Thanks to the efforts of Mr Reynolds’ team of professional builders, there were now all new chimney stacks so that the fireplaces could be swept before finally being able to be used. New gutters had been fitted and the roof was beginning to be patched up after the delivery of the new grey tiles that slotted in beautifully with the original ones. Slowly a few windows each day were being replaced, although there were plenty still to go. But gradually things were beginning to come together.
‘So I don’t need to worry when it rains anymore?’ asked Sam , glancing up at the ceiling.
He was feeling more like his old self again now that he had recovered from the flu.
‘Or if it snows,’ said Mr Reynolds with a smile.
The forecast was for heavy snowfall once December arrived in a couple of weeks. The odds on a white Christmas had been slashed by the bookies.
Sam glanced around the master bedroom. The inside downpours had ruined the walls so the whole of the upper floor required replastering.
‘The new internal doors will be completed by the end of next week so every bedroom will be draught-free,’ said Mr Reynolds.
‘Thank heavens,’ said Sam with a sigh.
‘But I need to warn you that they’re starting work on the bathrooms this week. Do you want the bathroom in the staff quarters done at the same time?’
Sam frowned, never having even considered about the rooms in the attic. ‘Er, yes,’ he said.
The two men walked back out to the landing, at the edge of which a new balcony had been constructed. In the same dark oak as the new staircase, the spindles matched those gradually being added on each step. It really was a thing of beauty. At least it would be once it was finally uncovered from its shroud of covers to protect the wood whilst the builders came and went.
‘At least progress is being made,’ said Sam.
But he was still concerned about the bathroom situation. Halfway up the stairs, he realised that he had no idea what the staff quarters looked like as he had never gone up there. He told himself that it was his duty to make sure everything was ok up there. But he had never been more aware that he was in Annie’s personal space. He went up the narrow, dingy staircase and found a small, unused kitchen to one side. The walls and furniture were as dilapidated as the ones in the main house had once been. He walked along to the small shower room and peered inside. It was clean but outdated, with an avocado-coloured sink, loo and cracked shower base. Only an empty bottle of shampoo in the bin hinted that Annie had used the bathroom a few weeks previously. But there wasn’t even a bath.
Once he had checked out the butler’s quarters which were fairly depressing, Sam glanced inside Annie’s bedroom, knowing that she was downstairs and hoping that he wasn’t invading her privacy too much. He looked around the dismal room, realising how awful it was. A single bed, which looked as if it would collapse at any moment. Ghastly old furniture. However, the tiny fireplace was sweet, or it would be if the cracked tiles around it were replaced.
His guilt was palpable. Why hadn’t he even considered upgrading the staff quarters? What about Annie’s needs?
‘I had no idea it was so bad up there,’ he told Annie when he went back downstairs. ‘We will, of course, get it renovated.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Annie was shaking her head and looking a little alarmed. ‘Think of it as the next phase.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Sam. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered whether Annie couldn’t just stay on the main floor instead of being stuck all the way up in the attic. After all, his grandad was right. She wasn’t just staff. She was family.
Except he was starting to realise that he didn’t want to think of her in those terms either.
*
The builder’s radio was blaring out Christmas songs now that December had arrived. ‘Santa Claus is coming to town,’ sang the band. He’s not coming here if he’s got any brains, thought Annie. Then she realised that everything was slowly beginning to improve as the decay of the old house was stripped away week by week.
Every day, a small victory was won. The electrics had now been rewired in the bedrooms in the east wing, as well as the drawing room. Windows were replaced, ensuring that, at last, the place was beginning to lose its icy temperature inside. Most of the chimneys that had been swept were beginning to be lit. The upstairs bathrooms had been cleared ready for brand new suites. Therefore Annie could move downstairs to allow the workmen to get to grips with the staff quarters in the attic.
On her last night in the housekeeper’s bedroom, she sat on the bed with her knees hugged to her chest. She desperately tried to take in every small detail before it was taken away from her. The wallpaper was faded and peeling. There was a chip on the wall by the fireplace where she accidentally dropped a fire prong when she had first arrived. The sooty marks on the ceiling had remained even after she had removed the long candlesticks.
Despite her wanting to embrace the change that had been thrust upon Willow Tree Hall, the invasion of the staff quarters unsettled her the most. This was her bedroom, her personal space where she had hidden herself away for so many months.
She had felt awkward when Sam had asked her to move downstairs. And yet she was ready for change, she realised. She wanted a fresh start.
She stared around the room one last time before picking up her two suitcases and carrying them downstairs to one of the spare bedrooms. It was another dilapidated room but it was enormous compared to her old room. The view was nice though, overlooking the front of the house.
Her joy was short-lived however when Sam handed over the remaining decisions to her later that day.
‘I’ve got to go away again at the end of this week,’ he told her. ‘And, without sounding sexist, wallpaper isn’t really my area of expertise.’
‘But I thought Rose and Alex were sorting it all out?’
‘Aunt Rose isn’t around too much this week what with all the Christmas lunches going on. You can talk to Alex. I trust you,’ he said.
