CHAPTER Ten

Cassie drew back her curtains and peered out through the leaded panes of the window at the devastation the storm had wreaked in the garden. Twigs and branches were scattered over the lawns, as if the flowerbeds had been ransacked, and thousands of leaves had arrived overnight to give the appearance of autumn rather than spring. She wondered how the house had fared, thinking that all the chimneys and ornate stonework must surely be vulnerable, and she opened the window so she could lean further out and see if there was any evidence of fallen masonry on the ground.

A figure pelted round the corner of the house as if the devil was snapping at his heels. Sweat darkened his grey vest top, making it cling to a trim torso normally hidden under a woolly jumper. Cassie stepped back, but Barney didn’t look up, and continued to run past at a furious pace.

Ruth was tidying up the kitchen when Cassie went down for breakfast.

‘What are you doing up?’ Ruth asked, as Cassie wandered in. ‘I was sure you’d need a lie in after what you got up to last night.’

She made it sound as if Cassie had engaged in a night of passion. Remembering some of the thoughts of the previous evening, a blush crept across Cassie’s face.

‘It was a team effort,’ Cassie said. ‘The men were out for ages trying to tether the tree.’

‘Shame they didn’t manage it.’ Ruth hugged Cassie. ‘Thank the Lord you were there. Barney may be a grumpy bugger at times, but none of us would want to be without him.’

‘Did he tell you what happened?’ Cassie found it hard to believe that he was broadcasting tales of his rescue.

‘Not a word. Ethel opened up the shop early in case anyone needed emergency supplies. The whole village will have heard the story by now.’ Ruth poured out two cups of tea. ‘How are you feeling? It’s a wonder you haven’t caught pneumonia going out in that weather.’

‘My arms ache, but that’s all.’

Every movement led to twinges of pain in muscles that had been underused until last night.

‘Lucky the doctor paid a visit this morning, then.’ Ruth handed a slim box over to Cassie. ‘Barney thought you might be sore, and said you should apply this deep heat cream twice a day. I said the least he could do was to offer to rub it on himself, but you’d think I’d asked him to rub it on me he ran away so fast!’

Ruth laughed, and carried the mugs of tea over to the kitchen table. Cassie followed with a plate of toast.

‘How are things in the village?’ she asked. ‘Is there much damage?’

‘Not as much as I’d expected. I’ve never heard wind like it. I thought my house was going to blow away and I’d end up in Oz. Have you seen the news this morning? Half the country is flooded. We’ve got off lightly, except for the village hall. But aside from loss of life, that’s about the worst thing that could have happened to us.’

‘I didn’t stop to look at it last night. How bad is it?’

‘So bad that I’d be amazed if it could be repaired, rather than knocked down and rebuilt from scratch. It will be out of action for months. This will kill the village. People love living here because they get the country life and an active community. It will be the end for a lot of the groups that use the hall.’ Ruth took a long slurp of tea. ‘Our Becca’s devastated.’

‘Did she run an activity in the hall?’

‘She helped with the Brownies, but I meant because of the party.’

‘The party? Oh, her engagement party. The ceilidh.’ Cassie had forgotten about it. Despite Ruth’s invitation, she had never intended to go. ‘When is it? Can’t she find a new venue?’

Ruth shook her head.

‘It’s a week on Saturday. It’s Easter Saturday, too, so the chances of finding somewhere free at this short notice are slim, even if she could afford to book a fancy venue. She wanted the hall, so that it would be a proper village knees up. She feels like it’s put a jinx on the whole marriage.’

Ruth’s words niggled at Cassie for the rest of the morning. She had met Becca twice, and had liked her, even though she had tried to entice Cassie to visit her shop to buy new clothes. Becca had shimmered with excitement about her engagement. Cassie might have lost her faith in romance and happy endings, but she didn’t like to see anyone else crushed. But what could she do? Surely if there was another possible venue in the village, Ruth would have known about it?

Frances interrupted her thoughts. ‘Cassie! You have read that paragraph twice. Do you need a break? Barney said I should give you the day off, but I assumed he was fussing as usual.’

Cassie put down the book. Usually Elizabeth Taylor held her enthralled, but she couldn’t concentrate today. She stood up. ‘Sorry. I don’t need a day off. Shall I make us some tea?’

‘It is a little soon after lunch,’ Frances replied, checking her watch. ‘What is that awful smell? Something quite revolting wafted this way when you moved.’

