Secrets at Meadowbrook Manor Read online

  Published by AVON

  A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2018

  Copyright © Faith Bleasdale 2018

  Cover design © Diane Meacham 2018

  Cover image © Shutterstock

  Faith Bleasdale asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Ebook Edition © August 2018 ISBN: 9780008306953

  Version: 2018-07-24

  For Jo and Keith, thanks for all your support and inspiration.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  By the Same Author

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Gemma Matthews rang the buzzer, rubbing her gloved hands together and stomping her feet to try to ward off the cold. She had taken the bus, but still had a twenty-minute walk to get to the residential home. Despite the fact that she did the journey frequently, it was still a difficult one, in more ways than one.

  The door was opened by Sarah, one of the carers at the home.

  ‘Gemma, come in, come in,’ she said, kindly, grimacing as a blast of cold air shot through the door. ‘Blimey, it’s freezing.’

  ‘Hi,’ Gemma said, still able to see her own breath. ‘How is she today?’ Gemma’s voice wobbled, as it always did when she asked after her nan.

  ‘Not too bad, love,’ Sarah replied.

  Gemma nodded and made her way in.

  The warmth of the nursing home hit her as soon as she closed the door behind her. She wrinkled her nose at the familiar smell; the aroma she now associated with old age. Kenworth House was a residential home specialising in taking care of dementia sufferers. Unfortunately Gemma’s nan was one of them, and she’d been here almost a year, ever since Gemma became unable to care for her at home. She signed in at the big marble reception desk, her signature like a spidery mess across the page. If it wasn’t for the smell, Gemma would think she had walked into a five-star hotel – the home was grand and expensive, which was reflected in its interior. Although Gemma knew they were struggling to afford to keep her nan here, she was determined. She had never been so determined about anything in her life, and now it seemed that determination had paid off.

  She took the stairs up to her nan’s room on the first floor. Out of habit, she knocked on the door before opening it straight away. She took a breath; every time she walked through this door, she had no idea what would greet her. Would her nan recognise her? Would she welcome her even? One thing she had learnt about dementia was that it was riddled with inconsistency.

  ‘Hi, Nan,’ she said as breezily as she could, going straight over to where her nan was sitting. She bent down to kiss her cheek, breathing in the familiar lavender scent that characterised Gemma’s childhood, her family.

  Her nan was staring out of the window, something Gemma often found her doing. She had a lovely view over the grounds of the home, which were vast with beautifully kept sweeping lawns, and flower beds ready to spring into colour. Her nan had always loved gardens, and Gemma was glad that she had this view.

  ‘Gemma?’ her nan asked uncertainly as she turned to her. Relief flooded through Gemma; it was a good day.

  ‘Yes, Nan, and I’ve brought you some flowers.’

  She took a bunch of wild flowers out of her bag, and put them under her nan’s nose. Her nan smiled as she smelt them. One of her passions in life was gardening – her nan’s not Gemma’s. Gemma remembered how weekends would be spent with her nan digging, planting or weeding while Gemma would read a book outside if the weather was good, watching her, being close to her.

  ‘And of course your favourite wine gums.’

  She handed them to her. Gemma liked bringing wine gums; when she was a kid, her nan would bring home packets from the post office on a Friday, and it would be a treat that Gemma looked forward to. After a fish and chip supper, they would share the wine gums. It was nostalgic but the only way Gemma felt she could cling to her past.

  ‘Thank you, love,’ her nan said with a slight smile.

  ‘Let me put the flowers in water,’ Gemma said quickly.

  Her nan’s room was large, with a plush beige carpet, a bed, with an old-fashioned eiderdown covering it, and two chairs arranged around a small table. When her nan first moved in, Gemma had brought her favourite pictures to put up, including her wedding photo and a photo of her and Gemma when they were on holiday. The rest of the room housed a few of her books, which sat on a small shelf, although they were largely unread.

  Gemma picked up the vase with the flowers from her last visit, which she deposited in the bin before going to the sink to rinse the vase and fill it with fresh water. She arranged the flowers, put them on the table and then sat in the chair next to her nan. She was bursting to tell her her news, but she had learnt that in order not to startle her nan, she needed patience.

  ‘So,’ she asked slowly, ‘how are you?’

  ‘Oh I’m just grand, love,’ her nan said with a smile. Her hands shook slightly as she gestured for Gemma to open the wine gums.

  The door opened and Sarah came in.

  ‘Can I get you ladies a nice cuppa?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes please,’ Gemma replied. ‘Tea, Nan?’

  ‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ her nan said.

  As Sarah disappeared, Gemma took a wine gum and smiled.

  ‘Nan, I have some news,’ she started.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  Gemma saw the woman who had brought her up, the woman who was the rock in her life, until the cruel illness descended on their lives, ruining everyth
ing. Her face was the same, but her brain wasn’t. When, like today, her nan recognised Gemma, she felt as if she’d won the lottery.

  ‘You know I told you that I was going to apply for a new job?’ Her nan shook her head, and Gemma felt angry with herself. She should never ask her if she remembered anything. ‘Sorry. Anyway, I applied for a new job. As a hotel consultant to set up a new hotel in a gorgeous, gorgeous manor house.’ Her words wanted to rush out of her mouth, and Gemma told herself to calm down. But she had never felt this excited before.

  ‘Oh yes?’ Her nan seemed to be following this.

  ‘Meadowbrook Manor. It’s in a small village in the Mendips. Anyway, the family are turning the house into a small hotel, or that’s the intention, and they’ve offered me the job of helping them to open it.’

  Technically, only one of the family had offered her the job, Pippa Singer; she hadn’t met the others yet, which was a little strange. Or even seen the house in person, which was stranger still, but Pippa had insisted that she was perfect for the job without her even visiting and after only one interview. Gemma had jumped for joy when she phoned to tell her. No one had ever called her perfect before – no one apart from her nan.

  ‘Well that sounds lovely, what good news.’ Her nan’s eyes shone. She gave Gemma’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’m very proud of you, you know.’

  Gemma’s eyes filled with tears. It was small, tiny, but it felt as if she had been handed the world.

  ‘Yes, it’s a dream job, and the best thing is that it comes with accommodation, so when the bungalow sale goes through I won’t have to worry about where to live. And until then the salary means we will manage the fees more comfortably.’

  Her nan’s eyes flickered at that.

  ‘The bungalow?’ she asked. ‘I don’t quite …’ She trailed off. She looked at the open packet of sweets in her hand as if she didn’t know what they were. And Gemma knew she had lost her for today. It happened like that sometimes – one minute she was there, the next, she couldn’t find her.

  Sarah returned with tea and placed it down. Gemma picked up the mug and thanked her. Her nan was staring out of the window once again.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ her nan replied. ‘My daughter was just telling me about her new job.’

  Sarah looked at Gemma, who had gone from elation to sorrow. In one easy move.

  ‘You mean your granddaughter, love – it’s Gemma,’ Sarah said kindly. The staff at the home said that sometimes it helped to trigger memory if you corrected her, although Gemma could never bring herself to.

  ‘Oh yes, of course, my granddaughter,’ her nan said without a hint of recognition, and she popped another wine gum in her mouth.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Here we are, love,’ the taxi driver said as he pulled up, got out of the car and held the door open for her.

  Gemma eagerly stepped out, and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she could only stare, in awe, at the house in front of her. The house that she had craved so intensely to be inside was right here, in all its wonderful glory.

  Despite the fact she had stared at the photograph of Meadowbrook daily, she still hadn’t been prepared for its actual magnificence. Nothing could have prepared her for that. Like an old-fashioned doll’s house that every little girl coveted. She had stared at the photo so many times it was tattooed on her brain. She had felt herself being drawn into it. She had studied the tall oblong windows as if she could see herself behind them. Peering out onto the circular drive, waiting for … well, she wasn’t sure what the “her” behind the window was waiting for, although whatever it was, in this house, it would come. She knew that it would come.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away, forgetting that the February drizzle was making her blonde shoulder-length hair frizzy and her best suit damp as she gaped, goldfish-like, at the place that would be her work and also her home for the next few months. How on earth had this happened? Part of her wanted to do a jig, another part to cower in the taxi forever.

  ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ the driver stated. Gemma could only nod as she pulled her purse from her bag and held some notes out to him. ‘Best house in Parker’s Hollow, probably in the Mendips,’ he continued as they both stared at the Georgian manor house, which seemed, ridiculously, to be staring back at them.

  In real life, the house was enormous. Grand, with impressive windows and an imposing front door. The drive and immediate entrance were immaculately kept, neat bushes lined up, and statues that looked genuinely aged, covered with moss, stood guard. The surrounding countryside, fields, trees, hedgerows complemented the house and even the air smelt different. A bird, or number of birds, squawked in the background as she gulped in the air; she was no longer in the city. She was in paradise.

