Winter Solstice (57 page)

“And the Estate House?”

“That’s why I want to talk to you. If we go to Corrydale, Elfrida and I want you to have my share of the Estate House. That means that you can get in touch with Hughie, and tell him that you wish to buy us both out.”

“If you move to Corrydale?”

“Yes.”

“What if Elfrida decides against living there? What if you both have second thoughts once you’ve really looked at the place?”

“Then we shall all have to think again. But somehow I don’t expect that will happen. It will doubtless need a certain amount of money spent on it to make it sound, and dry and warm. Painting and such, probably new window-sashes. That sort of thing. But between us, we could manage. And if I get seventy-five thousand for my share of the Estate House, then we should have no problems, financially speaking.”

“Seventy-five thousand, Oscar?”

“That was the sum you mentioned.”

“No. That was the sum Hughie mentioned. What you have just told me changes everything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your cousin Hughie, I think, is strapped for cash. And he needs it quickly. That was why he was so keen to press his door key into my hand, and so anxious to avoid the added expense of an estate agent’s cut. Personally, I think the Estate House is worth a great deal more than one hundred and fifty thousand. So you must be hard-headed, Oscar. Before we talk any more, you must get a surveyor in to do an independent valuation. Willing seller, willing buyer. And after that, consult a lawyer to deal with the conveyancing of the property. You may be told… I think you will… that the house is worth a good deal more than one hundred and fifty thousand. Personally I should add another fifty thousand. Possibly more.”

Oscar gaped.

“Two hundred thousand?”

“At least. Another thing, Oscar. You may decide to put it on the open market….”

“No. I want to sell it to you.”

“A private deal?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, by law, I should have to make an offer well over the valuation price.” Sam smiled.

“So it seems, Oscar, that you might do rather well.”

“I am bewildered. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. And Elfrida’s. You have a wonderful property here, and I want desperately to buy it from you. But I couldn’t look myself in the eye if it wasn’t all accomplished in a totally business-like fashion.”

“Do you have that sort of money?”

“Yes. And if I didn’t, I have Sturrock and Swinfield, solid as a rock, behind me. There are some advantages in working for an enormous conglomerate.”

Oscar shook his head, quite bemused by the turn of events. He said, “Well, I’ll be buggered.”

Sam laughed.

“Don’t get over-excited. Not until you’ve fully inspected your other piece of property.”

“Billicliffe’s place, you mean. Elfrida thought we might all go over on Sunday morning and take a look at it. Make a bit of an occasion. Take a picnic lunch. If it buckets with rain or snow, we’ll have a picnic indoors. I must find out who has got the key. I’ll ring Rose. She’ll know.”

“Are you sure you want all of us there? You mustn’t be influenced. You and Elfrida must make up your own minds. You owe that much to yourselves.”

“Of course you must all come. Elfrida needs you, to tap walls and check out for death-watch beetle.”

“That’s putting temptation in my way. I might pretend not to find it.”

“I don’t think you’d do that.” Oscar gave a crack of his head.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

“A saint. And to prove it, and seal the bargain, let me get you the other half. It would seem we’re both men of property and deserve to toast one another.”

Friday, December 22ND

Why I love it here so much is because things that you want to happen, happen exactly on time. Today was absolutely filled with unexpected events. It’s still dreadfully cold, and windy, too, which makes it even more cold, but somehow it’s all part of everything that’s going on. It hasn’t snowed any more, but there’s still snow everywhere, and the streets are half slush and half frozen stuff. Going shopping, you have to walk in the middle of the street.

Anyway, this morning, I packed up all my Christmas parcels, ran out of ribbon but got more, and took Horace for a walk at the same time. We went to the beach, and we were both jolly glad to get home and into the warm. In the afternoon, Rory turned up with lots of berried holly that he’d nicked from the hotel garden (the hotel is closed), and all afternoon he helped me decorate, and we put the holly over pictures (what pictures there are) and in a big jug on the landing. And then we got ivy, and found some green string, and we twined the ivy down the banisters from the top of the house to the bottom. There were a few little bugs in the ivy, but they disappeared after a bit, probably to make cosy little dens all over the place. The ivy smells very strongly, but it’s a nice Christmassy smell. It took us a long time; so long that Elfrida asked Rory to stay for supper, so that we could finish it all. While we were doing this, Elfrida and Carrie were cooking in the kitchen, and getting everything ready for the next couple of days. For tea, there were hot scones, which Carrie had made.

