Chapter 6

Sam was woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. Normally he put it on silent before he went to sleep but he had kept the volume up in case the hospital tried to get hold of him.

So he blearily fumbled around in the dark before answering the call. It turned out to be one of the singers he managed who was currently in Australia and wanted to pick his brains about some promotion ideas.

Sam tried to recall the exact moment when his life had changed so drastically.

He had dreamt of a life in the music business for so long during his teenage years. Having no actual musical talent of his own, he had become a manager, thinking that he could be his own boss in the industry that he loved. It was a win-win situation. Or so he had thought.

At first, it had all worked really well. Initially he had gathered together a dozen bands and singers. They were all talented but none of them had had any great success in the charts. His pay had been modest but enough to keep a flat in London. But at least it meant he had never had to ask for payouts from his grandfather who he’d always suspected had been firmly against the idea from the start.

Then, out of the blue, one of his fledgling projects had taken flight. Sam had spotted Tommy King singing in a local pub in Hampstead a few years previously. With just his guitar to accompany him, Tommy’s talent had shone out and Sam had immediately signed him up.

Sam had worked hard with Tommy to develop his song writing abilities and they were halfway to building his first album when something amazing happened. About two years ago, the American rapper Jazz Goldblatt had been in London on tour and had gone into the pub where Tommy still played each week. Jazz tweeted his three million followers about the ‘awesome Brit boy’ and suddenly Tommy had become an overnight sensation. A couple of videos on YouTube went viral and he was beginning to rival Justin Bieber for the hordes of screaming girls that had unexpectedly appeared every time he stepped out of his front door.

A bidding war for Tommy’s first two albums had erupted between two record labels, the result being a contract worth tens of millions. Sam’s cut of the deal suddenly meant that he had more money than he could ever have imagined. Growing up, the family hadn’t struggled and thankfully there had always been food on the table and a roof over their heads. But they had never been awash with money either.

But he hadn’t been in it for the big bucks. And with the contract came the sudden demands on Sam’s time. The music industry was a massive business and the record label wanted value for money. There were almost constant meetings, both at home and abroad. Tommy was just completing a major tour of Europe and America and Sam had joined him at most of the venues so far. On the back of Tommy’s success, he had been inundated with offers for representation and Sam’s portfolio of quality artists had grown so much that he was finding it was becoming a twenty-four-hour job.

It had been another reason why he and his grandfather had grown apart. His grandad had no doubt seen Sam’s choice of career as rejecting his responsibilities.

Sam suppressed a yawn as he clicked on an ancient lamp that he had found in the corner of his old childhood bedroom. Much had remained the same in the room for the past thirty years, although it was a lot more shabby than he had remembered. He had been touched to find his favourite toy, a rocking horse, still in one corner, although it was looking decidedly lame and dusty these days. He stared up at the large and rather ominous cracks criss-crossing the ceiling whilst listening patiently to the conversation. It appeared that whilst he had been away, Willow Tree Hall had begun to come apart at the seams.

The singer’s ego was smoothed over and he ended the call. One glance at his phone told him that it was a little after six o’clock in the morning. He had finally fallen asleep around two and was exhausted and still jetlagged.

Coffee, he decided. That would help.

He got out of bed and stretched his aching body. The old mattress felt as if it had been stuffed with straw.

Two nights ago, Sam had stayed in a luxurious hotel room but had worked late on his laptop. Only one day previously, he had been in business class on an airplane. Neither night had he slept more than a couple of hours. But both beds were at least warm and comfortable. Neither of which would remotely describe where he was at that moment. There was a force ten gale of a draught whistling through the rotten window frames that made the curtains twitch. And there was no escaping the fact that the room smelt mouldy and damp.

He felt a sudden pang of remorse. Sleeping in this kind of atmosphere can’t have been good for his grandfather’s health. The same Grandfather who now lay in a hospital bed.

He glanced out of the window and could just make out the river beyond the trees at the back of the grounds. He and Will had loved playing in the water when they had been growing up. He could even remember his grandad teaching them to fish with his old rods.

He turned away from the window with a sigh and realised his stomach was growling in hungry protest. He had given up on dinner the previous evening as Aunt Rose had told him she wasn’t hungry and Annie had never come back downstairs after rushing away early in the evening.

In the end, he had endured an hour’s reassurance from his aunt that Annie was the best thing to ever happen to Willow Tree Hall and that he should stop assuming the worst about her. But that still didn’t answer what she was doing there in the first place.

He couldn’t believe she had talked to him in that manner after he had disclosed his plans to sell the house. She was thoroughly unprofessional. She had snapped and snarled at him, accusing him of neglecting his grandfather. Well, there may have been a small truth in that but it was none of her business. She was admittedly very attractive to look at but obviously she had issues.

All the talk about his grandfather had upset him so much that he had gone up to bed soon after Rose. But now it was morning and he was desperate for something to eat. He was thirsty too, but he definitely wasn’t drinking anything that came out of the bathroom tap, especially as the water he had brushed his teeth with was definitely tinged with yellow.

He pulled on a pair of black trousers and a jumper, both of which were in the bottom of the small suitcase of clothes that he had brought back from New York.

