Coming Home to Glendale Hall Read online

  Coming Home to Glendale Hall

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Epilogue

  A Letter From Victoria

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Coming Home to Glendale Hall

  Victoria Walters

  For Uncle David, in loving memory

  Chapter One

  ‘Izzy, we’re not in London any more,’ I murmured under my breath so I wouldn’t wake my sleeping daughter beside me as I drove our ancient car along country lanes.

  There was darkness all around us. I had forgotten just how dark it got out here. After ten years living in a city, it was strange not to see any streetlights or passing cars, the only light coming from the main beam of my headlights and the stars in the sky, visible to me for the first time in forever. These roads had once been as familiar to me as breathing, but I found myself frowning with concentration, making my way cautiously, searching for the house I had vowed never to return to.

  I could see my breath in the air. The heating in the car didn’t work all that well and I hadn’t paid too much attention to it before, but it was the depths of winter in Scotland and I cursed myself for not getting it fixed. Glancing at the satnav, I saw that we were almost there. My younger self would have mocked me for having to use it for directions, but I would have already got hopelessly lost without it. Glendale Hall really is in the middle of nowhere. My city brain couldn’t fathom how long it had been since I’d seen another house. In London, we lived in a tiny flat, squished in between other buildings like sardines in a tin, but here, beyond my windscreen, there was nothing but trees.

  You have reached your destination

  Driving through the open, imposing iron gates, the satnav informed me that we had arrived, as if the goosebumps which had run down both my arms weren’t enough of a clue. I slowed the car right down as we drove through. Even in the darkness the sight of the house was impressive, with its cream stone, and ivy climbing up over the large oak front door.

  Parking on the gravel drive, I sat for a moment in the dark, still car sucking in a few deep breaths. I needed all my courage to get out, to be honest. It had been ten years since I had last walked through that front door. My childhood home. I had thought it was lost to me forever but here I was, back again, and wishing I could turn the car around and run.

  Like I did when I was sixteen.

  ‘Izzy, we’re here,’ I said, instead, touching my daughter on the arm to rouse her. It had been a long journey and we were both exhausted. I craved sleep but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do so back in my childhood bed. ‘Come on, love.’

  Isabelle stretched and yawned. ‘Is this it?’ she asked, sleepily, looking out of the window at the house. ‘Mum, it’s massive.’

  ‘It is. Wait till you see it in daylight. Right, let’s grab our bags and go in. Hopefully we can just go straight to bed.’ I’d tried to time our arrival perfectly: too late for us to have to really talk to anyone tonight. I wanted to get my bearings a bit before I faced my family.

  We climbed out and heaved our two large suitcases from the boot, shuffling up to the front door like the two strays we were. I touched Izzy on the back as I knocked, trying to reassure both of us I think. She was excited that she was finally going to see the house after begging me for years to let her see it, and because I’d taken her out of school early for the Christmas break to do it, but I could tell she was nervous. Like me.

  ‘Beth!’ The door swung open and in front of us stood a small, smartly dressed older woman, a wide smile on her face.

  I relaxed just a little. ‘Sally,’ I said, smiling back. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘Here you are. And Izzy. Come on in you two, you must be shattered,’ she said with her strong Scottish lilt.

  I had lost most of mine during my decade in London. In the light of the hall, I reached for her and we shared a long hug. I had missed her. It had been ages since she had been down to London to see us. Phone calls just weren’t the same.

  ‘Everyone is in bed,’ Sally said when we drew back, raising an eyebrow, obviously working out what my plan had been.

  Relaxing even more, I glanced around the vast hall. ‘It looks different,’ I said, the décor lighter and simpler than I remembered it. The large, imposing grandfather clock, one of our family’s heirlooms was still there though, ticking loudly, the only sound in the silent house. A shiver ran down my back at the memories pouring in.

  ‘I’ll take you to your rooms, let you get a good night’s sleep.’ Sally took one of the cases and led us up the wide, ornate staircase.

  I thought about how I used to slide down the banister as a child. And how much I was told off for doing it. And then I thought about the last time I had walked down it – hurrying as softly as I could, trying not to wake anyone, about to do a midnight flit. Sally had been with me then, too, helping me out of the back door, even though she had begged me to stay.

  Everywhere was quiet at the Hall. The household all in bed except for Sally waiting up for us. She had been the housekeeper at Glendale Hall since I was a baby, and long before. She was probably nearing retirement, I thought, not that anyone would dare to mention such a thing to her. Sally was as permanent a fixture as the staircase.

  ‘I thought you’d like rooms next to one another,’ Sally said, opening up one of the guest bedroom doors for Izzy.

  ‘This room is almost as big as our flat,’ Izzy said in wonder when Sally switched on the light. There were eight bedrooms in the house, all spacious with high-ceilings. Izzy had never known anything quite like it.

