An hour later, Ezzie’s usual calm had deserted her and she slapped her hands on her desk until her palms stung. ‘Shit, shit,shit!’ Each drawer in her beautiful desk had been upended, her computer subjected to every search she could think of, but there was no sign of what she knew had onceexisted – the plan of the Larssons’ section of Rothach Hall, with notes on which family member occupied each room.
Irritably, she reached for her phone to call the housekeeper. Gwen was friendly and bright, sailing through her sixties like Captain Imperturbable, a font of Rothach Hall knowledge. ‘Hello, Ezzie.’
Ezzie felt reassured just to hear her musical Scottish lilt. ‘Gwen, do you know where each of the family sleeps? I’m afraid the plan’s gone missing.’
Gwen laughed. ‘Missing? Ach, amazing how certain things mysteriously vanished when Tavish took himself out the door. Yes, dear, I know most, I believe, and we can confirm with Grete. We’ve plenty of time before they arrive for Christmas.’
Ezzie didn’t sigh, because not even with this trusted colleague of over nine years would she be anything but cool and professional. ‘I’ve just learnt that Grete, Mats, his two children and their nanny are arriving on Saturday and staying up to and including Christmas, so we need to have those rooms ready straight away, I’m afraid.’
Gwen earned points in Ezzie’s book by not breathing a word of dismay or anxiety. In fact, she sounded delighted. ‘Oh, really? Then we’d best get on.’
Ezz grabbed her pad and pen. ‘Can you meet me in reception to go into the family side and draw up a fresh plan?’ The private quarters were often referred to as ‘the family side’ by Rothach Hall staff.
‘I’ll be right there.’ Gwen ended the call.
Two minutes later, Gwen arrived through a small door markedStaff Only, which accessed the mud room, staff facilities and then the rear courtyard. Her uniform was a black and grey striped dress with flat black tie-ups, her dark grey hair in a smooth bun. She glided like a galleonunder sail. ‘I’ve told Georgia and Peony to go in once we’re done,’ she said, referring to the other housekeeping staff, who communicated mainly with each other and seemed happy to live their quiet life in the staff accommodation behind the hall.
Ezz unlocked the big, glossy white door markedPrivate.The family side was silent, as if waiting for the people it belonged to rather than Gwen and Ezz, the smell of lemon polish on the air. At the far end of the corridor, the kitchen was more farmhouse than grand house, with waxed wood cabinets and worn marble surfaces. All the downstairs walls wore coats of emulsion rather than posh wallpaper, even the main lounge and the home office, and the floor tiles had been refurbished during the hall’s restoration, rather than ripped up and replaced. The furnishings were a mixture of traditional pieces that the family had bought with the house more than a dozen years ago, plus modern additions. Ezzie strongly suspected the latter had come from IKEA and that Erik and Grete would have enjoyed assembling them, Erik laughing until his cheeks glowed red and Grete’s eyes crinkling to slits above her broad smile.
Gwen moved towards the staircase. ‘Shall we go up?’
Ezzie followed her bulky figure over sage green carpet. Every brass stair rod gleamed, because Gwen, Peony and Georgia kept the place spotless whether it was echoing emptily or ringing with happy Larsson voices. On the first landing, Gwen sailed across a capacious area where the last of the daylight poured through the massive windows that characterised the hall, then halted at a pair of doors. ‘This is Grete and Erik’s suite, of course.’ She opened the doors and Ezz saw a giant bay window framed in blood-red velvet, a couple of comfortably creased cream leather chairs and a low table.
Gwen waved towards the door set into the left-hand wall. ‘Bedroom with twin en suites.’
Ezzie’s pen flew over the page of her pad she’d headed1st floor, sketching and scribbling. She could draw a more careful version later.
Back on the landing, Gwen led the way down a corridor. ‘Mats and Inger stay in a turret room.’ The room was round and decorated with dazzling silk fabrics.
