Annie hadn’t expected to be a tour guide that evening. She felt utterly exhausted, weighed down by the rollercoaster of emotions throughout the day. All she wanted was a cup of tea, a shower and to eat her own body weight in chocolate biscuits.
But perhaps it would be quicker to show Sam around than get into an argument with him. Once that was out the way, perhaps he would leave soon after.
Two corridors led off the main entrance hall in opposite directions. As Rose had gone into the kitchen which was in the west wing, Annie led him into the east wing first.
They went through the first doorway on the left and into the drawing room. It had been a grand room once upon a time, she supposed. But the furniture and rugs were all ancient and worn. The draughts whistled up through the floorboards and gaps in the rotten window frames. The ceiling had huge cracks running across from one corner to the other. But she would join Arthur and Rose in there most evenings to keep warm as it had one of only a couple of fireplaces that actually worked. They would chatter about the past whilst having a drink in front of the warmth from the flames. Their company probably made the room feel cosier than it was, but to Annie it was a room filled with happy memories from the past few months.
She watched Sam walk slowly around, hoping he didn’t notice the dust that covered most of the furniture. It wasn’t that she was hopeless with the cleaning but there was always so much else to do, even with Megan helping out two mornings a week. Besides, normally the draughts blew most of the dust from the tables before she had a chance to wipe them.
Although she wasn’t sure why she wanted to impress Sam so much anyway. What had Will called him? The prodigal grandson? That was an understatement, considering he hadn’t been home in at least a year. Although, given the way he had acted since he had returned, Annie was quite glad about that.
She watched him stop by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the many photo frames on the mantelpiece. There was a lovely picture of Arthur and his late wife. He had been very handsome in his youth but had remained tall and willowy even into old age. In the photograph, the late Countess was standing next to him in her wedding dress, an elegant and beautiful woman.
Amongst the other photos were ones of Sam and Will when they had been children, playing in the grounds in the summertime. Rose had often referred to their childhood as a happy time.
She heard Sam sigh before he walked over to feel the radiator underneath the large sash windows.
‘Cold,’ he said to no one in particular as he straightened up to stare outside the window at the darkening light outside.
Annie couldn’t remember a time when the radiators had ever worked.
‘I can add another log to the fire,’ she said, glancing over at the small blaze in the huge fireplace. Rose had obviously been sitting in there waiting for them to come back. She was understandably very upset about Arthur. They all were.
Sam shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said, looking around the room once more as if in shock.
Perhaps it was a little cold in the house, thought Annie, although she was pretty much immune to it by now. She decided to keep him moving to stop him complaining.
Next to the drawing room was the library. The longest wall was covered from floor to ceiling with a vast number of bookcases which were filled with musty-smelling volumes of numerous classics. A small dark wooden desk and chair were placed nearby. Occasionally, Arthur would wander in there to choose a book to read but other than that it was rarely used.
The only other piece of furniture was the full-size snooker table which filled up the remainder of the room. She watched as Sam took a dusty ball and rolled it slowly across the faded green felt. It was probably the first time it had been used in years.
Perhaps because his grandfather had not had anyone to play games with, she thought sadly.
At the end of the corridor in the east wing was the grand ballroom. It was a large, double-aspect room with walls gilded with what could have been gold but it was hard to see under all the mould and years of decay. There were even a few leaves on the floor which had been blown in through the huge glass doors which led outside onto the terrace. One of the panes of glass had been broken for a long time and was letting in a terrible draught.
Rose had told Annie that in the past the ballroom had been the setting for many grand parties. Royalty had even been mentioned as having visited Willow Tree Hall. It was certainly a large enough space for a big celebration. But there hadn’t been any parties at the house for a very long time.
*
Any tiny bit of enthusiasm on Sam’s part had waned into non-existence as he and Annie went from room to room.
The library had been depressing in its obvious state of abandonment. He didn’t think anyone had used the snooker table in years.
Now, walking across the creaky, wobbly floorboards of the ballroom, he looked out of the window at the view of the large grounds at the back. In the fading light, he could see the terrace was dotted with overgrown grass and weeds. The couple of large stone pots were cracked and broken, soil spilling out of each of them. Who knew in what state he would find the vegetable patch and walled garden if he dared venture near them? Let alone the stable block and coaching lodge that were hidden out of view down the path towards the mile-long stretch of the river that was also theirs. But he didn’t have the heart or strength at that moment to face any more derelict buildings.
The music room appeared to be a dumping ground for various boxes marked for charity but at least the study felt as if it had been used recently. Arthur’s papers were neatly stacked in piles on the desk. But although the furniture was familiar, like every other room so far, the floorboards were uneven and the faded wallpaper peeled off the walls in great swathes. The fireplaces appeared riddled with soot and the window frames were so rotten that there were gaping holes in each one, causing draughts to rush in from outside.
He couldn’t believe it. The whole place felt cold, unloved and uninhabitable.
How could it have changed so much? He tried to think back to his previous visits over the past couple of years. His hectic workload had meant that he had only visited the Hall once a year at Christmas to drop off the presents and have lunch with the family. Was it possible that he had just not noticed the steady deterioration? ‘How long has it been like this?’ he wondered out loud.
‘What do you mean?’ replied Annie, staring around as if the ramshackle state of the place was nothing new.
He shook his head, trying to free his mind of so many memories. Playing snooker with his Dad. Hide and seek with Will amongst all the furniture. His grandmother fixing another vase of roses fresh from the garden on the small table in the entrance hall. The many drinks parties Rose had hosted. These were all memories that he had cherished, warm and loving thoughts to cling onto. Before his parents’ accident had changed everything, of course.
