The Amber Keeper (4 page)

‘So what’s eating Robert? He seems even more strung out than usual, blaming me for everything, when it was more likely worry over finance that drove my mother to the edge.’

Fay cast her a sympathetic glance. ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry if he’s being a bit prissy.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m used to him. He always did like to lord it over me. Not that I ever paid much attention to his elder brother lectures,’ Abbie added with a chuckle.

Fay smiled. ‘He did complain that you never listened to a word he said.’

‘I did now and then, if it was advice worth listening to.’ She laughed. ‘But we do both tend to get on our high horses if we don’t agree on something. It’s the way it’s always been between us, and I’ll admit I’m a bit uptight myself at the moment.’

‘I’m not surprised. Look, it’s none of my business, but don’t be too hard on him. He’s a good husband, and an excellent father to our children, but he’s having some problems of his own right now. He’d been hoping for a partnership this year. Sadly, it hasn’t yet materialised, so he’s a bit stressed out.’

‘No reason to take his disappointment out on me, though, is there? I absolutely refuse to be held responsible for my mother’s death, and Robert has no right to make such an accusation.’

‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it quite as it sounded,’ Fay insisted, clearly determined to defend her husband.

Abbie was pleased that the trip had at least given her an opportunity to get to know her sister-in-law a little better. She hadn’t quite made up her mind about Fay. One minute she seemed quite a gentle creature, and certainly a caring, devoted mother, but then she would come out with some caustic remark, such as the one about Aimée’s parentage, which was deeply hurtful. It was perfectly natural, of course, that she would take her husband’s side. Even so her next words surprised Abbie.

‘He’d been worrying about Kate’s state of mind for some time, and wishing you were here.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes. He did miss having you around.’

Abbie reminded herself that they hadn’t always been at loggerheads, even if sibling rivalry had got the better of them at times. Making no further comment, she took out her copy of the book and read a passage for the children, the one where the Walker
children
, sailing in their boat
Swallow
, meet the Blackett family pretending to be pirates as they sailed the
Amazon
.

‘You’ll have to read them the rest of the story now,’ laughed Fay, as Abbie closed the book with a snap to huge moans all around.

‘It’ll be a pleasure.’

The boat docked, and as Aimée begged for an ice cream, with Jonathon acting as echo to her request, difficult family issues were temporarily shelved in favour of a pleasant afternoon by the lake.

FOUR

A
bbie felt a sudden hopelessness overwhelm her as she sat gazing out of her bedroom window, her transistor radio playing Andy Williams singing
Can’t Get Used To Losing You,
which was exactly how she felt right now. To lose her mother just when she needed her most, needed that much-longed-for reconciliation, was more than she could bear. How cruel life was at times. If only she possessed her grandmother’s strength. She watched the whooper swans preparing to leave Carreckwater for their summer breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra. How far those beautiful birds must have to travel, and to a region even colder than this one. Rather as Millie had done when she’d sailed to Russia.

The thought reminded Abbie of her promise to visit her grandmother yesterday, which she’d failed to do since they’d arrived home quite late following their afternoon on Coniston Water. Now,
leaving
Aimée in the care of Mrs Brixton, who was happy for the little girl to help her make some scones for tea, she set off for the lodge house.

As she strolled along, marvelling at the display of daffodils that lined the stony path, the answer was quite clear in her head what she must do. She needed to investigate the true cause of what had destroyed her mother, and which now threatened to ruin her relationship with the rest of her family. She must find out more about Kate’s background, in particular her deprived early childhood before she was adopted, and her allegedly troubled teenage years. Perhaps then she might understand, and be able to work out why her mother’s life had gone so badly wrong that she had seen no other solution but to end it.

Abbie found her grandmother sitting in the small conservatory at the back of the lodge. It faced southeast so was something of a sun trap at this time of the morning, even on a cool day in late March. A book lay open on the old woman’s lap but she wasn’t
reading
it; rather, she was gazing out upon the garden, a shuttered look on her face. Abbie thought how lovely she still was, with her high cheekbones and scarcely any wrinkles. A tray of coffee rested on the table beside her. Abbie helped herself to a cup and quietly took the chair beside her, smiling when her grandmother put out a hand to give hers a warm squeeze.

‘Sorry I didn’t manage to call yesterday, Gran, only we took the children out on Coniston Water for a treat.’

‘Good for you. Cheer you all up, I expect.’

‘Indeed it did.’ Abbie sipped her coffee as the two lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching a house martin flying frantically to and fro as it gathered material for its nest. ‘Do you remember us once climbing Coniston Old Man, just the three of us, with me moaning about the long walk all the way up, and Mum gently
urging
me on?’

