Melbourne House

The trees and bramble bushes sped by like a blur of green, lining the single track road encasing it like living walls. The weather was awful today, spitting one minute and then raining the next. The sky was a mixture of pale grey fluffy clouds to dark black angry ones. I flicked my increasing ash collecting at the end of my cigarette out of the cracked window before it fell onto the carpet. It was a hired car and I couldn't damage it with my stupidity by chain smoking. A few drops of rain congregated on the top of the door soaking it as the rain continued. The radio was on low playing seventies and eighties tunes in between the quarter hour weather warnings. The inhaling of nicotine was calming my nerves to what was coming.

I did not want to go at all, but the solicitor demanded my presence at the family home, it was non negotiable apparently.

It arrived on a Wednesday morning with a blue wax seal on the envelope with the crest of our family. I knew straight away, I sat there for over an hour just staring at it, turning it over in my hands, hoping I was dreaming. In the end, I broke the seal and opened the folded letter. It officially informed me my mother had died and the family home was being left to me in her will. I didn't want it, I hated that house and everything that came with it. Growing up was all about her and her precious possessions. She thought more of them than her only child, me. She shipped me off to boarding school from the age of five and to be honest, they were the best years of my life. As soon as I was old enough, I was allowed to remain at the school during holidays instead of going home. Obviously, during summer holidays all students had to vacate, so they could fumigate and deep clean the school ready for the next academic year. I sometimes stayed at friends' homes for the summer, or went to camp in America, but towards the end, I saw less and less of my mother. She never asked why I never came home or why she never visited, so I took that as confirmation she did not care about me. As soon as I graduated, I left to travel around the world for two years before landing a job in New York. I studied while travelling to gain my degree so I didn't have any fixed place of residence. I wanted a clean break and to start my life without her in it. 

But now, I am finding myself heading towards the place I vowed never to return to. Nothing had changed from the landscape to the bloody English weather. My life is now in the South of France near Nice but I have worked all over the world. I help companies in financial difficulties save their failing businesses by overhauling their expenditures, over inflating costs and redundancies. I loved turning companies around from the verge of going into administration to a profit making business. I probably could retire, but I love my career. I never married, probably because I was married to my job and never had children. I never wanted to bring a child into my dysfunctional family. My life was perfect, until now.

I had thought constantly about my mother and the house. One day I decided I would sell the family home and give the proceeds to charity, next day I decided to sell it to a hotel chain, or rent it out for weddings and hire a manager to organise it all. I just didn't know what to do with it, one thing was final and I was not budging from it, I was NOT living in it. There was something about the house, I never could put my finger on, I always felt watched everywhere I went in the house. Sounds that could not be explained would happen anytime of the day in any room you were in.

The winding road opened out into two lanes, the trees thinned out and rolling agricultural land with golden wheat and yellow barley spread out like a patchwork quilt. Farms dotted every mile with mud tracks marking their entrances. I drove until the old familiar wooden sign post directed me towards “Fairley village” at the fork in the road. As I entered the quiet village, wooden floral planters were strategically placed on either side of the road to make it look quaint. Horse riders rode through the village in twos, children playing in the courtyard playground running between the rain drops, thatched cottages with English country gardens lined the village street, elderly women stood outside the shop with their umbrellas chatting about the latest gossip. Nothing had changed, the village was still stuck in the forties not catching up with the outside world. I turned off the village main road and into a driveway entrance marked “Melbourne House”, my anxiety was going into overdrive as at the end of this was my childhood home. It was still an uneven gravel road with tall trees either side lining the long driveway. They thinned out until it opened up to reveal the large manor house coming closer.

The house was double fronted with a large wooden black front door with a brass knocker, turrets line the top of the house and in each corner with a flag, our family crest blowing in the breeze. The sandstone blocks which built the house looked old and dirty and needed a good jet wash. The white painted windows were dark like they hadn't been washed for years or were draped with black curtains. Two large urns with coloured flowers stood either side of the front door. The lawn was immaculately kept with no signs of weeds clearly my mother had gardeners. There were two cars already parked outside the front of the house. I parked up next to a small old car and turned my engine off. I sat gripping the steering wheel with my head leaning on my hands. “Breathe Esmé” I whispered to myself listening to the rain fall onto the roof of the car.