About six, while they were still cooking supper, Oscar and Sam went off to the pub for a drink, and when they got back, Rory and I had finished all the ivy and holly, and Oscar said he thought it all looked very beautiful. Sam said it needed a long, long string of fairy lights, twined over the ivy, but of course we hadn‘t got that, so he said he’s going shopping in Kingsferry tomorrow, and that he’ll buy some for us, and bring them home.

I think he is a most thoughtful and generous person.

Supper was spaghetti and bolognese sauce and cheese, and then mince pies and cream. And over supper, when we were all talking away, Oscar told us to stop talking and listen. So we did.

He told us that he has got another house. Major Billicliffe, who was the factor at Corrydale, has died in hospital in Inverness, and he has made a will and left all he owns to Oscar, which includes this little cottage on the Corrydale Estate.

I’ve never been there, but of course Sam and Carrie have, and they saw it the day they went to get the tree. And Elfrida has been there, but only once, in the dark.

Anyway, what Oscar wants to do is to sell his share of this house to Sam, who wants it, and he and Elfrida will go and live in this other little place. I can’t bear to think of them not being here, but Elfrida says it is a bit big for them, and I can understand that, because when we go it will be very empty for them. She says that between them they have got enough money to make Major Billicliffe’s little house very nice, and they have got neighbours so won’t be alone in time of emergency.

But nothing can be cut and dried until we have all gone to Corrydale to look it over. So we are going on Sunday morning, and Sam is going to drive us in the Range Rover, and we are going to take a picnic. I said could Rory come, too, and Elfrida said, But of course. We are going in the morning, so that we can get home before it gets dark, and with a bit of luck the sun will shine and it will be a real picnic.

Now it is ten o‘clock at night, and I am really tired.

I do hope we all like the new cottage. In a way, I think it would be lovely for Oscar and Elfrida to live in the country. And it means that he will return to Corrydale, which was his grandmother’s house, when he was small. Like a wheel, going full circle. He is so darling, I really want the little cottage to be perfect, so that when I am back in London, I can think of them both there, together.

My presents look really festive, all wrapped up. When I had finished them, I put them under the tree in the dining room. And I found some parcels there already, and I had a good look. They were for all of us from Carrie. With a bit of luck, there’ll be lots more.

That morning, Sam was the first downstairs. Eight o’clock and the rest of the household still slept. In the kitchen, he put a kettle on to boil, and then opened up the back door and let Horace out into the garden. The weather was totally changed. The barman at the Duke’s Arms had been right… or at least, his television set had been right. The dark morning air had lost its freezing bite; during the night the wind had dropped and moved around from the north to the west, and at the top of the garden, the pines swayed in the tender breeze. By the light of the street lamp, Sam saw that in places the snow had seeped away, revealing patches of rough, tufty grass, and there was the fresh smell of moss and damp earth.

When Horace finally returned to him, he went back indoors, and there found Lucy, fully dressed and making toast “Hello. What are you doing?”

“I’ve been awake since seven. I was reading, and men I heard someone go downstairs, so I got up. Are you going to Kingsferry?”

“Yes. Do you want to come? I’m going to do Christmas shopping before all the crowds move in. You can come and help me carry parcels.”

The roads were wet but the hard ice had gone, and the overcast sky gradually was lightening. Crossing the bridge over a flood-tide, they saw the deep waters of the firth, the colour of dark slate, penetrating westward into hills which still had not yet shed their snow, and probably would not until the end of winter. To the east, the sea was tossed into rough little waves by the offshore wind, and a pair of curlews flew, low, over the scrubby sea fields where the Highland cows grazed.

“It’s a bit like an old painting, isn’t it?” Lucy observed.

“You know, the sort people who have huge houses have hanging in tiieir dining-rooms.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Not exactly cheerful, but impressive.”

“Are you looking forward to living up here, in Scotland?”

“I think so. I think I’m going to like it very much.”

