Tucking my mug into the greenhouse, I donned my thickest gloves and wheeled a barrow of salt and grit round to the front steps.
I salted them thoroughly while humming Christmas tunes under my breath. The sun hung low in the sky, barely making it above the horizon for more than a few hours. Around two, the light would turn the estate gold for five perfect minutes before winter darkness swallowed it.
By the time I’d finished salting all of the entrances and the connecting paths, I had grown sweaty, achy and frozen through.
The claw-footed bath in my en-suite called to me. With extra bubbles. And maybe a dram on the side.
It would be a blissful reprieve until business descended.
three
AMANDA
The taxi wasn’t madefor the insane back roads that led to the manor. Or I hoped they led there at least. If not, I might cry.
Horizontal rain lashed the windscreen, the wipers going ten to the dozen and still barely clearing it. When I’d stood at the train station waiting for the cab, the wind had felt cold enough that it could peel skin.
We pulled into a village that I’m sure would look charming if it weren’t for the lashing rain and howling wind.
‘Just going to see if I can get directions to make sure we take the right road,’ the driver said. I shrank into the back seat when he opened the window, a gust of cold hitting me, and shouted to an older couple who were braving the weather, coats zipped up to their noses and looking like large, wet beetles.
‘Can you direct us up to Bayview Manor?’ he asked, holding his hand up to stop the rain from hitting his glasses.
He needn’t have bothered. Within half a second, two cold faces appeared at the window, blocking the wind. While thankful for the lack of cold, their getting so close was a bit forward.
‘Oh, who’s this?’ The old woman said, unzipping her coat enough to talk. She had a sweet, round face, reddened from the chill. I remained silent, awaiting her answer to the taxi driver’s request.
The driver looked as disconcerted as I, leaning to the left in his seat to make a little space between them.
‘Love, are you in to help with the fancy folk hiring Bayview for the holidays?’
‘Um, yeah,’ I said, looking to the driver to rescue me.
‘Oh, lovely. Such a smashing place. Working on Christmas is unusual though, no family?’
‘I’m not sure that’s any of your business.’ I hadn’t meant to sound as sharp as I did, but who the hell was this nosy old bat?
She didn’t flinch. ‘Sorry, that was rude of me. I’m Morag, and this is Alistair. If you need anything, pop down to the village, and we’ll get you sorted out.’
My face heated as she turned to the driver and gave him the directions before waving us off. Village life gave me the heebie jeebies. Everyone knowing everyone and all their business… gross.
The driver grunted around a mint humbug a few minutes later as we passed through an impressive set of gilded gates. 'Big place. Go family here?’
I gave a tight smile.'Work.'
He grimaced. 'Rather you than me. I’ve taken Christmas off this year. It was that or suffer a month of the wife’s wrath.'
We rounded a bend and saw Bayview Manor in all its glory, a sprawling, gleaming granite marvel. I opened a spreadsheet on my phone—one of many—and armed myself with the timings it contained. The clients didn’t arrive until the evening, so Ihad the full day to ensure every little detail was perfect. The decorators should have been in for hours and were scheduled to finish at any moment.
I swallowed the bubble of guilt that rose in my chest, spiky and horrid. Despite my assurances to my sister that I was totally fine to work over the holidays, doubt remained. No doubt on whether I cared about missing Christmas festivities, I’d grown to dread them with the familial infighting, but I wasn’t so hard against my mum’s hurt feelings. Nor my dad’s disappointment.
I’d just have to keep myself busy.
I paid the driver, who deposited my suitcase on the gravel drive without an ounce of care. Straightening my shoulders, I started up the drive, dodging puddles and breathing in air so utterly fresh it was hard to believe it was real. Woodsmoke and sea salt clung to the chill, along with the lingering scent of evergreen.
The wheels of my suitcase stuttered in the gravel, lurching like an unruly dog.
‘Not right now,’ I threatened, pulling it while muttering a litany of curses below my breath. As I reached the steps, my hair sticking to my face and sweat gathering at my nape, a clunk sounded above me.
