had always been quite bohemian growing up, hair flying wildly behind her, barefoot if she could, had definitely changed. She was wearing slacks and a blouse, something the old Pippa would never have owned, and her hair was perfectly done up in a chignon. She sported a full face of make-up and expensive pearls at her neck. But then what did Harriet expect? They had all morphed into adulthood, and she was different now, of course they all were.

‘What plan?’ Harriet asked, stirring her coffee and hoping it might make her feel better.

‘Well, unfortunately I need to get back to Cheltenham, to work …’ Mark started. He was incredibly attentive to his wife.

‘The will’s being read today,’ Gus said, without looking up from the paper. ‘Pip needs to be here for that.’

‘Darling, you can go home and I’ll get someone to drive me after,’ Pippa offered, touching her husband on the arm.

‘No, darling, you need my support. I’ll stay here. I’ll juggle a few things.’ He kissed his wife on the cheek.

‘But I don’t want to put you out?’

‘Pippa, I’m staying, that’s that. You need me.’

‘Oh there you are!’ Freddie, looking utterly dishevelled, appeared at the door, interrupting any further debate.

‘Fred, are you all right?’ Harriet asked.

‘I think so, although I need to throw up.’

Harriet wasn’t sure who was the most surprised as he did just that, all over the dining room floor.

‘I’m going for a walk around the garden if anyone fancies it. Goodness knows, I need some fresh air,’ Harriet announced after breakfast was finished. Gwen had not only cleaned up after Freddie but she’d also brushed away any offers of help to clear up after breakfast. Harriet had learnt from an early age that it was best not to argue with Gwen. She was very much in charge of the house, and although that meant clearing up after everyone, she liked it that way. If Harriet so much as tried to move a plate, Gwen seemed to appear from nowhere and snatch it away.

Gwen used to live in a cottage on the estate, which was still hers as far as Harriet was aware, but she had moved into the house after Pippa left home. It always gladdened Harriet to think of her father having Gwen there to take care of him. She wondered what she would do now.

‘I’ll come,’ Pippa said. ‘I’m sure Mark will welcome some peace.’ She smiled.

‘Well I could come—’ Mark started.

‘Really, no need, you do some work, I want to catch up with the others anyway,’ Pippa said.

‘I’m in. Shall I try to get Freddie or leave him?’ Gus asked.

‘No, get him, if he’s cleaned himself up.’

As Gus went to see if Freddie was going to join them, Harriet felt her spirits lift a little. They were all together and she was slowly remembering how much she loved her siblings. She wondered if their father was watching them now. Of course she didn’t believe in all that life after death stuff, but she liked the idea that he was.

The four of them stood by the back door – Mark had gone off to do some work. Harriet was wearing her gym trainers, the only flat shoes she owned, jeans and a light sweater. Pippa pulled on a pair of wellingtons that she kept at the house, Gus was wearing trainers and Freddie, a pair of ratty Converse.

‘Shall we go survey the land?’ Freddie asked, looking a bit the worse for wear but sounding like someone from Downton Abbey.

‘Sure, let’s do it,’ Harriet laughed. ‘Or at least the top gardens, Pip said that Dad had done a great job with them lately.’

‘He has, they’re really beautiful.’

‘All we’re missing is a gun and a dog,’ Gus said, cracking a rare – for him – joke.

Harriet had forgotten how beautiful Meadowbrook Manor was, as they set off. They headed towards the sprawling gardens, out of the back door, which were even more spectacular than she remembered; perfect lawns, lush greenery and the most beautiful flower beds. As she looked to the horizon, the garden, which seemed to stretch for miles, was awash with colour. Meadowbrook Manor spanned acres and acres in total, but the garden was separated by a tall hedge, where her father had secret doors installed so they could get through to the fields, meadows, and woods beyond. As there were public footpaths running across the land in places, he wanted the gardens defined so he didn’t find people wandering around them. He was quite welcoming, but he didn’t like the idea of people he hadn’t invited in his private space.

‘Wow the air here is so different from New York, I’d forgotten,’ she said, breathing deeply. The warm air, the slight breeze rippling through, was helping her head settle a bit.

‘I wish you were nearer,’ Pippa said, linking arms with her sister. ‘I miss you.’ Pippa found affection so easy, Harriet envied that too.

‘I’m sorry I’m not better at keeping in touch, just so busy. I should have come home more.’ She felt the inadequacy of her words.

‘It must be hard being such a success,’ Gus said.

