Page 41 of The Day After Christmas
‘…it’s beautiful.’
‘Yup.’ Felicity felt an irrational sense of pride.
‘It’s like England, Devon or Cornwall maybe, with that amazing coastline, and then also a bit like France and also it looks a bit like a model village in places, do you know what I mean?’
Felicity, who was concentrating on driving through the narrow stone-walled roadways, nodded. ‘I know just what you mean. It’s like a miniature snapshot of what I imagine England used to be like.’
James snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it, exactly. But also a tiny bit French,’ he said, as they passed a stone farmhouse with blue-painted shutters. ‘Why is that?’
‘It was part of Normandy originally I think,’ said Felicity, cursing under her breath as she spotted a car coming down the narrow track towards her and had to pull into yet another passing place. ‘But it’s been partially under the UK government for hundreds of years. They still use the French language for official business, though, which I always think is kind of cool.’
Felicity had known very little of her first home until she visited the previous year, her first trip since she was a child in fact, but she’d spent months since then googling everything she could find about this mysterious and beautiful island. It was lovely to finally be able to share it with someone else. Especially, she reflected as they drove, someone as wonderful as James.
‘So where are we going exactly?’ said James.
‘You’ll see.’
‘Is it…?’ said James, his voice tailing off.
‘It might be,’ said Felicity with a grin.
And sure enough, a few minutes later they were pulling up outside her childhood home in the St Peter’s region of the island. Known locally as Le Manoir, the house was a large white building set back from the road, with huge mature trees all around it and high iron gates. Last time, she’d managed to have a sneaky little poke about in the grounds. It was still, to Felicity’s knowledge, completely empty ever since the bank reclaimed it from her family due to unpaid bills, a thought that still filled her with shame. What she wasn’t expecting to see, however, was the largeFor Sale by Auctionsign on the fence.
‘Woah,’ said James, stretching his long legs out of the tiny Fiesta and staring through the iron gate towards the house. ‘This is incredible.’
When he didn’t get an answer he turned, a frown on his face, to see Felicity still staring at the for sale sign.
‘This wasn’t here last time,’ said Felicity, feeling inexplicably choked up all of a sudden.
James gave a low whistle. ‘Shit.’
‘Yup.’
‘They can’t sell it. I haven’t had a good trespass yet,’ said James, pulling open the gate.
Felicity swallowed. ‘Apparently they can.’
James took her hand. ‘Well then, we’d best go in and get it all out of our system now.’
‘Lead on,’ said Felicity, with a smile, although her insides had turned to scrambled egg.
Up close, Felicity could see the house was looking even more sad than it had before. As they crunched up the driveway they could see the cracks in the plaster, crumbled bricks and peeling paint on the windows. It still had a certain haunting beauty.
James was in awe. ‘It’s so lovely. I can’t believe you grew up here.’
‘I can’t believe someone else is going to buy it.’ Felicity’s voice caught in her throat at the thought.
They peered in through the windows, where old, abandoned furniture was dotted at odd angles amongst the dust and leaves scattered across the floors. It still had that feeling of stepping inside a Victorian novel.
‘It looks like the sort of place where someone might be trapped in the attic, you know?’ said James.
Felicity wiped her eyes, momentarily impressed. ‘Do you mean like inJane Eyre?’ she said.
‘Do I mean what?’ said James, running his hand over a window frame like he knew what he was looking for.
‘It’s a book. A really famous one. Where a guy has his mad wife locked up in the attic. Ringing any bells? No?’
James shrugged. ‘Nope. Sorry. I was thinking of a horror film I watched once.’
