Three Graces (21 page)

‘What will you do, then?’ Evie asked.

Carys chewed thoughtfully on her last spoonful of cereal. She could look over her correspondence. She could make some headway with the removal of the Montella portraits for the exhibition. She could put on her glad rags and tackle the storage room at the end of the east wing.

‘I’m going to the library,’ she said.

‘Boring,’ Cecily announced.

‘Not at all. I’m going to find the most wonderful books for a very special person.’

Carminster Library was heaving with people. Young mothers were running after screaming toddlers, a group of elderly men sat round a table reading the newspapers and a queue was forming for the free internet access.

Carys scanned the shelves, trying to remember Aunt Vi’s requests.

‘Nothing historical,’ she’d said. ‘I grew up surrounded by history. And nothing with police in it. I can’t be doing with all those dull interviews with suspects.’

Carys chose a few books: a magical romance by Deborah Wright, a sparkling comedy by Rafaella Barker and a lyrical novel by Linda Gillard. Then she saw a small display of books with a notice above them, ‘Go on - be tempted!’

Would Aunt Vi like to be tempted?

She reached out and picked up a book with a white cover.
Places of Passion
by Marissa Dahling. The name rang a bell. She read the blurb. Exotic locations, a strong heroine fighting the odds. No police and nothing whatsoever to do with history. And the cover was so beautiful: completely white but for an embossed red rose.

It was only when Carys was half-way through Chapter 1 of
Places of Passion
that she remembered why she knew the name Marissa Dahling. There’d been a radio interview with her a few weeks ago. She’d only caught the end but there’d been an irate caller talking to the author, or rather shouting at her about her book.

‘Filth. Utter filth,’ Carys had heard before the woman had been cut off. Marissa Dahling had laughed it off, saying she wasn’t ashamed of what she wrote and that people shouldn’t be ashamed to read it.

Now, sitting in Great Aunt Vi’s living room, Carys realised that you could, indeed, be ashamed of reading a book.

‘You know,’ she said, breaking off from her reading, ‘I’m not sure this is the sort of book we should be-’

‘What do you mean?’ Aunt Vi interrupted. ‘Go on - go on. I was just getting interested there.’

Carys bit her lip as her eyes scanned the page. This really was most unsuitable. They’d only reached page eight and, already, Rosa Cavallini, the heroine, was reaching orgasm.

‘I’m not sure I can read this,’ Carys whispered.

‘Why not?’

‘Because -’ Carys stopped, her eyes scanning the explicit vocabulary. ‘It’s - it’s-’

‘Sexy?’ Aunt Vi asked. ‘Is it sexy? Is that the problem?’

‘I’m afraid it is.’

‘Why afraid? What’s to be afraid of?’

‘The language - it’s rather explicit.’

For a moment, Aunt Vi’s tiny eyes squinted hard and she pursed her mouth into a narrow line.

Carys sat waiting, nervously chewing her lip. Why, oh why had she picked up Marissa Dahling’s book? Why hadn’t she skimmed it for content? She should have thought. Or she should have played safe and picked up something a little tamer. A nice warm and cuddly Rosamunde Pilcher, for instance.

‘Carys,’ Aunt Vi began. ‘I have had sex, you know.’

Carys felt herself blushing.

‘And I’m sure you have too. So why make a fuss about it? We both know what happens between men and women. And, very often between women and women, and men and men.’

Carys’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t quite believe she what she was hearing.

‘So why worry about a few printed words?’

‘Well,’ Carys said, ‘when you put it like that.’

‘And it can be our little secret, can’t it?’

Carys felt a naughty giggle building up inside her. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘But I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. Promise me you won’t feel embarrassed.’

Carys took a deep breath. ‘I promise I’ll do my best.’

‘Wonderful,’ Aunt Vi said with a smile. ‘Now, do read on. I can’t wait to find out if young Johnny is going to give Rosa a good seeing-to!’

It was a pleasure to read to Aunt Violet. It was also thirsty work and they got through gallons of tea. Carys also popped out to buy a loaf of bread and some fresh salad and made a light lunch for them both, finishing off with a very red raspberry tart. Carys didn’t want to leave. She felt she could quite easily move into the narrow town house. At least she’d always have somebody to chat to.

