Chapter 5
The very first opportunity I had, I slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the sanctuary of my rose-filled room. I sat on the edge of the bed mulling over, and trying to make sense of, what had happened to me and my so-called professional persona during the last few days.
I reminded myself that I was an independent woman who lived my life on my terms. End of. I had no ties, no family and no pets, not even a permanent address to call my own, and I liked it like that. Or I did until I had turned the final corner in the drive and Wynthorpe Hall had emerged from the fog and filled my horizon.
Until that moment, when I had become unwittingly ensnared by the homely facade, I had thrived on the freedom and control that living a slightly detached existence awarded me. I know some people might have considered my attitude a little superficial, selfish even, but I had my reasons and they all justified my choices. My lifestyle was formed as the result of everything I had lived through and I knew from bitter experience that the fewer people you had to care about, the less opportunity you had to get hurt, and I was very much in favour of avoiding further pain.
But that, I realised with a jolt, was what I was feeling right now. The thought of packing my bags and making my apologies was causing me real physical pain as well as mental anguish; my brain ached, my mind was muddled and my stomach was in knots. I had always made a conscious effort not to get involved with or form attachments to the people I worked for, but of course, I reminded myself, the eclectic mix of staff here didn’t work ‘for’ the Connelly family, they worked ‘with’ them and just three short days of living at Wynthorpe Hall, amongst this very unusual group, had turned my ethos on its head. Somehow, I had hastily and inadvertently formed affections for the people living here. I had got sucked into the minutiae of their lives and now, if I decided not to head for the hills, I was walking blind into uncharted territory.
I was still thinking through what I was going to do when there was a light knock on the door.
‘Why is it,’ asked Catherine, when I opened it just an inch and Floss had nosed her way inside, ‘that I get the distinct impression that you are getting ready to run, Anna Woodruff?’
‘Run?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘run, and you know I’m not talking about taking yourself off for another lap around the grounds.’
I didn’t know what to say. It might not have been the first time I’d felt like moving on from a job before I’d reached the end of the contract, but it was certainly the first time an employer had noticed.
‘Do you think I could come in for a minute?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
Catherine settled herself on the sofa and looked around the room. I thanked my lucky stars that she hadn’t caught me in the act of packing.
‘I had absolutely no intention of mentioning any of this,’ she began, ‘but in view of Angus’s now very altered plans for Christmas, I simply can’t not say anything at all.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, feigning ignorance.
‘Your job application,’ she said softly. ‘When Angus finally got around to telling me that he had placed an advertisement for some help and that he had picked you to join us we sat together and looked through your paperwork, and talked through what had been said during your telephone interview.’
‘Oh,’ I swallowed, knowing the game was up. ‘I see.’
I sat heavily on the other end of the sofa.
‘And it really isn’t any of our business of course,’ she continued, ‘but we couldn’t help but notice that you made absolutely no mention of your plans for December the twenty-fifth either on the forms or during the call.’
I nodded.
‘You didn’t request any time off, or state that you wouldn’t be available, and I can’t help worrying that, in view of our now drastic change of plans, you are now going to find yourself in an awkward position.’
‘Because you won’t want me here, you mean?’ I asked. ‘Because you and Angus would rather be alone to celebrate with your family on the twenty-fifth?’
Catherine looked aghast.
‘My dear girl, no,’ she insisted, ‘absolutely not. That isn’t what I meant at all. You, along with everyone else, will be more than welcome to spend Christmas with us. In fact, we’re counting on us all being together.’
‘Then I don’t understand,’
‘I mean,’ she said in a rush, reaching across for my hand, ‘that taking into account how reluctant you were to attend the switch-on, and how horrified you looked when Angus made his announcement just now, that it doesn’t take a genius to work out that you and Christmas are hardly happy bedfellows. I can only imagine that what is going to be happening here now has put you in a rather difficult position, and cast a very different light on your decision to work here for the next few weeks.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘It has, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I eventually whispered, knowing I had to say something. ‘I’m afraid it has.’
‘I thought so,’ she tutted, biting her lip. ‘When we talked it all through, Angus had stressed how keen you were for him to confirm that there would be no big hurrah here this year before you accepted the post.’
I was disappointed that I had been so transparent, but couldn’t deny that the hall’s isolation and the promise of a tinsel-free few weeks had been the sole motivation behind my decision to work here.
