Bo was almost as stunned herself when Trewhella House loomed in front of her on the day of the performance. She and Angel had travelled to the event together in Bo’s van where they were meeting up with Ran, Hubert, Sally, Cade and the other Flingers.
‘Wow. Just wow,’ she said when they caught their first sight of the mansion.
It was only three o’clock but the house was already lit up. Green, violet and pink lights highlighted the magnificent facade, with each pillar picked out in a different hue.
‘Look at the tree!’ Angel wound down the window for a better look at a huge fir tree, adorned with twinkling lights, that stood proudly at the front of the house. A queue of people snaked back from the door and down the steps, eager to get their first glimpse of the interiors.
If Trewhella had been spectacular by day, the magical transformation as dusk fell made Bo catch her breath. She could only imagine how it would look in full darkness with the windows of the house blazing out in all their glory against the night sky. It was easy to imagine the awe, and perhaps envy, of the guests turning up for that final Christmas before the family were hit by tragedy. Her heart was already beating a little faster at the prospect of dancing in such a grand setting, in front of the audience.
She parked the van in the staff area and she and Angel took in the house in amazement.
‘I am so nervous,’ Angel said.
‘I must admit I am too,’ Bo said. ‘I love dancing but I always feel on edge when we do a demo and especially in a huge mansion like this. What if I trip up or land on my bum?’
‘What if my mind goes completely blank?’ Angel said.
‘Firstly, it won’t, and if it did, you’re dancing with Hubert so you’ll be fine,’ Bo said. ‘That’s what I love about rock and roll, you can just make it up and still look like you know what you’re doing!’
Angel and Bo unloaded bags containing shoes, make-up and other ‘essentials’ from the boot. Angel had also brought some of her dresses and a small ‘exhibition’ of photographs and samples showing how she had made Jenna’s dress. She’d decided she wouldn’t have time to sell her own products too so she’d just made a few Christmas decorations, with an honesty box where people could leave a donation to the Fisherman’s Mission.
‘It isn’t only the dancing that’s making my stomach tie up in knots. I’m excited about seeing Jenna in her dress. I wonder what the reaction will be?’
‘You already know she absolutely loves it.’
‘Yes, but I haven’t seen her in all the finery and she’ll be on full display. I wonder how she must be feeling with the house decorated for her family’s last Christmas and wearing a replica of her great-grandmother’s dress.’
‘I thought the same. It’s pretty sad that all this grandeur was so soon to melt away and that house must have felt empty and cold the following year.’
‘After his wife’s death, Lord Boscawen couldn’t bear to spend Christmas there alone and took his daughters to one of their other houses.’
Angel was silent.
‘Are you OK? It’s been a hell of a week. Working so hard on your stock and the dress and hearing from Tommy.’
‘Yes. Well, no, but I have to move on. If I hadn’t had the dress to focus on, I don’t know what I’d have done to be honest. I’ve told him I’ve called my solicitor. He was gobsmacked. I think he thought my life still revolved around him.’ She set her chin determinedly. ‘Now, do you think we can move all this in one go or are we going to have to make two trips?’
They were saved from a decision – and the double trips – by Ran turning up.
Between them, Ran, Angel and Bo managed to carry all their kit to the rear of the house, through to the old servants’ hall which was being used as a green room for the Flingers. It had sofas, chairs and tables and was lit by a cheerful fire. They’d helpfully set up tea- and coffee-making facilities and there was a cloakroom where the dancers could change if they needed to.
They left their stuff and went for a quick look around the house before the public were let in.
‘Isn’t it fabulous?’ Angel said as they made their way up a flight of stone stairs into the grand hall.
Bo totally agreed. The house had been transformed from the deserted and rather melancholy space at the autumn craft fair. A showpiece Christmas tree in the great hall almost touched the ceiling, and there were others in the drawing room, morning room and dining room, each decorated with vintage decorations.
