Chapter 5
While Cape’s partner Renee had never been interested in his career, their daughter Poppy was always fascinated by the plans he drew up for the gardens he was working on and would gaze at them with eyes full of wonder. She was standing there now in his study, her hands on her hips as she surveyed his latest piece.
‘What’s that bit?’ she asked, pointing to a group of three circles.
‘They’re hydrangeas,’ he said. ‘You remember what a hydrangea is, don’t you?’
‘Of course. They’re the big flowers with big leaves.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why have you painted them purple?’
‘Because that’s the colour the client has chosen.’
Poppy wrinkled her nose. ‘I like pink ones.’
‘I know you do.’
‘You should give her pink ones.’
Cape smiled. ‘Ah, but you have to listen to what your client wants. You can’t plant what you want in somebody else’s garden. You can advise them if you think they’re making the wrong decision, but the choice is theirs.’
Poppy seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘I think she’s making the wrong decision,’ she declared. ‘Would you like me to tell her for you?’
Cape laughed. ‘I’ll pass on your message and see what she says, okay?’
‘Okay!’
He watched as she skipped out of the room and then he took a deep breath. It was the day after the meeting at the solicitors’ and he hadn’t yet told Renee about what had happened. He hadn’t shown her the letter when it had arrived either. Something told him not to, but he’d have to let her know what was happening sooner or later, he supposed, getting up from his desk and stretching.
He walked through to the living room. The curtains were drawn and the lamps were on and Renee had lit the wood burner. He had to admit that there was something wonderfully cosy about winter evenings even though he missed the long summer nights when he could be planting out and digging until the last streaks of light had left the sky with a fierce passion. If he wasn’t out working, he would be walking along the footpaths that threaded their way through the valley. There was one in particular he liked to frequent. In the summer, the dust from the track would coat his boots and the swallows would screech in the sky, darting in and out of the farm buildings he passed as he slowly climbed uphill towards the woods. Then he would turn around and survey the countryside beneath him. It was a gentle landscape of hills, dotted with farms and small cottages, and he loved it.
He knew he was easily pleased. He was happy with his lot in life, but he knew that Renee wasn’t and her anxiety weighed him down. He’d done his best to ignore it, but it sat there like a malicious devil between them, ready to tear their life apart.
He watched Renee now. She was sitting on the sofa, flicking through a magazine about hair. There was a stack of similar ones on the coffee table in front of her. There was also a pile underneath the coffee table and in the basket by the fire. He wasn’t sure if she meant those ones to be used as kindling or not and thought he’d better ask before ripping them up.
‘Poppy upstairs?’ he asked her.
‘She’s deciding what to wear to a party next week,’ Renee told him, not looking up from her magazine.
‘Well, if she’s anything like you, that should occupy the rest of the evening.’
‘Very funny!’ Renee said, pulling a face at him.
He sat down on the sofa next to her.
‘You finished work for the evening?’ she asked.
‘I think so. I’ve got a bit of a headache.’
‘You need glasses.’
‘I don’t need glasses.’
‘You should have an eye test,’ she told him.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You spend half your life squinting at little maps and plans. It isn’t good for you.’
He appreciated her concern, but he was quite sure it was unwarranted.
They sat in silence for a while, Cape closing his eyes and enjoying the toasty heat from the wood burner as he listened to the gentle flip of Renee’s magazine pages being turned.
‘I spoke to Martina again,’ she suddenly announced.
Cape knew what was coming next, dreading it and hoping against hope that he was wrong.
‘Is she well?’ he said, not daring to open his eyes. If he kept them shut, the problem might just go away.
‘Yes. Very well. She doesn’t have to put up with these long cold winters in California, does she?’
‘But winter can be fun. We’ve got our fire and there’s nothing prettier than our valley when it’s snowing, is there?’ He opened his eyes. ‘Remember the first time Poppy sledged down the hill? She said she was an angel flying over the vall—’
‘She’s even got film work,’ Renee interrupted.
‘Who?’
‘Marti!’ she said in exasperation. ‘Can you imagine? If I worked with her, I could be doing make-up for the stars!’
Cape frowned. He hated it when she talked like that.
