‘I brought some things that might help,’ she said when she’d been warmly greeted and given a cup of very good coffee. ‘Some boxes, bubble wrap, labels.’
‘It sounds as if you’ve come well prepared,’ said Belinda and Rachel wasn’t quite sure if she should take it as a compliment.
‘Well, you know. I thought they might be useful.’ She sipped the coffee and it gave her confidence. ‘Do you want us to work together? For me to help you?’
‘Good God, no!’ said Belinda. ‘No. I want you to do it. If it were left to me it would never get done. And it needs to be done.’
Had Belinda been a jot less formidable Rachel would have asked her why, but she didn’t quite dare. Then she decided this was ridiculous. The worst that could happen was that Belinda would ask her to leave, which would be sad but not exactly life-threatening. ‘Sorry, but can I ask why? It would help if I knew what sort of time frame we have.’ There, she’d said it. Now she could wait until the sky fell in – or not – depending.
‘Raff’s asked me too and I don’t think he was satisfied with my answer,’ she said. But to Rachel’s huge relief she didn’t seem annoyed. ‘This house is far too big for me to live in on my own and yet I can’t face leaving it. Ridiculous, I know.’
‘So …’ prompted Rachel.
‘I thought I’d carve out a flat for myself in part of it and rent out the rest.’
‘Oh, but wouldn’t that be difficult? You’d have to share your space with strangers. Goodness me, I’ve only just got used to the thought of people staying in my house for a couple of nights.’ She made a face. ‘Although I admit I am a bit odd like that.’
‘It rather depends on whom I rent it to.’
Rachel regarded Belinda and decided that this was a woman with a plan. She baulked at probing further.
‘I’ll just get on with it.’ Then, bravely, she added, ‘I work better on my own, really.’
‘I thought so!’ Belinda smiled in satisfaction.
Rachel had fairly quickly worked out Raff wasn’t there. There was no sign of his truck and she was fairly sure there was only one other mug in current use in the kitchen. As there were many mugs queuing up for the dishwasher this wasn’t an easy call to make but Rachel felt she could relax.
‘I knew you were the right person to do this,’ said Belinda, adding cream to her coffee. ‘As soon as I met you. I really didn’t need Raff to tell me.’
Rachel made a sympathetic face. ‘I hate being told things I know already. Now, where would you like me to start?’
‘The dining room,’ said Belinda. ‘How do you want to do it?’
‘What I suggest is, I make three piles: valuable things you might want to sell, things you’ll give away to a charity shop, and things that aren’t worth keeping. I’ll decide which is which and then you can decide I’m wrong and that I’ve put a valuable antique or something of great sentimental value on the chuck pile.’ She paused. ‘Of course it won’t be piles. I’ll pack everything in boxes. Then, when you’ve made up your mind, I’ll wash everything and pack it properly.’
‘Goodness me! I’ll let you get on then.’
Rachel was in heaven. She had Radio 4 on, was wearing her boiler suit and rubber gloves and had completely forgotten about everything except what she was doing.
She didn’t know a lot about ceramics but went straight to the famous names in the world of porcelain. Someone had collected a lot of Mason’s Ironstone and there was a certain amount of Clarice Cliff.
She began by sorting everything into sets. She decided – although she winced while she was doing it – to overlook chips and small flaws. She’d been there about half an hour before she realised she needed to know more about what she was dealing with.
She went to find Belinda in the kitchen.
Belinda switched off her KitchenAid. ‘Can I help?’
‘I was wondering if you had any sort of reference book about ceramics. It would really help me decide about things.’ She noticed that Belinda had several bun tins with cake cases in them dotted about the work surface, balanced on piles of books and plates and the fruit bowl.
‘Oh yes,’ said Belinda, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I’m sure I’ve got one somewhere.’
Rachel smiled but wondered if, in fact, Belinda had a hope in hell of finding it amongst all the clutter. But to her surprise Belinda reached into a bookcase and pulled out the book straight away.
‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, hoping that her surprise wasn’t obvious. ‘This will be really useful.’
‘Good,’ said Belinda and went back to the worktop.
Holding the book to her chest, Rachel said, ‘Would you mind my asking how you collected all this china?’
‘No, I don’t mind. It was mostly my parents and then aunts and uncles contributed more. When you have a big house people think it’s OK to dump things on you, even if you don’t really want them.’ She smiled. ‘But some of them are lovely. When I’ve downsized I’ll keep only the best.’