“I’d like to come in summer. See it then. Rory Kennedy says it’s really good fun. They go windsurfing. And Tabitha told me that there are incredible wild flowers on the dunes, and all the gardens in Creagan are filled with roses.”

“Hard to imagine at this time of year.”

“Are you really going to live in the Estate House?”

“If Oscar wants to sell it to me.”

“It’s pretty big for one person.”

“Perhaps I shall use all the rooms in rotation.”

“Will you change it all, and make it frightfully new and convenient?”

“I don’t know, Lucy.” He remembered the apartment in New York, unrecognizable by the time Deborah and her interior designer had finished with it.

“I rather like it just the way it is.”

“My grandmother loves what she calls doing rooms over. The sitting-room in her flat is all pinks and blues and lots of little bits of china.”

“Is it a big flat?”

“Yes, it is. Quite big. And it has a nice view over the river. But my room’s at the back and I look out over the well, so I don’t have a view.” And then, as though fearful of sounding complaining, she added, “But I do like it, and it’s all mine.”

“It’s good to have your own space.”

“Yes.” She was quiet for a moment, and then said, “Actually, I’m not thinking about London just now. Usually I’m quite pleased to be going back to school and seeing friends again. But this time I’m not looking forward to it one little bit.”

“I feel the same. Boxing Day and I head back to Inverness to get my nose to the grindstone again.”

“But you’re coming back. To live here forever.”

“You can come back, too,” he reminded her.

“Stay with Elfrida and Oscar.”

“But it won’t be the Estate House. And the new cottage, if they do go and live there, mightn’t have a spare bedroom.”

“I don’t think a small detail like that would faze Elfrida. She’d put you in the bath, or on the sofa, or in a tent in the garden.”

“In the summer that might be rather fun.”

Now, ahead of them, lay the lights of Kingsferry, the church spire, and the tower of the Town Hall.

“Do you know what you’re going to give everybody?” Lucy asked.

“No idea,” Sam admitted.

“I hope to be inspired.”

They drove into the High Street as the Town Hall clock struck nine, and saw that already the morning was well on its way. Shops had opened; cars swept slushily by; people bought morning rolls and newspapers; and a parked van was unloading crates of fruit and vegetables, bundles of holly, and tiny Christmas trees. The car-park behind the church was already half-full, but Sam found a slot and paid his ticket, and they set off together on foot.

Shopping was not one of Lucy’s favourite things. Sometimes, in London, she went with her mother, and started out quite enthusiastically, but after two hours of trailing around overheated stores, waiting for Nicola to make up her mind about which pair of shoes to buy, or what colour lipstick, she became bored, complained of the heat, and demanded to be allowed to go home.

But shopping with Sam wasn’t like that at all. A revelation, in fact. In and out of shops they went, like a dose of salts (as Mrs. Snead would say), making snap decisions and never asking the price of anything. Sam paid all the bills with his credit card, and Lucy began to suspect that he must be frightfully rich.

The goodies piled up, bundled into plastic carrier-bags. A sea-green cashmere cardigan for Elfrida, fur-lined gloves for Mrs. Snead. In the stationer’s he chose a Mont Blanc fountain pen for Oscar, and a desk diary of the finest Italian leather.

Lucy spied some rolls of gold paper. She said, “Have you got stuff for wrapping up all your presents?”

“No.”

“Shall we get some? And ribbon and cards?”

“You choose it. In New York, if you buy something, the girl says, “Do you want it gift-wrapped?” and you say, “Yes,” and she goes away and does it for you. I haven’t wrapped a present for years, and I’m very bad at it.”

“I shall do it for you,” Lucy announced, “but you’ll have to write the messages.” She went off and returned with six rolls of paper, some packets of red labels with holly on them, and a ball of red-and-gold ribbon.

By now there was quite a lot to carry, but Sam was by no means finished. In an old-fashioned grocery store which smelt a bit like the ground floor of Fortnum and Mason and had italian warehouseman written in gold above the door, he spent much time choosing all sorts of delicious treats. Smoked salmon and quails’ eggs, and a jar of caviar; huge boxes of Bendicks chocolates, and a Stilton cheese in an earthenware pot.