‘But you live here,’ he pointed out, ‘so that’s not likely to happen, is it?’
‘We could move,’ she said, and he could both see and hear that she was gritting her teeth. The idea of moving to join her sister was something she’d been impressing upon him for a few weeks now. He’d been ignoring her, hoping it was just a phase, a pipe dream that would fade away into the background as the realities of life took over and buried it, but that wasn’t happening. If anything, it was getting worse and he was finding it impossible to ignore now.
He took a deep breath. ‘My work is here,’ he told her, thinking that would silence her on the subject.
‘But you could easily work there,’ she said. ‘And just imagine the money you could make designing gardens in Beverly Hills!’
Cape grimaced. He could think of nothing worse. His joy lay in the green and verdant gardens of England, but he could see that she was serious about this.
‘Poppy’s school is here. She’s settled, she has friends.’
‘She’ll make new friends,’ Renee insisted. ‘Kids adapt and this experience will be so good for her. Just think, we could probably afford a place with our own swimming pool over there or live somewhere near the sea.’
Cape frowned, wondering what on earth made Renee think that. California sounded expensive to him.
‘I think you’re getting carried away,’ he said.
‘I’m not getting carried away. I want to do this, Cape,’ she said, ‘and, if you don’t want to do it too, I’ll have to do it on my own.’
‘You’d go out there on your own?’ he asked.
‘Well, Poppy would come with me.’
Cape’s stomach felt as if it had dropped about a yard. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘I’m not kidding.’
Their eyes locked together for an agonising moment while Cape tried to still his racing mind. And then he remembered that he hadn’t told her yet.
‘The garden,’ he blurted.
‘What garden?’
‘Morton Hall.’
‘That ugly old pile? You want to stay here because of that horrible old—’
‘You don’t understand – listen to me for a moment,’ he told her with some urgency now. ‘I’ve been given an opportunity. Miss Morton died and she’s left the house and garden to her village and I’ve been chosen as one of the people to organise everything.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I need to be here. I can’t just up and leave. This is a unique opportunity for me to create something really special. You know I love that garden and I’ve been wanting to get my hands on the derelict part since I started work there. Well, that time’s come.’
‘So you’d turn down a chance to live in one of the most beautiful parts of the world so you can cut down a few nettles and thistles? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Listen, this could be big for us,’ he said.
‘Big – how? You said the place has been left to the whole community – not to you.’
‘But my input – my guidance – I think I could really make a mark there.’ He reached out to her and took her hand in his. ‘Listen, if you still feel this way next year, we can talk about it then. Just give me some time with this garden, okay?’
Renee stood up, throwing the magazine she’d been reading onto the coffee table.
‘It’s always about you, Cape, and it’s just not fair.’
‘Renee – don’t be like that. Please, darling!’
He watched as she left the living room, her feet heavy on the stairs a moment later, and he didn’t have the energy to follow her.
Grant left Garrard House at the same time as his daughters on the morning Anne Marie was to meet Cape at Morton Hall. She hadn’t told her husband about her appointment, nor had she told him about the strange bequest of Emilia Morton. She had the feeling that he’d somehow dampen the excitement she was feeling. Why had she been one of the chosen ones, he’d be likely to ask her. She could just imagine Grant putting himself forward and spoiling everything, and she didn’t want that. This was her little adventure and she was going to keep it to herself for as long as possible.
The January air nipped at her fingers and nose as she left the house swaddled in her thick winter coat and hat. She walked through the village, entering the churchyard and wending her way through the frosty grasses towards the little gate. It was a journey she’d made so many times and yet this one was different because she’d been invited to Morton Hall. She had a role to play now at this magical place.
Cape had told her to meet him at the cedar tree and she knew where that was. It was impossible to miss the wonderful old tree with its great girth and enormous limbs that stretched out across the lawn. Anne Marie had often wondered how old it was. Older than the hall, she believed. Perhaps it had stood in the grounds of an older property on the same site. She’d have to look into that. It would be interesting to learn more about the history of the property.
