conservatory was still furnished exactly the same, though the heavy ivory-coloured curtains at the full-length windows were new, she noted. The smaller occasional room next door was where Helena and Isobel had spent many evenings together playing Scrabble or watching television.
Further along was the library, which had always been Helena’s favourite place, and now, as they went inside, she was stupidly relieved to see that her figurines were still there in their usual softly lit alcove.
But dominating the room on the opposite wall was the amazing gold-framed portrait of Isobel, and Helena had to put her hand over her mouth to stop her lips from trembling.
The painting was so touchingly real that it felt as if Isobel might get up from the chair she was seated in and step forward to greet the two of them in the room. She was shown wearing a soft, loosely fitting dress in a delicate shade of pink, her luxuriant silver hair elegantly coiffed on top, her large grey eyes smiling that gentle smile that Helena knew so well.
As with the other rooms, every available space was taken up to display all the ornaments to best effect and, as they turned to go, Oscar clicked his tongue, looking back briefly.
‘My aunt was some collector,’ he remarked obliquely. He refused to acquire much for his own homes, preferring to keep his space empty and clutter-free—much like his life.
‘Yes—but there are collectors, and collectors,’ Helena said, immediately on the defensive. ‘Every single thing here is exactly right for its situation. Isobel had an eye for such things and she had wonderful taste—and it shows.’ She paused, her head on one side. ‘I don’t know what you intend… I mean… I don’t know what your opinion is, but I think it’s best if everything is left exactly as it is for the time being—until after the sale of the house, I mean. I don’t think we should move a thing. After all, any prospective buyer is going to be far more impressed when viewing a property that looks lived-in… loved… cared for.’ She looked up at Oscar earnestly. ‘Once everything’s gone, the house will be just an empty shell. Lifeless.’ The fact was, she admitted, she couldn’t bear to see Isobel’s beloved home broken up and sold off in bits and pieces, even though it was inevitable one day. To Helena, it would seem like the ultimate betrayal.
A nerve pulsed in Oscar’s neck as he looked down at her, and he was aware of a certain hunger he hadn’t felt for a very long time.
‘We’ll have to think about that,’ he said, averting his gaze. Then, ‘By the way, as far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to have anything you want… Take it now.’ He paused. ‘I don’t need any of this,’ he added.
Helena looked up at him seriously. No, I don’t expect you do need anything, she thought. And did she, Helena, need anything? Despite her prospective inheritance, she could never envisage a time when she’d eventually settle somewhere which would happily house such wealth.
‘I don’t want to think about what I want, or don’t want or need,’ she said coolly. ‘Not now. Not yet.’ She paused, her gaze lingering on the figurines for a second. ‘Only those over there—the shepherd and shepherdess—they are the only things that I would love to have.’
‘Feel free to take them, but it’ll all have to go eventually,’ Oscar said firmly. ‘Putting off the inevitable is just procrastination.’ And procrastination hinders progress, he thought. He avoided procrastination wherever possible.
Presently, Helena followed Oscar up the wide staircase to the first floor. Immediately ahead, there were the four bedrooms, and around the corner to the next wing were two more, all with en suite bathrooms, the long windows on this generous landing lighting up the pattern on the richly carpeted floor.
Helena caught her breath as her memories kept flooding in. This was the first time in over nine years that she had been upstairs at Mulberry Court and she had to resist the temptation to run along and throw open the door of the room at the far end which had been ‘hers’—the one in which she had stayed on the few occasions that her father had had to go away.
‘Isobel had so many friends… I remember she was always entertaining, always having people to stay. These rooms were never empty for long,’ Helena said, adding, ‘I stayed here once or twice.’
‘And… this was my room,’ Oscar remarked, throwing open the door to the one they’d come to. He paused, looking around him. ‘I used to enjoy my visits,’ he added, and Helena’s heart missed a beat. Could he actually have forgotten what his visits had meant to her—to both of them? Had he completely obliterated those times from his memory? Had they meant nothing?
After a few more minutes they went outside to wander through the grounds. The kitchen garden at the back was still flourishing and well-kept, Helena noticed, trying not to feel too sad that someone else was now in charge there. Though Benjamin didn’t seem to be around today.
Nothing had changed outside, either, she thought, her eye drawn towards the secluded wooded path that led to their willow tree and, even after all this time, Helena could feel her senses swim at the memory of the intoxicating moments she and Oscar had experienced together. Yet they were walking here now as if none of it had ever happened. As if they were two strangers in a foreign place…
Without her realizing it, Oscar had been looking down at her as they walked, his eyes following her gaze as she’d been reminiscing, and abruptly, as if he’d had enough of all this, he stopped and turned.
‘I need to get back to the Inn,’ he said briefly. ‘I want to check my emails, and I’m expecting an important phone call.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Anyway, it’s gone one o’clock—you’re probably ready for some lunch, aren’t you?’
To her surprise, Helena wasn’t feeling at all hungry, despite having had no breakfast. But another of Adam’s delicious sandwiches suddenly seemed attractive.
‘OK,’ she said casually as they walked towards the car. ‘And, actually, perhaps I ought to phone my boss. He hasn’t been in the office for a few days, but I know he’s back this weekend. Perhaps there’s something he needs to tell me before Monday morning.’
As they drove back to the Horseshoe, something made Oscar decide to try his luck. He’d been thinking about it for the last hour or more, but he knew he’d have to pick his words carefully.
‘Look, if it would be any help to you, Helena… I’d be more than happy for us to get a true valuation of Mulberry Court, the contents, everything,’ he said carefully, ‘and, allowing for inflation, to pay you a very generous half of the total, now. It would relieve you of all responsibility, and you’ve said you don’t want anything for yourself… other than those figurines.’ He turned to glance at her as she sat beside him impassively. ‘It would save you a great deal of trouble…’
There was complete silence from Helena, and he went on, ‘Of course, the sale can’t proceed for a year, as we both know, but if you agree, at least one of us will be spared considerable interruption to our life. John Mayhew would sort out the transaction for us, I’m sure,’ he added.
He drew into the car park and looked across at Helena, noting her flushed features.
‘You’ve forgotten what I said, Oscar,’ she said, staring straight ahead. ‘I’ve already told you—I want to be able to play my part in making sure that we deal sensitively with all the material possessions which Isobel held dear.’
Now she did look at him, her eyes almost crackling with distaste. She knew what his game was—he wanted her out of the way! For his own
