Winter Solstice (64 page)

From behind her, Oscar spoke.

“I am going to go out of doors,” he told her.

“To inspect my policies.”

“You do that. You’ll burst with pride when you see your ragwort.”

She heard him go downstairs, whistle for Horace. She waited. Presently, he appeared beneath her, having let himself and the dog out of the kitchen door. She watched him, foreshortened, stand in the sunshine and look about him. Then, with Horace at his heels, he set out to walk down the length of his plot, and, when he came to the end, and the sagging fence that was his boundary, he leaned an elbow on one of the posts and stood there, watching the seabirds on the shore of the firth.

Elfrida thought, I must buy him a pair of field-glasses.

And she thought that he looked comfortable, and at ease with himself. A countryman who had finally come home.

She smiled, shut the window, went out of the bathroom, and crossed the narrow passage into the smaller bedroom for a quick reassessment, because this would have to be for Lucy. She eyed it professionally, trying to decide if there would be space to put a desk for homework. Which there would, if they replaced the enormous fumed-oak double bed with a single divan. The only thing was, it faced north and so was a bit lightless. Maybe something could be contrived, on the western aspect…. She heard the sound of the approaching car, and, going to peer through the window, saw Sam’s Discovery bumping down the drive from the main road, swinging around the turn, and drawing to a stop at the open gate. The back door opened and Lucy tumbled out.

“Elfrida!”

She sounded joyous. As though everything, for once in her life, was going to work out. Feeling ridiculously hopeful and happy, Elfrida turned and went from the room and ran down the narrow stairway to fling open the front door and hold wide her arms. Lucy bolted into them and was already imparting information, in high excitement, before Elfrida could say a word.

“Oh, Elfrida, it’s all right. Carrie got hold of Mummy, and she was frightfully surprised and had to have it all explained to her twice before she finally understood what we all want to do. And Carrie was marvellously persuasive, and told Nicola that she had to think about herself and Randall, and have a lovely honeymoon, and take her tune before coming back to England. And Mummy said that they want to go to Hawaii for their honeymoon, and then go to Cleveland to see Randall’s other house there, so she’ll need masses of time. And she said it was very, very kind of you to have me, and I could stay with you.”

Elfrida, relieved and delighted as she was, managed to remain practical.

“What about school? School in London, I mean.”

“Oh, Mummy’s going to see to all that. Ring Miss Maxwell-Brown and explain, and ask Miss Maxwell-Brown to keep my place open for me next summer, just in case I want to go back then. And she wanted to speak to you, but Carrie said you were here, and Mummy said she’d ring back and speak to you another time. Elfrida, isn’t this the sweetest house? What’s the old car doing there?”

“Rusting.”

“Where’s yours?”

“At Rose’s.”

“We thought maybe you’d flogged it at a garage and bought that one instead.”

“You never thought any such thing.”

“Does it go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Rory will get it started. Oh, and Elfrida, he’s had a letter. He’s going to Nepal in the middle of the month. Isn’t that exciting? The only thing is, he won’t be here when I’m here, but he’s coming back in August to be ready for. University. Elfrida, is this the sitting-room? And look, you’ve already lit a fire! It’s too cosy. Where’s Oscar?”

“Out in the garden.”

“How do I get to him?”

“Through the kitchen. Out the door…”

With no hanging about, Lucy went, galloping down the garden and calling Oscar’s name. Then Carrie appeared, staggering through the door with a huge shopping basket, spouting thermos flasks and bottles slung over her arm.

“Here we all are. Sorry, I hope we haven’t kept you waiting.” She dumped the basket on the floor, then, straightening up, raised a clenched fist as a sign of victory.

“Done it,” she told Elfrida.

“Got through to Nicola, talked her into a good mood, and everything’s okay. Parental approval has been bestowed. Lucy can stay and go to school in Creagan, and Nicola says she’ll be in touch about contributing a bit of cash to the household for board and lodging.”

“I never thought of that,” Elfrida admitted.

“No, I don’t suppose you did. And, as well, she will honour you with her presence next time she comes back to this country. I suppose that means driving north in some fantastic car with Randall Fischer at the wheel, in order to flaunt her newfound riches and cast a beady eye over you and Oscar….”