Looking up at the dark red-brick Gothic house, she couldn’t help feeling sad that it had lost the last member of its family. Could houses feel such things, she wondered? Grant would tell her not to be so stupid, but she was suddenly feeling melancholy about the whole business of Morton Hall and found that her imagination was taking her in all sorts of strange directions. She had only seen Emilia Morton – if indeed it had been her – for that one brief moment at one of the windows, the arched one to the right on the first floor, she thought, and yet she couldn’t help but feel the loss that came with her passing.
‘Hello!’ Cape’s cheery voice suddenly broke through her thoughts.
‘Hi,’ she replied.
He frowned and nodded to the path behind her. ‘You came in through the church?’
‘Yes.’
‘You should’ve walked up the driveway. I think you’ve got permission to do that now.’
‘I didn’t think. I mean, I’m used to coming in this way,’ she confessed.
‘Come by the main entrance next time,’ he told her.
‘I’ll try, but I can’t promise.’ She was aware that he was studying her, as if trying to make her out, so she pointed towards the topiary to distract him.
‘Ah, yes – you’ve not seen this part of the garden at all, have you?’ he said.
‘No.’
‘You sure you never sneaked in when I wasn’t around?’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘No! It’s much too close to the house. I’d never—’
He laughed. ‘I’m teasing.’
She gave him a guarded smile, noticing that he was wearing a thick woollen jumper that was unravelling at the back and which had a big hole where his right elbow jutted out. He was also wearing large conker-coloured boots and Anne Marie began to worry that the little ankle boots she’d chosen to wear wouldn’t be suitable, but she wasn’t expected to do any actual gardening today, was she?
‘Let me show you the beasts first,’ Cape said, leading her along a path lined with a low box hedge. Everything was so neat and tidy and Anne Marie marvelled at the frosted spider webs that glistened everywhere. January could be a bleak month, but it could also make one gasp at its beauty.
But the cobwebs weren’t the only things in the garden to take her breath away. As they turned a corner, the great fat topiary display greeted her.
‘Heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘How did I never know this was here?’
‘Not many people do,’ Cape said.
‘It’s incredible!’ She took in the gigantic peacock, which looked so regal and haughty, the cuddly-looking dodo and the magnificent horse.
‘Do you like them?’
‘Like them? I love them,’ she enthused.
Cape’s smile stretched across the whole of his face. ‘I secretly think of them as mine. Mine and Poppy’s.’
‘Poppy?’
‘My daughter,’ he said. ‘She’s ten. I’m allowed to bring her here once a month. She loves the animals and the maze.’
‘I bet she does.’
‘You have children?’
‘Step-children.’
‘Bring them here – I’m sure they’d love it.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
He looked surprised. ‘No?’
‘They’re – erm – not those kind of girls.’ She could see the confusion on Cape’s face.
‘Not the kind of girls who like gardens?’
‘Yes. Or doing anything with me,’ she said and then bit her lip. What had made her say such a thing to a virtual stranger? She cleared her throat. ‘They wouldn’t enjoy it.’
‘Okay,’ Cape said. ‘No worries. Well, we’ll enjoy it instead, right?’
‘Right.’
He gave her a warm smile that helped to banish the dark mood she was bound to fall into if she spent too much time thinking about her family.
‘So, tell me about the topiary,’ she said, turning her attention to the beautiful garden.
‘Well, it was created for the original owners, Arthur Augustus Morton and his wife Clarissa. I believe they started with a design for the maze and then created these box hedges to give this part of the garden a sense of structure. The topiary beasts and shapes came slightly later. It was something that was popular in Victorian times although not everybody liked it. The Gardeners’ Chronicle called topiary “vegetable monstrosities”.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?’
He shrugged. ‘There’s always been a lot of snobbery in gardening. Plants come in and go out of fashion the same way colours and planting schemes do.’
‘I’ve never understood that,’ Anne Marie said. ‘How can the colour of a beautiful flower suddenly be out of fashion?’
‘Exactly. It’s all a load of nonsense,’ Cape declared. ‘In my opinion, you either like something or you don’t. That’s what your gardening choices should be based on. You shouldn’t be worrying about what somebody else might say if they happen to look around your garden.’
‘Well, it seems as if the Mortons have always done exactly what they wanted.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Cape said. ‘I mean, the topiary and the maze weren’t Emilia’s choice, were they?’