‘Do you think it will be ready for Christmas?’ she asked, ever hopeful.
Sam drew in a long breath. ‘Not so sure about that. But you know what Christmas means, don’t you?’ he asked, smiling at her.
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he talking about mistletoe?
‘Record sales figures from all those lovely people buying presents for one another,’ said Sam.
Annie tried to hide her disappointment. ‘How lovely and warm that must make you feel,’ she told him, rolling her eyes. ‘You are the Grinch that stole Christmas.’ But she smiled so he knew he was joking.
But Sam’s face had dropped. ‘More like the one that didn’t show up very often,’ he told her with a sad shake of his head. ‘We used to have every Christmas here. I remember the massive tree right there in the entrance hall. It was so tall you could see the top from the gallery on the first floor. My dad used to dangle me from the landing up there to hang the star on top of the tree.’
‘It must be tough to celebrate Christmas without your parents,’ said Annie, knowing from her own experience.
He nodded. ‘It is. They made it so special.’ He brightened up as if forcing himself to. ‘And this one will be special once we’re done doing the place up and getting Grandad home.’
It was going to be special because Arthur and Aunt Rose would be coming home.
‘You must have had some fun times on the ships celebrating Christmas,’ said Sam, looking intently at her.
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s never the same as being home though, is it?’
‘Well, it’s a good job we’ll all be together this year.’ He took a step towards her. ‘I’m looking forward to having my first Christmas with you actually.’
She gulped, her throat suddenly dry. ‘Me too,’ she managed to croak, before they were interrupted by Megan coming down the stairs.
As Sam walked off, Megan raised an eyebrow in silent question.
‘We were only talking about Christmas,’ Annie told her, trying to keep her voice casual even though she could still feel how pink her cheeks were.
Megan stared at her for a beat before letting her off the hook. ‘Bloody Christmas!’ she moaned. ‘Whoever invented chocolate advent calendars needs a good hiding. One chocolate a day. Try explaining that to a toddler!’
‘Awww,’ said Annie. ‘Kids are so sweet at Christmastime.’
‘Not when the contents of the potty are full of glitter,’ said Megan, rolling her eyes.
*
Annie felt overwhelmed with responsibility when Sam’s friend Alex arrived to discuss decorating ideas. He definitely left her on the outer edge of her comfort zone. She had never met anybody like Alex before. He was so flamboyant, so chatty. So mesmerising. And with Sam away on tour and Rose kept busy with village activities, she had to face him on her own.
She ran her hand over one of the newly plastered walls in the master bedroom which, now that it had dried, was as smooth as glass.
She found some courage and turned round. ‘So? What did you have in mind?’
Alex broke into a grin. ‘Arthur will love it. Because it will be exactly the same as he had before. Only not falling apart. It will be a country gentleman’s bedroom. Perfectly respectable and classic. Apart from the wonderfully soft thick carpet I’ve ordered.’
‘Does Sam know?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows.
‘Not until he sees the bill,’ said Alex, giving her a wink. His laughter filled the air as he went into the en suite. ‘Now, in here we’re having all easy accessibility. Lots of handrails. A seat. And the best massage power shower money can buy.’
Annie followed him into Rose’s large bedroom which was next door.
‘Darling Rose’s room is going to be a proper boudoir,’ said Alex, walking into the empty room. ‘Lots of wardrobe space for that fabulous fashion collection. Thick carpets. Chaise lounge. Classy but with a hint of naughtiness. Just like the lady herself. And her en suite will be the same as Arthur’s, except for some touches of purple here and there.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ said Annie, thinking that she would love it. ‘Will they be ready in time for Christmas?’
‘Just keep holding your breath, gorgeous. You never know!’
They walked across the landing and into the corridor of the east wing.
‘This will be Sam’s master suite,’ Alex told her as they walked into the largest bedroom at the end of the wing. ‘So, what do you think?’
‘Me?’ Annie was shocked. ‘I’m sure Sam’s got his own ideas as to how he wants it to look. Besides, he’s probably not going to be here that often to enjoy it.’ Even saying the words filled her with a pang.
Alex raised his eyebrows at her. ‘That’s not what he’s telling me on the quiet. I think he’s planning to spend a lot more time here.’
Annie felt a little ping of joy in her stomach. ‘Well, Arthur and Rose will be pleased,’ she said, trying to stop the blush from spreading over her cheeks, to no avail.
‘I’m sure,’ said Alex in a dry tone, studying her closely. ‘But I’m not convinced that’s the only reason for his change of address.’
Annie didn’t know how to respond to this so she made a show of going across the room to check the windows. But when she turned around she found Alex was still looking at her.
‘Thank God he dumped the diva,’ he said, giving her the once-over with his eyes. ‘Too high-maintenance for words, that Cassandra. Tell me, was her singing really that bad?’
Annie gave him an evil grin. ‘Awful.’
‘How fabulous!’ he cackled. ‘Talk about cosmic karma. What about you, Miss Housekeeper? Any hidden talents I should know about?’
Annie shook her head. ‘No, I’m pretty ordinary.’
