Page 42 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
I’m stunned for a moment. This isnotwhat I was expecting him to say.
‘Really?’
Charlie nods in a matter-of-fact way.
‘You want to be like Tom. Why?’
‘He’s cool,’ Charlie says, and he gazes out of the window at a seagull that’s landed on the window ledge. ‘And sort of handsome – like a hero in a book or a film.’
‘Yes, I suppose he is.’ I think about this. ‘Well, I’m glad you like him. I thought for a bit you didn’t.’
‘No.’ Charlie shrugs. ‘He’s just not Benji, that’s all.’
‘We’ll see a few new faces around the castle this week, you know. We have more new staff starting tomorrow.’
‘What are they going to do?’ Charlie turns his head away from the window for a moment to look at me. ‘The café and shop aren’t finished yet.’
‘Well, they’re going to do all sorts to begin with – a bit like Tom did when he first arrived. They’re going to help out where needed.’
‘I expect Dorothy will have lots of dusting for them to do,’ Charlie says knowingly. ‘There’sa lotof dust here.’
‘There is indeed,’ I say, smiling at him.
‘Benji!’ he suddenly shrieks out of the window. I stand up too, so I can see Benji arriving in the courtyard in a large four-by-four vehicle.
‘Charlie, go steady on those stairs!’ I call in vain as he leaps from his seat and heads for the spiral staircase.
‘Stop fussing, Mum!’ he calls, his footsteps growing fainter as he descends safely to the bottom.
I watch Benji climb out of his vehicle. He must be able to sense me because he looks up and waves. I wave back, but Benji is already wrestling with Charlie who has enveloped him in a huge hug.
It’s good to see Charlie so happy again. He’s smiled so much more since we’ve been here at Chesterford, and now Benji’s here too I know he’ll smile even more.
‘How’s it going?’ I ask Dorothy the next day as I watch her overseeing her new team of cleaners polishing and dusting in the long drawing room.
‘Very well,’ Dorothy says, looking on proudly. ‘I can’t remember the last time the old place looked so clean.’
‘Super. It is looking good – even I can see that.’ I wander over to one of the ladies, who is currently wiping a painting that’s been lifted down from its place on the wall. ‘How are you getting on?’ I ask her.
‘Wonderful, m’lady, thank you,’ she says, blushing a little.
‘Please call me Amelia. Well, this is only the first of many jobs around the castle, Mrs . . . Lewis?’ I say, desperately trying to remember her name from her interview. To my relief she nods. ‘I’m hoping to keep everyone’s roles as varied as possible.’
‘I’m more than happy working here with Mrs Davidson. I’m having a lovely time.’
I wonder for a moment who she’s talking about, and then I realise she means Dorothy. I only knew her and Arthur by their Christian names.
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘What’s going on in here?’ a voice suddenly calls, bursting into the drawing room. ‘Why are you polishing that? Oh my God, what are you polishing it with?’
‘Tom!’ I say, surprised to hear him talking in this way. ‘What on earth is wrong?’
‘That painting is a sixteenth-century oil – it can’t simply be wiped down with a cloth. Please tell me you didn’t use that on it,’ he says, looking with horror at a can of Mr Sheen.
‘But it’s bringing it up lovely, it is,’ Mrs Lewis says proudly, looking up at Tom. ‘See?’ She shows him her dirty cloth.
‘No!’ Tom says, barricading himself in front of the painting. ‘No, don’t touch it with that ever again, do you hear me?’
