Page 28 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

Chapter 11

THE NEXT MORNING, DURING breakfast, I texted Rachel. It would be her evening in New Zealand.

Me: Hey, Rach, I got a job. I’m going to work at an old manor house as a guide for visitors.

Her reply came back a couple of minutes later. Wow. That was quick. It sounds like something you’ll enjoy.

Me: Yep. How are you doing? Any news?

Rachel: I’m on a date right now. He’s a hot lawyer from a rival firm. Tall, dark and rich.

Me: Is that a conflict of interest?

Rachel: Lol. No.

Me: Enjoy your date. TTYL.

Shortly afterwards, I drove out to Chirtlewood House. The nearest village was Richmond upon Thames. Chirtlewood House sat on exquisitely manicured lawns with precise gardens stretching to the edge of the river Thames. The morning was much brighter than the previous day, without a cloud in the sky. It seemed the weather around here was almost as changeable as back home in Christchurch.

When I first caught sight of the manor house as I turned off the road, I almost went off the driveway. My eyes boggled at the size of it. Nothing that size existed in New Zealand. As I drove around the back to the staff car park, the manor house loomed above me, putting the car park in shadow.

The manor was a giant brick three-storey building with an uncountable number of chimneys. Two wings extended forwards from the front of the building, both with vast bay windows on every floor. Around the back, floor to ceiling windows opened out upon even more extensive gardens that included a small lake, a hedge maze, a tennis court and outbuildings dotted among mature wooded areas and expanses of lawn as fine as a billiards table.

I stood admiring it for a few minutes, not even closing the car door. Ducks splashed on the lake in the distance. A sign nearby directed tourists to the maze and to the Orangery, which had been converted into a café. Several ‘Keep off the grass’ signs lined the immaculate lawn edges.

‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’

I spun at the voice. A woman of a similar age to me stood by a car, smiling. Her dark red-streaked hair was tied in a bun. Her clothes, though fashionable, appeared a size too big, and her handbag screamed chain-store value.

‘It sure is. I can’t believe I’ll work in this fascinating historical house.’

‘You must be Heather. I thought so. Welcome to Chirtlewood. I’m Melissa Hawkins, one of the guides here.’

‘Nice to meet you. I love your hair.’

‘Thanks.’ She grinned. ‘Come on inside and meet the others. We open to the public in half an hour, and we must get the house ready first.’

I followed her through the staff entrance at the back of the house into a pokey office. What function would this have had when people lived in the manor? A butler’s office?

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