“Carrie, don’t be unkind.”

“She’ll probably patronize.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got our way. Oh, well done.” They hugged in triumph. Then Carrie drew away, and her expression became serious.

“Elfrida, you promise it’s not going to be too much for you?”

Elfrida shook her head.

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s a lot you’re taking on.”

“Don’t say that. Ever.”

“What’s the house like?”

“Cold. That’s why we lit the fire.”

“Can I nose around?”

“Of course.”

“Is this the kitchen?”

“Isn’t it. gruesome “But full of sunshine! Oh, look, there’s Oscar….” She drifted out into the garden by way of the kitchen door.

“Oscar!”

Elfrida picked up the basket, humped it into the kitchen, and set it down on the table. As she did this, she was joined by Sam, hefting a grocery box close to his chest. It looked very heavy.

“Is this all picnic?” she asked in some amazement.

“A feast. Where shall I put it?”

“Here, by the basket. Where’s Rory?”

“Trying to deal with Major Billicliffe’s old car. It looks dreadful standing there. Have we got the ignition key?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“We can take the brake off and shove it out of the way. It lowers the tone of your newly acquired property.” He went to the window and stood looking down the garden to where Oscar, Carrie, and Lucy had started to walk back to the house. He said, “What an amazing view. It’s a good house, Elfrida. It’s got a good solid feel to it.”

And she felt warmed, like a mother whose child is praised for its beauty.

“That’s what I think, too.”

The Christmas Eve picnic at Corrydale, the first one they ever had there, was something of a movable feast. It started with a glass of wine by the fireside, in the warmth of the blazing logs, but slowly progressed out of doors, because the day was so beautiful that it seemed almost sacrilegious to be inside. Rory and Lucy were the first to make their way out into the garden, and the others, one by one, joined them, to perch on kitchen chairs, or cushions from the sofa, or the thick rug that Rory fetched from Sam’s car. The air was cold, but the sun beamed down upon them, and in the shelter of the house there was no breath of wind.

Carrie and Sam had done a splendid job. They had brought hot soup laced with sherry, drunk from mugs; fresh rolls filled with thick slices of ham and English mustard; a bacon-and-egg quiche; chicken drumsticks; tomato salad; crisp green apples; and chunks of cheddar cheese. Finally a flask of fresh, boiling-hot coffee.

Elfrida, sitting on a cushion with her back against the wall, turned her face up to the sun and closed her eyes.

“That was the best picnic ever. Thank you, Carrie. I feel quite stunned with wine. Maddened by drink. I could be in Majorca.”

Oscar laughed.

“Discount the fact that you’re still wrapped up in your blanket coat.”

Rory and Lucy, having finished their picnic and shared between them a large bag of potato crisps and a bar of chocolate, had disappeared, gone indoors to inspect the layout of the little house. Now, they appeared again.

“It’s so nice, Oscar,” Lucy told him.

“The only thing,” said Rory bluntly, “is you’re going to have to do something about the heating problem. It’s arctic.”

Carrie protested.

“Rory, it’s been standing empty, and there’s been snow. Come on, it’s December. Nothing’s particularly warm in December.”

“No,” Oscar said firmly.

“Rory’s right. Heating will be our first priority. Where are you two off to now?”

“We thought we’d take Horace for a walk, down to the water and the beach.”

Oscar tipped back the last of his coffee.

“I shall come with you.” He had eaten his picnic sitting on the step of the kitchen door. Now he set down the mug and held out a hand to Rory, who took it and pulled Oscar to his feet.

“After that feast, I need exercise. Who’s coming with us?”

“I shall,” said Carrie.

“I shan’t,” said Elfrida firmly.

“Why can’t you all sit around, just for a moment? It’s all so blissfully peaceful.”

“If we do, it will be dark before we know it, and too late for a walk. What about you, Sam?”

“I shall stay with Elfrida. I would like to do a building inspection.”

