Page 1 of Change of Heart
Chapter 1
‘More toilet paper needed in the first-floor ladies’.’
Mrs White’s voice crackled in Alice’s earpiece, the broad Devonshire accent instantly recognisable.
Alice reached for the two-way radio clipped to her lapel and waited until a pair of grey-haired visitors had walked past, smiling amiably. She smiled politely back at them before answering. ‘Okay, Mrs White, I’ll get somebody onto it right away.’
‘Thanking you, my lovely.’
Alice spotted young Mary just emerging from the library, gave her a little wave to attract her attention and dispatched her to the store to find and deliver fresh supplies. As they all knew well, if an army marches on its stomach, a stately home open to the public marches on gallons of tea, tasty cakes and well-maintained toilets.
Seconds later, her earpiece crackled again. This time it was a different voice. ‘Alice, can you spare me five minutes? There’s somebody here who wants to talk to you.’ It was Marjorie, the manager, and she sounded a bit strange, a bit strained.
‘Yes, of course, Marjorie, I’ll be right there. I just need to check that the computer problem on the front desk has been sorted first.’
There were twenty-eight steps up to the first floor and Alice’s knee was aching by the time she got up to the broad landing. Some days she felt little or no pain but today was cool and damp outside and it somehow got into her bones. Marjorie’s office on the first floor had once been the dressing room belonging to a succession of Fitzgerald-Chagleigh wives, back in the days when ladies of high standing needed entire rooms to house their extensive collections of clothes, not to mention several pairs of hands to assist with lacing them into their corsets and helping them into their extravagant frocks and gowns. Now the clothes had disappeared – some to Exeter Museum and some of them on display elsewhere in the manor house – corsets had gone out of fashion, and helping hands were in short supply as recession began to bite.
Nowadays the room contained little more than a desk and a pair of upright upholstered chairs which had originally been in a corner of the ladies’ parlour on the ground floor. On the walls were a blown-up aerial photo of the Fitzgerald-Chagleigh estate, a floor plan of the house showing all thirty-three rooms and, rather unsettlingly, four of the original mirrors left over from the room’s former purpose, in which Alice could see her own reflection from two different angles as she approached the serious-looking lady already sitting in front of Marjorie’s desk. Alice had a sinking feeling that she knew who this was.
She wasn’t wrong.
‘Alice, come and sit down. This is Helen from the HR department in London.’ There was something different in the house manager’s voice today – sympathy, maybe – and this only added to Alice’s feeling of impending doom. ‘She’s been telling me about a number of changes coming down the line that are going to affect all of us.’
Helen from the HR department probably wasn’t more than five or six years older than Alice herself – maybe in her mid-thirties – and she was looking uncomfortable. As Alice spied the expression on the woman’s face, that same sensation of discomfort – or more – settled on her as well, and not just because of her aching knee. This didn’t look like it was going to be good news. There had been rumours of funding cuts and maybe even redundancies for some weeks now, but she had been hoping for the best. She had been doing this job for almost four years since coming back from Italy, and had worked her way up to her current position of assistant manager, hoping to make a real career of it and rise to the rank of house manager or even higher. To see that go up in flames would be a bitter blow.
Automatically, she took Helen’s proffered hand and shook it, her mind already turning over what might be to come. Her fears were immediately confirmed by what the visitor from London said next.
‘Good morning, Alice, I’m afraid I bring some not very welcome news.’
As she listened, Alice’s heart sank like a stone. Helen cleared her throat and continued in a gentle, consolatory tone that did nothing to stem Alice’s rising sense of disappointment and dismay.
‘As I’ve just been telling Marjorie, government funding has been cut back, and our budget for the coming year has had to be slashed accordingly. I’m afraid the result is that we’re all going to have to tighten our belts.’ Seeing the expression on Alice’s face, she was quick to offer reassurance – up to a point. ‘Now I don’t want you to worry too much, but the problem we have is that we need to scale down the staffing here and in our other properties across the country and increase reliance on volunteers. To that end, I’m afraid the position of assistant manager will cease to exist. Marjorie thinks very highly of you, and we agree that we would like to keep you on, but I’m afraid it will have to be in a less senior role.’ She allowed a more positive note to enter her voice, but Alice noticed that she didn’t have the nerve to look either of them in the eye. ‘I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s not as though you’re being made redundant.’
