‘It’s very old wallpaper,’ Meg said.
Eden looked at her mother, feeling her patience ebb. Mum was never like this – lost in the past. Mum was like her, moving forward. But then, Mum was remarrying Pops, which was the very epitome of being in the past.
‘Mum, we’ve only a few days to get this ready, I don’t know what Frank told you about how good it was, but nobody has looked after this place in years, possibly since we left it. You saw how shabby the hall is.’
‘He said the people he rented it to ran, or were going to run, it as an Airbnb.’
‘It must have been for people who had olfactory issues,’ joked Eden. ‘Or else he had the heating on full blast in the bedrooms.’
The bedrooms, eight of them in the hotel part of the house, had been beautiful, complete with four-posters, William Morris fabrics in some, heavy damasks in others. One half-tester entirely in pink watered silk, which was handy because, no matter how old it got, it still looked good as watered silk’s very description implied someone had thrown a bucket of water over it.
‘If we get all the curtains down, maybe get some bits of muslin and hang them over them, drape them with a couple of your silk flowers, Vonnie …’ Eden said now, looking at Vonnie, who brightened up at this talk of her own involvement. ‘We’re hiring the tables, the tablecloths and the chairs, right?’
‘Yes,’ said Meg. Stu had organised that.
They’d been to a place which rented out fabulous party stuff – you could have entire tables ready decorated, with little gilt chairs, ribbons and napkins in every colour. Of course, they would then have to dress the tables and the chairs. They were saving money by doing the flowers themselves. Planned for Friday morning.
‘That and the flowers will be perfect. Now catering.’ Eden had a mental list.
‘It’s all organised,’ said Meg. ‘Lots of cold tapas and Gianni’s doing us bruschetta. Ottolenghi salads, plenty of those roasted cauliflowers and two cold salmons, one plain, one honey and sesame seeds. And sourdough bread, obviously. Karen’s going to make us lots of tiny cupcakes instead of a big cake. Much nicer.’
‘Great, we do need to clean out the kitchen, though, because they won’t want to come into it. It’s clean but dusty. And if it’s not up to scratch, they won’t use it, you know that.’
In her work with the council, Eden had been involved in many cases where irate constituents had had premises closed because of health issues.
‘Yes, I know,’ her mother agreed.
Eden clambered down the ladder and moved it over to the next curtain. But before she climbed again, she went over to her mother and gave her a big hug.
‘It’s going to be fab, Mum, absolutely fab, just need to do a bit of work today. Vonnie, are you making a list of what you have to do?’ Vonnie needed an actual list, Eden knew.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Vonnie, rifling through another mad sparkly handbag that looked like something a small child brought to parties.
Eden smiled at her. Every family needed a Vonnie to take people’s mind off tricky issues.
‘OK, will you write this down?’ Eden went on. ‘We need yards of muslin for the windows, we need your silk flowers and we need to get the walls washed down and cleaned. Dad can do that with his friends. It was his idea.’
‘You know your dad has always been dreadful at cleaning,’ Mum said, sounding anxious.
‘I’ll ring him,’ said Eden, evenly.
What was wrong with everyone today? Savannah looked as if she wasn’t up to organising a piss-up in a brewery, never mind running her own company. Mum was being all feeble, which wasn’t like her at all. Rory hadn’t turned up yet.
Only Vonnie, complete with sparkly small-child handbag and now producing her pen with a purple fluffy top on it, was behaving as normal.
‘Can you make two lists, actually?’ said Eden to Vonnie. ‘One for me, too.’
She scanned the room: dehumidifiers, definitely. They needed to draft in a few extra people on Friday to help set it all up. Otherwise, she and Indy would be doing it all on Saturday morning. Rory was being so useless she hadn’t even shown up and Savannah – what was wrong with Savannah?
Indy was just getting out of her car at the Sorrento when Rory’s car – very Rory, a sleek sporty thing in ice-blue – squealed to a halt beside her. Rory was talking loudly, clearly on the phone.
‘I have to go, darling,’ Indy said to Steve on the phone. She’d only phoned him when she’d parked: Indy didn’t believe in using the mobile when driving. She’d seen too many phone-related accidents when she’d done her time nursing in A & E. Pity Rory had no experience of mangled bodies due to people taking their eyes off the road for a moment to look at texts.
‘No, I’ll organise dinner, honey,’ she said. ‘Love you too.’
She hung up and did her best not to bestow a disapproving glare upon her youngest sister. Apparently, she failed.
‘It’s hands free,’ said Rory by way of greeting as she locked the car.
