Page 2 of The Way We Are Now

‘He’s my life.’ Anna smiles, reaching for the fresh pot of tea and mugs.

‘Oh, don’t give me that, Anna.’ Maggy’s voice is full of derision. ‘With all that’s going on in your life at the moment? Elected MP for Rothersley only eight years ago? Then a member of the cabinet and now promotion to Secretary of State for Justice, for heaven’s sake?’ She pats her daughter’s hand as Anna passes a mug in her direction. ‘Your dad would have been so proud of you, lass. What an achievement!’ Her face softens. ‘And, yes, you’ve a good one there in Noah. He reminds me a lot of your dad, Anna. Same good looks. Won’t be long before he’s breaking a few hearts.’ She sniffs, her hand shaking slightly as she takes a first sip of tea. ‘Let’s just hope he has better luck with the opposite sex than you ever did.’

North Yorkshire, December 2025

‘Has he been in touch? Has he phoned?’ Bella Mancini’s voice on the phone is eager, encouraging, but, Immi wonders, is there an undertone of slight disapproval in her friend’s questioning? Or envy maybe? No one wants their best mate’s love life to be better than their own.

‘He texted me as soon as I was on the train home,’ Immi says. ‘And I got straight back to him.’

‘Mistake! Big mistake!’ Bella almost crows her response. ‘You should have let him stew a bit. Let him think you’ve things on your mind other than him…’

‘But I haven’t,’ Immi interrupts, laughing. ‘I can’t be doing with playing games. We’re not teenagers any more.’

‘You don’t have to be fifteen to play games.’ Bella tuts. ‘So, go on then. What did he say?’

‘Oh, the usual.’

‘The usual?’

‘You know!’

‘No, I don’t.’ It’s Bella’s turn to laugh. ‘But I can see you’re not going to tell all. God, Immi, I’m so glad to be home. To have a decent night’s sleep. That last assignment for Professor Black had me working until two in the morning all last week. I was on the point of offering him my body in return for a pass mark. And that mattress of mine needs putting on a bonfire…’

‘Bella, I’m going to have to go,’ Immi cuts in. ‘Daddy’s calling me.’

‘Oh, OK.’

‘You all right?’ Immi asks, hearing a slight despondency in Bella’s voice. ‘I thought you were glad to be home for Christmas?’

‘Glad to be in a bed that’s not intent on mugging me every night…’ She trails off and Immi laughs but stops herself from stating the obvious – Bella is rarely in her own bed while in college.

‘Got to go, Bella, Dad’s just got home,’ Immi says, hearing her father call once more.

‘Hello, my darling girl. I have missed you.’ Theodore Mandeville wraps his arms around Immi, his still dark blond head bending to meet her own. ‘Good term? You didn’t think about coming home to see us before now?’

‘Well, I did,’ Immi apologises, ‘but you know…’ She breaks off.

‘I do.’ Theo laughs, simply glad to have her home now. ‘The last thing I wanted was to be back here at home with my parents when I was at uni.’

‘Well, you were a lot nearer, at Leeds University. Strange, isn’t it, really,’ Immi muses, ‘that apart from living in Leeds when you were studying, you’ve never lived anywhere but here. Born here…’

‘Excuse me, I did live in New Zealand for several years,’ Theo retorts. ‘But, you’re right, I was born here, and I’ll end my days here.’

‘Oh, heavens, don’t, Daddy!’ Immi finds herself immediately regressing back to being the little girl she once was: the only daughter of a man whose birth into the North Yorkshire family of Mandeville means he must carry on that lineage; continue the tradition and upkeep of the noble seat. Except she isn’t a little girl any more, for heaven’s sake. ‘Well, Dad,’ she says, ‘once you pop your clogs, Angus will take up the baton. You did your duty producing an heir and a spare.’

Theo doesn’t respond. Doesn’t want this beautiful only daughter of his to see the reaction to Immi’s use of the word duty. Has it all been a duty? A duty to his ancestors and to the ancestral seat of Mandeville first granted to one Charles Mandeville back in the mid-1600s? Sometimes, he’s so weary of it all, weary of the responsibility of keeping the place going, of doing his duty alongside his wife, Honor, who, descended from her own Scottish lineage, has never appeared to see the role she’s been handed down as duty. More her entitlement and right. And one she has no intention of relinquishing to Angus and any future wife just yet, thank you very much.

‘Where’s Mum?’ Immi asks.

‘Last-minute Christmas shopping in Harrogate or Wetherby, I believe.’

‘And the boys?’

‘Miles is out somewhere in that ridiculous motor of his and Angus is on the way home from Edinburgh. He’s only calling in for a long weekend to see you, Immi, and then he’s off to London for three days. Some vet course he’s on. I’m not sure if he’s back here for Christmas or staying in Edinburgh.’ Theo looks momentarily sad. ‘You’ll have to persuade him to stay, Immi.’

Immi adores her big brother, Angus, who, at thirty-eight, is already preparing to take over some of the responsibility for the Mandeville estate. Unwillingly, Immi thinks. She knows he’d rather be anywhere but here in Yorkshire, knows he’d much rather be back in Edinburgh living a simpler and more independent life as a vet, apparently living alone (but who knew with Angus – he’d always kept any romantic liaisons to himself, rarely introducing anyone to the family) with just his dog for company in the rural village of Gifford, fifteen miles or so from the centre of the city.

By the time Immi’s showered and unpacked – interrupted several times by long and really rather wonderful phone conversations with him – the dinner gong has sounded, and she relinquishes the jeans that not only have seen better days but are well overdue a good wash. Her mother, Immi knows, won’t be impressed if she goes down to dinner in said jeans and Timberlands. On the first evening back home for Christmas, even if it is two weeks away, there’s always been a familial understanding that the Mandevilles dress more soberly for dinner. Especially as Granny Mandeville will be in situ, sitting like some relic from Downton Abbey as the perceived head of the family and hence in her position at the top of the dining table. At ninety-one, Lady Ava Mandeville has long been demoted to the Dower House, kicked out of the main hall by a determined Honor once Grandpa Hugh had gone to meet his maker twenty-seven years or so ago leaving her dad, Theo, to take on Mandeville Hall and its many acres of estate.