‘When you say a less senior role, what exactly does that mean?’ Alice spotted her own face reflected in the big mirror on the office wall and had a sudden vision of herself sitting at the Jobcentre, cap in hand. ‘Are you saying I would have to go back to just being an ordinary employee again?’
Helen nodded, and Marjorie supplied the coup de grâce. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to drop a paygrade, Alice, but at least you would still be working here at the manor.’
As Helen went on to outline the detail of the new position being offered – essentially exactly what Alice had started out doing four years ago – and the corresponding drop in pay, Alice’s heart sank even more. Apart from shattering her career hopes, this would cause her major financial complications. She was only just managing the mortgage payments on her tiny cottage out of her current salary. If this was cut, she would probably lose her house. Her reflection in the mirror revealed an expression of bitter disappointment on her face, and as soon as she was able to escape from the office, she hurried out of the room, telling them she would need to think about what she was going to do.
She went straight down the stairs, walking blindly through the lobby without even acknowledging Polly or Jake behind the reception desk, and headed out of the front door. She could feel herself limping heavily but she didn’t stop to fetch her stick. She had far more important concerns on her mind. She wandered out into the ornate Italianate garden, created by Capability Brown two hundred and fifty years earlier. Today the gorgeous display of spring flowers barely registered with her as she walked aimlessly along the gravel paths, past the ornate fountain with its delicately carved nymphs and dolphins, oblivious to the light April drizzle on her head and shoulders. It was only when she reached the stable block that she was forced to return her attention to her surroundings as a familiar voice shook her out of her stupor.
‘Good afternoon, Alice, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Don’t tell me the Mad Marquis has been making his presence felt again.’
Alice blinked a couple of times and looked up into the face of her friend. ‘Hi there, Fenella, I’m afraid I was miles away. No, no ghosts; just bitter reality I’m afraid.’
‘You look as though you could do with a good hot cup of tea, or maybe a glass of something stronger. Why don’t you come over to the house and tell me what the problem is? I’ve just come back from my afternoon ride, and I could do with a sit down and a chance to dry out.’
Lord and Lady Fitzgerald-Chagleigh lived in the Dower House. Crippling death duties fifty years earlier had forced Ronald’s parents to gift the manor house and the estate to National Heritage, and all the family were left with now was the admittedly magnificent sixteenth-century stone house with its large garden and the shared use of the old stables for Fenella’s horses. Alice had struck up a close friendship with Lady Fitzgerald-Chagleigh since starting to work here at the manor, even though her ladyship was over twice Alice’s age and from a totally different family background. She was a very dynamic woman and the two of them often went riding together when Alice was able to take time off.
‘Thanks, Fenella, but I don’t think I’d be very good company today.’
‘Let me be the judge of that. Come on, let’s go and have a cuppa.’
Alice allowed herself to be led out of the wooden gate at the far end of the gardens, ignoring thePRIVATE PROPERTY, NO ENTRYsign, and onto the gravel path alongside the magnificent expanse of lawn in front of the Dower House. If Fenella noticed her more pronounced limp today, she didn’t comment. That was something else that Alice liked about her: she didn’t go in for a lot of fuss. Loud yapping from inside the house indicated that Fenella’s poodle, Gladys, must have heard the squeaky gate and was keen to welcome her mistress home. The front door opened before they got there, and the excited dog came rushing out, followed by Ronald, Lord F-C himself. He gave his wife a small smile and gave Alice a broader one.
‘Hello, Alice. How lovely to see you. Come inside before you get soaked.’
Alice managed to muster a smile in return and followed Fenella into the house, the dog still yapping at their heels. Five minutes later she was sitting in the charming lounge nursing a sore leg and a mug of hot tea, while Fenella, freshly changed into a sensible tweed skirt, took a seat opposite her and then leant forward, elbows on her knees.
