House of Silence (8 page)

Alfie didn’t knock. It would have taken two
hands to lift the iron knocker and he had a suitcase in one hand
and a large bunch of flowers in the other. He set the case down,
turned an iron ring and leaned against the door. It sidled open,
protesting, revealing an enormous entrance hall. A gigantic dark
oak table - clearly Jacobean - stood in the centre of the room,
piled with unopened Christmas cards, junk mail, a flashlight,
secateurs, a ball of twine, old newspapers and a pair of dog leads.
In the middle of the table stood a scruffy arrangement of
evergreens and berries in a jumble sale vase. Hanging from a laurel
branch was one of those jokey wooden signs announcing,
I’m in
the garden
, complete with robin perched on garden fork, for the
benefit of those who didn’t read English. In the dust beneath,
someone had written
Please clean me
.

I could hear hysterical barking coming from
another room and I looked around, expecting someone to appear.
There was an imposing, rather forbidding oak staircase, down which
you could have driven a coach and horses. (The state of the
threadbare Axminster suggested a previous generation
had
.)
Coats and scarves lay heaped on a carved wooden settle, together
with a tartan rug which, to judge from its noisome condition,
belonged to the owners of the dog leads. A welcoming light was
provided by a standard lamp with an exuberantly fringed and floral
shade, but the fireplace - about the size of my bathroom in
Brighton - was empty. It began to dawn on me that the hall seemed
scarcely any warmer than the winter’s afternoon we’d left outside.
I shivered and remembered Alfie’s dire climatic warnings.

The paroxysms of barking continued unabated,
but still no one appeared to greet us. Then from another direction
- overhead, I thought - I heard footsteps moving quickly. As they
reached the stairs, they broke into a heavy-footed run. A woman
turned the corner of the stairs, stopped dead and cried, ‘Alfie!’
She galloped down the remaining flight of stairs, long corkscrew
curls flying out behind her, and I feared for her safety. She
jumped the last two treads and landed, knees bent like a
skateboarder, feet shod in striped socks and voluminous fluffy
slippers, on a rug that slid across the polished oak floorboards,
bringing her to a standstill, no more than arm’s reach from
Alfie.

I waited for them to embrace, but instead
they stood facing each other. Each waiting for the other to make
the first move? I couldn’t see Alfie’s face, so there was no way of
knowing. Eventually he extended his arm, offering her the flowers,
and said, ‘Merry Christmas, Hattie.’

Seizing the bouquet, she squealed, ‘Ooh,
lovely
! Are they for me?’ and plunged her face into the
blooms. When she emerged again, her nose was freckled with dark
pollen from the lilies. Alfie smiled and withdrew a handkerchief
from his coat pocket. Dabbing at her face, he said, ‘Yes, they are.
But if anyone should ask, they’re for everyone. The
family
,’
he added with emphasis.

I could see no resemblance between brother
and sister. Hattie’s hair was mousy and her eyes were grey, whereas
Alfie’s were brown. She had nothing of his easy elegance or
compactness of body. There was perhaps an expression in the eyes, a
sadness that I occasionally saw in Alfie’s - an anxiety almost, an
eagerness to please. But otherwise, they were chalk and cheese.

Hattie finally registered my presence and,
after regarding me for a moment, said to Alfie
sotto voce
,
‘Who’s your friend?’

‘Didn’t Viv explain? This is Gwen Rowland.
She lives in Brighton. We met when I was filming in Sussex. Gwen,
this is my youngest sister, Harriet Donovan.’

Hattie thrust a hand in my direction.
‘
Now
I remember! Gosh, I’m getting as bad as Rae! How d’you
do? Viv’s put you in the attic. Don’t worry, it’s very cosy up
there and it’s near the nursery, where Alfie sleeps, so if you two
want to sleep together, you can.’ Hattie mistook my look of blank
astonishment and explained, ‘There’s a double bed in the attic, you
see. The springs are a bit creaky but no one will hear you - we’re
all at the other end of the house.’ She turned to Alfie. ‘But
you
have to have your old room, or Rae will go mad. Well,
not mad, exactly. She’s not mad yet, but she gets pretty upset if
we change anything, especially at Christmas, so there was no
question of putting you both in the attic.’ Hattie turned back to
me. ‘Alfie has to sleep where he’s always slept, you see. House
rules. And anyway, we didn’t know whether you’d
want
to
share a room, and Viv didn’t like to ask.’ She looked speculatively
from Alfie to me, then back to Alfie. ‘
Do
you sleep
together?’