He felt an overwhelming sense of sadness at the huge changes that had taken place. That things could never be as they had been in the past.
Something else was bugging him too. There were quite a few gaps on the walls, bright squares of wallpaper amongst the fading remainder, where some kind of art had obviously been hung for many years but was now missing.
‘What’s happened to the paintings?’ he asked, turning to look at Annie. He wondered whether it was possible that she had been stealing. Was that why she was hanging around the place? Why else would a young woman like her choose to be stuck in a house like this?
She sighed. ‘I think they’ve been sold.’
‘Why?’
She laughed but it was without humour. ‘Why do you think?’
Was it possible that his grandfather had money problems? Come to think of it, how much money did a vast house like Willow Tree Hall need to run? He had never even stopped to consider the subject before that moment.
His mind was racing with endless answers and none of them were positive. He made a mental reminder to call his brother. Surely Will had seen how bad things had become? But he knew that offloading the guilt onto his younger brother wasn’t an option either. Some of the blame had to lay with himself.
Back in the entrance hall, Sam followed Annie towards the grand staircase. Presumably she was being paid a wage despite the cash-flow problems. He wondered whether she was actually being vastly overpaid for very little work. Was that why she stayed on? Was his grandfather an easy touch for money? This seemed quite obvious given that the house was in such disrepair, something it had never been when Mrs Briggs had been the housekeeper.
He found himself wondering about her past.
‘Where did you train to be a housekeeper?’ he asked.
But instead of answering, she lost her footing on the wooden floor and staggered towards him. For a brief moment, he held her against him and then straightened them both up. Her face was now so near to his that he could see the deep emerald of her green eyes, framed by thick dark lashes.
Feeling unexpectedly unnerved by holding her so close, he quickly let go of her.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, realising she looked upset as she stared down to the floor. He followed her gaze and saw a small puddle of water that had gathered at the bottom of the stairs.
‘It happens every time it rains,’ she said, in a hushed tone. ‘That’s how your grandfather slipped over this morning.’
Sam automatically lifted his head up to the ceiling, high above the double-height stairwell to the eaves of the roof. He could actually see the darkening sky peeping through a couple of gaps in the ceiling. Was the house actually coming apart at the seams?
‘I’ll get it fixed,’ he found himself saying.
Of course, he had no intention of taking over the running of Willow Tree Hall but he couldn’t leave the place like this. It was unsafe and not fit for habitation especially for his frail grandfather and aunt. He had a care of duty to them all despite their differences.
Sidestepping the puddle, they made their way upstairs now, the magnificent oak banister wobbling as soon as he touched it. If he and Will had tried to ride down it now, as they had done so many years ago as children, the whole thing would collapse under their weight.
In the upper east wing, two of the five bedrooms were just as dusty and worn as the downstairs rooms, largely from lack of use. The bathrooms weren’t much better. He didn’t think anyone had used them for years.
At the end of the corridor, they arrived at the master bedroom which Arthur still used. It was a large room with dual aspect. It was also the only bedroom in the wing that appeared relatively clean, albeit still shabby and faded. A huge, heavy-looking four-poster bed stood in the middle, overpowering everything else. It had been in there ever since he could remember.
Something touched deep inside his heart as he saw the photo of his grandmother on the small table next to the bed. What would she have made of the deterioration of her beloved home? She had adored Willow Tree Hall and it had always felt cosy and warm when she had been alive. There was nothing cosy or warm about the place now though.
The bedroom next door belonged to Rose and it also had signs that it was lived in, piled high with magazines, hats and brightly coloured scarves. Not that she was wearing anything like her normal fashion that day.
Across in the upper west wing, were more bleak bedrooms and even grimmer bathrooms. Had he really slept in rooms like this in his childhood years? He couldn’t remember it being this bad way back then. He hadn’t stayed over last Christmas, thanks to his hectic schedule. He had argued with his grandfather and had walked out anyway. Had he even gone upstairs? He couldn’t remember.
On the landing, he glanced over at the small stairwell tucked away in the back of the house that led up to the modest staff quarters upstairs. He had never been up those stairs. Whilst Mrs Briggs had lived there, it had been an unspoken rule to protect her privacy. He glanced at Annie who was still stiff and unresponsive to him.
He was just wondering whether he was actually brave enough to investigate the state of the staff quarters further when he saw lights appearing down the driveway.
‘That’ll be the man to fix my car,’ he said, relieved to be able to rush downstairs and away from the disheartening state of the inside of the house. It was breaking his heart to see it in such a state.
But the mechanic took one look at the broken suspension and wheel hanging off before shaking his head. ‘There’s nothing I can do with this,’ he told Sam. ‘It needs at least a week in a proper garage to get that fixed. Mind you, I nearly lost the suspension on my own van coming down that driveway. Wish you could have warned me about the state of it.’
Sam watched the man leave soon afterwards before making up his mind. He would just go inside, have a quick cup of tea with his aunt and then order a taxi. It didn’t matter that London was fifty miles away. He could more than afford the fare. The car could be towed away at a later stage and that would be the end of it.
He felt an almost desperate need to rush away from the house and yet he was so mixed up. He had braced himself for the place to be as stuck in the past as his grandfather was and yet it was all so strange because he barely recognised the place. Time had moved on. Maybe he could persuade his family to do the same. After all, there was nothing to keep them here now, was there?