‘It’s muscle rub.’ Cassie sat down again, trying to disturb the air as little as possible. ‘Barney brought it over. I can stop using it …’

‘No, if he thinks you need it, you must use it. He might fuss, but there is no one I would trust more about health issues. He will find out if you stop applying it. He always does.’ Frances spoke with resignation, but there was a surprising wobble in her voice. ‘Perhaps I should have said before, Cassie, on behalf of the family, how very grateful we are …’

‘There’s no need,’ Cassie said, squirming in her chair. All this attention was enough to make her wish she’d left Barney to the mercy of the tree.

‘Yes there is. He is everything to his parents, and I could not manage without him. I suppose it did not cross his mind to thank you himself.’

‘He did.’

‘He was not always so grumpy,’ Frances continued, as if Cassie hadn’t spoken. ‘He has had a difficult couple of years. It is hard to adjust when the dreams one has cherished for a lifetime are shattered in such a brutal way.’

The context of Frances’ words suggested she was speaking of Barney, but the expression on her face revealed a personal angle and Cassie felt as if Frances had lifted the lid on her heart too. But she knew better than to ask questions. She couldn’t risk questions being asked of her in return.

‘Are there any large barns or outbuildings on the estate that are watertight?’ Cassie asked. Frances’ comment had again reminded her about Becca’s problem, and more potentially shattered dreams.

‘You would have to ask Barney,’ Frances replied. ‘He is in charge of the estate and grounds. I should have mentioned that he has arranged extra shifts for the gardeners to tidy up, and for a tree surgeon to check all the trees are safe, so do not be alarmed if you see strange men wandering around.’ Cassie crossed her legs, and flicked an imaginary piece of fluff off her trousers, and wondered how Frances could know her so well. ‘Why do you want a barn?’

‘Ruth’s daughter Becca was supposed to be holding a ceilidh for her engagement party in the village hall. It’s a week on Saturday, and she won’t be able to find another venue at short notice. I wondered if there might be an empty barn that they could use.’

‘A ceilidh?’ Frances leaned forward. ‘What a marvellous idea. I had such fun at a ceilidh when I was a girl, before …’ She broke off, and sat back in her chair. ‘Well, it was a long time ago. Of course we must help Ruth’s daughter. Ruth is an invaluable member of staff. I see no reason why the ceilidh cannot be held here.’

‘Here? You mean in the house?’ It had crossed Cassie’s mind already, but she had let it ride straight out. As far as she could tell, the villagers didn’t come to Ramblings, and Frances didn’t go to the village. She had never imagined that Frances would entertain the idea. ‘It could work in the hall,’ she suggested. ‘It’s only slightly smaller than the village hall, and the rugs could be moved out.’

‘No, that will not do at all.’ Cassie felt Frances’ blunt response like a wet sponge thrown in her face. ‘Why should we use the hall when there is a perfectly good ballroom?’

Of course there was a ballroom. Cassie shouldn’t have been so surprised. It sometimes felt that this house was magical, shrinking and growing to accommodate the needs of those living there. When she went exploring later, and saw the ballroom, she was sure she had found the centre of the magic. It was magnificent, there was no other word for it, and it dwarfed all the other rooms that she had seen so far. It must have stretched thirty metres long, with two grand fireplaces along the interior wall, and a row of graceful arched windows along the exterior one. The sun rushed in through the windows, picking out the warmth in the rich wooden floor, and highlighting scratches marked by dancing heels so vividly that Cassie imagined she could feel the draught of giddy couples waltzing past. Glass chandeliers hung down from a vaulted ceiling painted blue but decorated with hundreds of silver stars that would glisten when the bulbs were lit. Cassie wanted to move her bed in and never leave.

Ruth was stunned into an uncharacteristic silence when Cassie told her that Frances had offered the ballroom for Becca’s party. She returned to Ramblings the next day to make plans while Becca was at work.

‘Fetch the pen and paper, Cassie,’ Frances instructed, as the three of them gathered over coffee in the morning room. ‘We need to make a list.’

Rarely a day went by without making a list about one thing or another, so Cassie was already prepared.

‘Write down cleaning first. It is a while since we used the room. How many people do we need? You two, plus Becca, and put down Melanie and her daughter. I will telephone her later and ask her to come over. What about food?’

‘We were having a cold buffet, so there’s no problem with that. And the No Name are providing the bar.’

Cassie hesitated, doodling on her pad, and looked up.

‘I don’t think you can sell alcohol here. You need to be licensed, don’t you?’