‘I’m sure there’ll be some lovely things you’ll want to hang on to, but if there’s a particular pattern of china you like, or brand …’ Rachel wasn’t sure you described famous names like Crown Derby, Wedgwood and Minton as brands, but she couldn’t think how else to describe them ‘… could set it aside for you.’
Belinda shook her head. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t select by pattern, I don’t think.’ She seemed to think this a very odd notion. ‘Now run along. I’ve these cakes to get in the oven, then I’m going to cook us lunch. You’ll need it!’
Rachel went back to the dining room, book in hand. She decided she didn’t mind being told to ‘run along’ by Belinda. She’d said it with such charm it was almost a compliment.
Rachel carried on with her work. She was having a brilliant time. She loved sorting things, finding other members of the same family and putting them in groups. She’d long since stopped noticing how dirty she was getting, or tired, moving piles of plates and dishes from one place to another.
Her best find – one she thought she would accept if it was offered – was a bit more Shelley china in the pattern of the set she and Beth had won when they first met. It was still in Beth’s house and so far they hadn’t had a chance to use it. It seemed a long time ago now.
She was getting to learn more about china too, what she liked and what she didn’t. Even discovering, (courtesy of the book) that the Clarice Cliff was called ‘Gayday’ didn’t make her like that, and Rachel put it all in one of her boxes. It included a teapot that was, she was fairly sure, perfect, and so would raise a decent amount of money. Belinda had reiterated that she didn’t want the bother of selling things and that Rachel could have it all if she took it away, but Rachel couldn’t accept that generous offer. She’d work something out.
She was just bending backwards to ease the pressure on her lower spine when Belinda called, ‘Lunch!’ Glad at the prospect of a break she headed towards the kitchen.
Just as she walked through the door Raff came in through the back door. ‘Hello, my two favourite women!’ he said and kissed his mother on the cheek.
Although Rachel had known he was expected she had somehow forgotten about him while she was lost in the joy of dealing with beautiful – and less beautiful – china. And it was still a shock when he came round to kiss her cheek too.
‘Hey! Look at you, Ms Dusty Face!’ he said, approval in his eyes. ‘Sorry I’m late. I got caught up and couldn’t get away.’
‘Have you come to help, or just for lunch?’ said Rachel, hating herself for not being able to think of the right witty response and ending up sounding critical instead.
‘For lunch, and then to help. So, what’s in the oven, Mum?’
Belinda chuckled. ‘Fairy cakes. We’re having soup and salad.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ said Rachel, hoping she hadn’t offended Belinda by sounding a bit off with her son.
‘Sounds dull,’ said Raff, ‘but Mum makes salads even men like. Don’t you?’
‘So I’ve heard,’ said Belinda. ‘Now, Rachel, I expect you’d like to wash your hands. Down the passage, door on the right.’
Belinda had been tactful when she suggested that only Rachel’s hands needed washing. She was filthy! Her face was streaked with dust and her hair was tangled with things that looked horribly like cobwebs. Quite how they’d got there she could only guess. She’d left her handbag in the kitchen and she couldn’t go back and get it in order to reapply the bit of mascara she always wore, she’d just have to manage with water and the quite grubby towel. She felt irritated. She’d been so relaxed and happy before, when she was working, but now Raff was here and was making remarks and kissing her cheek, she felt as uptight and prickly as ever. And she thought she was past all that overreaction and spikiness.
Belinda put a glass of wine into her hand when she arrived back and she didn’t refuse it. She took a large sip. It was delicious.
‘Come and sit down,’ said Belinda. ‘Just move those books. There should be space.’
Rachel duly moved the books. ‘Are you clearing out your cookery books too?’ she asked.
‘Oh no, although I ought to have a sort-out.’ Belinda put a soup plate the size of a dustbin lid in front of Rachel. The contents were thick, full of vegetables and smelt divine. There was already a basket of bread on the table, which looked home-made.
‘Do you cook a lot?’ asked Rachel, willing Raff to come and sit down so she could start eating. Rachel was surprised he couldn’t hear her mental chivvying.
‘Not when it’s just me, no. I live on toast and Marmite, but I like cooking for other people. Do start. Don’t wait for Raff.’
Rachel lowered her spoon into the soup and then took a sip. It was delicious. ‘Dinner parties and things?’