‘You look thoughtful,’ Aunt Vi observed as they sat back after their lunch. ‘Everything all right up at the house?’

Carys nodded.

‘Are you sure?’

She looked up into the old lady’s gentle eyes. ‘I get a bit lonely sometimes,’ she confessed. ‘I seem to be constantly surrounded by people but everyone’s got a job to do and they don’t seem to have time to stop and chat. There’s always someone to call or something to mend.’

Aunt Violet nodded. ‘But you and Richard have to make time for each other. In every marriage, there has to be private time.’

‘That’s what my friends have been saying too but I can’t even make him slow down for a moment in order to
arrange
some private time.’

Aunt Violet clucked. ‘That’s a bad business. And you’ll have to find a way around it if you want your marriage to succeed.’

The dogs were waiting for her in the sitting room and rushed into the hallway to greet her when she arrived back. At least they could spare some time for her.

Changing her footwear quickly, she decided on a walk around the gardens. It was overcast with huge banks of angry-looking clouds rolling across a bruised sky. Carys grimaced but the dogs didn’t seem to notice. There were always fine smells to smell and corners to explore whatever the weather.

Carys looked across the garden at the beautiful borders. Ash and his tiny team of part-time gardeners did a good job. The roses were particularly beautiful at this time of year, their rich perfume enveloping and intoxicating, fat and blowsy and looking like pink clouds which had settled and fallen asleep in the borders.

Not for the first time since arriving at Amberley did she realise that the earth was something to treasure and bless. It was the very essence of life and it had to be cherished above all other things. She smiled as she thought about the walled garden where she’d met Richard on her first visit to Amberley. She had plans to turn it around one day and make it something very special indeed. That would be her gift to her husband.

As she was admiring some lilies at the back of one of the borders, something caught her eye from the trees in the distance. It was a glint of glass in a brief break of sunshine. Carys was immediately on guard. Although Amberley was open to the public on Saturdays, this was the private garden.

She walked over to where she’d seen what she guessed to be a camera and no sooner was she across the lawn than she saw a man dressed head to toe in navy.

‘Can I help you?’ Carys asked, deciding that it was always best to handle these things in a polite manner and, with all five dogs behind her, she didn’t feel afraid to confront anyone.

‘No, thank you,’ the man said with a nervous smile.

‘I’m afraid this part of Amberley isn’t open to the public but there are some gardens near the car park and there are miles of footpaths to explore.’

The man nodded. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you. I was trying to get a photograph of the house.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Carys said, turning round to see his chosen vantage point. ‘Yes, it does look lovely from here.’

There was an awkward silence as Carys looked down at the man’s camera. It had the biggest zoom lens she’d ever seen. It looked more like some kind of musical instrument than a camera.

‘We’ll, I’d best be off,’ he said, clearing his throat and turning to go.

Carys watched him through narrowed eyes and then shrugged and walked back to the hall, the dogs following close behind.

‘It’s useless to even try. We can’t compete with that.’

As Carys walked into the hallway, she heard Richard’s voice from the living room.

‘Hey!’ Carys said, walking towards the sofa where he was sitting. Phoebe was on a chair opposite him. ‘Didn’t your meeting go okay?’

‘Oh, that was fine.’

‘So, what’s the problem?’ she asked, kissing him on the cheek.

‘This!’ he threw down a leaflet on the coffee table. Carys picked it up. It was a leaflet for Barston Hall.
Barston Hall - £10 for all!
Read the caption in big bold scarlet letters.

‘Oh, dear,’ Carys said.

‘Barston’s offering a family ticket for £10. That includes two adults and up to three children. We can’t compete with that.’ Richard massaged his temples.

‘It’s as they’re goading us,’ Phoebe sighed.

‘I’m sure they’re not,’ Carys said, remembering how kind Valerie Buckley-Stewart had been to her.

‘They get twice as many visitors as we do, and now this. And they’ve even installed an
olde worlde
English pub in their courtyard with Sky TV.’

Carys’s eyes widened. She remembered seeing a lot of workmen and scaffolding on her visit to Barston but they’d kept their new olde pub well under wraps. ‘Maybe,’ Carys began, ‘we could fight back with a leaflet of our own?
Amberley Court - with no Sky Sport?
’

Richard frowned but, luckily, Phoebe burst into a fit giggles.

