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‘Not at all. I’m wondering why nobody has brought this up before.’
‘They’re probably worried about losing their jobs if they appear to, you know, question the way things are.’
‘I see.’ Carys picked up her mug of tea and took a sip. ‘So, what would you do for the staff if you were in charge?’
Abigail smiled. ‘That’s easy.’ She told Carys what the staff had said to her about opening the little café every day, not just for the visitors who were on a tour of the house. Although it would cost to keep the café open each day, she bet it would be very profitable for the Somervilles, especially if the staff could use the conservatory and the patio outside too. ‘There was also mention of an unused games room and a gym.’
‘Was there now?’
Abigail wondered if that was a step too far. She stared at Carys, who was mulling the information over. She stood up. ‘Are they all still on their break?’
‘I think so.’
‘Then it’s time I visited the basement kitchen. To be honest, I haven’t been down there in years.’
Abigail put her teacup on the desk and rose from her chair. ‘Look, I don’t want to get anybody into trouble.’
‘Who says anybody is getting into trouble? Unless you’re talking about nobody broaching me with this before. I can’t understand it. I think I’m approachable.’
‘Oh, yes you are. But it’s not you.’
Carys rolled her eyes. ‘You’re talking about my brother.’
Abigail winced as she said, ‘And your father.’
‘Is that what the staff told you?’
‘Sort of, and I ran into Lord Somerville this morning. I’ve got to be blunt. He wasn’t very nice to me.’
Carys sighed. ‘Yes, that sounds like him. Whatever he said to you, I am sorry.’
Abigail was taken aback that she was apologising. She wanted to tell Carys what had happened before she heard it from someone else. ‘Look, I kind of answered back.’
‘Kind of?’
‘Yes, well, I did. You see, I did not appreciate his tone or being treated like a servant.’
Cary’s reaction wasn’t what she expected. She laughed out loud. ‘I’d love to have seen his face. I’m surprised you’re still here, and he didn’t fire you on the spot. What on earth did he say?’
Abigail stood up, put one hand in the pocket of her pinafore, stooped her head slightly and said in a low, posh voice, ‘Nobody ever speaks to me like that!’
Carys fell about laughing. When she stopped long enough to say something, she asked, ‘What happened next?’
‘I said, Well, perhaps it’s time somebody did. That’s when he laughed, just like you.’
‘Oh goodness, I can’t remember the last time anybody answered him back. Well, I can. It was my mother …’ Carys stared off into space.
That far-off look was the same one she had seen on Lord Somerville’s face when he had caught sight of the painting of his wife. Abigail was no stranger to grief, the way it crept up on you suddenly before the whole world seemed to drop away, leaving you with just your grief and no room for anything else.
Abigail stared at Carys, wondering at her loss and what it was like growing up without a mother. All her life, Abigail had felt hard done by because she’d lost her father, but she couldn’t have asked for a nicer stepdad. And she’d had her mum around. Lord Somerville hadn’t remarried. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like growing up without a mum and in a household where, she imagined, there was no fun or laughter – just a man who was heavy with grief, with loss.
Abigail knew that Toby hadn’t wanted such prolonged grief for her. That was why he’d filmed that final home movie. He hadn’t wanted her life to become smaller and smaller until all she had was her grief. And the cottage.
‘Come on.’ Carys walked to the door and opened it.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I want to visit the basement.’ She led the way down the hall, in the other direction to the service lift. They arrived at a grand staircase. This was a side of the house Abigail hadn’t seen before. She told Carys as much. ‘I’ve been told staff aren’t allowed to use the main entrance.’