It was still dark as he crept along the corridor, trying not to wake his aunt as he went, knowing that she had never been an early riser. Using the torch on his iPhone to guide him, he made his way downstairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sam stopped as he heard a noise from the direction of the kitchen.

Could it be burglars? Was there anything left stealing?

He picked up a nearby vase which was considerably heavier than it looked and would hopefully do some damage to whomever he found lurking in the kitchen.

Going past the dining room, he crept quietly down the small flight of stairs and took a deep breath before rushing into the kitchen.

The scene in front of him made him stop in his tracks.

Annie was leaping around, dancing to a Taylor Swift song that was playing on her iPhone nearby.

‘Shake it out,’ she sang, slightly out of tune.

The fact that she was in red fleece pyjamas covered in penguins made the sight even more surprising. On her feet were a pair of beige Ugg boots which were slipping across the cracked, tiled floor. Nearby was a white sweatshirt which she had obviously stripped off, presumably because of her energetic dancing.

Her long, dark blonde hair was flying around as she danced, waving her arms enthusiastically. Her cheeks were bright red from the exertion. He tried not to let his gaze linger lower down where her chest was rapidly rising and falling under the penguins.

It was only when she saw him that she crashed to an abrupt halt.

‘Good morning,’ said Sam, with a smirk.

He’d certainly had worse starts to his days recently.

*

Annie stood still, completely and utterly mortified as she stared at Sam.

O. M. G. He had caught her dancing! In last year’s Christmas pyjamas that Megan had given her! And she wasn’t even wearing a bra! She quickly folded her arms across her chest.

What on earth had she been thinking? She had woken up early and come downstairs to make herself a coffee. Rose would never get up before 9 a.m. so she had lots of time to potter about. But, as usual, the kitchen was freezing so she had danced around a bit to get warm.

Except her cheeks were now on fire from sheer embarrassment. In front of Sam of all people! She had completely forgotten about the man who wanted to remove her from their home and flatten the whole place to turn it into luxury flats or whatever.

‘Good morning,’ she finally managed to reply, still out of breath.

‘Is there any coffee?’ he asked, obviously enjoying her mortification.

She realised it was probably the first time he had smiled at her since they had met. The rest of the time his admittedly handsome face had been creased into a frown of disapproval.

‘Only instant,’ she told him, pointing to the nearby jar.

As casually as she could, she grabbed the nearby sweatshirt and whipped it over her head to cover herself up. God, she hoped none of her pyjama buttons had come undone. What a nightmare.

She had to try and be more professional, she reminded herself. More like an actual housekeeper. Like Mrs Hughes in Downton Abbey but without the Scottish accent. And forty or so years younger, obviously.

But then why the hell should she worry? Sam was only a temporary visitor. As far as she was concerned, the quicker he left, the better for everyone.

She muted the song that was still playing on her phone, leaving behind an extremely awkward silence between them.

As she began to edge towards the doorway, he turned around from switching on the kettle.

‘So, I was thinking that you must have trained to be a housekeeper quite early on after school?’ he asked. ‘I mean, to take over a vast estate such as this one would require lots of experience on your CV.’

She felt a cold chill creep over her. Did he know? Had he guessed? He was definitely digging, but she wasn’t going to give him any information. It wasn’t his business. If he had been around more often, then perhaps she could have trusted him. His younger brother, Will, had at least visited a couple of times, although that was pretty infrequent as well. Still, it was more than Sam had bothered to do.

She was just thinking up the right lie to tell him when his phone rang. Literally, saved by the bell, she thought.

He grimaced as he looked at the screen. ‘Nobody ever said that being Tommy King’s manager would bring about a quiet life,’ he said aloud to no one in particular.

Thankfully he had already picked up the call and didn’t see her face blanch and pale.

She rushed out of the room and upstairs, googling Sam’s name on her phone along the way. How could she have not checked what he did for a living?

She couldn’t believe it and almost dropped the phone when his name came up. That uptight, stuffed shirt of a man was a manager in the music business? Oh no. Surely not.

Feeling increasingly panicky, she scrolled through the names of the people he managed. Tommy King. Well, that was vaguely impressive, she supposed, considering Tommy’s global superstar status. Who else? A couple of indie type singers. Those leather-clad rockers Hazy Weekend, who had only ever had one big hit with that awful Christmas song that everyone loved so much.

She desperately scoured the page for the familiar name. His name. And sank down onto her bed in relief when he wasn’t mentioned.

What a nightmare. It was all too close to home. Literally.

*

By the time Sam finished his phone call, Annie had returned, this time dressed in jeans and a bright blue hoodie. He noted that her cheeks were still pink, presumably from embarrassment of being found dancing around the kitchen. To Taylor Swift, no less!

There should have been nothing attractive about baggy red pyjamas covered in penguins. Nothing that should have made his pulse race like that. And yet, the way she moved…

He drained his mug of coffee which was almost cold and listened to his growling stomach. He headed towards the pantry which, he assumed, had remained in the same place near the back door. Except the pantry was almost empty, if you didn’t count the mice who were helping themselves to the cereal boxes. He decided against cornflakes with an extra furry topping. He then opened and closed the fridge door as it wheezed and clattered into the silence, presumably protesting as to the lack of food in there.