Ezz halted, pen poised. ‘Mats didn’t mention Inger, so I presume she’ll come later. He said it would be him and his children, with the nanny, Josefin. She’s not the same nanny who came the summer before last. Her name’s spelt with a J but it’s pronounced like a Y – Yosser-feen. The youngest child will be three or so now.’ She made a note to work out all the children’s ages – helpful for when arranging Christmas trees and other possible hazards. ‘Where do the children sleep? Mats requested that Josefin be found a room nearby, but not one that other family would need when they arrive for Christmas.’
Gwen nodded. ‘When they came last, the two rooms between the master suite and the turret were used. The wee boy slept with the nanny they had then – an American lass. She always talked to the children in English and Astrid was already swapping between Swedish and English as if it was the most natural thing in the world.’
‘All the Larsson children I’ve met speak English as well as Swedish. It makes me ashamed of my own language skills.’ Ezz took out her phone and began to text. ‘I’ll check Mats’ preference about sleeping arrangements. Who else sleeps on this floor?’
‘The room down the end is a playroom, but everyone else sleeps on the floor above.’ Gwen’s quick, flat-footed stride soon carried her to the playroom, a long room withuncurtained windows, two blue sofas, a group of tartan beanbags, a big TV and plastic drawers for games and toys. A bookcase displayed books in English and what Ezz presumed to be Swedish. Or Norwegian.
A ping of her phone signalled Mats’ reply. Ezz read it aloud. ‘“Astrid and Alvin will share a room. No doubt we can make changes if they suddenly want one each.’” She replied,Of course, then added to her plan Astrid and Alvin in the room next to the turret and Josefin in the one after.
They climbed a smaller staircase to confirm who lived where on the second floor, and, finally, put their heads together to try and remember the names of the children. ‘Astrid and Alvin belong to Mats and Inger,’ said Ezz, to recap.
‘Jonas and Ebba have Emil and Filip,’ Gwen added. ‘They’re the eldest of the cousins, I’m sure. Then Maja and Nils have Liam and Walter – he’s lively, that Walter.’ She smiled fondly.
‘They have another,’ Ezzie recalled. ‘In the summer, Erik and Grete told me they were grandparents again and the baby was about six months.’
‘Maybe walking by now then,’ Gwen suggested. ‘Not that I have my own wee ’uns, but my sister has enough grandkids for us both.’
They trod back downstairs. It was nearly five, and a luminous blue dusk was rapidly darkening the windows. Before Gwen retired to her apartment at the back of the hall, she paused. ‘No doubt they’ll be seeing in the bells with us?’
In Scotland, Hogmanay – known to the rest of the world as New Year – was celebrated even more than Christmas, with parties, ceilidhs, festivals and the enthusiasticrendering of ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Ezzie paused on this sinking reminder that this year, because the Larsson family would be in residence, she wouldn’t be able to go with Thea to see their eldest sister Valentina for Hogmanay. Now she was Rothach Hall’s manager, she’d probably be expected to be on call. Though Valentina and family had recently moved from Edinburgh to Inverness, it would still be too far away if Ezz were needed.
‘I believe so.’ She made a note to consider a Hogmanay event next year, when they started a winter programme for the public. Maybe the Nature Garden Café could serve the haggis, neeps and tatties that Grete loved, with an alternative of stovies – which looked to Ezzie like a disassembled cottage pie.
Gwen rested her hand on the door to the reception lobby. ‘Georgia and Peony are taking leave over Christmas, so we might need a seasonal or two.’
‘If we can,’ Ezzie said drily. She hadn’t been impressed with Georgia and Peony wanting Christmas and New Year off when the family were to be at the hall. Evidently, they hadn’t done her online course, which said household staff should forget any such expectation, but Tavish had agreed it, apparently –justbefore he’d left. There hadn’t been much Ezz could do.
‘We can,’ Gwen answered with a broad grin that creased the weathered skin around her grey eyes. ‘My sister’s granddaughter Caitriona has already said she’ll be home from university and is keen to reduce her overdraft with a wee job.’
