The Long Gallery

                                                            The Long Gallery

                                                                 Chapter One

Adam Belmont shook his head, shot a sceptical look at the woman by his side. ‘Doesn’t it seem strange after all these years – I mean to be back at your uncle’s old house? If you ask me he hasn’t done you any favours leaving it to you, what with the maintenance of all this land and everything that goes with it.. And the change to your lifestyle, are you sure you can cope with it? It’s going to be too much for you, if you ask me.’

‘I wasn’t aware that I’d asked you.’ Daisy Truman bit her lip; ignored Adam’s resentful glance. She clutched her hands together and held them down by her waist, then slid them down the fabric of her blue denims. Yes, it did seem strange, but no stranger than the circumstances that had brought her back to Harvest Hall. And now that she was the unlikely inheritress of the old manor, she was going to see it through. Besides, this was no time to display reservations, to appear flustered. Of course she could bloody well cope, and no, it wasn’t going to be too much for her. She’d always had resolve, and although she couldn’t say why she felt it exactly, there was a sense of challenge here, one she was going to take up …

Daisy took a deep breath, brushed away the rogue strands of long curly fair hair that swept around her oval face and gazed at her friend long and hard. She fought back the acid Adam’s comment had brought to her throat and chose a more reflective stance than she’d intended.

‘There really isn’t a choice; I have to take it up.’

Her mind wandered momentarily as she stood on the edge of the forest staring downhill, taking in the finery of the place, with its four imposing chimneys reaching up towards the windswept heavens, proud and indomitable, whilst below them the estate’s grassy fields rolled upward across the acres to where she stood. This was a place that evoked mixed memories of her childhood, some unexplained, some cloaked in mystery that her mind struggled but failed to unravel, but notwithstanding that, this was an estate in need of attention since her uncle had passed away – the pleasant, expansive greenery was in danger of becoming a wilderness. However, with a little work and care, maybe –

‘Why do you have no choice? You can always sell it, fetch a pretty penny,’ Adam was saying, not prepared to let the issue drop, ‘Perhaps if you find the right agent – there are people who specialise in ...’

‘No, the covenant decrees against that, besides the family have lived here for generations …” Daisy said firmly, cutting him off in mid-sentence. 

‘Then there you go, job done. Lease it out to the family ...’

‘Absolutely not, now drop it Adam.’ Daisy clenched her teeth. Irritated by Adam’s stance, what did he know about her connections with the Hall? It wasn’t just something that could be sold for a ‘pretty penny’ as he put it, or simply hived off to the family for that matter. And anyway, she’d not asked him along to cast his vote against her intentions.

She sighed, silently, unwilling to give him reason to think he was making headway. He wasn’t, of course, but still, he was voicing concern and possibly justifiably; it was going to be a monumental task. She was on a tightrope balanced somewhere between resentment and appreciation, and it resulted in a moderated tone. ‘Look, there has to be a reason why the place was left to me, and besides, I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.’

‘I don’t understand all this needle between you and …’

But Daisy Truman was no longer listening. She stood, arms crossed now, her eyes roaming over the large house and estate. Childhood memories had begun to overwhelm her cognition, piercing lances of recollection her mental armour was too weak to fend off.

She was in the Magic Garden as they named it – she and William that was – playing their little games on the sunken oval lawn, surrounded by a privet hedge and a circle of stone animals which William incessantly taunted her would spring to life after dusk. That if they dallied, the lion with its hideous sabre teeth would lead the incongruous pack and catch and devour them – but most probably her, because he could run faster than she could – or that was his boast –

There came that day when the autumn sun hung low amongst the statues, extending their shadows into grotesquely menacing shapes stretching across the lawn to grasp them, while the wind was lending its support, gathering strength, producing a moan that might easily have emanated from the lion’s mouth, and then cue William, seizing his opportunity to torment her, forking out a hand, pushing her in the chest, sending her reeling backwards into the path of the advancing monoliths while he slipped through the wicket-gate into the main garden, racing for the steps leading up to the front entrance of Harvest Hall.

But then she, staring at those stones, alone, her heart pounding – it was as though they really were advancing, and in so doing forcing renewed vigour into her trembling legs so that she about-turned and ran so fast she caught up to him, beating him through the colonnade and into the welcoming bulk that was Harvest Hall. The trepidation she felt from the garden being replaced by glee at leaving him in her wake. And then, only to find the elation as she turned in triumph cut short by raised voices from along the balcony above.  

Out of sight and overhead – in the Hall’s central feature, The Long Gallery – a sharp exchange was taking place.

She’d glanced uncertainly at William, receiving a nod of assent from him, and curiosity holding sway they’d crept up the broad spiral staircase. Somewhere in the shadows, towards the end of the gallery, Joshua and her father were having an argument.

Cautiously they reached the top of the stairway, her head appearing over the balcony ahead of William’s, arced tightly around the curved banister to see Uncle Joshua’s hands on her father’s shoulders, backing him against the wall. There were angry words rumbling along the gallery to reach her ears that seemed to be delivered from the back of uncle’s throat – and then suddenly from the foot of the stairwell her aunt’s voice – ‘Joshua, Henry, are you there? Supper is about to be served. ’

And then with mounting impatience, Aunt turned and headed for the gardens. ‘Those children; where in heaven’s name have they gone?’

A swift about-turn and they were down the stairway, careful that their tread didn’t create a giveaway creak in the ageing timbers before sitting themselves innocently in the west wing

morning room when aunt returned, plainly not convinced they hadn’t been playing hide-and-seek with her.

What were those words Uncle Joshua had uttered that had caused such consternation on her father’s face?

The words might have been locked away in her memory’s unreachable depths, but the look her father had exhibited had been captured with the clarity of a camera lens. She was focusing on it now until the sound of Adam’s voice, laced with irritability, brought her back to the present.

‘What’s up, Daisy?’ he asked, fingers fidgeting in his trouser pockets. ‘I might as well have stayed at home; you’re in a world of your own again.’

‘Oh memories – and something I can’t fathom.’

‘Do you want to share them?’

‘No ...’ Daisy gazed at Adam’s boyish countenance, aware now that sealed in her own world she’d been ignoring him. Her reply had been barely audible, almost absent, brought back to the present she realised that. He was slightly agitated, but concerned nonetheless – and she should be more appreciative, only she couldn’t confide in him – her own uncertainties and frustrations prevented her doing that, and in so doing presented a barrier with her good friend, Adam.

She shook her head, raised a half smile, one that she knew was hardly convincing. ‘No – it’s nothing, really.’

‘I disagree,’ Adam persisted. ‘It must have been something – something that’s had you in its clutches for a good few minutes while I’ve been standing here like one of those useless monuments down there.’

Oh the naivety of he without wisdom. ‘They’re far from useless, believe me.’ Daisy waved aside Adam’s querying glance, irritation mounting at his persistence, and then, shivering despite the humidity of the day, gazed downhill towards the Magic Garden, at the stone animals, shadowless on the cloudy day.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you?’ She caught the undisguised impatience in Adam’s voice, felt his arm around her shoulders.

‘I’ve told you, nothing.’ She turned aside, brushing him off and before he could protest – ‘Let’s be getting back; I’ve a lot to think about.’