Page 49 of A Family Affair
‘If it’s alright with you, lass, I’d like to go home and be by myself for a bit.’ Ernie took out a tatty handkerchief, wiped his eyes and blew his nose.
‘Of course. I’ll take you.’ No way was she leaving him there. She expected resistance because, as Molly said in her letter, he was stubborn to the core.
‘That’d be appreciated. I feel jiggered after all that. Come on then, let’s be going. It’ll be dark in a minute and it’s going to be a cold one. I’ll lock up. Two ticks.’ Ernie stood slowly, resting his hands on his knees while the joints clicked into place.
While he fiddled with the door of his shed and fastened the padlock, Honey folded the letter, and when he returned, silently passed it to Ernie. He accepted it and put it in his pocket and as he did, she spotted the silver chain dangling from his palm that clutched the locket. Her grandad’s only link to his parents.
Feeling tears threaten and not wanting to be apart from Ernie, Honey suggested, ‘I think I should stay the night at yours. I’ve not done that for ages, and it’ll be nice. I’ll get us some fish and chips and we can talk some more, or not talk, whatever you want to do.’
Ernie swung his arm over her shoulder and began to walk as he answered, ‘I won’t say no to a bag of chips. Then you can get off home and have a rest.’
‘I don’t want to leave you though…’
Giving her a squeeze, Ernie assured her he’d be okay. ‘If I need company I promise I’ll ring you, but I really will be okay. I just want time to take it all in and then we can talk tomorrow. I’ll pop to the café for breakfast. Is that a deal?’
‘And perhaps we can talk about doing a bit of digging, you know, join one of those sites that do family trees, it’s worth a try.’
She couldn’t help thinking that somewhere out there, there might be a relative of her grandad’s who would love to meet him and be able to join the dots up. In fact she’d like to know herself because at the end of the day, she wasn’t a McCarthy either. Same for her dad. Maybe curiosity and her ancestors were nudging her on. Calling out, waiting to be found, never giving up.
Ernie wasn’t as enthusiastic. ‘We’ll see. Now get yer finger out lass and take me home. My bones are aching, and I’ve done enough chatting this afternoon to last me till Christmas.’
Honey sighed, nodded then hugged him back, knowing when she was beaten by the belligerent gene that ran through his marrow. She never wanted her grandad to change, because no matter whose blood he carried in his veins, who fed him his tea and read him bedtime stories, he was who he was. His own man. The best grandad in the world and someone she loved and admired more than anyone, ever.
CHAPTER37
CLARISSA
She had surprised herself by asking Chuck to stay. Apart from agreeing to the documentary, which did entail some humming and hawing, her invitation was probably the most unreserved thing she’d done in a long time. And rather than worry about it afterwards, something told Clarissa it had been the right thing to do.
She’d followed her instincts, and it wasn’t often that they were wrong. She was a people person. Of that she was sure and proud. Her ability to read the room, relate to folk from all walks of life, make them welcome or wither according to the situation and their behaviour, was a skill she had honed over many years. Being mistress of Chamberlain Manor and the legacy that came with it had taught her many things.
And she had to face facts – it wasn’t like she had anything else to do. Having nobody to love or love her back, or even relatives, someone she had a genetic connection to, Clarissa accepted that she was blessed to have good friends, but they were popping off left right and centre. That was why having Chuck around had brought her a sense of… what was it? Kinship, perhaps. Like when you make a good friend and wish they were a relative, and that you could click your fingers and banish the bad apples and have them replaced by nice people.
If only it were that simple.
Then again, those bad apples, the maggoty, black-hearted-to-the-core relatives who were long gone, had shown her how not to be. The way to approach life and business and human beings. With respect. Being fair. Kindness never hurt anyone, and this was a lesson she’d learnt the hard way from a father and uncle who were the antithesis of the word.
Which was why Clarissa had chosen to make the most of a bad job. A job that had occupied her for most of her adult life.
That life was coming to a close and, whether she had another ten years or ten minutes remaining of it, she had to make sure that her house and the estate were in order.
With that in mind, after observing Mr Henderson Junior over lunch, Clarissa’s sixth sense had kicked in. Not liking the scathing looks; the barely concealed irritation towards Chuck; the giveaway pulsing just below the solicitor’s ear, warning bells had sounded in her head and Clarissa had the immense desire to rescue her long-lost cousin. From what she wasn’t too sure; but something definitely wasn’t right.
He’d been there for three days, and his presence had lifted the mood in the house. Jennifer had certainly taken a shine to him, as had her cleaning ladies. They’d flustered when they’d been introduced, and he removed his cowboy hat and called them ma’am. Clarissa chuckled at the memory, and them telling her later that he looked like Clint Eastwood.
It’d be all round the village now, that a cowboy had moved into the manor. Clarissa loved a bit of gossip, and it tickled her that on this occasion she was the cause of it, or rather Chuck was.
The week had flown by. On his first day, she’d arranged for Matheson to give him a tour of the estate, which Chuck seemed to enjoy – especially meeting one of the dairy farmers – then lunch in the village pub where apparently he drew quite a crowd at the bar.
Tuesday, Jennifer had taken him horse-riding at the Equine Centre. It was her hobby and passion. Jennifer preferred four-leggers to two-leggers, categorising horses and men respectively because the former had never let her down in her forty-one years on the earth. Clarissa was moved to agree. Her loyal aide usually rode alone so she’d been thrilled to have a companion to hack across the Cheshire plain with. And since, Clarissa had also wryly noticed a definite spring in Jennifer’s step.
Cookie Beattie was another one who’d been rejuvenated by their guest and had produced some special English dishes for Chuck to sample. Mealtimes were much more fun with another person at the table, and Clarissa welcomed not having to dupe Jennifer into thinking she was having a wonderful time, and that she was looking forward to her porridge or chicken broth for lunch. She could just sit back, listen, and observe.
Wednesday had been bright but breezy, and Chuck had been out and about with Yosef, the groundsman. Apparently he liked being in the fresh air and wanted to pay his way. Clarissa knew there was no point in persuading him it wasn’t necessary, so left him to it.
She was currently in the library, reading in front of the fire and, on hearing Chuck descending the stairs, pricked up her ears. He was whistling, something he did a lot, but she couldn’t catch the tune and then his phone rang. He’d been clip-clopping along the hall in his cowboy boots, but so unbridled were his vocal cords that she heard the one-sided conversation quite well.
She knew that Mr Henderson Junior had invited Chuck to play a round of golf at his club and have dinner in town afterwards. Clarissa had been rather surprised that Tristan had even entertained the thought of socialising with Chuck in broad daylight because if ever she’d met a thoroughbred snob, he was it. His father was the same.