A tap on the driver window startled me upright. An old grey haired man in a black threepiece suit stood outside of my car holding an umbrella. I gathered my handbag and opened the door “Miss Esmé Melbourne?” He asked. “Yes, that's me,” giving him a smile, which he did not return. He hovered the umbrella over my head as we walked into my childhood home.

The musky smell of moth balls and damp hit my nose first. The hall was smaller than I remembered, but people grow and suppose it's all relative. The black and white diamond designed stone floor was still there just like when I played hop scotch on it all those years ago. Fresh flowers stood in an oversized crystal vase on the centre table. The room was dark with the curtains pulled shut so all the lights were on. The chandelier still hung in the centre of the room, completely dust free and glistening, throwing lines of light across the ceiling.

He walked into my mother's office, the room I was forbidden to enter. The grey haired man entered while I stopped by the threshold waiting for permission like I was a child again. “You can come in Miss Melbourne, this is your office now” he stared at me like I was having a mental breakdown. I walked slowly into the room and sat opposite the desk. I looked around the room, it was the same as it always was. Bookshelves lined the back wall behind her desk with history, anthropology, archaeology, black magic and old maps. Her desk was covered with papers and her laptop still lay open like she just left to make a cup of tea. The room was dark with the blinds pulled down.

“My name is Mr Philips and I am your mother's solicitor. She instructed me to read her will.” He shuffled some papers on the desk and then found the distinct handwriting of my mother's will. “Are you ready Miss Melbourne?” he asked, I nodded in response. “Here is the last will and testament of Lady Sylvia Melbourne. I first like to thank my staff for all their help over the years and bequeathed each of them ten thousand pounds each for loyal service. Lastly, to my daughter Esmé, I know we have had an estranged relationship since your father died. I have not been a good mother to you and do not blame you for walking away as soon as you could. I have kept tabs on your successes over the years and I wanted to let you know how proud I am of you. I leave you your childhood home, Melbourne House on the stipulation you must live here for six months before you make any long-term decisions. After that, you can sell it or keep it, it's completely up to you. Mr Philips will help you with any arrangements you decide. If you choose to not live here for the six months, then fifty million pounds plus the house will be given to your cousin Claire. The decision is yours” he sat folding the will back into its blue ribbon holder.

“Are you shitting me!?” I stood, “she knew how to stick the knife in and turn it, even after death” I pace the room with my hands on my hips. Mr Philips sat frozen at the desk watching me silently. “She knew I hated cousin Claire, she did this purposely” I said angrily, shaking my head in disgust. “She wanted you to reconnect with your father's legacy and your childhood home, to remember where you came from” he explained all as matter of factly. “My father's legacy! She loved rubbing that in my face growing up. She never explained anything to me, except I was never part of her life, more like a hindrance” I started getting upset and I was angry at myself for it. I swore nothing in her will would make me go backwards in history, in my journey to erase her from my life. “I think you need time to digest all of this, so you can make an educated decision that is not rushed. But first, I had strict instructions to hand this to you to read after the will. He picked up a black brief case from the floor and flicked the tabs to open it. He handed me a cream coloured envelope with our dark navy family seal. “What's this?” I asked. “She left strict instructions for you to open that in private after the will reading, I will be waiting outside the door when you are ready” he stood, walked out of the office and shut the door. I knew this would be a mistake coming here, but the thought of that slimy cousin Claire getting her hands on my family's money was too much to ignore so I opened the envelope.

Dear my daughter Esmé

I am sorry for all the hurt and suffering I have caused you throughout your life. Our family is not like other families, we have secrets which we cannot divulge in public. You will find paperwork in the safe which will explain everything. I had hoped we could reconnect before the cancer took me, but I ran out of time.