Plump wreaths of evergreens decorated with baubles and scarlet ribbons adorned the doorways, along with seasonal floral decorations on tables. In the drawing room, someone was playing traditional carols and Christmas music of the era on a grand piano. Fires blazed in the hearths behind the fire-guards.
The ballroom had been divided to give space for the Flingers to dance, and also allow several rows of seats. They were doing one half-hour session and the audience could book tickets on arrival to watch the demo.
The dining table was laid with a snowy-white cloth and fine china and more cutlery than Bo had ever seen.
‘Just like our house at Christmas,’ Angel said in a low voice that made Bo giggle.
‘We always booked a restaurant and met friends for Christmas dinner,’ Ran said. ‘With only the two of us, it seemed pointless to cook and clear away.’
Bo thought of her own family; her mother would have considered it almost sacrilege not to have her brood around her on Christmas Day. She’d expressed her disapproval in no uncertain terms on the occasions that Bo had had to work on the day.
‘I’ve worked in restaurant kitchens a couple of times over Christmas,’ she told Ran.
‘Ouch.’
‘I survived but it’s absolute mayhem. Some of the staff wanted an excuse not to join in the whole family thing and I was OK with it when I was starting out but not now. I’m quite happy to let someone else cook …’
She suddenly wondered what Ran would be doing on Christmas Day. Would he go to see his family in the South-East? Or maybe even go to Norway? He wouldn’t be spending it with his wife, that seemed clear enough. She’d love to invite him to hers on Christmas Day if he didn’t have any other plans – she hated the thought of anyone being alone at Christmas – but there was no way she was going to ask, putting him under pressure and risking a rejection as she did with her declaration to Hamish.
‘My kids and their partners are coming,’ Angel said.
Bo thought that it would be a very strange time for Angel. She was brave to come along at all and face the full-on festivity at the event.
‘Hello!’ Jenna joined them.
‘Oh my,’ Angel cried. ‘You look incredible!’
‘Your dress looks incredible, my dear. It’s all your doing.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Ran said.
The pistachio dress had a lustrous sheen and fitted Jenna like a glove. Teamed with pearls, evening gloves and pointed stilettos it made Jenna look like a fifties movie star.
‘Just like the portrait …’ Bo said.
‘I could never match up to Great-granny but I hope I’ve done her justice.’ She smiled. ‘Would you like to see the sitting room?’
‘Yes, please.’
Jenna led the way through the ballroom to the door at the side where the radio music had been playing. Even now, Bo experienced a thrill at the memory of the moment they danced and what it had led to. Ran was making great progress though, sooner or later, Bo was wondering if they’d take things further. Perhaps Angel was right and she should take a risk.
The sitting room was hung with brightly coloured paper chains looped from the picture rails and wall lights, with foil decorations in the shape of bells and stars. Though large by any normal family’s standards, with the fire burning and the homemade decorations, it seemed surprisingly homely.
‘They used to be made by my mother and her sister,’ Jenna explained. ‘Everyone had them in their houses, and if money was tight, they might make the chains from strips of newspaper.’
As in the rest of the house, there were vases full of festive greenery from the gardens and holly sprigs pushed behind the pictures on the wall. The centrepiece was a tree was covered in tinsel and glass baubles and topped with a Christmas fairy.
‘I brought the fairy,’ Jenna said. ‘It’s been handed down through the family. When the Illuminations are finished, I’ll take it home and put it on our own tree at home.’ Her phone rang. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I must take this.’
Before any of them could offer to leave, Jenna had exited the room and closed the door.
‘Oh my God, look at this,’ Angel said, lingering by a hefty wooden display cabinet. ‘That’s a bit creepy,’ she said.
Ran and Bo joined her.
‘That’s weird,’ Bo said.
They all stared at the object in the cabinet: a crystal ball very like the one Madame Odette had used, apart from one major difference: this ball was set on a gilded stand, with moulded animals. Not the cute kind, but rather creepy creatures like goats and rams with curled horns and staring eyes.