‘And now everything’s changed and you’ve found yourself slap bang in the middle of his silver bells and sleigh rides extravaganza and potentially the biggest Christmas the hall has ever seen,’ she continued, sounding mortified.
‘But the plans have all changed with good reason,’ I reminded her. ‘Jamie’s homecoming is clearly a cause for celebration and it couldn’t be happening at a better time.’
‘That’s true,’ she frowned, ‘in part.’
‘And I’m sure if you advertised the post again you would have plenty of applicants,’ I went on, warming to the theme. ‘Most people would jump at the chance of spending the holidays here, helping to create the perfect country-house Christmas.’
‘But not Anna Woodruff,’ she said sadly.
‘No,’ I said, matching her despondent tone, ‘not Anna Woodruff. I’m sorry, Catherine, but there are plenty more Annas out there looking for work. By this time next week, you’ll have forgotten all about me. I mean, I’ve hardly been here long enough to unpack.’
Catherine shook her head.
‘That isn’t how it works here,’ she said simply.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s difficult to explain,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘especially as you’ve been here such a short time.’
‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t even try,’ I said, ‘perhaps we should all just erase the last few days from our memories.’
I for one was quite happy to give that a try, because being here was making me ‘feel things’, things I didn’t want to feel. Ever since the switch-on party in Wynbridge I’d felt as if someone had taken a big stick and stirred up my memories and emotions. The secret chest where I had kept my feelings locked away for so long had been plundered and whereas before I would have tried to power through regardless, now I found myself experiencing a pang of unexpected regret that I didn’t know how to join in with the fun I had witnessed.
‘No,’ she said, sitting up straighter. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because we just can’t do that. You were meant to come here, Anna,’ she said simply but forcefully, ‘and I know, we all know, that you are meant to stay, even though it is going to be difficult and uncomfortable for you now. Do you believe in fate, my dear?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, because I didn’t know.
‘Well, what would you say if I told you that there’s every possibility that you chose to accept this job for reasons other than the fact that you thought you were going to get away with avoiding Christmas?’
‘I’d think you were—’ I stopped myself before I said something rude.
‘Mad,’ Catherine suggested with a little smile, ‘bonkers, off my rocker?’
I was relieved she didn’t force me to answer because that was exactly what I was beginning to think.
‘One day,’ she said, ‘we’ll tell you the stories behind how Mick, Dorothy and Hayley all came to be here and then you’ll understand.’
‘Why don’t you tell me now?’ I asked, seeing as she was so determined to see me stay.
‘No,’ she said, ‘now is not the right time and they aren’t my stories to tell.’
‘But what if I’m long gone before anyone thinks it is the right time?’
She ran a hand over her hair and tucked a long, silvery strand behind her ear.
‘Look,’ she said, turning to face me. ‘I can’t force you to stay, but I can ask you not to go, at least not yet. Christmas is still such a long way off and there’s so much to do and get through first.’
‘But I can’t bear it,’ I said, thinking of the preparations and planning that I would get dragged into and that would cause me even more pain than I was experiencing now. ‘I don’t want to be making mince pies and humming carols.’
I stopped and checked myself, desperate as always not to get carried away and reveal too much.
‘Then don’t make mince pies and hum carols,’ she said, ‘but please stay, for me,’ she added, her tone pleading me to see the job through, for a while at least.
I could feel my resolve weakening in spite of my efforts to harden my heart. She sounded so sincere and I can’t deny it felt nice to have someone fighting for me. Had this been happening anywhere other than Wynthorpe I would probably have been handed my P45 and told in no uncertain terms what an inconvenience my desertion was.
‘Stay and help me keep an eye on Angus, and help smooth the way when Jamie comes home next week,’ Catherine continued.
‘But I thought Jamie’s homecoming was a good thing?’
‘Oh it is,’ she insisted, ‘it’s the best possible thing, but it’s all still a little complicated.’
That much I had guessed from the ‘muddle’ Hayley had referred to earlier in the kitchen.
‘It may take a while for him to settle back into life at home and there are some formalities to iron out in connection to the future of the hall.’
‘Then surely having me here isn’t going to help,’ I said reasonably. ‘Surely what you, Angus and Jamie need is some privacy and the opportunity to be together without the pressure of having a stranger under your feet?’
‘That really isn’t how things work here,’ she said yet again. ‘The more the merrier is our philosophy.’
Perhaps if I did decide to stay I would have that phrase printed on a T-shirt, because everyone around here seemed to say it, or something very similar.