Please, I know you do not owe me any favours, but your father and I hope you will take over the family business. The safe will explain everything.

I am proud of the woman you have become.

All my love

Mother

I sat there staring at my mother's cursive handwriting for a while. My brain was playing traitor from the agreement we made driving here. Why had she not divulged any of this emotion while she was alive. Bloody proud woman right until the end. I stood up and walked to the window and lifted the blinds. They retracted all the way up and the light came flooding into the room. The dust is clearly floating like fairies around the room. I lifted the window slightly and the breeze came in and cleared the room of mustiness. The room seemed to lift off its heaviness and began to breathe again. I gazed out of the window to the forest behind the house. The trees swayed in the breeze like they were waving.

The door opened behind me and Mr Philips entered. “Have you made your decision, Miss Melbourne?” He asked. I turned around “it's Lady Melbourne now” I stated. “My apologies, my Lady. I will have the documents drawn up and come back in a few days for your signatures” he closed his briefcase and left the office. I returned back to the forest, the wind had died down and the rain had stopped. A flicker of blue sky peeped through the dark clouds.

“Lady Melbourne?” A voice behind entered the room. “My name is Laura, I am the head housekeeper. I am sorry for your loss, ma'am. Is there anything I can get you?” She was about sixty years old, short, secretary glasses with silver hair in a bun on her head and wearing a traditional black and white servants uniform. “Hello Laura, first I would like all the staff to congregate in the hall in fifteen minutes for a staff meeting. Then I want all the curtains and blinds open and all the windows cracked for a few hours. Every morning I want the main rooms windows to be opened for fresh air” I commanded. “Yes, my Lady” she took one step backwards, turned and left with a smile on her face. I turned back to the window. I felt different compared to when I first arrived, lighter somehow, but the longer I watched the trees move and the sound of birds fill the office, it started to feel like it did before my father died.

“Lady Melbourne, everyone is gathered for you in the hall” Laura says. “Thank you Laura” as I turned and followed her. There were about twenty staff, some I remembered vaguely from the last holiday I was here. Some are new, and young. “Thank you for gathering, I am sorry for your loss of my mother too. I know many of you have been with my mother for many years, with that loyalty she has bequeathed each of ten thousand pounds, as a thank you.” Many of them gasped in shock, as they probably have never seen that amount of money in their life. “My mother has left me the family home, I will be making many changes going forward, are there any questions?” I asked. I look around the entryway. A young girl with blond hair held her hand up “yes?” I asked. “Is it true, we can open all the blinds and curtains?” She says. “Yes, I have given instructions to Laura concerning the windows. I want this house to shine, feel lighter and airy like a home, not like a museum” I commanded. Everyone mumbled “yes, my Lady” and turned and exited in different directions. Laura remained “can I get John to take any luggage you have to the master suite, ma'am?” She asked. “No, I will not be sleeping in my mother's room. I will take my old room,” I said. “As you wish ma'am, would you like some tea instead?” She asked. “Yes, that would be lovely. In a mug so I can drink it while I wander around the house” I tell her. She smiles at the mug comment as she leaves to organise the tea.

I leave the office and walk slowly taking in all the details of the house I have forgotten through time. The lounge was exactly the same as when I played backgammon with John on the coffee table. Red velvet sofas, dark wooden floors with rugs covering the centre and by the fireplace. The curtains have been opened and the light hit the cream faded coloured painted walls. Paintings of my father's ancestors don the walls. A small old television on a wheeled stand sat in the corner of the room. Laura entered the lounge holding a purple mug “unfortunately, your mother insisted on fine bone china teacups, this was at the back of the cupboard ma'am” she passed me the piping hot mug. “Do you have a pen and pad Laura?” I asked. She nodded. “You can follow me around while I make decisions on changes” I say.