‘We can’t have a sober ceilidh,’ Ruth said. ‘People are travelling down from Scotland. They’ll expect a drink.’

‘Could you ask people to bring their own?’ Cassie suggested. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind, in the circumstances.’

‘I think Mel will mind. She’s bought in a shipping order of whisky. She’ll never shift it all in the pub.’

‘We cannot have the No Name out of profit,’ Frances said. ‘Ribblemill cannot afford to lose its pub as well as its village hall. I will pay for all the drinks. Consider it my engagement present.’

Ruth made a half-hearted protest, and Cassie a more forceful one, but Frances was determined and ploughed on with the list, ignoring them both. As the paper filled, Cassie marvelled at how Frances had thought of everything, even though the idea had only been suggested the day before. Cassie had never seen her so animated. She loved having a project to keep her mind engaged, and Cassie wondered, when the party was over, what else she could find to fill the days. She was racking her brains when she realised that Frances was calling her name.

‘She’s being a dilly-daydream,’ she heard Ruth say. ‘It will be all the wedding talk. She’s probably wondering when her own big day will come.’

It would be hard to think of a subject further from Cassie’s mind, or one she was less willing to discuss.

‘Do you have another point for the list?’ She turned over the page. It already seemed impossible that all this could be done in just over a week.

‘I forgot about the chimneys,’ Frances said. ‘We will need to light the fires, and the chimneys will need sweeping first. Barney has the number for the chimney sweep.’

‘Do I have to go and ask him?’ Cassie couldn’t disguise her reluctance. The night of the storm had been too strange, and had shaken her in too many ways. She had hoped to avoid Barney from now on. She had already snuck into his office this morning before he arrived, to return his jumper.

‘Ha! Fancy a trip to Malta, do you?’ Ruth laughed. ‘I don’t blame you. It’s probably twice as hot over there. I wouldn’t have minded going with him.’

‘Malta?’ Cassie repeated. ‘Who’s in Malta?’

‘Barney. Didn’t he tell you he was going?’

‘No.’ But why should he? They’d hardly ever had a normal conversation. ‘Did he go today?’

‘Yesterday. Isn’t that right, Mrs S?’

‘He flew out yesterday afternoon.’ So had he been joking when he’d mentioned a date, Cassie wondered? It was none of her business. But it seemed an odd time for him to take a holiday, when the estate needed clearing after the storm, and the village was in crisis. She felt strangely disappointed in him.

‘He wanted to cancel his plans, but I refused to allow him,’ Frances continued, making Cassie look up from her notepad again. ‘His mother would have been terribly disappointed if he missed her birthday. He always goes over for that. Such family loyalty is too rare nowadays.’

It made sense to have the chimneys swept before they cleaned the room, so Cassie went to Barney’s office with Ruth to find the telephone number for the sweep. Barney’s jumper was still hanging over the back of the chair where she’d left it.

‘How long is he away for?’ she asked. If it was a long time, she might borrow that jumper again. The central heating worked brilliantly in parts of the house, but in other parts it was switched off. You could open one door and step from the Bahamas to the Arctic.

‘Until after the Easter weekend.’ Ruth was shamelessly inspecting the room. ‘I think I’ll clean up in here while he’s gone. There are crumbs everywhere.’

‘Surely he’ll have the chimney sweep’s number on his phone? I can’t see what we’ll find here.’

‘Chocolate!’ Ruth laughed, and pointed at the desk drawer, which she had opened. Cassie joined her behind the desk. The drawer was stashed full of chocolate bars. Mars Bars appeared to be a particular favourite. They had once been Cassie’s favourite too, and her mouth watered at the memory of the sticky caramel layer nestling under the chocolate coat.

‘What’s this?’ Ruth had rooted past the chocolate and pulled out a worn red book, bulging with loose papers. She flicked it open. ‘Oh, it’s only his diary. I was hoping for something more juicy.’

Page after page was filled with appointments and ‘to-do’ lists, scrawled in the same black writing that slithered across Ruth’s shopping list.

‘Does he actually do all that?’

‘All that and more. There were two or three people running this place in the olden days. Now there’s Barney. What did you think he did down here?’

‘I don’t know.’ She did her best not to think of him at all. ‘But Guy said …’

Ruth made a noise that could have come straight from the Barney school of huffs. She didn’t approve, that was clear.

‘Guy Smallwood? I didn’t know you’d been hanging round with him. Don’t tell me you were dilly-daydreaming about him? Well, there’s nowt so queer as folk…’