The Christmas Surprise
Page 72
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In the huge wooded garden of Peak House, he could run with his friends from the little school; Stephen could build him a tree house, where he could camp in the summer, and tell horror stories round the fire until they all got too scared and came tearing back indoors, where Rosie would make them hot chocolate and put them to bed. He would wake here every day to fresh air, and a view across the beautiful Derbyshire landscape, and he would be the luckiest boy in the world, with everything Rosie had ever dreamed of for him, for her, for them …
Still neither of them could speak as they alighted from the car, Apostil fast asleep still. There was a little lamp burning outside, and lights still on inside; obviously in her haste, Pamela had just made a dash for it. Stephen felt under the rock where the spare key was kept and glanced at Rosie, whose heart was in her mouth. He put out a hand to her, and together they pushed open the door.
Inside, as Rosie’s eyes adjusted to the light, she realised that something was different. The old flagstone floor in the hallway was exactly the same, but that was about it. The lights overhead, for starters, were inlaid spotlights in the ceiling rather than fringed hanging shades. The walls, once a dark red that had made the place gloomy and a little sinister, were now a pale grey-beige colour, in a stripe that looked cosy and expensive. Instead of the spooky old pictures, a beautiful big mirror hung on the wall, reflecting the light. The house was warm. Rosie put her foot on the floor.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Underfloor heating!!! No way!!!!’
Stephen was shaking his head.
‘This can’t be right. She can’t mean for us to stay here.’
As they moved from room to room, their astonishment grew. In a month, Pamela had effected the most astonishing transformation. The front sitting room was now a harmonious palette of pale tartans and cream and grey, with a smart marble surround on the original fireplace. The walls had been toned down from their harsh, cold colours into something softer, fresher and warmer. The best parts of the kitchen – which had always been the nicest part of the house, with its big old scrubbed table and huge windows – had been kept the same, but with brand-new appliances and units.
‘She’ll be back in three days when she’s fallen out with her new boss,’ said Stephen, examining everything in wonder. ‘Christ, how rich IS she?’
Rosie’s mouth was hanging open. She’d texted back about three times asking if Pamela really meant it about the house, but she must have been on the flight, because she hadn’t replied.
‘It’s a mistake,’ she said, as they went up the staircase with its beautiful new striped carpet. ‘There’s been some kind of mistake. She can’t really have meant it. Maybe she meant, keep an eye on it for me until I get back.’
‘That must be it,’ said Stephen. ‘She must want us to become unpaid housekeepers, popping up here on top of everything else we have to do.’
‘She has done such a beautiful job,’ said Rosie sadly. The large bedrooms had been done out in a beautiful tongue and groove that made them look like a New England beach house, but somehow it still suited the wonderful old Georgian windows, now with gorgeous shabby-chic curtains. Everything had huge plump pillows and expensively heavy linen, and when Stephen turned on the taps in the new all-stone bathroom that looked like something out of a very expensive hotel, hot water gushed out.
‘New boiler,’ he said, whistling. ‘Amazing. God, she doesn’t mess about, my sister. She must be poshing it up to sell.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Rosie, her disappointment reasserting itself. ‘She must. Of course. This will make a fortune, look at it.’
Stephen nodded.
‘I know.’
They glanced in the last bedroom at the back. Rosie paused.
‘Hang on,’ she said.
There was a dark shape on the other side of this room, and no bed. She switched on the light; instead of the overhead light, lovely warm side lights came on, in pale blue sea shades. They both gasped. The shape, next to the window, overlooking the back garden, was a huge cot bed in white, with soft blue striped linen. There was a large trunk – Stephen’s own, from boarding school – filled with toys at the bottom of the bed. The walls were painted blue and white, and had beautiful old toy posters framed and hung on them. And on the side wall, just above an expensive changing table filled with nappies, E45 cream, nappy bags and a nappy bin – all things Rosie had dismissed as unnecessary expense – large cloth letters, blue with white dots, spelled out A-P-O-S-T-I-L.
They both looked at it for a while, unable to speak. Then Stephen turned to Rosie.
‘I think maybe she did mean for us to have it.’
‘Fuck a duck,’ said Rosie, taking out her phone. There was no answer, so she sent another message.
Downstairs, there was a fully stocked fridge, full of tasty treats from Marks & Spencer, and a bottle of champagne, which they opened after putting Apostil down to sleep in his new bed, taking picture after picture and sending them to Pamela. Everyone else could have one tomorrow, when they would explain.
Stephen lit the little fire, but the house was so cosy already it was barely required. Then they sat in front of it, just looking at each other. They toasted Pamela, then they toasted themselves – ‘the luckiest sons of bitches,’ as Stephen pointed out, ‘in the history of the world’.
‘Your family is totally amazing,’ added Rosie. ‘I’ve always said so.’
And then they burst out laughing, and held each other incredibly tight, side by side, staring into the fire, heads together, tears intermingled, waiting for Christmas morning.
Chapter Twenty
Because they had always planned to have Christmas dinner at Lilian’s home, they didn’t have to worry about much, except for telling everyone that they weren’t moving after all. There would be regular commutes to Derby, particularly for Rosie, for Apostil’s appointments, but it would be worth it. Plus it was about time Tina was made a full partner in the business anyway.
Pamela refused to discuss the house or the succession in any way, so they didn’t press her on it. Not for now. But they sent her lots of pictures of Apostil and she didn’t seem to object to those.
