Page 57 of The House of Hopes and Dreams
‘I think that’s left to our imagination,’ Carey said. ‘Something too terrible to contemplate.’
We carried on down to the hall where, like the rest of the old part of the house, Ella had polished the panelling to a high gloss, while ignoring the grime and cobwebs adorning the ceilings and furniture.
This must have made Mr Wilmslow think of her, because he asked, ‘Have you decided what to do about the Parrys’ employment, Carey?’
‘I have: my ideas for Mossby’s future are coming together and I can see that things will have to change. I’m going to suggest to them that they continue to live rent free at the Lodge and I’ll substantially increase Clem’s salary to reflect his hard work. But I don’t need a housekeeper, so Ella’s employment will cease.’
‘That seems a fair and practical solution,’ he approved.
‘She doesn’t seem to have earned her salary and while everyone has told me how she insists on cleaning this wing herself, she hasn’t even done that properly.’
‘Very true. I had noticed. But of course, making her redundant isn’t likely to go down well,’ he said drily.
‘I can’t help that – I have to be practical.’ Carey’s strong jaw set in a way I was familiar with. ‘I’m going to keep the cleaning firm on and I’ll get them to do a thorough spring clean through the whole property.’
‘I suspect Ella won’t like that either, if they’re going to come in here too,’ I said.
‘Then she should have made a better job of it herself. I’ll probably give her first refusal of the position of seasonal tour guide if we open to the public at Easter, though.’
‘If Clem’s salary is substantially increased, then there will be no radical drop in their income, so I think your solution is a very fair one,’ Mr Wilmslow said.
He left soon after that, promising to ring once the new will wasdrawn up ready for signature, and as soon as his car vanished Carey turned to me.
‘I feel like going for a rummage through that chest in the muniment room, even though I’m sure the Jewel won’t be there. But then, there’s so much I’m dying to look at, explore and work on, that it’s hard to know where to start. I mean, we haven’t evenseenthe attics yet, so why don’t we—’
‘Why don’t we have lunch and take Fang for a little airing, before we do anything else?’ I interrupted firmly.
And we did: up the weedy, unused part of the drive behind the house to where an old wrought-iron gate was fastened by a huge chain and a padlock that looked as rusted solid as the rest of it.
‘Bolt-cutter,’ Carey suggested, examining it. ‘These gates and the front ones will look splendid when they’re restored. The wrought-iron work is really fine.’
‘There’s an old stone stile in the wall over there you could replace with a small wicket gate for the visitors to use.’
‘Or put a gate in next to it, for those who can’t climb over stiles?’
Beyond the gate you could just see where the old drive had continued and joined the narrow farm track, which skirted the walls of the estate and headed off downwards. It had been tarmacked, but a Mohican ridge of tufty grass had grown up the middle.
‘So, if you reopened these gates, you could drive up past the farm and come out eventually in the middle of Halfhidden village?’ I said.
‘You could, though I’m not sure it would exactly be a shortcut, because I bet there are two or three gates or cattle grids on the way.’
We could see the roof of Moel Farm above us with a plume of blue-grey smoke winding up into the sky, and suddenly, over the stone wall opposite, the inquisitive heads of two alpacas popped up like furry periscopes.
‘Are those the ones that spit, or is that llamas?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. I thought it was camels. But if they can spit, they’d have to be Olympic champions to get you from there, Shrimp,’ he said, laughing.
When I first told Lily of our engagement, she gently pointed out that though Ralph and I seemed to be on the friendliest of terms, his manner to me was not at all lover-like. But of course I did not heed her, for I was dazzled by the sun of Ralph’s splendour and if my wings got singed, it was entirely my own fault.
So it was that soon after Christmas we were married and spent our honeymoon in Paris, one day taking an exceedingly interesting excursion to Chartres, to see the cathedral windows. I wrote reams back to Father and Michael about it: I was quite overcome. Looking back later, I could see that I mentioned the stained glass I saw on my honeymoon with much more frequency than I wrote of my husband. Of course, I adored Ralph, who was gentle and kind, but the feeling of excitement receded fairly quickly and we were soon back to being the companionable friends we had always been. I was happy in Paris, though I soon saw that Ralph longed to get home to Mossby – and I too began to miss my work and looked forward to viewing my very own workshop.
For the first few days at Mossby, relations with Honoria proved very difficult, until finally I spoke my mind bluntly to her and we came to an understanding that she should continue to make Mossby her home and keep house as she had always done. I had no experience or interest in running a household and, in any case, I had barely unpacked before I was running down to see how the transformation of the old mill into a glass workshop had turned out.
In fact, with its tall windows in the main area, it might have been built for the purpose and the two men Father had sent to set it up said they would be happy to settle in Lancashire, if asked. Since Father seemed from the start to regard it as an offshoot of his own business, I could continue to do work for him, the train making a convenient link between us for the transportation of painted glass for firing and finished panels.
But I was quite sure that I would soon be accepting, and carrying out, commissions of my own.
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