‘But she obviously liked them,’ Anne Marie said.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘She hired you to keep them looking perfect.’
‘But that doesn’t mean she liked them. She might just have respected what her family had created.’
Anne Marie thought about this for a moment. It was an interesting point of view and she couldn’t help thinking of her own situation at Garrard House. Nothing there was her choice, was it? She simply endured it to keep the peace. From the dull white dinner service to the magnolia walls, none of it was of her choosing.
‘I think a lot of people live with the decisions of others,’ she said at last.
‘I wish I’d had the chance to talk to her,’ Cape said. ‘All I know is that she walked in the maze, but that doesn’t really tell us anything, does it?’
‘Maybe we’ll find out more once we’re allowed in the house,’ Anne Marie said, and the two of them glanced up at the Gothic exterior.
‘I wonder what secrets it holds,’ Cape said.
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Anne Marie confessed.
‘Did you get the email from Mr Mander? The first meeting is set for Monday evening.’
‘Yes.’
‘The great handover begins,’ he said. ‘After that, it sounds like it’s up to us to organise things.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But let’s not worry about that yet. I was going to show you around.’
He led the way through a long avenue of topiary hedges which seemed to reach to the very sky in happy spirals and joyful twists.
‘You take care of this all on your own?’ she asked him.
‘Yep.’
‘It’s quite a job.’
‘I wouldn’t give it up for the world,’ he told her. ‘I love it here.’
They walked around in silence, their feet crunching over the frosty lawn. The air was cold and still and their breath misted the space around them.
‘Did you want to go inside the maze?’ he asked her as they reached one of the entrances.
Anne Marie had only ever seen photographs of the maze on the internet and had always been curious about it but, now that she was standing at its entrance, she wasn’t at all sure.
‘Well, maybe just a little way.’
Cape gave a laugh. ‘You can’t just go a little way into a maze!’ he declared.
‘Oh.’
Cape cocked his head to one side. ‘We don’t have to go in at all if you don’t want to.’
‘No, I want to.’
‘Are you sure? Because you don’t look sure.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Let’s do it,’ she said with determination, taking the first step and entering the maze. ‘You do know your way?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said.
‘Good. Did you want to lead?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he told her. ‘You should experience it yourself. False turns, doubling back and everything.’
Anne Marie nodded. She could do this, she told herself and, although she felt horribly self-conscious with Cape so close behind watching every wrong move that she made, she also found that she soon fell into a strange rhythm. Her feet seemed to be taking on a life of their own.
Left feels good here. But right here. No, I’ve been here before. This isn’t the way. I think I’ve seen that bend already so that means take a left now.
And on it went until she found the centre where a beautiful wrought-iron bench greeted her and she took a well-deserved sit down.
‘Well done!’ Cape said, clapping a hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at the sudden familiarity of the moment and he withdrew his hand quickly, taking a step away from her.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked.
‘It was the strangest sensation,’ she told him. ‘I had no thoughts in my head other than where I was going. It was wonderfully freeing.’
He nodded as if in recognition. ‘Mazes and labyrinths were often used for meditation and spiritual journeys.’
‘Really? I didn’t know that.’
‘But I think they’re just for pleasure these days.’
‘You said mazes and labyrinths,’ she said. ‘Aren’t they the same thing?’
‘No, they’re not. A maze can have many entrances and exits and multiple dead-ends, but a labyrinth has a single direct route.’
‘This is most definitely a maze,’ she said, ‘and I think I found all of the dead ends!’
He smiled. ‘You did.’
‘Can we get out of here now?’
He nodded. ‘Want me to lead the way?’
‘Yes please.’
She followed him and he made it look so very easy, turning left and right in exactly the correct places. She was quite sure that she would never have been able to do it in under an hour.
‘That was fun,’ she said. ‘I can say that now that I’m out of there.’
‘I remember the first time I went in. It took me forty minutes to find my way to the centre and then out again.’
‘Do you ever get lost when you’re trimming the hedges?’
‘No. It’s kind of like a second home to me now.’
‘It’s very special,’ she said. ‘But what are we going to do with it?’
‘I think it’s the rest of the garden we need to worry about first,’ he said. ‘Did you want to take a look?’