“The first change is buy some more mugs, only bone china for when guests arrive, next get rid of that archaic TV and get one of the maintenance men to buy a fifty inch HD TV, I am not watching that, pointing at it. All the windows need a good clean, look at the dirt?” I ran my finger along the pane of glass to show her the black residue collected on my finger tip. She nodded to everything, jotting everything down. We walked through the great hall. I needed to take my time about this room, it was always special to me and my father, I did not want to rush any decisions on it. The upstairs bathrooms were either salmon coloured or olive green, I gave instructions for the first two to be completely gutted and redone with white suites, marble tiles and tiled flooring. I also asked when the boiler was last serviced and told her to arrange a full service of everything. We walked towards my mother's room. I stood on the threshold looking in. She still had the salmon coloured walls and matching bedspread when I was a kid. “I want all the curtains, carpet, bedding, everything trashed. I want this room painted pale yellow with cream carpet. New furniture, complete overhaul, I would like to see all options before purchasing” I said.

I took a sip of tea “where did my mother die?” I asked her carefully. She looked at me “she died in the forest, ma'am. I thought you were informed?” she says, looking at the ground. “Why was she in the forest?” I asked. “She went there everyday ma'am,” she says, readying her pen. “Oh right” I say, as I am not sure how to respond to that. My mother was not the outdoorsy type, more the afternoon tea at Claridges and having her nails done. “Can I be direct ma'am?” Laura asked. “Yes, of course.” I welcomed it, I know nothing of what happens around here, and my mother's life, so any information, good or bad, helps me and my decisions. “Your mother isolated herself towards the end, these curtains and blinds have been closed for many years, she wouldn't let any of the windows open, she locked herself away in that office for hours at a time, or she would be in that forest. The doctor said it was the cancer progressing that played tricks with her mind. It's nice you are here to rejuvenate this house back to the way it was, when your father was alive” she smiles at me with warmth. “Yeah well, I had no choice in the matter, if I didn't accept my mother's wishes then my cousin Claire would have been next in line. She probably would have turned it into a meditation sanctuary with Buddhists” Laura laughed. “I think we will get along just fine ma'am,” she said.

We walked downstairs and asked Laura for a list of employees, their main title, salary and general tasks they do. I couldn't help my business brain take over to see if there was any room for improvement. She walked off with an extremely long list of jobs while I returned to the office. The room was smelling better and cleaner. A maid was finishing polishing the window pane, the sun came rushing in with no restrictions to stop it. It was a bright room, breathing at last. “Thank you” I tell her as she walks out. She smiles and nods.

I sit in the chair which both my father and mother sat in and sigh loudly. The letter still sat on top of the piles of paperwork and magazines. I look at it again and reread it over and over. Silent tears leave my eyes as I feel angry at my mother's failure to reach out when she became ill. Maybe she thought I wouldn't come home, it was my fault, I was a hormonal teenager and angry with life, and my mother's inability for love.

I swivelled the chair and looked at the safe behind me. The code was always the same, never changed. My father always made me memorise it. I bent down and spun the dial to 01-05-89 my birthday. It clicked, I pulled the handle down, it opened, and inside was filled with books, diaries and papers. I carry it all to the desk. I moved the rest of the papers which were on the desk to the floor to give me room. I need to ask Laura for a bin bag, next time I see her.

I look over the documents. Most were of birth, death and marriage certificates. Some were love letters from my father to my mother when he was away on his trips. A diary caught my eye, it was deep red, old and worn with an elastic page holder, holding it closed. I opened the first page, it was dated the day I was born, my father's words in black ink written on the page.

Day one - this day has come at last, my daughter will continue if I cannot. I hope this is not passed down to her, the stakes are too high, but I must try and take it from her shoulders. I cannot believe I now have an heir. She must be kept safe. Please god, help me.

I sat back and tried to take in the riddles my father had written, it makes no sense to me. I turn to the next page.

Month two - the forest has changed as I thought it might. They have been seen at the edge tonight. We must be careful to ensure the staff are not taken. I will issue a ban for anyone to go near. I know a sacrifice must be made, but my consciousness can't keep doing this.

What have I been shielded from? They? Sacrifice? Jesus, what have I agreed to, by staying in this house?