It was going to be a lovely day. Rosie and Stephen loaded up the car with gifts. They would go to church first, then on to the home, where the local catering college always did the residents proud. They were looking forward to seeing everyone, and showing off Apostil, who was wearing a red and green outfit and looked extraordinarily smart. The old ladies would be cooing over him even more than usual.
Still neither of them could speak as they alighted from the car, Apostil fast asleep still. There was a little lamp burning outside, and lights still on inside; obviously in her haste, Pamela had just made a dash for it. Stephen felt under the rock where the spare key was kept and glanced at Rosie, whose heart was in her mouth. He put out a hand to her, and together they pushed open the door.
Inside, as Rosie’s eyes adjusted to the light, she realised that something was different. The old flagstone floor in the hallway was exactly the same, but that was about it. The lights overhead, for starters, were inlaid spotlights in the ceiling rather than fringed hanging shades. The walls, once a dark red that had made the place gloomy and a little sinister, were now a pale grey-beige colour, in a stripe that looked cosy and expensive. Instead of the spooky old pictures, a beautiful big mirror hung on the wall, reflecting the light. The house was warm. Rosie put her foot on the floor.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Underfloor heating!!! No way!!!!’
Stephen was shaking his head.
‘This can’t be right. She can’t mean for us to stay here.’
As they moved from room to room, their astonishment grew. In a month, Pamela had effected the most astonishing transformation. The front sitting room was now a harmonious palette of pale tartans and cream and grey, with a smart marble surround on the original fireplace. The walls had been toned down from their harsh, cold colours into something softer, fresher and warmer. The best parts of the kitchen – which had always been the nicest part of the house, with its big old scrubbed table and huge windows – had been kept the same, but with brand-new appliances and units.
‘She’ll be back in three days when she’s fallen out with her new boss,’ said Stephen, examining everything in wonder. ‘Christ, how rich IS she?’
Rosie’s mouth was hanging open. She’d texted back about three times asking if Pamela really meant it about the house, but she must have been on the flight, because she hadn’t replied.
‘It’s a mistake,’ she said, as they went up the staircase with its beautiful new striped carpet. ‘There’s been some kind of mistake. She can’t really have meant it. Maybe she meant, keep an eye on it for me until I get back.’
‘That must be it,’ said Stephen. ‘She must want us to become unpaid housekeepers, popping up here on top of everything else we have to do.’
‘She has done such a beautiful job,’ said Rosie sadly. The large bedrooms had been done out in a beautiful tongue and groove that made them look like a New England beach house, but somehow it still suited the wonderful old Georgian windows, now with gorgeous shabby-chic curtains. Everything had huge plump pillows and expensively heavy linen, and when Stephen turned on the taps in the new all-stone bathroom that looked like something out of a very expensive hotel, hot water gushed out.
‘New boiler,’ he said, whistling. ‘Amazing. God, she doesn’t mess about, my sister. She must be poshing it up to sell.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Rosie, her disappointment reasserting itself. ‘She must. Of course. This will make a fortune, look at it.’
Stephen nodded.
‘I know.’
They glanced in the last bedroom at the back. Rosie paused.
‘Hang on,’ she said.
There was a dark shape on the other side of this room, and no bed. She switched on the light; instead of the overhead light, lovely warm side lights came on, in pale blue sea shades. They both gasped. The shape, next to the window, overlooking the back garden, was a huge cot bed in white, with soft blue striped linen. There was a large trunk – Stephen’s own, from boarding school – filled with toys at the bottom of the bed. The walls were painted blue and white, and had beautiful old toy posters framed and hung on them. And on the side wall, just above an expensive changing table filled with nappies, E45 cream, nappy bags and a nappy bin – all things Rosie had dismissed as unnecessary expense – large cloth letters, blue with white dots, spelled out A-P-O-S-T-I-L.
They both looked at it for a while, unable to speak. Then Stephen turned to Rosie.
‘I think maybe she did mean for us to have it.’
‘Fuck a duck,’ said Rosie, taking out her phone. There was no answer, so she sent another message.
Downstairs, there was a fully stocked fridge, full of tasty treats from Marks & Spencer, and a bottle of champagne, which they opened after putting Apostil down to sleep in his new bed, taking picture after picture and sending them to Pamela. Everyone else could have one tomorrow, when they would explain.
Stephen lit the little fire, but the house was so cosy already it was barely required. Then they sat in front of it, just looking at each other. They toasted Pamela, then they toasted themselves – ‘the luckiest sons of bitches,’ as Stephen pointed out, ‘in the history of the world’.
‘Your family is totally amazing,’ added Rosie. ‘I’ve always said so.’
And then they burst out laughing, and held each other incredibly tight, side by side, staring into the fire, heads together, tears intermingled, waiting for Christmas morning.
Chapter Twenty
Because they had always planned to have Christmas dinner at Lilian’s home, they didn’t have to worry about much, except for telling everyone that they weren’t moving after all. There would be regular commutes to Derby, particularly for Rosie, for Apostil’s appointments, but it would be worth it. Plus it was about time Tina was made a full partner in the business anyway.
Pamela refused to discuss the house or the succession in any way, so they didn’t press her on it. Not for now. But they sent her lots of pictures of Apostil and she didn’t seem to object to those.
It was going to be a lovely day. Rosie and Stephen loaded up the car with gifts. They would go to church first, then on to the home, where the local catering college always did the residents proud. They were looking forward to seeing everyone, and showing off Apostil, who was wearing a red and green outfit and looked extraordinarily smart. The old ladies would be cooing over him even more than usual.
