Ashford’s Version
Haz and I are returning to Denby after two days of trap shooting at his cousin Juni’s castle in Inverness, Scotland.
I’m not crazy about trap shooting, and Juni is a terrible shot, but Haz kept asking non-stop for a whole day, and I accepted because he literally wore me down. If nothing else, Juni’s family has an outstanding whisky distillery in the bastions of the castle, so at least I kept my left hand and my liver busy with a double malt whisky aged in Madeira barrels.
It’s my birthday today and, for the first time in the thirty-two years of my life, no impressive parties will be held at Denby.
My mother has always arranged opulent celebrations, not so much for me, but to have a good excuse to spruce Denby up and invite every single member of high society, with eleven course dinners and symphonic orchestras whose concerts would sell out at the Royal Albert Hall.
It’s a strange feeling and I don’t even know if I like it, but bad habits are still habits.
Once at Denby, Haz drives through the gate and along the driveway and, at a certain point, I notice a long line of Rolls Royces and Bentleys parked near the manor.
No way, my mother can’t have come back from Bath!
I get out of the car and enter, but I see no signs of celebration in the halls; on the contrary, the manor looks deserted.
“Welcome back, Your Grace.”
“Lance! Whose cars are those? What has this become, a bloody car park?”
“They belong to the guests who came to celebrate your birthday and, by the way, I would like to give you my best wishes.”
“To celebrate? I thought my mother was in Bath!”
He won’t provide thorough explanations. “Let me escort you to the park.”
We go out on the west side of the mansion, which overlooks the park, and I hardly believe what I see.
“Lady Jemma took the liberty of arranging a little party for you.”
Even though it’s well after sunset, the park is lit up by the light from a dozen rides. Yes, the Denby Hall park is scattered with amusement attractions: there is a carousel, a ferris wheel, a helter skelter, a mirror maze, a swing ride, a dartboard, a hammer and a boxing machine, and then there are stands with sweets, popcorn, hot dogs, doughnuts and cotton candy.
The guests, in their best clothes, are queueing up to get on the rides or indulge in a doughnut dripping with cream, just like Lord Neville, who holds one in each hand, regardless of his coronaries.
“Happy Birthday, Ashford. Delphina didn’t leave any instructions for tonight, but the guests had been invited and I had to come up with something.” Jemma’s there, at the bottom of the stairs, in the shimmering dress she bought in Portobello market, with her fuchsia hair blowing in the wind and a smile from ear to ear.
“This is so freaking cool!” Says Harring, by my side.
“You didn’t tell me he would be here, too,” growls Cécile Loxley, appearing at Jemma’s side.
“Harring was a central part of the plan!” Explains Jemma.
“Loxley, hasn’t your shrink told you that we both live on this planet and you have to deal with it?” Haz mocks her.
“Which one of my three shrinks are you talking about?” She replies.
“An amusement park, Jemma?” I ask, stunned, interrupting the skirmish between Haz and Cécile.
“They never took you as a child, so—”
“So you brought it to Denby.”
“Exactly,” Jemma nods, proudly.
“And you expect me to believe it was a last minute idea?”
“Not last minute, but it was all set up in the last five days.”
“I’m flattered. You went to so much trouble for me.”
“Yes, but my parents helped me, and so did Cécile, Lance and Delphina!”
“My mother?” It definitely doesn’t look like something my mother would approve of.
“Yes, if she hadn’t left for Bath, I could never have done all this,” she says, with a satisfied smile.
I look around again, astounded. “What are we waiting for? Shall we choose a ride?”
“Big wheel?” She suggests.
“Queue up, I’ll get some popcorn.”
*
When the seat reaches the highest point of the wheel, I look at the manor and say: “I have never seen Denby Hall from this perspective.”
“You’re lucky, you’re one of the few privileged people with a life above every standard. You live in a mansion, you have a big park all to yourself and you are surrounded by luxury objects and works of art,” she lists.
“Jemma, you have a family that loves you. I never saw my parents holding hands on a carousel after thirty years of marriage.”
“My father also won a teddy bear for my mother at the shooting range.”
“He also won a teddy bear for your mother,” I repeat.
“So, what do you think? Do you like this birthday?”
“I’ve never had a party like this and yes, I agree with what Harring said earlier: it’s freaking cool.”
“I have to thank you,” she says in a low voice.
“What for? You did everything yourself!”
“For my parents. I know you invited them here.”
I thought I had been clear, it had to be a secret. “They should never have told you.”
“My father had a high temperature after chasing after Westfalia in the woods. He just let it slip out.”
“I could not let your parents end up homeless. After all, you saved Denby Hall with your inheritance,” I say, admitting it out loud in front of her for the first time.
“You agreed to marry me. If it hadn’t been for your title, I would never have had a penny, and I’d still be doing the make-up in a second-class theatre.”
“Shall we make peace?” I ask her, raising my paper cone of popcorn.
“Peace,” she does likewise and we toast to our truce.
“After all this, the least I can do is win a teddy bear for you.”