‘You might have only been here three days, Anna, but already you’re—’
‘Family,’ I cut in. ‘I know.’
I couldn’t help but notice how hurt she looked by my blasé use of the word, which clearly meant so much to everyone who lived here. However, had she had to live by my definition of ‘family’, she would have understood why it wasn’t anywhere near as important to me as it was to her.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know you’re itching to leave, and I daresay you’ve plenty of reasons to justify why, but Jamie isn’t due back until the end of the week and I need a chaperone to my hospital appointment tomorrow at least, so how about we come to some sort of compromise?’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘That you stay for this week and help out where you can, and that we’ll talk about you moving on next weekend.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, standing up.
‘At least that would give you time to look for another post,’ she carried on, ‘and the chance to make a proper plan to see you through to the New Year. Perhaps I could even help you?’
‘You don’t have to do that, Catherine. You aren’t obliged.’
‘Of course I am,’ she said firmly. ‘Because had my muddleheaded husband not moved the goalposts we wouldn’t even be having this conversation, would we?’
‘I suppose not,’ I conceded.
Everything had been pretty perfect up until Angus announced he’d got Christmas all sewn up.
‘So, that’s agreed then,’ she smiled, standing up and heading for the door. ‘For the time being, we’ll carry on as originally planned.’
I watched as Floss plodded after her and couldn’t shake off the feeling that she wasn’t really expecting me to go anywhere when the week was up.
Fortunately the fog didn’t make a comeback and Catherine and I set off to Norwich early the next afternoon amid clear blue skies and accompanied by the sun which was so low over the horizon that I spent the entire journey wearing sunglasses and squinting out from under the visor.
Catherine was most taken with my little Fiat and its colourful, cosy interior and chatted away about her impending appointment and a little treat she had lined up for afterwards. She had made no mention of the ‘C’ word or Jamie, and neither had anyone else that morning. I got the distinct impression that they had all been primed and were going to go out of their way to keep schtum whenever I was in the vicinity. There might have been no real, live elephant roaming the hall, but in my mind’s eye the corner of the kitchen was now occupied by the biggest, twinkliest Norwegian spruce outside of Trafalgar Square.
We arrived at the hospital in plenty of time, which was just as well given how difficult it was to secure a parking space, and then there was a short wait until a nurse came to take Catherine to see her consultant. I sat in the corridor flicking through a variety of out-of-date magazines and managing to avoid anything with a glittery cover which listed ‘the top ten festive gadgets for Dad’ or how to ‘time the turkey to perfection’.
I didn’t have long to wait before Catherine reappeared and was escorted back to where I was sitting by a tall, slim gentleman who introduced himself as Mr Singh.
‘So,’ he said, looking me up and down and nodding in approval. ‘You must be Anna. The latest Christmas recruit, yes?’
Clearly much more had been discussed during her brief appointment than Catherine’s recovery and I wondered fleetingly if all the Wynthorpe staff had been ‘Christmas recruits’.
‘I trust I can rely on you to keep Mrs Connelly here in check, my dear?’
‘Of course,’ I smiled, standing up and offering Catherine my arm.
‘Because I’m afraid,’ he said, looking sternly at my employer, ‘like most people I see, she’s in too much of a rush to get back to normal, now she thinks she’s all better.’
‘Is that right?’ I said. ‘I was under the impression that she was doing just fine.’
When I first met Catherine I had assumed that the fears Angus had spoken of during my interview were unfounded and that his worries were merely an over-protective concern for his wife, but perhaps I had misjudged the situation. After all, I wasn’t an expert in knee surgery recuperation. Perhaps I needed to spend my online time during the coming days Googling post-op exercises, rather than looking for another job. That way I might actually prove to be of some use to Catherine before we parted company.
‘She’s doing OK,’ said Mr Singh, ‘but with everything happening at the hall over the next few weeks I think there’s every possibility that she’ll take too much on and consequently hamper the progress that she has made so far.’
I couldn’t help wondering if Catherine had told him about the latest Wynthorpe news with an ulterior motive. Had she perhaps hinted that I was the one who would be making sure she behaved herself? Perhaps she thought cranking up the guilt would stop me deserting my post. If that was the case, she was a very clever woman.
‘I’ll make sure everyone at the hall is aware of the situation,’ I told Mr Singh seriously. ‘And I’m sure Angus and Dorothy will have plans in place to make sure that doesn’t happen.’
