Page 17 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘In this other file are the extra lists with boxes to tick for ordering from the supermarket – usually I do that once a week on the computer in the library – and menu plans and so on.’
‘This is all amazingly thorough,’ I said.
‘It was necessary to keep it up to date, because so many staff have come and gone in the last few years,’ Maria explained. ‘You will find in the purple file the phone numbers for the plumber, electrician and others you might need to call, too. The doctor’s number is on the corkboard by the door over there.’
‘I’m sure everything we need will be at our fingertips,’ Henry assured her.
‘I hope you will manage, because tomorrow afternoon my husband comes home,’ Maria said. ‘The Lady has already had a stairlift and shower put in the cottage, to make it easier for him.’
‘That was kind,’ Henry said.
‘It was, but also she thinks it will mean I can work my old hours from the New Year, once he is settled,’ she said practically. ‘But we are not young, and now we think we would like to retire. But that is difficult now that the Lady has told me she is very ill, though she does not look it.’
‘She gaveusto understand that she’s seriously ill, too. That’s why she wanted to hold this last family party over Christmas,’ Henry agreed.
‘If she has not long to live, then I will find it hard to leave her without help.’
‘That puts you in a very difficult situation,’ I said sympathetically, realizing what a conflict of loyalties she must be feeling. ‘But it will be easier to make up your mind after Christmas, when you’ve had some rest and can get things into perspective.’
Maria nodded slowly. ‘Yes, that is what my daughter says. She and her husband are both doctors and they live in York,’ she added with a note of pride.
‘There we are, then – you take her advice,’ Henry said comfortably. ‘Now, I expect you want to show us where we’re sleeping and then we’d better bring in our stuff.’
‘You are right – time passes. But I am not going to the hospital today, since Andy is home tomorrow, so I do not need to rush away.’
She gave us a brief, whistle-stop tour of the laundry room, abig larder, scullery and various other rooms of indeterminate purpose, though one contained two big freezers and another a store of cut logs.
Then she marched us back through the kitchen and threw open another door.
‘This was the Servants’ Hall, but is now the staff sitting room.’
It was large, with a stone fireplace containing a log-effect electric stove, though since there were radiators here, too, it was warm enough already.
There were shabby chintz-covered chairs and a sofa, probably cast-offs from the main part of the house. The floor was covered in coconut matting, on which lay a few worn rugs.
‘Cosy,’ I said politely, which I am sure it would be with the curtains drawn and the log-effect fire glowing. Henry was examining the TV, which was not huge, but looked fairly modern and there was a DVD player, too.
The rest of the furnishings consisted of a huge dark sideboard, a table and a large bookcase, empty apart from a few dog-eared paperbacks on the bottom shelf, presumably left by some of the transient staff.
A narrow, winding staircase went up from one corner and Maria said, ‘This is the old backstairs for the servants and we go up. Your bedrooms are above.’
A corridor ran off from the top of the twisty little staircase and Maria showed me into a large, pleasant bedroom with a rose-patterned pink carpet and embossed wallpaper in a design of gilded baskets of flowers. The double bed had brass knobs.
‘Lovely,’ I said, hoping I wouldn’t overdose on conflicting flower patterns, but it was at least clean and warm.
‘I only make one bed up, because I think you are a married couple,’ she said. ‘But all the bedrooms are kept aired anddusted, so it is just a matter of making up the bed in the next room.’
‘We can do that later, if you show us the linen cupboard,’ I said.
‘Here it is,’ she said, opening a door opposite on to heaps of linen and the smell of lavender. ‘And this next to it, the bathroom.’
That was old-fashioned but adequate, fluffy towels already hanging over the rail.
‘Lovely,’ I said, and we passed more bedrooms before the passage was blocked by a green-baize-lined door, like the one to the kitchen.
Beyond it, the passage continued, though more lushly carpeted.
‘That leads to the family part of the house, but we go down these stairs now, into the Garden Hall, where you came in.’