  ‘Right you are, love,’ the driver said, bringing her back to the present as he handed over her change, and with a kindly wave he got back into the car.

  Part of her wanted to run after the cab, part of her wanted to run up to the front door and burst into her new, albeit temporary, life.

  Gemma tried to arrange her face into a smile, but the nerves that were jangling around meant she was unsure if it was a grimace. She gave herself a bit of a talking-to – something she had been doing a lot in the last few weeks – and she tried to smooth down her hair, which she now imagined was sticking up in all directions.

  She was about to start her dream job. When she applied for it, back in December, she didn’t for one moment believe she would get it. It seemed like such a golden opportunity, she rationalised that hundreds of people, at least, would apply, and she wouldn’t stand a chance. But somehow, she was about to embark on a six-month contract, staying at Meadowbrook Manor, to act as their hotel consultant. Six months living at Meadowbrook, helping the family set up their new hotel, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. And it was her opportunity. She still couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe she deserved it. She didn’t deserve it.

  She took a breath as she watched the taxi disappear completely from view. Inside the impressively stunning house, waiting for her, were her future employers: the Singers. She was anxious about meeting them all. The speed between the application, her interview with Pippa and her being here now was less than two months; therefore, she had barely had the chance to process what was happening. Even when she had told her nan about it, it still didn’t feel real. But, as she grabbed her suitcase and half wheeled, half hauled it up towards the front door, she knew what she’d been given was undeniably a gift. Now all she had to do was to do a good job and prove that Pippa was right to hire her. She hoped, prayed that she could do just that.

  After all, there was no turning back.

  Pippa Singer opened the door with a huge welcoming smile. Gemma couldn’t help but be happy to see her new boss. She was beautiful, warm, kind and unlike anyone Gemma had ever met before.

  When, knees literally knocking, Gemma had walked into the coffee shop in central Bristol and gazed around, she immediately recognised the stunning blonde woman, who was sitting at a table nursing a coffee, as Pippa. Meadowbrook and the Singer siblings had quite an online profile, mainly owing to the work they did at their animal sanctuary. Pippa was not only beautiful, but when Gemma tentatively approached her, she had also acted as if they were long-lost friends. For a minute, Gemma’s nerves disintegrated, as she was mesmerised by this woman.

  The interview flew by at an amazing speed. Pippa oozed warmth and kindness as she asked Gemma questions not just about her professional life, but her personal one as well. Pippa proved herself an open book, as she offered information about her family and Meadowbrook without Gemma having to ask a single question. She perhaps shared a bit too much information, Gemma thought. For her part, Gemma told Pippa how much she loved the house from the photo – now, she blushed slightly at the memory of how she had gushed about it having a personality and a soul. But Pippa had lapped all that up and said that she clearly “got” Meadowbrook.


  Afterwards, back at the hotel where she worked in Bristol, she mulled it all over. It was the most unorthodox interview Gemma had ever attended – not that she had been to many – and when she got a phone call the following day saying the job was hers, she had to pinch herself a number of times. But Pippa had been adamant that she was perfect for the job, for Meadowbrook. She sent over an official offer, the start date being set for the first of February, which meant she had Christmas and January to sort everything out. She had been counting the minutes until she finally got to meet Meadowbrook in person, and she felt as if she spent the whole two months dazed and waiting for her phone to ring, only to hear Pippa say that she had made a terrible mistake, she meant to hire someone else. But that hadn’t happened.

  ‘Oh, Gemma, I’m so pleased you’re finally here,’ Pippa gushed, throwing her arms around her once again as if she were a long-lost friend. Gemma dropped her suitcase in surprise and then winced as it caught her foot. ‘Sorry, sorry, do come in.’ Pippa took the luggage and stood back to let her in. ‘I insisted on my siblings not being here; I didn’t want to scare you off before you even got to look at the place. But I have to warn you that once you’ve unpacked, they’ll be waiting for you. Everyone’s so excited to meet you.’

  Pippa was breathless, and Gemma still hadn’t spoken yet.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you again,’ she finally managed, intimidation stabbing her, coupled with relief that she didn’t have to step straight into the lion’s – or Singer siblings’ – den.

  As she stepped into the grand hallway she felt herself shaking slightly – she was in the house! Just as she imagined herself being. The entrance hall seemed as big as her nan’s bungalow, where she had lived all her life. With its polished parquet flooring, art dominating the walls, and the biggest vase of fresh flowers on an antique carved console table, it was unlike anything Gemma had ever seen. As Pippa grabbed her arm reassuringly, Gemma was rendered mute.