‘The ram’s head symbolises the occult,’ Ran said. ‘They’ve always been associated with witchcraft and Satanism.’
Angel shuddered and goosebumps popped out on Bo’s arms. ‘How do you know that?’
‘A friend was into folklore,’ he said.
‘It’s a long way from Madame Odette’s fairground predictions to witchcraft and the occult,’ Bo said.
‘Even so, I wish I’d never gone to have my fortune told.’
‘Me too.’
‘Do you think it’s worth a lot of money?’ Angel asked the same thing that had been going through Bo’s mind.
‘No idea.’
When she returned, Jenna took Angel off to a small exhibition area about the house and the dress, leaving Ran and Bo alone.
‘I’d love to take a look around the gardens if there’s time,’ Bo said.
‘We still have over an hour until the first dance. We could have a quick look round and be back in the ballroom in time to set up,’ Ran said.
It was far too tempting an invitation to be turned down. ‘OK. Let’s go for it.’
Dusk was falling and the garden was starting to move from its daytime existence to a glamorous night-time mode. That’s how it felt to Bo, as the sky deepened to a dark blue.
‘Look up!’
Her eye was drawn up and up to the canopy of trees, lit from below by coloured uplighters. It was incredibly effective, the colours reflecting off their pale trunks – pinks, greens, blues and violets. The lighting showed the lace-like tracery of the branches, some still with a few leaves clinging to the twigs. It lit up the gnarled trunks of the older trees with their twisted branches and spiky twigs like witches’ fingers. Yet also there were also late and early flowers out on the shrubs and bushes.
‘It’s absolutely spectacular,’ Bo said in wonder, making her way along the gravelled walkways. They came to a long metal arch – more of a tunnel – which had been covered in a net of fairy lights.
‘Spookily magical,’ Ran said.
‘You’re teasing me.’
‘No, I’m not. It is a spectacular place.’
They meandered along the trails, not following any particular route, simply choosing interesting ways, or so it seemed to Bo. She was no real gardener but recognised azaleas and mahonias. Their shiny leaves were brighter in the lights and the silhouettes of spiky palms and monkey puzzle trees created an exotic backdrop.
It was the camelias that were the stars, their rose-like blooms rich shades of scarlet- and coral-coloured petals. They shone like jewels against the dark green foliage.
‘I love the camelias. It’s like finding a patch of summer in the middle of winter.’
‘I have one in the garden at Creekside. Nothing like this, of course. It puts my weedy specimen to shame. It’s magnificent … I don’t miss a London winter …’ Ran said. ‘And the extra daylight here. Almost half an hour. It makes a difference for it not to be dark by four o’clock.’
‘London at Christmas must be exciting. The shops, the parties, the buzz and the Christmas lights. Cornwall can’t compete with the vibe of a big city.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go near Oxford Street for at least two months. London is a great place – but as for Cornwall not competing. I wanted to get as far away from competition as possible. London became a place I didn’t feel I could breathe in.’
‘I can understand that but don’t you find it so small here, so confined and claustrophobic?’ She was playing devil’s advocate, she knew, but she had a strong need to tease out how he felt about staying, longer term – even if the answer might not be one she wanted to hear. She’d never asked Hamish’s plans, never thought about them – or was it that she’d assumed he would stay? Assumptions were bad things. So were questions but it was too late now.
‘I wanted to hide away here, I suppose. A cottage concealed under the trees in the most remote offshoot of an inaccessible river valley.’ He smiled. ‘You can’t really get much more hidden than Creekside.’
‘Then why join the dance group? Why come out into the light and colour and sound? You chose to be sociable.’
‘Maybe I was only hiding from one person in particular,’ he said. ‘But the plan’s failed spectacularly. I’m so glad I did join in – or I wouldn’t be here now.’
There was no time to walk down the hill to the estuary beach at the bottom of the estate but Bo sensed that Ran, like herself, wasn’t ready to return to the house yet. There was a tranquillity and magical atmosphere in the gardens that made you want to linger – or maybe she only wanted to linger with Ran.
