Faith Bleasdale - Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor

They all laughed, including Freddie.

‘Oi,’ Freddie objected. ‘But yes, you do have a point. Loretta drank like a bloody fish and was as untrustworthy as they come. Maybe I shall trust you after all, Gemma,’ he conceded.

She shook her head. This family was mad.

‘Well, I’d like to propose a toast,’ Pippa said, raising her glass. ‘Welcome to Gemma, and here’s to the Meadowbrook Hotel.’

‘My God! It’s spectacular,’ Gemma breathed.

She was wearing a pair of Pippa’s skinny jeans, which she felt and looked good in, an oversized black jumper, wellington boots that were in the boot room and were Gemma’s size, and a stylish Barbour jacket. Gemma had been transformed into “country”. Even Freddie had done a double take as he passed her in the kitchen.

‘Thank you.’ Gus looked delighted. He had the family nose, like Freddie, and his hair, greying slightly, was the same colour as Harriet’s. Increasingly she saw similarities between the Singers – looks-wise. Personalities were an entirely different matter.

It was still intriguing how four children could be born into the same house, brought up largely the same way and yet be so different. As an only child, she would never have that experience. She often fantasised when she was younger about having a brother or sister. She would have loved to have someone, especially now, with her nan in such a bad way, but she didn’t, and she was cross with herself for dwelling on something that had never happened and never could.

Gus was taking her on a walk in Meadowbrook Manor’s “back garden”. Which, unlike any back garden she had ever seen, seemed to stretch for miles and was surrounded by perfectly trimmed hedges, all the same height.

‘Do you measure the hedges?’ she asked with a smile.

‘No, Gemma, but they are all pretty much the same height – our hedge guy is a perfectionist.’ He smiled.

The garden was dotted with beds full of different flowers and plants, leading to the award-winning rose garden, which was not in full bloom now but she couldn’t wait to see it when it was. There were a number of water features, which commanded attention, and a large fountain in the centre of the garden. At the very top, separated, were the vegetable gardens, fruit cages and a huge greenhouse. Gemma thought all it was missing was a maze. She wrote that down. But then, where would they put a maze and would they spend their time rescuing a drunk Freddie? She crossed it out.

Gus showed her the benches next, which were recently added so that visitors could sit and enjoy the gardens from every vantage point. He also explained why they had chosen various flowers. It was obviously a lot of work, but it was so worth it.

‘But wow, I mean I have never seen gardens this beautiful in real life. Only on TV,’ Gemma gushed.

She was struck, suddenly, by how much her nan would love to be here. This was the first part of her life that her nan wasn’t part of, that she couldn’t be part of, and whatever happened from here on in, it was just Gemma now. Oh, how she would have loved these gardens though.

‘What’s wrong?’ Gus asked, his voice full of concern.

‘Nothing, sorry.’ She tried to brush a tear off her cheek. What the hell was she doing? This was beyond unprofessional.

‘Gemma, are you crying?’ His voice, so full of warmth, set her off and before she could help it, she was properly crying.

‘No,’ she sobbed.

Gus led her to a bench, where he guided her to sit down.

‘Sorry,’ she said again.

‘Hey, I might be flattered that the gardens reduced you to tears, if they’re the right kind of tears, of course.’ He laughed.

‘Oh, but it is just the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen. You see, my nan loved gardening. We had a good-sized garden, of course nothing like this …’ She gestured with her arm. She had told herself to hold back personally at Meadowbrook, but she had to explain her behaviour. ‘As I told Pippa, my nan is in a home, she’s got dementia, and I miss her.’

Gus gave her a brief but warm hug. ‘Hey, I miss my dad, you know. Especially out here, as he loved gardening too. I talk to him while I work. I know your nan’s not dead but, well, it must be terribly difficult.’

‘It is, but you know, life goes on as they say.’ Gemma tried a feeble attempt at a laugh, which sounded more like a gurgle.

‘Yes, but you’re human and that’s what Meadowbrook needs, so if you ever need to talk, I’m quite a good listener, as are the roses I always find.’ Gus grinned.

‘That’s kind of you to say.’ He was possibly the kindest man she’d ever met, although that perhaps wasn’t difficult.

‘I mean it, and you live here as well as work here, so I hope we will all be friends.’

‘Even Harriet?’ Gemma said, before quickly slapping her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ Gus laughed. ‘Yes, I have a feeling, even Harry.’

‘But anyway, back to the gardens. How on earth do you get them this amazing?’ Gemma shook her head; she needed to steer herself back onto more stable ground.

‘It takes a lot of work, more than I ever imagined when I started working on them. Dad, well he loved the gardens and put his heart into getting them into shape, and we feel that it’s a tribute to him to continue his work. My partner, Amanda, who you’ll meet soon, deserves most of the credit, as well as our wonderful gardening club. But to be honest, I’m not sure how it will fit in with our guests, which is one thing I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘What do you mean?’ Gemma detected some concern in Gus’s voice.

‘Well this hotel, we all have our doubts, apart from Pippa. But even Fred questions it sometimes. You see, who will want to stay here while there’s a bunch of old – by the way, don’t let them know I called them that – ladies in the gardens at least once a week, sometimes more. Our gardening club are very funny, they’re loud and well, perhaps not what you’d want if you’re looking for peace and quiet.’

‘I see.’

‘But at the same time they are crucial to our gardens and more than that, the gardens are important to them. It gets them out, it gives them so much, and we would never take that away from them.’

‘It’s going to be difficult to characterise this hotel, isn’t it?’

Gus had a point. If you’re paying a large sum of money to stay in a boutique hotel in the country, did you want squealing old ladies wielding trowels? Oh, goodness, how on earth was she going to pull this off?

‘The thing is …’ Gus said, showing her to a beautifully ornate garden bench and gesturing her to sit, ‘Meadowbrook is our father. But now we’re all trying to put our stamp on it too. Harriet loves the house and wants it to be successful – in Harry’s mind, being successful means making money. She’s not greedy, but still the hotel needs to be profitable because she doesn’t do anything that isn’t. Fred, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, wants a party hotel. He used to organise parties and club nights for a living, and was very successful for a while, although of course he drank most of his profits. And although he’s calmed down a lot, well a bit …’ Gus paused to scratch his head ‘… he wants the house to be full of fun. Pippa wants it to be a place to heal people, which as it’s not a hospital or rehab, we’re all a bit sceptical about. I know what she means, this place does make you better, it made us all better, and it’s a very special house for that, but as I said, you can’t suddenly open a hotel for broken hearts – everyone would think you were mad.’

‘Of course they would.’ Gemma smiled. ‘And you?’

‘I want Meadowbrook to be full of creativity. I worked in insurance before my father died – can you believe that?’ Gemma shook her head, although she knew this already. ‘Well, I did, and I was boring, miserable and grey. I looked grey, I thought grey, but then I started working on these gardens, and I felt something I hadn’t since childhood. I also started painting again – I loved art as a child and wasn’t bad at it, but Dad didn’t approve – that’s another story. So anyway, I kind of want to offer people the chance to garden, paint, bake with Gwen even, work with the animals, get the whole Meadowbrook experience. But then of course that’s not an easy thing to put into a package, is it?’