Faith Bleasdale - Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor

Gemma picked up the vase with the flowers from her last visit, which she deposited in the bin before going to the sink to rinse the vase and fill it with fresh water. She arranged the flowers, put them on the table and then sat in the chair next to her nan. She was bursting to tell her her news, but she had learnt that in order not to startle her nan, she needed patience.

‘So,’ she asked slowly, ‘how are you?’

‘Oh I’m just grand, love,’ her nan said with a smile. Her hands shook slightly as she gestured for Gemma to open the wine gums.

The door opened and Sarah came in.

‘Can I get you ladies a nice cuppa?’ she asked.

‘Yes please,’ Gemma replied. ‘Tea, Nan?’

‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ her nan said.

As Sarah disappeared, Gemma took a wine gum and smiled.

‘Nan, I have some news,’ she started.

‘Oh yes?’

Gemma saw the woman who had brought her up, the woman who was the rock in her life, until the cruel illness descended on their lives, ruining everything. Her face was the same, but her brain wasn’t. When, like today, her nan recognised Gemma, she felt as if she’d won the lottery.

‘You know I told you that I was going to apply for a new job?’ Her nan shook her head, and Gemma felt angry with herself. She should never ask her if she remembered anything. ‘Sorry. Anyway, I applied for a new job. As a hotel consultant to set up a new hotel in a gorgeous, gorgeous manor house.’ Her words wanted to rush out of her mouth, and Gemma told herself to calm down. But she had never felt this excited before.

‘Oh yes?’ Her nan seemed to be following this.

‘Meadowbrook Manor. It’s in a small village in the Mendips. Anyway, the family are turning the house into a small hotel, or that’s the intention, and they’ve offered me the job of helping them to open it.’

Technically, only one of the family had offered her the job, Pippa Singer; she hadn’t met the others yet, which was a little strange. Or even seen the house in person, which was stranger still, but Pippa had insisted that she was perfect for the job without her even visiting and after only one interview. Gemma had jumped for joy when she phoned to tell her. No one had ever called her perfect before – no one apart from her nan.

‘Well that sounds lovely, what good news.’ Her nan’s eyes shone. She gave Gemma’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’m very proud of you, you know.’

Gemma’s eyes filled with tears. It was small, tiny, but it felt as if she had been handed the world.

‘Yes, it’s a dream job, and the best thing is that it comes with accommodation, so when the bungalow sale goes through I won’t have to worry about where to live. And until then the salary means we will manage the fees more comfortably.’

Her nan’s eyes flickered at that.

‘The bungalow?’ she asked. ‘I don’t quite …’ She trailed off. She looked at the open packet of sweets in her hand as if she didn’t know what they were. And Gemma knew she had lost her for today. It happened like that sometimes – one minute she was there, the next, she couldn’t find her.

Sarah returned with tea and placed it down. Gemma picked up the mug and thanked her. Her nan was staring out of the window once again.

‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked.

‘Oh yes,’ her nan replied. ‘My daughter was just telling me about her new job.’

Sarah looked at Gemma, who had gone from elation to sorrow. In one easy move.

‘You mean your granddaughter, love – it’s Gemma,’ Sarah said kindly. The staff at the home said that sometimes it helped to trigger memory if you corrected her, although Gemma could never bring herself to.

‘Oh yes, of course, my granddaughter,’ her nan said without a hint of recognition, and she popped another wine gum in her mouth.

‘Here we are, love,’ the taxi driver said as he pulled up, got out of the car and held the door open for her.

Gemma eagerly stepped out, and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she could only stare, in awe, at the house in front of her. The house that she had craved so intensely to be inside was right here, in all its wonderful glory.

Despite the fact she had stared at the photograph of Meadowbrook daily, she still hadn’t been prepared for its actual magnificence. Nothing could have prepared her for that. Like an old-fashioned doll’s house that every little girl coveted. She had stared at the photo so many times it was tattooed on her brain. She had felt herself being drawn into it. She had studied the tall oblong windows as if she could see herself behind them. Peering out onto the circular drive, waiting for … well, she wasn’t sure what the “her” behind the window was waiting for, although whatever it was, in this house, it would come. She knew that it would come.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away, forgetting that the February drizzle was making her blonde shoulder-length hair frizzy and her best suit damp as she gaped, goldfish-like, at the place that would be her work and also her home for the next few months. How on earth had this happened? Part of her wanted to do a jig, another part to cower in the taxi forever.

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ the driver stated. Gemma could only nod as she pulled her purse from her bag and held some notes out to him. ‘Best house in Parker’s Hollow, probably in the Mendips,’ he continued as they both stared at the Georgian manor house, which seemed, ridiculously, to be staring back at them.

In real life, the house was enormous. Grand, with impressive windows and an imposing front door. The drive and immediate entrance were immaculately kept, neat bushes lined up, and statues that looked genuinely aged, covered with moss, stood guard. The surrounding countryside, fields, trees, hedgerows complemented the house and even the air smelt different. A bird, or number of birds, squawked in the background as she gulped in the air; she was no longer in the city. She was in paradise.

‘Right you are, love,’ the driver said, bringing her back to the present as he handed over her change, and with a kindly wave he got back into the car.

Part of her wanted to run after the cab, part of her wanted to run up to the front door and burst into her new, albeit temporary, life.

Gemma tried to arrange her face into a smile, but the nerves that were jangling around meant she was unsure if it was a grimace. She gave herself a bit of a talking-to – something she had been doing a lot in the last few weeks – and she tried to smooth down her hair, which she now imagined was sticking up in all directions.

She was about to start her dream job. When she applied for it, back in December, she didn’t for one moment believe she would get it. It seemed like such a golden opportunity, she rationalised that hundreds of people, at least, would apply, and she wouldn’t stand a chance. But somehow, she was about to embark on a six-month contract, staying at Meadowbrook Manor, to act as their hotel consultant. Six months living at Meadowbrook, helping the family set up their new hotel, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. And it was her opportunity. She still couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe she deserved it. She didn’t deserve it.

She took a breath as she watched the taxi disappear completely from view. Inside the impressively stunning house, waiting for her, were her future employers: the Singers. She was anxious about meeting them all. The speed between the application, her interview with Pippa and her being here now was less than two months; therefore, she had barely had the chance to process what was happening. Even when she had told her nan about it, it still didn’t feel real. But, as she grabbed her suitcase and half wheeled, half hauled it up towards the front door, she knew what she’d been given was undeniably a gift. Now all she had to do was to do a good job and prove that Pippa was right to hire her. She hoped, prayed that she could do just that.