Page 59 of The House of Hopes and Dreams
I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not: I wouldn’t put it past him and Nick to know people whomadehorror films. I suddenly remembered the sinister stone table in the cellars … and so did Carey.
‘The cellars would be good for that, too. Just think of that stone table!’
‘Oddly enough, I just did.’
‘Two hearts that beat as one, Shrimp.’
A horrible image flashed into my mind and I gave a shudder. It was all going a bitFrankenstein.
When we’d removed the cobwebs and washed the grime of centuries off our hands, Carey rang the Parrys and invited them up next morning to discuss their future employment.
Since he had cold feet about how they would take his decisions, especially Ella, he wanted me to be there too, but I thought they’d resent an outsider sitting in on a private interview.
So we decided that when they arrived he’d take them straight through into the big drawing room, where the chairs and sofas were arranged around the hearth and a log fire could be lit to make it cosy. I’d take tea and biscuits through, then retreat to the kitchen and make sure Fang didn’t get out. His biting Clem, Ella, or both would only make a difficult situation worse.
In any case, Molly was coming over first thing, because we were going to empty the contents of the freezer so she could take the frozen mush.
Molly arrived first and we’d just finished ferrying in her stack of cold boxes when someone hammered on the back door.
‘That must be the Parrys, though I’d expected Ella to just waltz in,’ I said, surprised.
Carey pulled a comically terrified face and said, ‘Here we go – lights, camera, action!’
He shut the kitchen door behind him, and Fang, Molly and I all listened to a murmur of voices and then the tramp of feet past the door.
I had the tea tray ready and quickly poured boiling water into the pot before following them.
They were just settling around the fire when I took it into the drawing room and to my surprise, there was a stranger there with them: a tall woman in her late twenties or early thirties, slender, with curling fair hair and round, wide-set, baby-blue eyes that made her look a bit kittenish. Her figure was set off by a white off-the-shoulder jumper and an extremely short skirt that revealed legs about ten feet long, ending in nude stilettos.
Since she looked like a miscast actress, I wasn’t surprised when Carey introduced her as the Parrys’ daughter, Vicky, up for a visit.
‘Oh, yes, you’re an actress, aren’t you?’ I said.
She nodded and arranged her long legs for Carey to look at, crossing one over the other with a silky slither. It was just as well she was wearing tights, because she was the type Granny would have referred to as all fur coat and no knickers.
‘I’ll just fetch another cup for you, Vicky, and then leave you all to have your talk,’ I said, before dashing to the kitchen, pulling a face at Molly and zipping off again.
As I approached the door from the hall into the drawing room, which I’d left open, I heard Ella announcing loudly that she’d had enough pussyfooting around and wanted to know exactly where they stood.
She broke off the moment she saw me and I put the cup and saucer down on the coffee table, smiled and exited stage left.
Back in the kitchen I told Molly what was happening, and that the Parrys’ daughter had unexpectedly turned up with them.
‘I knew she was an actress. I was surprised when I saw her because I assumed she’d be dark like her mother, but she must take after Clem’s side of the family.’
‘What’s she like, then?’
‘Tall, slim, fair curly hair, big blue eyes, a cute face and legs that go on for ever – just Carey’s type, in fact,’ I added gloomily. ‘She couldn’t take her eyes off him, either, but he really doesn’t need another Daisy in his life right now. Daisy was his last girlfriend, who dumped him afterthe accident and shacked up with that actor who took over his TV series. Daisy works on the show,’ I explained.
‘How mean of her! But I’m sure Carey must be used to women chasing him, because of being on the telly, and he won’t take any notice.’
I didn’t feel quite as sanguine about it, but since there was work to be done, we finished our coffee and some of the excellent coconut pyramids Molly had brought with her as a housewarming present, and started emptying the huge freezer.
Once all the food was packed into the insulated boxes, Molly produced a couple of those fast-defrosting sprays and we blasted the positively Siberian ice layer with them before beginning to chip it away. It was so thickly encrusted, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find a baby mammoth at the bottom, permafrosted in.
While we were working, I outlined the ideas we’d come up with for making Mossby pay its way.
‘If you open the Elizabethan wing regularly, you’ll need special insurance. Public liability, I think it’s called,’ she suggested. ‘I mean, not only to insure against theft and breakage, but in case any of the visitors sue you because they’ve tumbled down the stairs, tripped on a step, or gone for a stroll down a path marked “Private” and fallen into the lake.’
