‘When I was fifteen and my brother … Eddie … was twelve,’ Lucia says, her voice not much more than a whisper, ‘there was a terrible accident and he … he died. My parents blamed me. They didn’t explicitly say so but I know they did. They’re both dead now but afterwards we spent a long time edging around each other’s pain and then I decided to harden my heart and just see them now and again.’
Lu wraps her arms around herself and shivers. On an impulse Sir Peter goes over to the armchair and pats her shoulder. He wonders fleetingly how long it is since he’s had any sort of physical contact with another human being. He and Mrs Jacques don’t go in for that sort of thing. He smiles at the image of how she would react if he admitted he sometimes yearned for even the briefest of hugs. Lucia carries on rather shakily, unaware of how much Peter is appreciating her sharing her troubles with him so confidingly.
‘Now there’s just me at home with Isaac, Polly and baby Reggie. My husband has left me with only a short, spiteful letter to explain why. I’m unbelievably sad, furiously angry and I feel like a complete failure as a wife and a daughter. But most of all, I failed as a big sister all those years ago. I’d do anything to have Eddie back. I just want to explain to him …’
She reaches into her pocket for a tissue and blows her nose. ‘I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You must think I’m insane. I don’t usually pour my heart out to complete strangers, but you don’t feel like that somehow.’
‘I’ve been most honoured to listen to your story, my dear, and I agree we’re not strangers anymore,’ Peter says, when she’s gathered herself again. He hesitates for a moment. ‘I wonder if you’d still allow me to return the compliment by sharing my problem with you?’
‘Of course.’ Lucia beams up at him, clearly touched. ‘How can I help?’
‘Well, as you probably gathered from the telephone conversation, I am shortly going to have to make the biggest decision of my life.’ Peter rubs his lower back as he speaks, stretching his shoulders until the bones crack. Lu flinches.
‘I’m sorry, my dear. When you get to my advanced age, the old carcass gets somewhat creaky. So, my big question …’
He pauses. The comforting hiss of the gas fire and the sound of birdsong drifting in through a crack in the window give him confidence to continue.
‘This is the crux of the matter,’ he says. ‘I have got to make my mind up almost immediately as to whether I hand my family home over to a privately owned trust.’
Sir Peter swallows hard. Saying the words out loud is making them all too real. He tries again.
‘They’re a very well thought of organisation and I’m confident they’ll do a good job in restoring what needs to be preserved and getting the old place fit to be seen by the public. To be fair, I’d already told them my decision but I’m suffering from cold feet, and they’re understandably getting frustrated.’
There, it’s said. His big problem in a nutshell. He waits, hoping his new friend will understand the magnitude of the dilemma.
‘You don’t have a family to carry on the tradition then?’ Lucia asks tentatively.
‘I have one son and my wife is dead, as I mentioned.’
‘Oh. And your son doesn’t live here?’
‘No, Miles owns and runs a vineyard in California and he has no children. Nor does he have any real affection for Meadowthorpe. He regards the Manor as something of a burden, and I’m very much afraid that when I’m gone, it’ll be turned into one of those hideous health spas or an old people’s home for geriatrics with a bit of extra cash.’ He shudders.
‘But what’ll happen to you if you give your home away? I can see that it’d make a wonderful visitor attraction, people would flock from miles around to see it, but where will you go?’
‘Now there’s the rub. Where indeed? But if I stay, I’m watching the old place get more and more decrepit. I can’t even afford to get that window replaced.’ He nods to the cracked pane. ‘And you must have noticed the awful holes in the drive. The roof is leaking in several places too, and those problems are merely the tip of the iceberg. Meadowthorpe Manor is falling apart around my ears.’
Lu is silent for a moment and Sir Peter senses that she’s thinking hard.
‘I wonder … could you offer it to them on the condition that you keep a corner to live in? Or convert a few outbuildings for a flat?’ she asks. ‘How would that be?’
Peter strokes his chin, hearing the faint rasp of bristles. He chides himself for not shaving this morning. He certainly would have done so if he’d known he was going to have such a charming visitor. ‘I suppose it’s worth asking. I hadn’t thought of that. I must admit the only option seemed to be a clean break, just like our friend Tommy decided to do. As I said, I made the mistake of telling the Trust several weeks ago that I’d made my mind up to hand over the property but since then I’ve had many doubts. The only thing is, Lucia, I’m so very, very lonely here.’
Peter’s voice cracks as he ends his explanation and he turns his back on Lu while he takes out a brilliantly white cotton handkerchief to wipe his eyes.
‘So … do you think getting away from your old home, even if only for a while, might help you make a decision?’