‘Hey, Gus, I hear your business isn’t so shabby,’ Harriet replied, light-heartedly. Gus had always suffered from an inferiority complex. It was unfounded, of course. She often thought it must be hard to be the child in between her, always competitive and desperate to achieve, and Freddie who just charmed his way through life. She looked at Gus and, not for the first time, wondered who he actually was, or what he wanted in life. He seemed so, well, just so disappointed.

‘It’s hardly cutting edge. A successful, yes, but plainly dull insurance company in Bristol. Insurance, I mean who ever thought they wanted to work in insurance?’ He laughed, but it sounded hollow.

‘I certainly never did,’ Freddie unhelpfully replied.

‘Everyone needs insurance,’ Harriet pointed out.

‘Pah. Look at me, I’m divorced, with a job I hate, a daughter who I barely know how to communicate with. It’s not what Dad planned for my life that’s for sure,’ Gus added.

She wanted to tell him that her life wasn’t perfect either, far from it in fact. Yes, she was successful, money not an object, but her personal life … well that was a mess. But she couldn’t find the words.

Gosh, she felt so responsible for them all again. Although she knew she would have to go back to New York she suddenly didn’t feel like rushing back. She had taken immediate compassionate leave, but there had been no duration specified. She knew she would need to speak to him; her boss and also her lover. The shameful secret she hadn’t shared with any of her family, that she was sleeping with Zach, boss and married man. She didn’t like to think too much about the wrongs and rights. It was what it was, after all.

They all stood, instead, and admired the rose garden which was filled with beautiful buds, looking as if they were desperate to explode into colour. ‘Who does the garden here anyway?’ Gus asked suddenly. ‘It looks so gorgeous, like those gardens you see at the Chelsea Flower Show.’

‘Didn’t old Jed die years ago?’ Harriet said, bringing herself back to the conversation. Jed had been their gardener and lived in one of the three cottages on the estate, alongside Gwen’s and what was now Connor’s. He’d been part of Meadowbrook, and insisted on working well into his old age, and when he died, their father was devastated. He loved the old gardener, they all did. Gus, she suddenly remembered, used to trail around after him helping in the garden when he was a kid.

‘There’s a lady now,’ Pippa said. ‘She’s a fancy garden designer and has a team who work on it, but also the village gets involved.’ Pippa gestured to the gorgeous space they were all looking at.

‘Right, come on, let’s go and walk, that should blow the hangover away before we have to hear the will.’ Harriet strode off, feeling purposeful.

‘What do you think he’s done? I mean, I know there’s a lot of money but—’ Gus looked uncomfortable, probably because their father used to say that talking about money was common and Gus hated anyone thinking he was greedy.

‘Oh, knowing Dad, he’s left it all to some home for wayward hamsters,’ Freddie laughed. Their father had an animal sanctuary on part of Meadowbrook land, Connor and he had opened it three years ago when Connor first came back. Harriet had heard plenty about it from her father, but she didn’t pay too much attention. But it wasn’t unlikely that the money would go to it, she laughed, to herself. Freddie pulled out a hip flask and took a slug.

‘Freddie, didn’t you have enough last night?’ Harriet chastised, shaking her head.

‘Hair of the dog.’

‘Fred, you don’t want to be pissed when the will’s being read,’ Gus said.

‘I probably do, especially if he’s left everything to the hamsters.’ Freddie drained his hip flask. Harriet couldn’t help but giggle. Yes, her brother was a bit wild, which made Gus’s sensible, slightly dull manner seem even more pronounced, but he was funny with it.

Chalk and cheese, yet thick as thieves. Harriet heard her father’s voice. She looked around, of course it was madness, to think he was there, but their dad had always said that about her brothers and she felt warm as she replayed the phrase in her head.

‘Right, well perhaps we ought to walk a bit quicker, David will be here soon.’ Harriet changed the subject and hustled her siblings on.

‘Harriet, I’m so pleased that you are still as bossy as I remember,’ Freddie quipped.

‘I’m not bossy, Fred, I’m just trying to get you organised.’ Harriet tried not to feel offended but she remembered how she used to be called bossy, bossyboots, or ‘yes boss’ as a child, often preceded by a swear word as they got older. Apparently, she always told them what to do and they were too scared to argue with her.

‘Gosh, you used to boss us about something rotten,’ Pippa said.

‘I’m afraid you did, Harry,’ Gus finished.

‘Right, well then let’s finish this walk and then get your arses back to the house.’ A smile curled at Harriet’s lips.

‘Yes, boss,’ Gus replied and he grinned back at her.