‘Yes,
yes!
’ she said excitedly. ‘Or,
Amberley Court - Pay More and Get Less!
’

Carys laughed but Richard wasn’t joining in.

‘This isn’t helping,’ he said, getting to his feet.

‘Oh, Richard, we’re only joking around,’ Carys said. She was of the belief that, the grimmer the situation, the more one should search to find the humour in it.

‘This is important. There isn’t a funny side to it,’ he said, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

‘Oh, dear,’ Phoebe said. ‘That went well.’

‘See what I mean?’ Carys said. ‘I can’t seem to say anything right at the moment.’

Phoebe sighed. ‘I guess it’s just not an easy time. He’s got so much on his mind.’

‘You haven’t said anything to him, have you?’

‘God, no. He’d bite my head off. But I did tell him he should take more time off - with you.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He showed me that bloody leaflet and started ranting.’

‘Right.’

‘Listen, Carys. I hate to love you and leave you but I’m meant to be looking at flats in Pennington Bridge this afternoon.’

‘Anything nice?’

‘I hope so. A new apartment on the outskirts, an old mill conversion by the river and the top floor of a Victorian building. Keep your fingers crossed for me or I’ll be begging for my old room back here.’

Carys smiled. She wouldn’t mind. She adored Phoebe and it would be nice to have her smiling face and infectious giggles to hand whenever she was feeling down.

Once Phoebe had left, Carys retreated to her office. There was no point in following Richard. He wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind to talk about spending time together let alone having a whole day off.

She closed her office door behind her, the silence of the room enveloping her with just the comforting tick of the clock on the mantelpiece as company.

‘Are you all right?’ a voice suddenly said.

Carys spun round and saw sparkly blue mist forming into Georgiana.

‘You look surprised to see me,’ she said, her features shaping and taking on a more solid appearance. ‘Did you forget about me? Or perhaps you thought you had merely imagined me,’ Georgiana said, in a mocking tone.

Carys smiled. What with Richard, Aunt Violet, the girls and now the Barston Hall wars, she had actually managed to forget about Amberley’s resident ghost.

‘I’m so sorry, Georgiana.’

‘It’s quite all right. I’m used to being forgotten. It’s a bit of an occupational hazard being dead.’

Carys watched as she glided across the room and sat in what was fast becoming her favourite chair. ‘So, tell me how things are going?’

Carys perched on the edge of her desk and sighed. Why did people keep having to ask her that? She knew they meant well but it was becoming very wearisome.

‘I do wish there was something I could do to help,’ Georgiana said a few minutes later.

Carys shrugged. ‘I wish there was too.’ She drummed her fingers on the desk behind her. ‘What we need is something different. Something that Barston Hall doesn’t have. They’ve done everything, you see. Car rallies, concerts, craft fairs.’

Georgiana nodded. ‘But Amberley is so much more beautiful.’

‘I know.’

‘It is older, has more historical interest-’

‘
I know!
But people aren’t interested in those things any more Historic houses have crossed over into the leisure industry and people won’t come unless you have playgrounds and boats on the lake and ice-cream. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with these things, and Amberley really is moving into the future with our gift shop and tea room and plans for a nature trail and weddings. But we need something bigger if we’re really going to compete.’

Georgiana looked thoughtful. ‘Something different,’ she mused. ‘Something big.’

‘Yes.’

The two women sat quietly for a moment, the clock measuring the passing of time.

‘You need to have something that Barston doesn’t have?’

Carys nodded. ‘I think that would be the best option.’

Georgiana’s pale face suddenly lit up. ‘I have it!’

‘You do?’

‘The answer is staring you right in the face.’

‘It is?’

‘Yes.
Me!
’

‘You?’ Carys said.

‘Yes. No need to look so surprised. I really do not know why we didn’t think of it before. It’s a wonderful idea.’

‘What, exactly, do you mean?’

‘I mean, I am a ghost, am I not?’

Carys nodded. So far, so good.

‘And Barston Hall doesn’t have a ghost, does it?’

Carys frowned. ‘Well, the countess told me that they did - kind of.’