Even as they walked, the sky was changing: turning from sapphire to indigo as night rolled in from the west. They came out of the wooded garden area and onto open lawns that sloped gently down to the Fal estuary. Fewer people had ventured out here, most transfixed by the showier sights in the main gardens.
‘Wow.’
Ran echoed her thoughts as they stopped on a terrace that marked the boundary of the formal lawns. They’d found it by walking through a gap in a wall and down a short flight of stone steps. It felt as if the terrace was hidden from the main house. It was lit by some sunken lights set into the wall, but far more discreetly than in the rest of the garden, and Ran and Bo were completely alone.
It wasn’t large but very private, edged by a stone balustrade and urns. A small clover-shaped fountain stood at the centre, with a fantastical fish sculpture.
The spot gave a great view of the Fal estuary which was silvery in the moonlight. Lights glimmered along its banks, and in the far distance you could see Falmouth town itself on one side with boats lit up in the port and the fishing village of St Mawes on the other. Further out to sea, there were tankers on the horizon. Bo imagined the Boscawen family taking tea there in the summer, gazing over the river as it opened out into the shimmering sea. What a life …
The sky darkened. Clouds hid the moon and Bo felt a splash of cold moisture against her skin. ‘Uh-oh, I think that was a raindrop …’ She peered at the pond, trying to detect the tell-tale ripples. ‘Or am I imagining it?’
‘I felt it too …’
‘We’d better be getting back. I don’t want to get wet,’ she said, wracked by a reluctance to leave. Yet her hair would be ruined, and it wouldn’t take much for her dancing dress and tights to be soaked.
A cold gust of wind blew and more droplets spattered her face.
‘Now that is rain. Let’s get back to the house sharpish,’ Ran said.
The squall of rain was a grey sheet that had already obscured the seaward end of the estuary and was heading for them, driven by the wind.
‘Shall we make a run for it?’ Bo asked and turned. Already she felt the rain against her hair and pulled up her hood.
‘I think it’s too late. We’ll have to shelter,’ Ran said.
‘Where?’
‘There. By the steps!’
Bo could only see a mass of ivy but Ran took her hand and they dashed forward.
He hurried with her to the rear of the terrace and she saw what she hadn’t noticed when she’d scurried down the steps before. There was an alcove in the wall beneath the double flight of stairs. She’d been so transfixed by the view, she hadn’t looked behind her.
Seconds later, they were huddled inside.
There was a wooden bench at the rear of the alcove and they sat down on it. The rain lashed the terrace, drops bouncing off the flagstones and hammering into the pond. Water already dripped off the tendrils of ivy hanging down in front of them. The wind whooshed and fresh waves of rain blew in like chilly veils.
Bo shivered. The temperature had plunged and night had fallen properly. The lights of Falmouth were no longer visible, and the terrace lamps glowed feebly through the mist created by the rain. She drew her feet under the bench to keep them dry. Ran put his arm around her, pulling her closer.
‘I don’t know how we’re going to get back to the house without getting drenched,’ she said.
‘I wish we didn’t have to go back to the house.’
Even with the low light, she was so close to him she could see his face. She tensed, half-afraid she hadn’t heard him correctly. Every nerve ending was alive, even in the cold with the rain hammering down.
‘We have to,’ she murmured.
‘I know we have to but if we didn’t,’ he said.
‘If we didn’t, then I could stay here all night with you.’
His arms encircled her, and a moment later, his warm mouth was against hers. His lips were soft, the kiss was gentle yet hungry too. Bo’s body responded, relaxing into the embrace, enjoying the sensation of his lips on hers. Her eyes were closed and everything was gone: no rain drumming on the steps, no breeze blowing from the sea, no chilly winter shower; only the warmth of Ran pulling her even closer and her melding against him. He was right: it was too late to go back now.