Page 15 of The Christmas Retreat
A Strategic Retreat
‘Where?’ I said blankly.
‘Triskelion, Ginny. It’s the name of Cosmo Caradoc’s former home in Seren Bach, where his descendants still live, so I’ll see what I can dig out from them about Arwen’s time there.’
‘You didn’t tell me what the house was called – but you know, the name Triskelion does ring a faint bell …’ I said slowly, frowning over it.
‘It’s now owned by Cosmo Caradoc’s great-granddaughter, who is an artist called Nerys Matthews, and she runs several writers’ and artists’ retreats there every year.’
‘Of course,that’swhere I’ve heard it! But I think they’re terribly highbrow, aren’t they? I mean, for literary writers and established artists, not amateurs.’
‘That’s the place and, by great good fortune, they not only run an annual Christmas retreat from 20 December to the day after Twelfth Night, but when I contacted them they’d just had two last-minute cancellations. Fate is obviously on my side and I can work on my book and dig around for clues to Arwen’s stay there at the same time.’
‘I think you were very lucky, because I’m sure they must get booked up months in advance. Come to think of it, it’s odd they didn’t have a waiting list for cancellations.’
‘They did, but I just happened to ring them at the moment they had had the cancellations and, of course, itisvery last minute – the retreat starts next week. I had been prepared to use my distant connection with the family to swing it, but I didn’t need to, so I will hold my fire on that one till an appropriate or strategic moment presents itself.’
I know Evie is hard to refuse when she is set on something, and you certainly couldn’t say she wasn’t highbrow.
She continued: ‘As soon as I put the phone down I had a brainwave, and I got Liv to ring them back and book the other place.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought there would be much for Liv to do for you there.’
‘There isn’t, so Liv is going off to a spa hotel near Bath instead. The other place at Triskelion is foryou. Liv booked it in your name.’
‘Me? Ican’t go there!’ I exclaimed, panic making my voice high and shrill.
‘Why not?’ Evie asked reasonably. ‘You’ve already told us that the workmen are making your life in the cottage almost unbearable.’
‘Yes, but, I mean, goodness knows what would happen if I left the place empty.’
‘You can’t spend Christmas under siege. This will give you a break and you can help me dig out any family gossip about Arwen’s stay there. There will be lots of time for your own work, too.’
‘But I only write children’s books!’ I blurted. ‘I mean, I’m not a literary writer or—’
‘What do you mean,only? How do you expect to be valued by others if you don’t value your own work?’ she said severely. ‘Anyway, you are working on turning your sketchbooks into a series of non-fiction books, aren’t you? You can bring all the material with you and really get down to it in peace.’
That was a little more enticing, but the thought of leaving my home and going to live, even for a short time, in a large house full of strangers was daunting. Something else bothered me too.
‘I’m not sure I like the idea of going there to ferret out Arwen’s connection with the family: what if we find something … not so nice? A skeleton in the family cupboard.’
‘I’llferret things out and you can disown me,’ she said. ‘They don’t know you are my daughter and you needn’t mention it if you don’t want to. We can pretend we’re complete strangers.’
‘I don’t think my going there under false pretences would be any better,’ I said, but she carried blithely on.
‘You know, it could work really well, because people open up to you much more than they do to me. Really, I could do with an oyster knife to get information out of some of my sources.’
I gathered myself together to resist. ‘But I don’t want to come at all!’ I began just as the penetrating, high-pitched sound of trees being felled in the woods suddenly seemed so much closer – right at the back of the cottage, in fact.
I walked through into the studio, still holding the phone and looked out at my now tiny back garden. In the distance I saw the top of the huge old plum tree sway and then, with infinite slowness, topple sideways and vanish, leaving only a cloud of dust and debris to hang in the air where it had been.
It was like losing a beloved old friend and somehow, itchanged everything. It was only sheer stubbornness that had made me determined to hang on at the cottage till the very last minute, but it was obvious now that there could be no final quiet Christmas farewell for me if I did.
‘Are you still there, Ginny, or am I talking to myself?’ Evie demanded.
‘I’m here,’ I said. ‘And yes, I’ll come to Triskelion.’
‘Of course you will,’ she said, as if it had been a foregone conclusion. Then she suggested I packed up the cottage and put everything into storage before I left.