Anne Marie knew where they were going. Leaving the maze and the topiary garden, they rounded the house and walked towards the walled garden. The neat lawn was soon replaced by long grasses and clumps of nettles which rampaged along the brick wall that was happily crumbling into old age.
Reaching a wooden door that had long fallen off its hinges, they stood looking on in speechless wonder as a pair of rabbits scuttled into a thicket of brambles. There were thistles the size of full-grown men, there was broken glass everywhere and frost-cracked pots lay scattered around in terracotta graveyards. But Anne Marie’s eyes also saw the enormous potential of a space that could bring people together and that they could use, though one question was foremost in her mind.
‘Where on earth do we start?’ she asked.
‘We start with the people,’ Cape said. ‘We find out what everybody’s skills are and assign jobs to them.’
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘I don’t think it will be if that’s any consolation.’
‘It isn’t really,’ she said, smiling up at him, but then she sighed. ‘I don’t know why I’ve been chosen for this. I don’t think I have any skills. I’m an editor. What can I possibly bring to this project?’
‘You said you loved the garden.’
‘Yes.’
‘Having a passion for something is half the battle, I find. It’s a pretty good driving force to getting a job done.’
‘Well, I would love to see all this restored.’
‘There you go then. You’re halfway there already!’
They laughed together.
‘You know, I’ve been dying to get to work on this place,’ Cape confessed to her. ‘I was only ever contracted to take care of the maze and the hedges. I wasn’t allowed to even come into this part of the garden.’
‘Why do you think that was?’ Anne Marie asked.
‘Well, at first I thought it was a money issue, but it seems clear that there was always plenty of that.’
‘Maybe Miss Morton didn’t want to waste any money on a part of the garden she didn’t use,’ Anne Marie suggested as the two of them walked along an overgrown path strewn with broken snail shells.
‘I once sneaked in here,’ Cape said. ‘I was curious to see if there were any old tools that could be rescued.’
‘And were there?’
‘There were a couple of nice pieces actually, but Mrs Beatty took them away. She occasionally pokes around the garden to see what I’m up to. I’m not sure what she did with the tools. Probably locked them away in a dark shed to rot.’
‘Maybe we could look for them now that the garden is going to be restored.’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
They soon reached the other side of the walled garden and turned around to look at the waste ground before them.
‘There’s a lot to do here, isn’t there?’ Anne Marie said.
‘And it isn’t just the walled garden either. There are footpaths around it and statues everywhere which have been left to deteriorate. There are all sorts of areas between here and the topiary garden that need attention and we’re starting at the ugliest time of year,’ Cape pointed out, ‘although, if we work hard, this part could be a really productive place come summer.’
Anne Marie looked at the space with fresh eyes, trying to imagine it on a perfect summer’s day with raised beds full of beautiful produce, immaculate pathways linking the spaces between and a fully restored greenhouse full of ripening tomatoes and luscious vines. Perhaps all that wouldn’t be achievable by the summer, but it was fun to dream and it was important to have a vision.
As they were walking back to the topiary garden they heard the sound of tyres on the gravel driveway and looked round to see a car leaving.
‘That’s Mrs Beatty,’ Cape said. ‘Looks like she’s off early today. Mind you, she gets here at the crack of dawn.’ His expression changed.
‘What is it?’ Anne Marie asked him.
‘Mrs Beatty’s gone.’
‘Yes,’ Anne Marie said, frowning.
‘We could go in.’
‘Inside the house?’
‘Why not? We could take a look around.’
‘Are we allowed to do that?’
‘Well, it’s kind of been left to us, hasn’t it?’
‘But shouldn’t we wait for everyone else to join us next week?’
‘You want to wait?’ he asked her, a tiny grin hovering at the side of his mouth.
A little bubble of excitement rose in Anne Marie. ‘Not really,’ she confessed. ‘But how exactly are we going to get inside?’
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I have a way. Come on.’
Anne Marie wasn’t quite sure what he was up to, but she found herself following him, curious as to where he was going.
They soon reached a great wooden door at the side of the house.
‘As the gardener here, I was given access to the cloakroom and kitchen on the ground floor so I could take a break when needed,’ Cape said, producing a key from his trouser pocket and opening the door.