Millie smiled. ‘Then when we neared the summit you set off at a run and beat us all.’

‘She gave me a badge for winning, one she made herself out of slate with “star performer” carved on it. I’ve still got it. What fun we had back then.’

Both women lapsed into silence for a moment as they recalled happier days, then Abbie gave a little sigh. ‘I still can’t get my head around why Mum would do this. It’s quite beyond my comprehension. But then she was never easy to understand.’

‘It’s true she was rather a complicated person, a bit screwed up, as you young people would say. But then she had a lot to deal with, not knowing exactly who she was, for one thing.’

‘That must have been awful for her.’

‘I’m afraid it did trouble her greatly.’

Abbie tried to recall when first she’d learned that her mother had been adopted, perhaps when she was being something of a problem during her own teen years. Kate had told her that she considered herself fortunate to have enjoyed a good upbringing with loving parents, which included being privately educated at a local girls’ school, when she could so easily have suffered a deprived childhood confined in an orphanage. She said just the memory of that cold, unfeeling place gave her the shivers. Growing up here in the small village of Carreckwater, situated as it was in a wooded valley in the heart of Lakeland, had been utterly delightful, not to mention living in this beautiful house on the shores of the lake. Kate had declared that she’d a great deal to be thankful for.

So why had all that optimism disappeared?

Not knowing who her birth mother was must surely have haunted Kate. No doubt some foolish girl who had got herself into trouble, abandoned her child and simply walked away. Not a
pleasant
thought. It had never crossed her own mind for a moment to give up Aimée, no matter what. Of course, the girl might well have been forced into giving up her baby, as was often the case in those days.

Abbie’s head teemed with questions and she longed to know more about her mother’s origins. But was her grandmother up to such a discussion, grieving as she was right now? On the other hand, perhaps talking about her daughter might bring her some comfort. Abbie decided to take the risk, and to stop the moment Millie appeared weary.

‘When you said Mum felt as if all the security she’d taken for granted was slipping from her grasp, why did you say it was hard won?’

‘Because she spent her early years in an orphanage, which left her with a justifiable sense of insecurity.’

‘Where was it, this orphanage?’

‘Pursey Street in Stepney, London.’

‘Goodness, that’s some distance from the Lakes. Why choose that one?’

‘I can’t quite recall. It’s all so long ago.’

‘So when did you return to England, exactly? You’ve never said.’

‘Some time in the early twenties, I think.’

Abbie could tell that Millie was being deliberately vague, but couldn’t work out why. Something was going on that she didn’t quite understand. Why had Millie adopted a child at such a young age? Surely at the time she’d still have been young enough to expect to have children of her own one day? Not that any had ever come, so perhaps she’d known that she couldn’t. But that was not a question she dared ask. ‘Was it something that happened during the revolution that made you decide to adopt a child? Did you see children starving in the streets? Was that the reason?’

She couldn’t help but wonder what terrible events had happened back then to make Millie so unwilling to recall the past. Like her mother before her, Abbie had tried on numerous occasions to persuade her grandmother to talk about her time in Russia, and how she came to go out there in the first place. But only rarely would some snippet of the young Millie’s early life emerge, after which she would clam up, folding her lips into a tightly compressed line as if she’d divulged some dreadful secret.

When no response came, Abbie smiled. ‘Mum always wondered why you chose her, a skinny five-year-old prone to sulks and tantrums. She put the decision down to your kind and generous heart, which must be right.’

‘Why would I not choose her, when she looked so sweet?’ There was the softness of love in her tone, which proved the truth of this belief. ‘So tell me about your day on Coniston Water with the
children
. Did you take them for a sail?’

The subject, as ever, was closed.

Stifling a sigh, Abbie went on to describe the
Swallows and Amazons
games they’d played on the boat, and visiting Wild Cat Island. ‘It’s a book that I loved as a child. Do you remember how Mum used to let us dress up as pirates and camp out by the lake overnight? Robert always wanted to be Captain Flint, of course, but Mum loved to play that role herself. She was such fun back then.’

Millie smiled. ‘And you were Titty, the one who found the sea chest.’

‘Oh, my goodness, yes, the missing treasure that Mum would hide some place, and I’d think myself so clever if I succeeded, always anxious to beat Robert to it.’

As they chuckled over shared memories, she decided to try a different tack. ‘Mum told me you were once in service as a nursemaid in some grand house or other. Is that really true, Gran, and if so, where was it?’

Millie turned to smile at her, grey eyes twinkling with a mischievous delight. ‘It was here.’

Abbie let out a startled gasp. ‘Here? You don’t mean this house, Carreck Place?’

‘I do.’

‘Goodness, are you saying that you were once actually
employed
here? But that’s incredible! How could you start off as a nursemaid and end up as mistress? Lady of the manor, no less.’