Showing Sam Howard around Major Billicliffe’s house was quite different from looking at it with Oscar. With Oscar, Elfrida had simply gone from room to room, and ended up grateful that it was neither as poky nor as decrepit as they had feared. But Sam was infinitely more practical and meticulous, just as she had suspected he would be. He tapped walls, turned taps, inspected window frames and power points, and made no comment when she revealed to him the horrors of the breeze-block bathroom. Finally they were finished, and back in the sitting-room. The fire was dying, so she put another couple of logs on the embers and stirred it up with a poker. Sam had said so little, made so few observations, that she began to feel afraid that, mentally, he had condemned Oscar’s inheritance, and was about to break the news that, in his opinion, it was unfit for human habitation.

“What do you think, Sam?” she asked nervously.

“I think it has great possibilities. And the location is out of this world … hang on a moment, I just have to fetch something from the car. Is there electricity? Could we have a light or two on? It’s beginning to get a bit dark in here….”

When he had gone, she turned on lights. A faint gleam emanated from an overhead shade. Was the bulb on its last legs, or was this simply another example of Major Billicliffe’s parsimonious lifestyle? A lamp by the fireside, another on the desk. After that, things looked a bit better. When Sam returned she saw that he had brought with him a yellow scratchpad and a ball-point pen.

They sat together on the sofa.

“Now,” said Sam, reaching into his pocket for his spectacles and putting them on, “let’s talk turkey. Do you intend living in the place just as it is, or do you want to change a few things?”

“It depends,” said Elfrida cautiously.

“On what?”

“How much it would cost?”

“Supposing …” He began to draw a plan on the scratchpad.

“Supposing to begin with, you demolished the existing kitchen and bathroom. They’re ugly, impractical, and shut out the light from the south. And then, I think, you should demolish the wall dividing the living-room and the lobby … it’s only plasterboard, and doesn’t seem to support anything. Then you’d have one big, open-plan room. And my suggestion would be that you make the dining-room into a kitchen, and maybe build a small dining area out to the south. The south and west walls could be glassed … you’d get all the view and every ray of sun. And it would give you a sheltered corner for sitting out. A little terrace. Good for warm summer evenings.”

“What would we do about the staircase?”

“Move it around to the back wall.”

“And things like fridges and washing machines? Appliances, I think the word is.”

“Incorporate them into a fitted kitchen. There’s a chimney there already, so you could install an Aga or a Raeburn. Continual steady heat, winter and summer, and if you’re visited by a heat wave, which isn’t very likely in this part of the world, you just open all the doors and windows.”

“Would that do instead of central heating?”

“I would reckon so; this house is so well-built, and of stone, that once you get it properly insulated, it’ll stay warm. As well, you’ve got this fire in your sitting-room. As for the bedrooms, you could put in electric radiators, and heat your water by electricity as well. It’s enormously efficient, and if you have a power cut, you’ve still got the Aga.”

“Bathroom?”

“A new one.” He sketched it in on his rough plan.

“Over the dining room.”

“Lucy would have to use it, too.”

“No problem.”

“The small bedroom, where she would sleep, is terribly dark.”

“Once you’ve got rid of the old bathroom, and the passage, she’d have a southern wall for another window.”

Elfrida gazed at his simple suggestions, all drawn out for her on the yellow scratchpad, and was astonished that he had so quickly solved the dilemma. And as for a single open-plan living space, she rather liked it. She imagined herself and Oscar sitting, just as she was now, by the fire, with the comfort of a modem kitchen at the far end of the room.

“The lobby?” she ventured.

“Get rid of it. It’s simply a draught trap. But double glazing and a new front door will keep the cold out.”

Elfrida chewed her thumbnail. She said, “How much will all this cost?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Would it… would it cost more than eighty thousand pounds?”

He laughed, his face creasing up with amusement.

“No, Elfrida. I don’t think it would cost as much as that. You’re not, after all, rebuilding. Simply adapting. The roof seems to be sound, which is the most important thing. No sign of damp. But I think you should get a surveyor in. And you’d be better off to have all the electricity rewired. Even so, eighty thousand should be more than adequate.” He took off his spectacles and looked at her.

“Have you got eighty thousand?”

“No. But I hope to have. Jamie Erskine-Earle is going to sell my little clock for me. We never told you, but apparently it is very rare. A collector’s piece. Worth a lot of money. So I told him to sell it.”