With a sidelong glance at my dropped jaw,
Alfie said gently, ‘That’s none of your business, Hat. You’re
making Gwen feel uncomfortable.’

Her face fell. ‘Oh, sorry! Take no notice of
me, Gwen. I’m a bad person. I can’t do anything right. But I
mean
well.’

Alfie shrugged off his coat and threw it on
to the settle. ‘Be an angel, Hat, and make us some tea, would you?
And could you possibly do something about those bloody dogs? Has
Viv started riding to hounds now?’

‘No, that’s just Harris and Lewis! They’re
excited. We’re
all
excited! It’s Christmas and Alfie’s home!
Let’s go and have some tea and mince pies. You can have mine, which
are burned but homemade, or Sainsbury’s, which are neither.’

Putting on a brave smile, I said, ‘I think I
could probably manage one of each.’ Alfie shot me a grateful
look.

‘Good! The burned ones aren’t
too
bad. Viv put so much brandy in the mincemeat, you almost don’t
notice,’ Hattie added cheerfully. ‘Take your coat off, Gwen, and
come along to the kitchen. I’ll get these flowers into some water
and then make us a big pot of tea.’ Alfie led the way and, as I
fell into step beside her, Hattie said, ‘You mustn’t mind me! It’s
just that Alfie has never brought a girlfriend home before. We’d
always assumed he was
gay
.’

‘Hattie!’ Alfie bellowed over his shoulder.
‘
Tea!’

I don’t know what got into me. I think I was
vaguely irritated with Alfie for not hugging his sister, for
refusing to show her some token of affection when she was so
clearly pleased to see him. As we followed him along the corridor,
I looked at Hattie meaningfully, pointed silently to Alfie’s back,
and mouthed, ‘He isn’t’. Then I winked.

Hattie clapped a hand to her mouth and
giggled noisily, like a dishwasher on its drain cycle. Alfie turned
round and regarded the pair of us. ‘Oh, God,’ he groaned. ‘I can
see you two are going to get on famously.’

Hattie linked her arm through mine and
squeezed it. ‘Oh, I do hope so!’ I looked at her pollen-stained
face gazing up at mine. The expression was that of a wide-eyed,
eager child; the awkward, unprepossessing body that of a woman well
into her thirties.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Hattie led us into a kitchen that was
scarcely less palatial than the hall, but a good deal warmer. The
dogs barked madly and launched themselves at us. Hattie kneeled
down to make a fuss of them, ruffling the terriers’ ears
affectionately. ‘Gwen, this is Harris and Lewis. Lewis is the
bigger one with the soppy face. Harris is very old and
much
more dignified. Aren’t you, Harry?’

Alfie gave up waiting and set about making
tea. He was lifting the kettle off the Aga when the back door
opened and a low female voice called out, ‘Hattie? Are you there?
Can you take Ma some tea? I forgot to take up her tray after
lunch.’

‘Viv, come in! Alfie’s here! And Gwen.
They’ve arrived!’

‘Already? I didn’t hear a car. Hang on, let
me get my boots off...’

There was a scuffling sound, then a tall,
middle-aged woman appeared at the kitchen door, dressed in cord
trousers and a thick fleece jacket. She bore no resemblance to
Alfie, nor to her half-sister. Her short, dark hair, lank with wind
and damp, showed a little grey, but her brown eyes were lively and
humorous. Her rangy physique - she looked tall, even in stockinged
feet - conveyed an impression of energy. This, I thought, was a
woman who got things done.

Vivien removed her gloves, shoved them in
her pocket and extended a large hand towards me. ‘Gwen! Welcome to
Creake Hall! Delighted you could come. Please excuse the gardening
togs. We thought you’d be here a bit later and I was trying to get
some last-minute jobs done while the weather holds. Has Hattie
shown you your room?’

‘Not yet,’ said Hattie quickly, as she set a
plate of mince pies on the table. ‘Alfie wanted tea.’

Vivien turned to face her brother. She
didn’t hug him either, just extended her hand and shook his firmly.
‘Thanks for coming, Alfie. Rae will be
so
pleased to see
you. She’s not been too good lately. Well, it’s been a difficult
year... and she doesn’t get any younger.’

‘Nor do
we
,’ said Hattie.

Vivien glared at her, then turned back to
Alfie and said, ‘A visit from you will buck Rae up no end.’

Alfie didn’t respond, other than to change
the subject. ‘How’s the latest book going?’

