The Dead of Winter Read Free Page B

asked.
    â€˜Who are staying for the seance, of course. That starts at ten and ends, well, whenever. Then there’ll be the debrief on Sunday and—’
    â€˜ Seance ?’ Rina interrupted.
    Melissa was now the puzzled one. ‘But of course. Isn’t that what you’ve come for?’ She glanced from one to the other.
    â€˜Where’s Tim?’ Rina demanded.
    Melissa pointed towards a door at the opposite end of the reception area.
    â€˜Thanks, Melissa,’ Joy managed as she fled after Rina, still clutching the plastic bag containing her muddy jeans. She was giggling by the time she caught the older woman. ‘Your face, Rina. You looked . . .’
    â€˜I am ,’ Rina confirmed, and Joy stopped laughing. ‘Look, sweetheart, you know I adore Tim, I’d help him out with anything, but he should have told us what he was getting us into.’
    â€˜Well, we don’t really know as yet,’ Joy said. ‘I mean, do you actually trust a woman who does jazz hands every five minutes, not to exaggerate? Wow, will you look at this place?’
    There was no evidence of Tim in the large room, but, Rina had to agree, it was worth a ‘wow’. The panelled walls were carved in a linenfold pattern reminiscent of much earlier centuries and yet looking ‘right’ for the opulent space. Above that, a fresco of Adam-style plasterwork – which, beautiful and intricate as it was, didn’t quite work with the panelling. Three massive windows – covered by heavy russet velvet curtains that, to Rina’s eye, looked contemporary with the house . . . and were showing every one of their hundred-and-fifty-odd years – would have provided guests with a view of spectacular gardens. At least, Rina guessed they were spectacular, but today it was impossible to see anything through the damned rain.
    A fireplace that evidently shared a chimney with the one in the reception area dominated the wall opposite the windows, though unlike its blue stone counterpart, some neo-Jacobean woodcarver had been let loose to create a whole forest of trees and swags and unlikely beasts, flanked by mermaid-like creatures, naked from the waist up and wearing the most elaborate headdresses decked out in flowers and fruit.
    Nothing about it was right, Rina thought, and yet she found it strangely appealing. Whoever had the job of making the fire surround and overmantel had been having a wonderful time.
    Joy bent closer to look at the mermaids. ‘She’s wearing one of my Great Aunt Madge’s wedding hats,’ she said.
    â€˜Ah, I have yet to meet the redoubtable Aunt Madge, haven’t I?’
    â€˜Yes, Mum is saving that treat. Too early a meeting with Aunt Madge would be a test of even the strongest friendship. I bet Tim is through there.’
    French doors opened on to what looked like woodland, and Rina was puzzled until she realized that they in fact gave entrance into a very elaborate conservatory. No, she corrected, more of an orangery, far too grand to be labelled a mere conservatory. Large expanses of window let what light there was enter through the rear of the garden room, and the roof was more glass, supported by the most beautiful and over-engineered cast-iron arches. There was nothing in the least bit temporary about this structure: nothing that, in Rina’s mind, equated with the flimsy UPVC structures people tagged on to the rear of their semis.
    The floor was tiled in what looked like marble; elaborate cast-iron grates ran the full length for drainage. Heavy planters, big enough to hold substantial trees, stood against the piers between the windows and, though the trees themselves were now overgrown and untidy, Rina could see where they had once been espaliered and fanned against the walls.
    â€˜There’s a pond.’ Joy was astonished. ‘Oh my God, don’t let Mum see this. There’ll be no peace till we get