Page 43 of The House of Hopes and Dreams
‘There’s still an old Mercedes saloon in one of the garages, which Clem used to drive my uncle about in,’ Carey said.
‘He’s clearly a man of many talents.’
‘I’ll leave checking that out and seeing what else is in the various buildings till later. That arch on the other side leads on to the car parking area your coach must have used when you visited, and then through that small passage to the right, you get to the walled garden I mentioned.’
‘That’sdefinitelysomething for another day,’ I said. ‘We might even have to mount an expedition.’
‘Yes, Clem says he hasn’t been in it for years and the key to the padlock on the gate is lost. If it’s not in that tin box with the others up at the house, I’ll have to bring bolt cutters down one day.’
‘I can see why your uncle thought it was worth paying Mrs Danvers a good wage, even though she didn’t earn it, because Clem seems to have been doing several jobs at once.’
‘He does seem willing to do anything he’s asked to.’
‘Or evennotasked to, like moving my luggage about. He’s so different from his wife! I wonder where they met.’
‘Oh, he told me that. She was working at a National Trust property assome kind of resident custodian-cum-housekeeper and he’d nearly worked his way up to be head gardener when he got the drink problem and was fired. That’s when Ella asked my uncle if he could help and he offered them jobs and the Lodge. I don’t think that’s quite what she had in mind. I suspect she was hoping they could just move in and freeload.’
‘Maybe being married to an alcoholic soured Ella’s soul?’
‘It was probably fairly tart to start with,’ Carey said. ‘Clem told me losing his job shook him up, and he’s stayed on the wagon ever since.’
‘You know, on the whole, your uncle seems to have been quite generous to them, doesn’t he?’
‘Considering all the circumstances, now I know them, I think Uncle did more than I would have expected. He paid for Clem and Ella’s daughter, Vicky’s, education, too.’
‘I didn’t realize they had a daughter. Does she live with them?’
‘No, she’s an actress and lives in London, though I’ve never heard of her so I don’t think she can be doing very well – and her choice of occupation probably didn’t go down too well with my uncle.’
‘All these undercurrents of family history to get the hang of,’ I said, turning the buggy on the rather weedy cobbles of the yard and heading back to the main drive. Further down, I took one of the branches on the other side and emerged from a tunnel of rhododendron bushes to a view of the woods and lake.
I stopped so we could see the lie of the land. To the right, the steep terrain rose to the house in a series of steps and terraces. Below it, on the edge of the lake, was a very ancient-looking stone boathouse.
The thin strip of potholed tarmac seemed to go right round the lake as well as taking a circuit through the woods.
‘Clem says my uncle had the old paths tarmacked over when the drive was resurfaced years ago, though it’s in need of repair. He goes round with the brush-cutter once a year, to keep it clear. Let’s see what it’s like.’
I trundled the buggy rather doubtfully past the lake and down the unkempt dark snail-trail through the trees, which made a loop and brought us back out by a bluff of rock next to the terraces. It had been an obstacle course of potholes and fallen branches, but not too bad.Most of the trees were bare at this time of year and the woodland wasn’t extensive.
Near the boathouse was a pretty, columned summerhouse with stone seats, built against the wall of the lowest terrace. A rose twined up the front of it. It was probably quite enchanting in summer.
‘According to Clem, there’s a rowing boat and a couple of punts in the boathouse, but I think we’ll explore that another day, too – it’s hardly punting weather,’ Carey said. ‘They could well be too rotten to use by now, anyway.’
‘Well, I certainly don’t want to risk an icy dip,’ I agreed, for the winter sunshine was now rapidly vanishing behind heavy pewter-dark clouds and the wind had an icy edge. ‘Let’s go back. I want to unpack and I’m dying to explore the house. Besides, I’m freezing!’
‘Why don’t you walk back up the terrace steps to the house and meet me there?’ he suggested. ‘It’ll warm you up and I can take the buggy up without your heavy weight to hold it back.’
‘Ho, ho,’ I said, since he was about three times my weight. ‘But I think I will. I could do with some exercise.’
Carey put Fang on the seat next to him and drove off, while I began to climb the stone steps. Each level was planted and maintained beautifully, with lion heads spouting water into half-moon pools full of flickering orange-gold fish. There were climbing shrubs, rockeries, great stone planters and narrow rose beds. I suspected the terraces got at least eighty per cent of Clem’s attention as they were evidently his labour of love.
On the top terrace, which was neatly set out with rose beds, gravel walks and a hexagonal gazebo, I came across the man himself, cleaning out yet another fountain.
‘Hi!’ I greeted him. ‘I walked up to admire the terraces. You’ve kept them looking wonderful.’
‘Do you like gardening?’ he asked eagerly.
‘I love gardens,’ I said truthfully, ‘but I’m afraid I’m not a gardener. My friend Molly’s husband has a big vegetable and fruit garden and keeps his own hens.’