Anne Marie followed him inside and saw a stark kitchen with old-fashioned cupboards, a butler’s sink and a small wooden table with a couple of chairs in the centre of the room. It was pretty basic, but everything looked clean and tidy.
‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’ he asked as she looked around.
‘Oh, no thank you.’
‘We’ll continue then?’ He left the room, entering a hallway with a quarry-tiled floor and passing a small cloakroom before starting up the stairs.
They were doing it. They were really venturing inside, Anne Marie thought, feeling a surge of excitement as well as a good dose of nerves. She’d so often wondered what the house looked like and couldn’t quite believe she was going to find out right now.
‘Are you sure we should be doing this?’ she asked.
‘You don’t want to?’ Cape asked, stopping on a landing and looking back at her.
‘Oh, I want to do it, but . . . never mind – let’s do it.’
He grinned and tried the door that led off the landing.
‘Locked,’ he said. ‘I tried this one once before and couldn’t get in this way.’
‘Why were you trying to get in?’
‘It was after I found a scarf in the maze and wanted to return it to Miss Morton in person. I found another door up the next flight. That one was open. Come on.’
He continued up the stairs and stopped at a second door.
‘Mrs Beatty might have locked this one since my little visit,’ he said, resting his hand on the doorknob for a moment.
‘Go on, then,’ Anne Marie pressed. ‘I want to see what’s on the other side!’
He smiled at her enthusiasm and turned the handle.
‘It’s not locked,’ he said, pushing the door open and then walking out onto the landing.
For a few moments, they walked around the house in awed silence. Anne Marie had never seen anything like it. She didn’t know where to look first: there was so much to take in, from the ornate ceilings to the art on the walls and the rich carpets beneath her feet. Her eyes darted around, finding it impossible to settle on any one thing.
At first, they peeped cautiously into the rooms they passed. Many were filled with white dust sheets so they couldn’t see their contents.
‘There’s only Mrs Beatty to take care of everything,’ Cape explained.
‘Do you know anything about her?’
‘She’s a widow. That’s all I know. She probably bossed her husband into an early grave.’
‘Oh, look,’ Anne Marie cried as she caught sight of the paintings on the landing. ‘These are exquisite. Look at the colours. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. At least not outside a museum. They’re all Pre-Raphaelites.’
Cape frowned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know much about them.’
‘It’s a movement of painting from the mid-nineteenth century. I think this one’s Rossetti.’
‘Was he famous?’
‘Pretty famous.’
‘I don’t know a lot about painting.’
‘Neither do I, but I became quite interested in the Pre-Raphaelites when I was doing my degree,’ she told him. ‘We spent a term learning about them – Rossetti was a poet as well as a painter, and the Pre-Raphaelites were drawn to poems by writers like Tennyson and Keats. So many of their paintings depicted women like the Lady of Shalott and Mariana, and Ophelia from Hamlet. Women who were trapped in a man’s world – often physically trapped in a single room like the Lady of Shalott was.’
‘Like this lady,’ Cape said and the two of them studied a painting of a woman wearing a midnight-blue dress. She had a melancholic look on her face as she stared out of a mullioned window. ‘It could be Miss Morton.’
‘You think so?’
‘Well, I never saw her, but I always imagined her trapped in this old place because I never saw her outside it.’
‘Or inside it,’ Anne Marie said. ‘Maybe she didn’t exist at all!’
‘Now, there’s a thought. Maybe Mrs Beatty made her up.’
‘Except, I thought I saw her once – just briefly – at a window when I was leaving the garden.’
‘You did?’
‘I’m not sure, though. It could have been anyone, I suppose.’
‘In all the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never caught more than a glimpse of her. The only people I’ve seen coming and going have been Mrs Beatty, the window cleaner and the man who comes to sweep the chimneys once a year.’
Anne Marie looked up at the painting again. ‘It can’t be Miss Morton,’ she said. ‘Look at the dress. It’s Victorian.’
‘She’s got long red hair like you,’ Cape pointed out.