‘Not much these days, but a friend is having a surprise party. Obviously she doesn’t know that. I’m doing the food.’ Belinda looked amused. ‘Don’t worry, it’s at her house.’ She turned round to her son. ‘Do hurry up, Raff. Your soup’s getting cold.’
When Raff joined them at the table Rachel realised that he’d been washing his hands in the sink – probably because she’d spent so much time in the loo.
‘So, Rachel, have you been having fun?’ he asked after a few mouthfuls.
Whether it was the wine or the soup Rachel didn’t know, but she felt her spikiness fall away. ‘The best fun I’ve had in ages,’ she said.
‘Hey! You said that when you were doing the mist coat,’ objected Raff.
‘That was also lovely,’ said Rachel, considering, ‘but this is a different sort of fun. About the same level of fun-ness though.’
‘So have you found anything that might be useful for your business?’ asked Belinda.
Rachel put down her spoon. ‘Belinda, there is treasure in there and I can’t accept it as a gift.’
Belinda sighed. ‘You’d be taking it out of my house. Off my hands. I don’t want it any more.’
‘You don’t have to keep it,’ said Rachel. ‘I’ll take it all away and store it in my shed, and then Beth – she’s one of my colleagues – will sell it for you on eBay.’ She paused. ‘Vintage Weddings will use anything that’s not part of a set, or valuable, or whatever.’ She picked up her glass for another sip of wine.
‘Oh, darling!’ Belinda was cross. ‘That wasn’t the deal at all. It works for me because I get rid of it. I don’t want money.’
‘Surely—’ Rachel began. They had already had this discussion but seeing how much and how potentially valuable the china was, she felt obliged to protest again.
‘Well,’ said Raff, ‘if you don’t want the money, Beth could sell the china and the money could go towards the village-hall restoration fund. God knows it needs it.’
Rachel looked at him. ‘Brilliant idea! And if you change your mind, Belinda, you could have the money instead. Or some of it,’ she added, thinking of the huge amount of money the hall needed, just to get its roof repaired.
‘Well, that sounds fine to me,’ said Belinda. ‘Have you room to store it all?’
‘Well, we’ll have to sell things we’re going to sell fairly quickly,’ said Rachel. ‘But before we get rid of anything – even to use for Vintage Weddings – you have to go through and see what you want to keep.’
‘I wouldn’t want to let any large platters go out of the family,’ said Belinda. ‘In case we have any big parties.’
‘Big parties here, Mum?’ said Raff, frowning slightly.
‘Or anywhere. You know, like this surprise party I’m doing the catering for.’
Belinda had mentioned this party before but now, hearing her use the word ‘catering’ gave Rachel an idea. ‘Do you like catering?’
‘Love it, as long as it’s not too often. Why?’ Belinda’s blue eyes, so like her son’s, were penetrating.
‘We need a caterer, someone who’ll do weddings. For April’s wedding, the WI and people in the village did it but that was just for her. We couldn’t expect them to do it regularly.’
‘Well,’ said Belinda, after what seemed to Rachel a lot of thought, ‘I wouldn’t want to do them too often and I would need a galley slave or two to help me, but otherwise, yes, I think that would be fun.’
‘Oh my goodness. That would be amazing. If I’ve found us a good caterer—’ Rachel began.
‘You don’t know she’s good,’ said Raff.
‘She is! I mean, I am!’ Belinda was indignant. ‘Really, Raff. You know perfectly well I did Veronica’s Golden Wedding do and had people begging me to do theirs.’
‘I know,’ said Raff calmly, ‘but I knew you wouldn’t tell Rachel unless I pushed you.’
‘Obviously we’d find someone else if you didn’t fancy it but we’ve got a wedding coming up in April, for Beth’s sister, and we need someone really good.’ Although she didn’t say it she thought Belinda would probably be able to convince Helena and her mother to have a menu that would be easy to do, and not just one that was impressive.
‘That sounds like a challenge I could rise to,’ said Belinda.
‘There is just one more favour,’ said Rachel.
‘Anything,’ said Belinda.
‘There’s some china in the same pattern as the tea set I won in a raffle with Beth, when I first moved down here. It was in the village hall.’
‘I remember,’ said Raff.
‘If I could have that, I’d be thrilled. Beth and I both would be.’
‘Of course you can have it!’ said Belinda. ‘I thought I made myself clear!’ Then to take any possible sting out of her words she went on: ‘Now, this soup won’t be as nice tomorrow. I insist you both have some more.’