‘Thank you, Mr Singh,’ said Catherine who gave no flicker as to whether or not I’d jumped to the right conclusion. ‘I’ll see you in the New Year.’
As I negotiated my way around the busy ring road system and into the centre of Norwich, Catherine became subdued and quiet and not at all like the chatty passenger who had travelled with me earlier.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked when I eventually parked. ‘Are you sure you’re up to this? We can drive straight home, if you’d rather.’
‘No, no,’ she insisted, ‘absolutely not. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since I booked the table. I’m sorry if I’m suddenly not the most loquacious companion, Anna, but I have so much on my mind. I keep forgetting about it all for a little while and then it all comes back and I find myself almost wishing Angus hadn’t gone to all this trouble over—’
She had stopped just short of saying the word.
‘It’s all right,’ I said, ‘you can say it.’
‘But it isn’t just Christmas,’ she tutted, unfastening her seat belt. ‘There’s much more to it than that. Jamie’s decision to come home is wonderful of course and I’m delighted, but I can’t help worrying about why he’s decided to come back now. I hope Angus hasn’t been pressurising him, because that’s no way to go about it.’
‘Go about what?’
‘Do you know,’ she said, ignoring my question and following her own train of thought, as I helped her out of her seat, ‘Wynthorpe Hall has been in my family for four generations now and securing its future is more important to me than anything. Well, almost anything. It’s a magical place and I adore owning it, but its upkeep and its future are such a massive responsibility.’
I hadn’t realised that the hall had been passed down through Catherine’s side of the family and I couldn’t really see what the future of the hall had to do with Jamie either. Surely it would be left to Christopher, the eldest son, assuming Catherine and Angus were following tradition of course. Although, given what I now knew of the place, that probably wasn’t the case at all.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I don’t suppose fretting over it all before he’s back in the country will make any difference, will it? Let’s go and enjoy our tea.’
The gilded Georgian Assembly Rooms in Norwich were a sight to behold, as was the dainty, delicious afternoon tea Catherine ordered. Regimented smoked salmon and ham and Colman’s mustard sandwiches, warm savoury and sweet scones and a variety of miniature cakes and macarons arrived shortly after the pots of delicately fragranced, loose-leaf tea.
Catherine had been greeted like an old friend by the waitressing staff and told me that she had been a regular at the rooms since she was in her teens and that her mother had insisted it was the only place to take refreshment during a trip to the city. It was all a far cry from the burger, fries and soda I had occasionally tasted courtesy of the golden arches when I was growing up.
I wasn’t familiar with the city at all, but had caught a glimpse of the famous striped market canopies and the Forum and Millennium Library as we walked around from the car park, and promised myself that I would come back and explore before I moved to some other far-flung part of the country.
‘And what about you, Anna?’ Catherine asked, cocking her head to one side as she carefully cut one of the sandwiches into even tinier, neat squares. ‘Do you get to spend much time with your family?’
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and took a sip of tea while thinking how best to phrase my answer. I had no desire to lie, but blurting out the plain, hard truth wasn’t something I relished under any circumstances, and certainly not when enjoying myself in such lavish surroundings.
Tea and tears would not be a good way to end the day, but I couldn’t trust myself to say much without becoming either upset or aggressive. My default setting when talking about my family seemed to maraud from one extreme of the emotional scale to the other and it wasn’t something I wished to put on public display among the well-heeled Norfolk diners.
‘No,’ I said simply, quickly opting to bring down the wall and drag my professional persona back out of the wings.
If I played it straight down the line I would hopefully put a stop to further uncomfortable questioning and would be able to enjoy my miniature carrot cake in perfect safety.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have any family.’
‘None at all?’ Catherine gasped, looking shocked.
‘No,’ I said lightly. ‘None at all.’
Given my aversion to the upcoming season I had assumed that she, and everyone else at the hall, would have put two and two together and reached the only possible conclusion for themselves. After all, the maths was pretty simple – I hated any mention of Christmas, plus I had nowhere to go on the Big Day, equalled no family. It was hardly rocket science.
‘But never mind that,’ I said as if it didn’t matter at all and picking up the teapot before flashing a winning smile so she wouldn’t think me rude. ‘Would you like more tea?’
Catherine pushed her cup across the table and briefly rested her hand over the top of mine.
‘You do have family, my dear,’ she said tenderly and not taking the hint that I was doing my utmost to shut the conversation down. ‘Like I keep telling you, you have mine.’