Page 33 of The House of Hopes and Dreams
‘The air filtration system will be pricey and so will a kiln. I’d need more wooden racking for glass and lead calme storage, and, of course, lots of Antique glass and lead … big rolls of cartridge paper, light-boxes, silver stain, glass paints, brushes, glazing cement – you can buythat ready-made these days – acid for etching, horseshoe nails, soldering irons, tallow, solder, resin …’
‘That’s going to be one hell of a big shopping list,’ he said.
‘Renovating and updating the actual structure of the building will be your part of it: a washbasin in that toilet would be good, for a start. I don’t suppose you’re on mains drainage?’
‘We are now, though until fairly recently there was a cesspit, or a septic tank, or whatever.’
‘Oh, right. I suppose Mossby isn’t really cut off from civilization. Not that it matters if my workshop is out in the sticks,’ I added.
‘There aren’t many houses nearby, other than the Lodge and Moel Farm up above the house. There’s a gate to that, but it’s kept locked and never used, because my uncle fell out with the current tenant of the farm. Before that, you could drive over the tops and come out in the middle of Halfhidden, the village in the next valley. I’m told it has a couple of shops.’
‘Andghosts,’ I said.
‘Ghosts?’
‘I was going to tell you about it before, when we passed the turning on the road. Someone enterprising has created a ghost trail right round Halfhidden to attract more visitors and there was already a haunted Roman spring, with healing properties. It used to be a popular local spa in Victorian times and people would come and drink the waters and stay at the Spa Hotel – which is that one we passed on the road just before we got here.’
‘I thought that was called the Screaming Skull? I noticed it, because they do food,’ he said. ‘But the name seemed weird. We’ll have to look into this ghost trail – it could make a good angle for the series, because we’ve got a family ghost, too.’
‘Do you mean the Grey Lady, thought to be Lady Anne, the seventeenth-century chatelaine who designed that window? She was mentioned on that tour of the Elizabethan wing.’
‘Yes. Allegedly she paces round one of the bedrooms, moaning and wringing her hands. Then sometimes a young girl runs screaming along the gallery.’
‘Nice,’ I said appreciatively.
‘I must tell Nick about Halfhidden and the ghost trail – he’ll love it. Maybe Mossby can even become part of the tourist trail eventually. I’ll have to think about that,’ he mused.
Fang returned from an exploratory foray under the worktables and jumped up at my legs, though not in a savage kind of way. I got the message and picked him up. A small pink tongue licked my chin.
‘Free dog with every workshop,’ Carey enticed me, back in ingratiating estate agent mode. ‘Free dog with everyfreeworkshop.’
‘If you mean Fang, I’ve had more tempting offers,’ I told him. Fang looked at me in a hurt way, so I cuddled him. ‘I didn’t really mean it, poppet. You’re cute.’
‘I’m cute, too,’ Carey said appealingly, ‘though I draw the line at licking your chin after that dog, just to persuade you into agreeing to move in.’
‘I’m immune to your charms,’ I told him, though actually, when the full force of his enthusiasm and charm was turned my way, I tended to be putty in his hands. Just thinking of some of the scrapes he got us into as children made me shudder.
‘Come on, Shrimp, let’s go up to the house, thaw out over a hot drink and discuss things,’ he suggested and, though I was reluctant to leave the workshop, I realized I was partially glaciated and reluctantly allowed myself to be ushered out. I glanced at his face as I passed him and he was looking annoyingly smug.
He knew he had me: I’d never be able to resist taking over Jessie Kaye’s workshop.
The carriage turned into a circular gravel sweep with a central fountain and drew up in front of the porch.
I had little more time than to cast an astonished glance at the white and black ornate intricacy of the ancient wing to the right, for both our host and his sister had come out to greet us.
For some reason I had imagined Miss Revell to be younger than her brother, but she looked to me much closer to forty than thirty. She was very tall and unfortunately had inherited only a watered-down version of the family colouring, with sandy hair and pale-blue eyes.
She welcomed us with cold civility and I had the impression she had taken me into instant dislike. But perhaps it was just that she considered herself to be a cut above entertaining tradesmen and their daughters as weekend guests and particularly a tradesman’s daughter who worked in the glass manufactory.
Ralph, however, held my hand for longer than was due to mere politeness and told me with a warm smile that he was delighted to see me and looked forward to showing me his home.
The glow in his eyes was, I was certain, entirely due to the prospect of showing Mossby off to someone who would appreciate every detail …
14
The Dust of Ages
When we got back into the car, the short January day was as faded as an underexposed photograph.