  ‘I’ll come and say good ni
ght in a bit,’ I told Izzy, leaving her to get settled as I went next door, pausing in the doorway as Sally wheeled my case in. I had never planned to be back in this room. I slowly walked in behind her. My childhood bedroom now looked like any other guest room, all neutral and clean and tidy. The only sign it had once been mine was the small teddy bear sitting on the chair by the window. ‘Ted’s still here,’ I said in surprise.

  ‘He’s been waiting for you,’ Sally replied. ‘It’s good to have you back here, Beth. We weren’t sure that you would come.’

  ‘Nor was I. This is so strange. I didn’t think I’d ever sleep here again.’

  ‘The house has never been the same since you left.’ She looked away, and I felt a lump rise up in my throat. ‘Sleep well,’ she said, shortly, leaving hastily.

  I looked around and shivered again. The last time I had stood in the room, I had been throwing as many of my things as I could into a bag, tears streaming down my face. Ducking out before memories from my past could overwhelm me, I went to check on Izzy. She was already in her pyjamas, brushing her teeth in the en-suite bathroom. On her bed waiting for her was a book, and her own teddy which she’d had since she was a baby.

  I shook my head at how organised she always was. She’d been packed for two days, whereas I had packed half an hour before we left.

  ‘Everything okay?’ I asked, perching on her bed.

  She finished brushing her teeth and switched off the bathroom light. ‘The bed is massive,’ she said, eyeing it almost fearfully.

  ‘Hey, I’m right next door if you can’t sleep, okay? But I’m sure you will.’ Pulling back the duvet for her, I patted the bed and she climbed in. Tucking her in, I smiled down at my pride and joy. We both had thick, wavy hair that never behaved itself even if we tried to straighten it. Hers was a deep auburn, flowing down her back, whereas my dark brown hair grazed my shoulders. Izzy was well on her way to being as tall and willowy figured as me, but she had pale skin that turned lobster red in just a hint of sunshine. My eyes were dark brown, but Izzy’s were blue, which she had got from her father. ‘You going to read for a bit?’

  ‘Just a couple of pages,’ she replied, picking up her book. I rarely saw her without one in her hands.

  ‘Good plan.’ I leaned over to give her a kiss. ‘Sweet dreams.’

  She nodded. ‘You too. And it’ll be okay, Mum, we’re here together.’

  I smiled. ‘Everything is okay when we’re together,’ I agreed. ‘Come and get me when you’re up,’ I added before leaving. Izzy always woke before me and I didn’t want her facing downstairs alone. Or maybe I didn’t want to have to do that myself. A bit of both, I decided, shutting the door and heading back to my own room.

  Once there, I sank down onto the king-sized bed, exhausted from the journey and everything I was feeling. I had come home because of a mixture of guilt and duty, and I was planning to leave again as soon as I could. I ran my hand over the crisp duvet and looked up at the painting of white horses hanging over the fireplace – which my dad had moved from his study up there for me because my six-year-old self had loved it so much – and I was glad I had the first night back at the Hall to myself. It was surreal to be here as if no time had passed, when so much had.

  I had no idea what kind of welcome I would receive in the morning, but there was no turning back now.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Wake up, Mum.’

  I groaned as Izzy pulled back the duvet. Rolling over, I saw her standing next to my bed, hands on her hips. ‘It’s too early,’ I mumbled, about to turn back towards the wall.

  ‘It’s eight o’clock and I’m hungry, so come on, let’s go downstairs.’

  Groaning again, I took in Izzy more clearly. She was already dressed. She might have been off school, but she was still up and ready at a ridiculous time. Honestly, sometimes I wondered if she really was my daughter.

  ‘Please, Mum.’

  I sighed. ‘Okay, okay,’ I said, rubbing my eyes and trying to pull myself out of my sleep haze. ‘I’m coming.’

  ‘You’re the one who didn’t want me to go down by myself,’ she reminded me as I slung a leg out of the bed. I had forgotten how comfortable the beds were at the Hall. And how warm the house got, thanks to the new heating system Mum had installed in the bedrooms when I was a child, and the log fires always burning downstairs. The Scottish winter was beaten back with a very large stick.

  I got out of bed and stretched and yawned. ‘Did you sleep okay?’

  ‘Yeah, once I got used to being in a different bed. You look like you didn’t though.’

  ‘Thanks, love,’ I replied dryly. It had taken me a long time to drop off: thoughts of the past keeping my mind too busy for sleep. ‘I need a vast amount of coffee. Right, let’s face the music then.’

  ‘Hadn’t you better get dressed?’

  I knew that there would be comments if I went down in my PJs, so I shuffled off into the bathroom. After a quick shower, I pulled on jeans and a long black jumper. Leaving my hair loose, I glanced in the mirror and decided that I would have to do like that. I was never going to be as polished, as my mother and grandmother, and I’d given up fretting about the fact a long time ago.

