Diana laughed. ‘Not at all. It’s too big for me and requires all that dusting.’
‘You don’t have a cleaner or anyone to help you?’ Amanda asked.
‘No money for that. I wore the rubber gloves in the house for many years. It’s your turn now, unless you plan on hiring a cleaner?’
It was Amanda’s turn to laugh. ‘No, I’m poor. I have nothing – nada,’ she said, thinking about where she could get a job that would at least pay for food and bills until she could work out how to make house sustainable and pay for itself.
Trotsky settled in his bed for his nap and the two women walked towards the main house. Nerves filled Amanda’s stomach as they approached. It looked like a doll’s house. A very old doll’s house. There wasn’t much decoration on the front of the house but it didn’t need it; the garden did all the work. There was wisteria with the same purple flower growing up the front of the house, spreading out like veins in an old lady’s hand. She remembered her mother’s papery hands at the end, the veins no longer healthy, collapsing from the medication and saline drip.
The roses she recognised but there were so many different types of flowers she had no idea where to begin identifying them. Was she expected to know the names? Would Diana test her progress on learning the names of the flowers? Maybe there would be a quiz? God, she was never good at school. Art was the only thing she ever got an A for during her education.
It wasn’t that Amanda wasn’t bright, she just found it hard to focus and learn about things she didn’t think she would ever use again in everyday life.
And she liked to daydream. Her mother used to say that if daydreaming was a subject, then she would be the dux of the class. And when daydreaming turned into the images in her drawings, then she was in her element.
The house looked in better condition than she had imagined when she first saw it. It was apparently Georgian, which again she knew nothing about and would have to learn about soon. There were five windows across the top floor and two either side of the wide front door.
Diana stood at the front of the house looking up at it with an expression that Amanda couldn’t quite decipher.
‘This house was built in 1804 by my grandfather – many times removed – for his wife upon their engagement. He was a sea merchant and a very successful one. Their names were Samuel Graybrook and Eliza Moore and they were so in love they took each other’s names when they married, which was unheard of in those times.’
‘Still is, mostly,’ said Amanda.
‘Then tragedy struck when Samuel sailed to Africa and didn’t return. Eliza had a widow’s walk made for the top of the house where she would spend most days looking out for Samuel.’
‘Oh that’s so sad.’ Amanda peered up at the house, seeing the small cupola at the top of the roof.
‘Yes, it was very sad. Eliza was pursued by many men, both because of her beauty but also because of her wealth, as Samuel’s company was very successful, despite him going missing at sea.’
‘Did she marry again?’ asked Amanda.
‘No. Her son took over the business and then he married, but his wife died in childbirth. The child survived though and he married a second time, to a woman named Susannah. But she died from consumption after her first child was born.’
‘Gosh,’ said Amanda. ‘Times were hard, weren’t they?’
‘Very,’ agreed Diana and she turned to Amanda. ‘Every heir to this house has been an only child and male. It wasn’t until I was born that it would be handed to a female but, sadly, I never had a child to hand Moongate to.’
Amanda was silent for a moment. ‘It’s not lost on me how enormous this responsibility is and I will do my best to not let you down.’
‘Good woman. Now, let’s look inside. I think you will be very happy. I have had it cleaned so you can stay ahead of the dusting.’
As they walked towards the house, a man with a wheelbarrow came through the messy garden.
‘Simon, excellent – you’re here.’
The man was older than Amanda – in his early thirties, she thought. He had unruly brown curls that looked to be in the process of growing out of a previously sensible haircut, and he was slim, but in an underfed sort of a way. She knew that physical look. It was a physique that came from pain, or sadness, or emotional loss. She had only just started to put back on the weight from when her mother died. The combination of caring for someone and grieving meant she was never hungry or never finished anything, not even a coffee.
Amanda gave the man a friendly smile and he returned it with a nod.
‘Amanda, this is Simon, who is here to help you clear the garden. I expect you two will be working closely together to get Moongate back into shape for autumn when we have the Moongate Festival.’
‘The Moongate Festival?’ asked Amanda.
‘Yes, when the village comes to celebrate the full moon before winter. We have bonfires and entertainment and music, and then we watch the full moon create steps across the water. We haven’t had it here in forty years, but it’s time now and I know you two will be the perfect pair to bring Moongate Manor back to its purpose and beauty.’
‘Okay, that seems like a big task,’ Amanda said to Simon. ‘We’d better get started.’
Simon looked at her and frowned. ‘No, I’m only here for the summer, so I’ll be gone before the festival. I’m sure Diana will be more use than me.’