Millie chuckled. ‘Life is full of twists and turns with many surprises along the way. Although I’ve never actually thought of myself as lady of the manor, or mistress of Carreck Place, since strictly speaking it was never mine. Nor ever Kate’s, for that matter.’

‘So it was my grandfather’s, was it?’ Abbie was almost crowing with delight, itching to hear more of this fascinating revelation.

‘That’s not quite what I meant. The fact of the matter is, my darling, the property does not belong to our family at all. Never has, not now, not ever. We only have the right to live here.’

Abbie stared at her grandmother in a state of stunned disbelief. ‘Are you saying that one day we may have to
leave
Carreck Place?’ Abbie’s heart almost stopped beating at the thought. It was a
horrifying
prospect, one she would never have contemplated happening, not in a thousand years.

Millie met her granddaughter’s gaze unflinching. ‘That is exactly what I’m saying, yes.’

‘I don’t understand. I always believed that Carreck Place had been in our family for generations.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Oh, but I love this house with a passion.’

Millie squeezed her hand, sympathetic as always to her granddaughter’s feelings. ‘I know, darling, me too, but there it is.’

‘And Robert fully expects to inherit.’

‘He may well do so, if that is what Kate decided, although it is by no means certain. Having said that, I very much doubt the
family
will ever be asked to leave, even though your mother is no longer with us, since there’s no one to . . .’ She paused, frowning thoughtfully as if reflecting upon the possibility. ‘No one left who’s likely to claim it. I hope,’ she concluded. ‘I confess I would like to see out my remaining years here, if it is possible to do so. But that all rather depends on what your mother left in her will.’

‘She didn’t confide in you, then?’

Millie shook her head, smiling sadly. ‘Never.’

Abbie had a sudden vision of her father quickly stowing away papers in a drawer, his prickly response to her brother’s probing questions, and his concern over finance and whether or not he would need to sell the shop. ‘Are you suggesting there might be some sort of problem? Dad does seem to be worrying quite a bit about money, seems to think we’re in danger of losing our home through lack of funds. But why? Are we going bankrupt or something? Is it something to do with Mum’s will? What’s going on, and why won’t he tell us?’

Millie sighed. ‘As I say, I was not privy to my daughter’s financial situation, but Kate was only too aware that she did not own Carreck Place, that she held only a lifetime lease on the property. However, I dare say this might have come as something of a surprise to Tom.’

Abbie felt as if her head was spinning as she struggled to come to terms with what her grandmother was telling her. ‘You mean Mum kept this fact a
secret
from Dad for all these years? Why on earth would she do such a thing?’ Keeping secrets was beginning to look like a family trait.

Millie frowned, looking oddly pensive. ‘To explain would have opened up a veritable Pandora’s box. One we preferred to keep firmly closed.’

‘I have to say, Gran, now might be a good time to open it, otherwise there could be mayhem.’ Abbie patiently waited while Millie considered the matter, her thoughts in turmoil. ‘So who does own this house, if not us?’ she gently enquired.

‘Carreck Place was originally part of the estate of Lord Rumsley, who employed me as nursemaid to his children. I was very happy here, but then my life changed forever in the autumn of 1911 when I first met Olga Belinsky.’

‘Olga Belinsky? Who on earth was she?’

‘A Russian countess.’

‘Goodness, that must have been amazing. I never realised you’d had such an important job, but then I know nothing about your time in Russia. So what was it like working for the aristocracy during the revolution?’

‘Some things are best forgotten.’

Her grandfather, Anton Nabokov, who sadly had died when Abbie was around eleven or twelve, had been the same. For all he’d been Russian born and bred, only once did she hear him mention the Fatherland, as he called it, and then only to say how thankful he was they had got away when they did.

She could well understand her grandparents’ relief at escaping the horrors of the revolution, which must have been utterly terrifying. Yet Abbie was increasingly convinced there was more to her grandmother’s silence than revulsion over the assassination of the Romanovs, and possibly many of their aristocratic friends.

But this was the first piece of information her grandmother had volunteered in years. ‘Tell me about this Countess. What was she like?’

‘She was a manipulative madam, entirely selfish, wanting everything for herself, and completely profligate, with not the first idea of the value of money. Our relationship was fraught with problems from the start ‒ challenging but interesting, you might say.’ She gave a harsh little laugh at the recollection. ‘Her callous disregard for others should have warned me to stay well clear of her.
Unfortunately
I was young and somewhat headstrong at the time, if a little naïve and easily flattered.’

‘Gran, please, I want to know all about her. Where and when did you meet? Please start from the very beginning.’

‘Then we’ll need a fresh pot of coffee. It’s a long story.’