CHAPTER SEVEN

      ‘How lovely, said a rather shell-shocked Angela.

      ‘This is going to be ace.’ Jade threw her arms around her mother.

      Carrie stepped forward, opening a set of double doors to reveal a spacious lounge. No, lounge sounded too mundane, this was a salon, a sitting room … just gorgeous. Looking up she traced the bleached-blonde wood beams criss-crossing a high-pitched sloping ceiling, smiling at the wonderful sense of light and space.

      ‘Come and look at this,’ she called, taking the three broad, shallow steps down into the room, unable to resist the temptation to sink into one of the two taupe-linen-covered sofas, each of which could have comfortably seated five people. Contrasting arm chairs in cream were dotted around the modern wooden coffee table opposite the sofas. Understated and classical, Carrie could imagine the key words, in capitals, on the interior designer’s brief had been ‘style’, ‘taste’ and ‘elegance’.

      ‘Get a load of that TV,’ said Jade with a squeal of delight, crossing to the flat-screen television framed within the wall above a fireplace with a log burner in it the size of a small bath tub. ‘Whoa! That is fab-u-lous.’ Almost reverently she reached up to touch the sixty-five-inch, or, whatever it was, screen. ‘Much better than our piddly little thing.’

      Personally Carrie thought the thirty-inch screen at home was more than adequate, although she had to concede the size of this room meant you did need a monster screen this big.

      Angela came and bounced on the sofa next to Carrie, letting out a happy sigh. ‘Oh my days. I never imagined it would be like this.’

      ‘You pulled a blinder, sis,’ said Carrie, hugging her.

      ‘You certainly did, Mum,’ agreed Jade, coming to join them on the sofa.

      With a sudden squeal, Carrie threw herself backwards, taking Angela and Jade with her, kicking her feet up in the air.

      ‘Woohoo!’ she shouted as the other two burst into giggles and copied her, all three bicycling their legs like mad.

      Euphoria fizzed in Carrie’s stomach like an errant Catherine wheel, spinning so hard it had taken flight. ‘It’s like that scene in Pretty Woman where Vivienne throws herself on the huge bed.’

      ‘OMG. What do you think the bedrooms here will be like?’ Jade sprang up. ‘And the bathroom?’

      ‘I suspect bathrooms as in multiple. Which will be great. You can spend as long as you like in there.’

      Jade stuck her tongue out her aunt.

      ‘And what’s out here, do you reckon?’

      Soft flowing linen drapes skirted the room on two sides. Jade tugged at them to reveal a complete wall of French doors. It was too dark to see beyond the patio area and the dark shapes of furniture. Lights dotted on the hillside were testament to a potentially fabulous view in the morning.

      ‘I’m starving,’ announced Jade.

      ‘Why don’t I find the kitchen, while you two go and bring in the cases and then you can explore the bedroom situation?’ asked Angela, falling into her usual mothering role.

      ‘Okey doke.’ For once Jade was happy to follow orders without arguing the toss. ‘I reckon there’ll be a bedroom each.’

      ‘I hope so,’ said Carrie, laughing. She’d been worried she’d have to sleep in the lounge on a sofa. These sofas were bigger than her double bed at home.

      Angela stood uncertainly. ‘Which way do you think the kitchen is?’

      They burst out laughing, looking around them, all of them amused by the thought of being in a house so big that it wasn’t obvious where the rooms were.

      In unspoken agreement they retraced their steps.

      ‘Blimey, this is fancy,’ said Jade as they walked along a glass corridor linking the first building to another on a slightly different level. ‘I think Marguerite’s idea of everything being on one floor is slightly different to mine,’ said Angela as they tripped up a set of three steps. ‘Oh!’ She gasped. ‘Isn’t this lovely? Look at the range stove. I would love one of those at home. It’s got seven rings on it.’

      The range, which didn’t do much for Carrie, sat under a wooden cream-painted canopy, no doubt hiding the extractor fan. The styling of the kitchen was very much French provincial with its distressed wooden cupboards and plate filled racks. It was the sort of room that everyone gravitated to, perfect for cooking and entertaining at the same time, with its central island, a sink on one side and rustic wooden bar stools on the other.

      What she loved about the room was the roof, similar to the lounge, open to wooden beams, which met in a high ridge running the length of the room, finishing above a contemporary-styled bay window. Under the window on all three sides was a built-in seat with brightly coloured cushions in patterned fabric.

      Carrie’s eyes were drawn to the full-height wine fridge, filled with bottles. ‘Do you think she meant it when she said “help yourselves”? I think we should celebrate.’

      Angela had already pulled open the doors of the American- style fridge.

      ‘It’s got an ice-maker. That’s cool.’

      ‘And enough food to feed five thousand,’ said Angela faintly, looking around at Carrie, with a slight frown. ‘I wasn’t expecting this. I’m rather overwhelmed.’

      ‘Bin that Protestant work ethic, Catholic guilt attitude right now. Marguerite’s note was quite explicit and from what you’ve told me about her, she meant every word. We are going to enjoy every last minute of this wonderful house.

      ‘Now you get cracking and rustle us up something fabulous and choose a bottle of wine. While me and the brat here will unload the car.’

      ‘And bag the best bedrooms,’ added Jade.

      ‘I think, given your mother has come up with this gem, she should get the best room,’ said Carrie, poking her niece in the back.

      ‘Oy.’

      ‘To be perfectly honest,’ Angela shook her head in wonderment, ‘I think the worst bedroom here will still be better than any of ours.

      ‘I need to check out the wi-fi code.’ Jade shook her phone. ‘Crap signal up here. Please say this place has internet.’

      ‘There you go.’ Angela pointed to a note tagged to the fridge door with a magnet, rather bizarrely in the shape of the Statue of Liberty, among all the other local tourist magnets.

      ‘Holey Moley, thank God for that.’