He became irritated once more by Annie’s ineptitude with regard to looking after his family.

‘Why is there no food in this house?’ he asked.

Annie was just making herself a coffee. She hadn’t offered to make him a refill, he noticed. ‘I haven’t been to the supermarket lately,’ she muttered, not making eye contact. ‘There’s cereal if you want.’

‘And another thing,’ carried on Sam. ‘My bedroom was freezing last night. I couldn’t light the fire because I think the flue is blocked with bird nests. Why hasn’t the chimney been swept in time for winter?’

‘It just hasn’t been in use for a long time,’ she replied, in a sulky tone.

‘Well, it needs to be used now. It’s a bloody disgrace. Get someone out here today

‘Look,’ she told him. ‘Maybe Arthur chose to put his tenants’ needs before his own.’

‘Yes. I understand that but surely it would have made sense for you to have planned to have all the flues swept before the colder days arrive?’

‘I realise that but I can’t because…’ Annie’s sentence faded into the air.

And then he understood. ‘Because there’s been no money to pay anyone?’ he prompted.

Annie took a beat before finally nodding.

Sam immediately regretted his outburst as he realised how bad things must have become. He thought that it was the big money that his grandad had been unable to find to repair the house. But it turned out that even the day-to-day running of the house was on a very short shoestring.

No wonder the stress of all of this had caused such a strain on his grandad’s heart.

Then he thought of something else. ‘Are you still being paid?’

Annie shuffled from foot to foot, staring at the floor. ‘The payment bounced and I didn’t have the heart to tell Arthur,’ she eventually muttered.

Sam frowned. ‘How long ago was this?’

She sighed before telling him, ‘Three months ago.’

He was shocked. ‘So how have you been buying food to feed you all?’

Annie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I have some savings.’

He was beginning to think that he had completely misread Annie. She had used up her own money to feed his family.

He shook his head sadly and drew out his wallet. ‘This should be enough to restock the larder at least,’ he told her, picking out a wodge of twenty-pound notes that he had withdrawn at the airport only the previous day.

‘I don’t need your money,’ she told him, looking all stiff and awkward.

‘Well, you need to eat, don’t you?’ he replied. ‘If not, I most certainly do and am sure Aunt Rose would appreciate some food as well.’

‘Nonsense!’ said his aunt, arriving in the kitchen right on cue. ‘How else am I to keep my hourglass figure?’

‘Good morning,’ said Annie.

Sam watched as she broke into a broad smile and knew that he would never receive such a greeting. But he was pleased to see his aunt looking a little better. Thanks to a lifetime spent devoted to the fashion industry, she had a vast amount of designer clothes to draw on, although she had still chosen to wear a drab but thick brown jumper and trousers, presumably to stave off the extreme cold inside the house. But at least she was wearing a bright pink woollen scarf and a few long ropes of gold necklaces around her neck. That was more like the Aunt he knew and loved.

‘Good morning Aunty,’ said Sam, before turning his attention back to Annie. His outstretched hand still held out the money for her.

With a sigh, she finally took it from him with obvious reluctance. ‘Thank you.’

He knew it shouldn’t have come to this. The situation should never have got this bad.

‘Has anyone rung the hospital this morning?’ asked Rose.

Sam nodded. ‘Will just rang and updated me. Grandad had a good night and is being moved up to a ward this morning.’

‘Thank goodness,’ said Rose, with a teary smile. ‘Now, do you think these shoes go with this scarf?’

Sam looked at Annie. ‘I think that’s directed at you, not me.’

Annie nodded. ‘You look lovely.’

Rose looked pleased. ‘I want to look good for the hospital this morning. William promised to take me in first thing. Some of these doctors are really quite dashing. We should set you up with one, Annie.’

‘Look, can we forget about romance and get back to the more pressing matter of money,’ snapped Sam.

Rose held up a hand. ‘A lady doesn’t discuss finances on an empty stomach.’ She gave Annie a theatrical wink.

As Annie went across to pour out a cup of tea for Rose, Sam sank onto a kitchen chair. ‘I don’t get it. Nobody’s getting paid. The place is falling apart. This estate could be worth, I don’t know, millions. Why not just sell?’

Rose blinked in disbelief at she stared at her great-nephew. ‘Sell? Of course we won’t sell! It’s fine the way it is.’

Sam had expected that kind of reaction and just shook his head sadly. ‘I need to talk to Grandad about all this. I’ll go and see him this afternoon.’

‘Don’t you go upsetting him when he’s just had a major operation,’ said Rose, looking stern. ‘And if the doctors are telling us that he’s got to relax for the sake of his heart then they’ll be no talk of selling up today either. Or any other day, come to think of it. I insist you take Annie with you.’

Sam glanced over at Annie. He didn’t need a bodyguard. This was something that he and his grandfather needed to talk about on their own… in private.

‘I need to take him some pyjamas and personal bits anyway,’ said Annie, jutting out her chin in defiance.

Looking from her strict face to his Aunt’s, Sam realised he had no choice.