The Rose Garden

The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley Read Free Book Online
Authors: Susanna Kearsley
of Trelowarth. The section we were in now jutted farthest back into the yard—on one side of the corridor two windows and the door faced out across the yard itself, while on the other side the laundry room and office nestled side by side, their doorways all but hidden in among the hanging coats.
    I left my own boots with their heels lined up against the wall, the way Claire liked them, and led the way round past the narrow back staircase that dropped like a chute from the old servants’ quarters above, and then up the one uneven step to the kitchen.
    Mark brought the box with him and asked where I wanted it.
    ‘Anywhere’s fine.’ It was only a box now, with nothing inside.
    Claire, who’d followed behind us, asked, ‘How did it go?’ in a tone that, to anyone else, might have sounded as though she were asking an everyday question.
    I said, ‘It was perfect, thanks.’
    Mark put in, ‘Eva got drunk.’
    ‘I did not.’
    ‘Get over it, you said yourself you were.’ His grin was, like his stepmother’s tone of voice, designed to even out the day’s emotions. ‘You still are. You ought to see your eyes.’
    ‘Well, if they’re anything like yours,’ I said, ‘I guess I’ll need some coffee.’
    ‘Guess you will. I’ll make some, shall I?’ And he headed for the kettle with an amiable purpose.
    I was moving much more slowly, and Claire came to take my elbow. ‘What on earth were you two drinking?’
    ‘Scrumpy.’
    ‘Ah. Then you’ll be needing to sit down, darling.’
    She took me through into the big front room that we had always called the library, because of all the bookshelves, and she saw me seated next to the piano, and then Mark came, with coffee for us all, and slouched into the sofa at my side. His hair was curling as it dried, and he looked so much like the boy he’d been once that it seemed incredible to me so many years had passed since I’d last sat in here, like this. With them.
    Claire’s mind had been traveling on the same line. ‘I feel I ought to send you straight upstairs to have a bath,’ she told me.
    ‘I don’t think I’d manage the stairs, at the moment.’ I leaned my head back on the cushions, then brought it back upright to stop it from spinning as Claire asked where we’d taken the ashes.
    Mark answered. ‘The Beacon.’
    If Claire understood the full meaning of that, she gave no indication. She only said, ‘Oh yes, it’s lovely up there.’
    ‘It was, today,’ he said. ‘Where’s Sue?’
    ‘I’m here,’ said Susan, coming in. She stopped inside the doorway, looked from Mark to me. ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘I’m fine,’ Mark said, ‘but Eva’s had too much to drink.’
    I sighed. ‘I have not. Anyway, you can talk. Look at the state of you.’
    ‘I’m not the one seeing double, now am I?’
    Claire’s voice was calm. ‘Children.’
    Susan came all the way into the room and sat down on my other side, curious. ‘Who’s seeing double?’
    Mark rolled his head sideways. ‘Eva tried to convince me there were two paths in the Wild Wood.’
    I couldn’t argue that, but I could lay the blame where it belonged. ‘It’s his fault.’
    Susan looked at me in sympathy. ‘What was it, whisky?’
    ‘Scrumpy.’
    ‘God. How could you?’ she asked Mark.
    His shrug seemed a great effort. ‘Before you rush to judgment, you should know that after drinking Scrumpy with me, Eva started thinking that your tearoom was a wonderful idea.’
    I elbowed him. He clutched his ribs and half-laughed, ‘Ow.’
    ‘I thought it was a wonderful idea before the Scrumpy.’
    Susan, looking pleased, asked, ‘Did you?’
    ‘Yes. I was just telling Mark I’d like to help you set it up. Be your PR consultant, if that would be any use to you.’
    Mark said, to Claire and Susan, ‘In exchange for room and board. She’ll be staying with us for the summer.’
    He didn’t mention anything about my plans to rent a cottage nearby when the tourist season ended in the autumn,

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