The thought is enticing, but where would he go? Echoes of previous holidays and trips abroad flit through Sir Peter’s mind like an old-fashioned Cinemascope in black and white. Suddenly, a longing to escape fills his being.
‘But I haven’t been anywhere for so long. I …’
‘Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I was out of order. Shall I clear the tea things?’
Lucia’s question seems to be intended to give him time to collect himself and Peter is grateful for her tact but the floodgates have opened now and he finds himself unable to stop the tears flowing. He mops his face, mumbling an apology.
Lucia gets up and goes to stand near Peter. The grandfather clock in the corner begins to whirr, preparing to strike. It seems polite to wait for the twelve chimes to finish. As the sound dies away, she says something that shocks him profoundly.
‘You should make a move,’ she says, putting a hand on the rough tweed of Peter’s jacket. ‘It’s time to let someone else have all this responsibility. And not only that, you need a break and we’ve got plenty of room in the van for an extra one. You should bite the bullet and come away with us, right now.’
Sir Peter feels his head begin to spin. His sharp intake of breath alerts Lucia to the fact that she’s dropped these two ideas on him much too suddenly. She hurriedly guides him to a chair, apologising all the way, and pours him another cup of tea, adding two sugars. He drinks it absentmindedly, staring into the fire.
‘Are you definitely telling me to leave my home? How can you know for certain that’s the right thing to do?’ he asks. ‘And how can you just invite me to crash your trip? The others don’t know me from Adam and you and I have only just met.’
Lucia appears to struggle for words to explain how sure she is that Peter must give his home away. ‘It’s kind of a gut feeling,’ is all she can come up with. ‘But Tommy gave me something apart from the money and maps and photos. It’s a kind of compass-come-barometer. I’ll show it to you if you come with us. I don’t know how, but holding this beautiful object in my hands gives me a powerful sense of all the other people it must have guided in the past. It’s already giving me a strength to make decisions that I’ve never had before.’
‘How very odd.’ Sir Peter can feel his strength coming back now, and although the idea of not only leaving his home but setting off on a mad excursion with strangers is alarming, it’s also filling him with a sudden wild excitement.
‘Can you and your little party stay for lunch while I think about all this, Lucia? It’s been lovely to have such a charming visitor and I do want to meet them all. They might take one look at me and be horrified at the thought of an octogenarian companion on their trip.’
Lu glances at the clock. ‘I’m sure they’d love that, but we must be going immediately afterwards to get to our first port of call. We’re heading for Cornwall eventually but there will be a couple of stops on the way. It’s a very loose plan.’
‘And that, in my opinion, is the very best kind. I’ll just go an inform Mrs Jacques that we have luncheon guests. No, don’t start looking worried, my dear, she’ll be delighted to have someone other than me to cater for. I expect she’ll rustle up some of her marvellous omelettes and she’s always got freshly baked bread on the go.’
Keen to make a good impression, Peter insists on donning his overcoat and escorting Lucia out into the grounds to round up her troops for lunch. He crams a battered old trilby onto his head and steps out smartly.
‘I want to see this marvellous vehicle,’ he says.
When they reach the van, he walks all around the van, whistling admiringly. ‘It’s stunning,’ he says, patting the side of the van. ‘So cheerful with the rainbow and all that marvellous foliage.’
‘You like it? My husband thought Flora the Explorer was a silly name and a ridiculous vehicle.’ Lucia smiles up at him. ‘I’m not going to nag but I really hope you decide to come along for the ride with me and my odd little family and give the Trust the okay to take over, providing you can keep your own space? If you find you’re allowed to hang on to a small apartment, you could probably get it fixed up while we’re away. How does that sound?’
‘I rather think I will, if the others are in agreement of course. You’ve given me a great deal of food for thought, and your listening ear has been much appreciated. You’re a very warm and comforting person, Lucia, and I have a feeling that now’s the time for you to blossom.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes indeed. This is probably a terribly trite thing to say but we only get one life and we both need to make the most of ours, don’t we? I’m so glad you came here today.’
Peter sees the rest of the party approaching across the fields. Lucia waves to them and they wave back. A tall young man looking to be in his early twenties is pushing a buggy containing a chuckling baby with round, rosy cheeks. A girl walks beside them, her long hair flowing in the breeze. They look supremely happy to be in each other’s company on this fine blowy May morning.
As they draw nearer, Peter finds himself holding his breath as questions whirl around his brain. Will they like him? Can he cope without his home? Is he crazy to be even considering his new friend’s impulsive suggestion? As the girl calls a cheerful greeting and the baby flaps his arms, he straightens his shoulders and grins. The Cavendish family coat of arms bears the words Carpe Diem. If there’s even the slightest chance of it, Sir Peter is about to seize the day.