Alex shook his head. ‘Sweetie, according to our mutual friend Sam, you’re definitely pretty but certainly not ordinary. And I agree with him.’ He walked over to where she stood before taking her by the arm. ‘Now, show me where you’ve stashed all the ornaments so I can get a few more ideas.’
Annie was trying to work out what Alex had been talking about. Did Sam really think she was pretty?
She was still reeling from this when they got to the garage, but thankfully hid her jitters by opening up some of the crates that were housing the treasures she had packed away. She held the box lids up to her chest as some sort of protective shield.
‘These are fabulous,’ Alex murmured, bringing out a pair of silver candlesticks that were chunky but also ornate. ‘Are they Georgian?’
‘I think so,’ she replied slowly. She reached into the box and brought out some small bottles in various shades of delicate pink.
‘Gorgeous,’ said Alex, taking one of them from her. ‘Do you know what they are?’
‘Scent bottles,’ replied Annie. ‘The late Countess collected them.’
‘Very good,’ he told her, nodding in agreement. ‘They’ll go beautifully in the master bedroom on a little display case, out of harm’s way.’
Annie was shocked. ‘Really?’ she stammered, before checking herself.
‘What did you think I was going to do?’ he said, laughing. ‘Smash them and make them into mosaic tiles? And these?’ He jiggled one of the candlesticks at her. ‘Did you think I was going to have them melted down and made into door handles?’
Annie burst into a bright red flush as she realised that was exactly what she had been thinking.
‘Don’t worry,’ Alex told her, in a softer tone. ‘I’m not a complete philistine. Yes, there will be some modern furniture and fittings. After all, we are living in the twenty-first century. But a house like this also needs its history. Don’t you agree?’
Annie nodded, still blushing.
‘I’ve already sent some of the chaise lounges and armchairs in the drawing room to be reupholstered,’ he carried on. ‘You see? We keep that beautiful wood and the shape but change the material from those drab colours. A mix of old and new.’
Annie realised that she really had misjudged him. Perhaps the new decoration would work after all.
‘I’m going to need you to be my antique information service over the next few weeks,’ Alex told her. ‘The last thing I want to do is put some beautiful bowl in the middle of the drawing room and it turns out to be one of Arthur’s ancestor’s pisspots.’
Annie managed to turn her unexpected snort of laughter into a cough. But she hadn’t fooled Alex, whose eyes gleamed at her.
‘By the way,’ he told her. ‘You’re next on the transformation list, housekeeper.’
Annie gave him a shy smile and scuttled away, hoping he was talking about the staff quarters and not her.
But she had a horrible feeling he might have been referring to them both.
*
‘So what do you think?’ asked Alex down the phone line.
‘It sounds great,’ said Sam, staring out of the hotel window. He had trouble remembering where he was until he saw the Pacific Ocean in the far distance. Los Angeles. That was where he was.
‘Did you even listen to what I was telling you?’ nagged Alex.
‘No.’ Sam sighed. ‘Look, I’m jet-lagged and fed up but I trust your judgement about wallpaper and the other stuff, OK?’
‘You know what your problem is?’ said Alex.
‘No, but you’re going to go ahead and tell me anyway.’ Sam leant against the window. The heat outside had warmed up the glass even at thirty stories high. It didn’t even feel like Christmas was just around the corner.
‘I think you’re homesick.’
‘I can hardly remember the last time I slept there.’ Sam thought about the last time he had been in his flat in London. He had been there for about an hour to pick up the post and different clothes. It was more a storage base than anything else these days.
‘I’m talking about Willow Tree Hall, dumbass.’
‘Oh.’ As he stared outside, he realised his friend was right. He was homesick for Willow Tree Hall and had felt it more keenly on this trip than ever before.
‘Come on,’ said Alex. ‘Admit it. You’re starting to enjoy yourself in the countryside.’
‘So what if I am?’
‘Aha! I knew it!’ Alex sounded triumphant. ‘By the way, does our sweet housekeeper have anything to do with it?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Sam, quickly turning away from the view to face his hotel bedroom. Yet another bland room in a different city.
He thought back to two days previously when he had surprised Annie with coffee machine.
‘I can’t cope with instant anymore,’ he had told her.
‘You’re such a city boy,’ she had replied with a soft smile.
But he wasn’t so sure these days. He missed the frost on the ground. Air that was so fresh and cold that it instantly woke you up. He missed chatting in front of cosy fires. He allowed himself a sigh, trying not to admit to himself what the problem was. And yet he knew it was Annie.
He found he couldn’t stop thinking about when he had caught her heading out of the yet-to-be gutted guest bathroom back along to her own bedroom. This wasn’t a new occurrence. But finding her wrapped only in a towel was. Even now, thousands of miles away, the thought unsettled him.
‘I forgot my dressing gown,’ she told him with an embarrassed smile, before quickly shutting the bedroom door.
He stared across the hotel room, thinking about the creamy bare white shoulders. The pale skin at the back of her neck where her long hair had been swept up out of the way.
He dismissed the thought and looked at the pile of papers scattered across the bed. Something was going to have to give. He couldn’t carry on like this.