‘It could be Elizabeth Siddal. She had red hair and was painted lots of times by Rossetti and Millais. Although I’m not sure,’ Anne Marie added. ‘There’s something not quite . . .’ She paused. ‘I’m not sure about it. It looks Pre-Raphaelite. The colours are so rich and vibrant, like jewels, but something’s not quite right about it.’
‘Do you think it’s valuable?’
‘Well, if this is a real Rossetti, then yes. Enormously so. His paintings can sell for millions of pounds.’
Cape made a funny choking sound. ‘Millions?’
‘Rossetti’s very popular. But these aren’t to be sold, remember?’
‘You think I’d try to sell them?’ he asked her and she turned to look at him.
‘No, of course not,’ she told him. ‘You wouldn’t, would you?’ There was humour in her tone, but she was watching him carefully for his response.
‘I could buy my dream garden with the proceeds of one of these,’ he replied, ‘so perhaps you’d better keep an eye on it.’ He gave her a wink and she smiled.
They spent a little while longer looking around the rooms, barely daring to breathe as they entered them and making sure they didn’t knock into anything.
They were at the front of the house and were just admiring the ornate plasterwork of the ceiling when they heard the sound of a car on the gravel driveway. Cape rushed over to the window.
‘It’s Mrs Beatty!’ he cried.
‘I thought she’d gone home!’ Anne Marie said.
‘We have to get out of here. Quick!’ He grabbed her arm and the two of them flew along the landing towards the door that led to the servants’ stairs.
‘Leave it as you found it,’ Anne Marie said and then cursed herself for sounding so bossy.
‘The door wasn’t locked,’ Cape reminded her.
‘Will she be mad if she sees us in here?’
‘She won’t see us. She never comes round to this part of the house.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Trust me,’ Cape said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘Oh my goodness! I haven’t moved so fast in years! I’m actually out of breath.’
‘Sorry about that!’ Cape said.
‘You weren’t to know she’d come back.’
They looked at each other, huge smiles on their faces at their shared adventure.
‘Can I get you a cup of tea now?’ Cape asked.
‘You know, I might just be ready for one.’
They were making their way into the kitchen when the door from the garden opened and Mrs Beatty entered.
‘Ah, there you are,’ she said, eyeing Cape suspiciously.
‘Mrs Beatty – what a surprise,’ Cape said. ‘Are you well? I was just going to make Anne Marie a cup of tea. She’s part of the—’
‘Yes, I know who she is,’ Mrs Beatty interrupted.
‘It’s good to meet you,’ Anne Marie said, stepping forward and extending her right hand which Mrs Beatty shook perfunctorily. Her expression was stern and Anne Marie felt the full weight of her disapproval.
‘The meeting of the group is on Monday evening,’ she said.
‘Yes, we know,’ Cape said. ‘Anne Marie’s just been looking around the garden today.’
‘And I really should get going,’ Anne Marie said.
‘Then I won’t stop you,’ Mrs Beatty said. ‘I’ll see you next week.’
Anne Marie and Cape exchanged glances and they all walked out into the garden together. Mrs Beatty followed them for a moment and then overtook them, turning around quickly and looking Cape directly in the eye.
‘I noticed some weeds along the driveway as I drove in,’ she said.
‘I’ll attend to those straight away,’ he said.
She nodded and left them.
They waited a few seconds before speaking to be sure she was out of earshot.
‘Is she always so friendly?’ Anne Marie asked.
‘No, usually she’s much more abrupt,’ Cape joked. ‘God, I hope I haven’t traumatised you with all this.’
Anne Marie shook her head. ‘I’ve had a great time.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s been . . . an adventure and I don’t often have adventures.’ She looked back up at the house and then out towards the topiary. ‘I’m looking forward to – well – whatever happens next.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Cape said.
‘Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday.’
He gave her a nod. ‘Thanks for coming today.’
‘Thank you for inviting me.’
She turned to go.
‘Hey!’ he called after her. ‘You can go down the main driveway.’
Anne Marie stopped and looked in its direction, but then shook her head. ‘I like the church way,’ she said, waving her hand at him in goodbye.
She’d just reached the bend in the path when she decided to turn back and look at the house. Cape was still standing there, that smile of his lighting up his face and she couldn’t help looking forward to seeing him again.