Vivien looked pleased at the enquiry. ‘Oh...
A lot of false starts. Rae’s not really on top of it much of the
time. But we’ll get there in the end. Slow but sure. I think it
will be a good one. Perhaps not one of her
best
...’

I could see Alfie had already lost interest
so I asked, ‘What’s the new book called?’

‘
Tom Dickon Harry and the Fortress of
Fear
. Well, that’s the working title.’

‘Sounds too much like
Tower of
Terror’
, Alfie said as Hattie poured mugs of tea from an
enormous brown teapot.

Vivien looked at him, eyebrows raised.
‘Surprised you remember that one. It must be ten years old.‘

‘That was the book that came out after the
documentary. It was
everywhere
,’ said Alfie, gulping his
tea. ‘It made me famous, didn’t it?’

‘Well, Rae doesn’t really care about titles.
Not any more. That’s my department. Marketing and mammon.’

‘She’d be completely
lost
without
you, Viv,’ Hattie said, offering me the plate of mince pies. It was
all too clear which were hers. I selected the least charred and put
it on my plate, crumbling the pastry surreptitiously so there would
be less to eat. Alfie declined - which I thought both clever and
cowardly - and watched me, the corners of his mouth twitching. As
soon as Hattie got up to refill the teapot, he grabbed the remains
of my pie and lobbed it silently at one of the dogs who raised its
head, caught and swallowed in one swift movement. As Hattie
returned to the table, I made chewing motions, avoiding Alfie’s
eye.

‘Shall I take tea up to Rae?’ he asked.

Vivien helped herself to a Sainsbury mince
pie. ‘That’s a nice idea. Thanks, Alfie. Would you go with him,
Hattie? I don’t think we should spring any surprises on her. Let’s
take things gently. While you’re doing that, I’ll show Gwen her
room. You’re in the attic, Gwen - did Hattie explain?’

‘At
length
,’ Alfie snapped, before I
could reply. Hattie squirmed visibly.

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘what I’d really like to
do, is see some of the garden before the light goes. Is there any
chance you could give me a quick tour, Vivien?’

‘Call me Viv. Yes, of course! There’s a lot
to see but we could certainly make a start. The light’s rather
magical just now, with the trees silhouetted against the sky and
the sun setting. Let’s go and take a look! You’ll need a coat. It’s
pretty cold out there.’

‘I left mine in the hall. I won’t be a
minute.’

I made my way back to the hall and retrieved
my coat. On the return journey I took a wrong turning and ended up
in the sitting room, confronted by what appeared to be a shrine to
Alfie: a collection of photographs capturing his every mood and
age. I dragged myself away and retraced my steps, listening out for
voices in the kitchen. As I laid my hand on the kitchen door, I
heard Alfie say firmly, ‘The only person likely to blow it is
Fanny.’ Then he added in an undertone, ‘We just need to keep her
off the booze.’

As I entered the kitchen, five pairs of
eyes, human and canine, turned to me.

‘I’m ready’, I announced, buttoning up my
coat.

Viv stood up and smiled. ‘Right. We’ll have
a lightning tour.’

Hattie began to clear the table, loading
crockery on to a tray. She still looked anxious. I hoped Alfie
hadn’t been mean to her in my brief absence. ‘Delicious mince pies,
Hattie,’ I said. ‘Thanks for going to all that trouble.’

She cast me a look of abject gratitude.
‘They’d have been even nicer if I hadn’t
burned
them. I’ll
get it right next time. I’ll use the timer.’

From the back door, Viv called out, ‘Take Ma
her tea, Hattie. Then take Gwen’s things upstairs.’

‘No, really,’ I protested. ‘There’s no
need!’

‘Please let me, Gwen. I like making myself
useful.’

‘Well, thanks very much. But don’t unpack
for me. I haven’t finished wrapping all my presents.’

‘
Presents
? Have you brought us
presents?’

‘Just little ones.’

‘Oh, how exciting! What did you bring
me
?’

Viv reappeared at the kitchen door, boots in
hand. ‘Hattie, for goodness’ sake, stop badgering Gwen!’ She turned
to me and said, ‘You really shouldn’t have, you know. We didn’t
expect anything. We’re delighted to entertain a friend of
Alfie’s.’

‘She’s more than just a
friend
,’
Hattie announced, standing at the door with a tea tray, waiting for
Alfie to join her.

‘Hattie! That’s enough!’ Vivien said
sharply.