Page 8 of The Granddaughter's Irish Secret
‘We just arrived about an hour ago. How are you settling in?’
‘Great, thanks,’ Rose replied. ‘The gatehouse is very cosy.’
‘Not getting a little lonely?’ Sylvia asked.
‘No, it’s fine. I only arrived yesterday, I still have to unpack and then get stuck into the project. I’m quite happy to be on my own for a bit.’
‘Well, don’t be on your own tonight. Come to dinner,’ Sylvia said, in a tone that sounded more like an order than an invitation. ‘There is someone here who wants to meet you.’
‘Who?’ Rose asked, even though she had a feeling she knew who it was.
‘Arnaud’s son Henri. He came over with us. As you’ll be working with him from time to time, we thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet him properly. You’ve only met briefly so far.’
‘The briefer the better,’ Rose muttered.
‘What did you say?’ Sylvia asked.
‘Nothing. I’ll be there tonight,’ Rose promised. ‘I’m actually dying to see your new apartment at Magnolia. Are you pleased with it?’
‘Yes,’ Sylvia replied. ‘It will take a little getting used to, but the builders did a great job. All we need to do now is decorate a bit more. Maybe you could give us some advice? You’re so good at doing up houses.’
‘It’s more like doctoring old wrecks to get them sold,’ Rose protested. ‘But I’d be happy to help you with that and whatever else you need, Granny.’
‘You’re a darling. See you tonight. Seven o’clock for drinks. Don’t dress up.’
‘See you then, Granny,’ Rose said, knowing the ‘don’t dress up’ order was actually the opposite. She would have to put on something that her grandmother thought tolerable for a family dinner, or whatever it was. Arnaud was family, as he was Sylvia’s fiancé, but Rose had decided quite a while ago that Henri certainly was not. It was true that they had only met a few times, briefly, but his superior tone during those meetings had annoyed Rose enough to get him into her bad books. That, added to the situation between the two families a little over two years ago, made him a real villain in her estimation. She still thought he wanted the manor for himself. Tonight would be hard, but she’d just have to grin and bear it. Hopefully she wouldn’t have much to do with him in the future, apart from the odd business meeting. Everyone else seemed to have come to terms with Henri and accepted him as both a friend and business partner.
It seemed like a happy ending all around, except for Rose’s resentment of Henri. She couldn’t shake it.
4
Later that day, Rose was ready for dinner with her grandmother. Dressed in a paisley silk shirt and beige trousers, her hair newly washed and blow-dried, she walked up the gravel path to the manor. She touched the trunk of the magnolia tree again for luck, as she always did, before entering. Everyone in the family did this, as if not touching it would bring them bad luck. Superstition, they said, but it was also a way of connecting with the house and everyone who had lived in it for centuries.
Rose went around and into the courtyard, noticing that the back door had been newly painted a sage green. There was a series of buttons beside it with an intercom. Rose pressed the button to the intercom and waited for a reply.
A tinny voice said: ‘Rose, is that you?’
‘Yes, Granny,’ she replied.
‘Just a minute,’ Sylvia said. ‘I’m trying to find the… Oh, here it is.’
Then there was a buzzing sound, and Rose easily pushed open the door as she stepped inside a bright room. It used to be the utility room, but had been knocked together with the boot room, and now had two large windows letting in theevening light. Rose looked around in awe, at the newly sanded and polished oak planks, the walls covered in wallpaper with a design of tiny leaves and flowers. The back wall was hung with coats and jackets. Rose recognised the old umbrella stand bristling with umbrellas and walking sticks, which reminded her of the old boot room.
A door opened in the far wall and Sylvia peered out. ‘Rose,’ she exclaimed, stepping forward. ‘How lovely to see you!’
Rose gave her grandmother a tight hug. ‘Darling Granny. I’ve missed you.’ She stepped back and looked at Sylvia. ‘You’re so tanned and healthy. And I love that yellow dress. It takes years off you. All that sunshine must be rejuvenating.’ She couldn’t take her eyes off her grandmother, whose brown eyes sparkled, her thick grey hair cut in a neat bob framing her only slightly wrinkled face. She was a few years over eighty but looked more than a decade younger.
Sylvia beamed at Rose. ‘That, and the love of a wonderful man.’
‘You’re so lucky.’
‘We both are.’ Sylvia took Rose’s hand and pulled her to the door. ‘But come in and say hello to Arnaud and Henri.’
Rose followed Sylvia into a cosy living room, not much different to the old study, with the same oriental carpet, fireplace and sofa, flanked by two leather easy chairs. The windows had been replaced by double French doors leading out to a terrace, which allowed the evening sun into the room. ‘How lovely,’ Rose exclaimed, looking around. ‘The old, new study.’
‘Now the living room,’ Sylvia filled in. ‘We have a small office next to my bedroom, and Arnaud has a little cubby hole next to his. And we each have our own bathroom. We’re very cosy here without getting in each other’s hair. I always said that the secret of a happy relationship is separate bathrooms.’
Rose smiled. ‘Yes, I think you’re right. Maybe that’s why Gavin and I broke up. He always complained that I spent too much time in the bathroom.’