  ‘Right, I need sustenance and I need it now,’ I said to Izzy, following her out of the room. We headed downstairs side by side. The house was super quiet. Our flat in London was never really quiet: we could always hear our neighbours and the traffic outside. It had taken me a long time to get used to living in the city and I now had to readjust to countryside life again.

  ‘Which way?’ Izzy whispered when we reached the hallway.

  ‘Um…’ It took me a moment to remember the layout of the house, especially as in the daylight I could see it looked very different to how I remembered it. It had been built by my great-grandfather, Leslie Campbell, in the 1900s, and had been rich in wood and our clan tartan, but was now neutral and light since Mum had a decorating spree after I left. ‘Well, I can smell bacon so let’s go this way!’ Led by my nose, we turned right and walked down a long, twisting corridor until we found the bright kitchen and breakfast room. There was a large floor-to-ceiling window looking out to the garden and a long pine table providing a perfect view for breakfast and, behind it, the cream and pine kitchen where Sally was bustling about. She was the only person in there and I felt another pinch of relief.

  ‘Morning,’ I said to her back.

  Sally turned from the Aga with a wide smile. ‘Hello, you two. Sit down, it’s almost ready.’

  ‘Blimey,’ I mumbled as Izzy beamed in delight. The table was already laid with coffee, tea, orange juice, a basket of muffins and pastries, two racks of toast, a vast array of jams and marmalades and a big bowl of fruit. I sat down facing the garden and looked out at the grounds. The garden had always been my favourite part of the Hall. The sun was starting to climb higher in the sky, and I could see a white coating of frost on the dewy grass and the tips of large oak trees in the distance blowing lightly in the breeze.

  ‘Here we are,’ Sally said coming over with two plates piled high with eggs, bacon, sausages and tomatoes. ‘You two need a good breakfast after your journey,’ she said.

  I smiled. Sally had always been a feeder, which was perfect for us as we liked to eat. A lot. I put it down to struggling to scrape enough money together for food when Izzy was tiny. ‘Your father has already left for the office. Your mum will be down soon; she was just checking on your grandmother,’ Sally told us. She went back to the kitchen and brought out another plate. ‘Thought you might like these too,’ she added, putting down a stack of pancakes drizzled with lemon and sugar.

  ‘This beats cornflakes,’ Izzy said, her eyes wide.

  I grinned. ‘I might not be able to wear my new skinny jeans after this, but I really don’t care.’ I poured myself a large mug of coffee and passed Izzy the juice and we tucked in.

  Sally came over to sit with us with a mug of tea and a plate of toast.

  ‘How is Gran doing?’ I ask
ed her, my mouth full of pretty much the best breakfast I had eaten in ten years. Maybe there were some things I had missed at the Hall after all. My grandmother was the reason we were here. She had been ill for a while, and it was now terminal. The doctors thought this could well be her last Christmas so my dad had called me to beg me to come home to say goodbye and to support my mother. Despite the fraught relationship I had with my family, I hadn’t been able to refuse such a request.

  ‘She’s already asking for you,’ a voice replied from behind me. I turned, mid-mouthful, to see my mum striding in. Caroline Williams was always perfectly put together. Mum was petite and slim with a sleek chestnut-coloured bob and a cloud of Chanel N° 5 perpetually following her. ‘It’s lovely to have you both here,’ she said smoothly, coming over to kiss me on the cheek and hug Izzy. Mum and Dad usually came down to London twice a year to see us, but it was the first time I’d come up to Scotland since I had left ten years before. It was so strange to be with Mum at the breakfast table and watch her pour herself a coffee. I knew that she wouldn’t be eating anything. She barely did and especially not breakfast.

  ‘You arrived very late last night, Sally said,’ Mum said, after sipping her coffee. Disapproval dripped from her cultured voice. She barely had a Scottish accent. Gran had sent her to elocution classes when she was a little girl. They tried to do the same to me, but I was so disruptive the teacher told them I wasn’t welcome any more.

  ‘Lots of traffic,’ I lied, grabbing a piece of toast. ‘I’ll go and see Gran after this. Dad has already gone to work then?’

  ‘You know what he’s like,’ she replied with a sigh.

  My dad was pretty absent from life at the house usually. He worked in banking over in Inverness, and worked God knows how many hours. I barely remembered spending any quality time with him growing up. He was quiet and calm and not prone to getting involved in much, so when he phoned and told me I was needed at home, I knew it was serious. I had still hesitated though. I hadn’t wanted to come back, especially because Gran was the main reason I had left in the first place. But then Sally had called, too, and told me she thought I would regret it if I didn’t come home. Plus I knew Izzy was desperate to finally see where I had grown up, mainly because it sounded like a house out of one of her favourite books. I had always said it was too far to visit, what with school and work to sort out, but she had kept asking, so in the end I had come back for her as well as my grandmother.