“Here,” Sooz said, reaching into her purse and producing five large black sleeves of photographs. “Forgot to show you these. Pictures from the last two weeks. I picked them up yesterday.”
She passed the photos to the passengers in the back seat.
“Are you still getting free developing from that guy at Boots?” Theo asked.
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Sebastian said.
Sooz playfully swatted him, almost causing him to drive the car into a hedge.
“I can’t help it if he likes me. And it saved me almost twenty quid.”
The photos roused Rosie from her reverie. She reached for one of the packs. For a few minutes, conversation ceased as the passengers in the back looked at the photos, Sebastian steered the massive Volvo through the twisting lanes, and Sooz fiddled with the radio. There was music, there was sunset birdsong, there were probably more crisps somewhere in the car, and all was right in the world. Sebastian turned through an opening in the hedgerow that was barely wide enough to accommodate the car, then made his way down a pitted dirt path through the trees. They had reached a tall iron gate, the only break in an ivy-covered brick wall.
“Who’s going to get out and open it?” Sebastian said.
“I’ll do it,” Yash said, popping open his door.
“The code is 19387. Pull the right gate toward you a bit. It sticks. Hold it for the others. It closes quickly.”
Yash did so, holding the gate so both the Volvo and the Golf could pass. They proceeded onward, down a peaceful drive arched by trees that created a lush hall of greenery, with slender beams of late-day sun poking through. This was England at its finest—the Hundred Acre Wood, the magical forest, the green and pleasant land of yore.
“Have to go slow,” Sebastian said. “Chester is hard of hearing. It would be a bad start to the week if I ran over our beloved gardener while he was standing on the drive.”
“Might make a good sketch,” Yash said. “You run over the gardener but then still keep trying to have a weekend party like nothing happened.”
“That’s not a good sketch,” Theo said.
Yash considered for a moment.
“No,” he said. “It’s not. Well, maybe with some polish on the idea. Remind me to mention it to Peter. We still have one sketch to write for Edinburgh . . .”
“You are not working this week,” Sooz said.
“We have to,” Yash replied. “At least a little. This is the Fringe Festival we’re writing for, Sooz, not the usual knobheads at the pub. Peter thinks that—”
“I don’t care what Peter thinks. No. Working. This. Week. Sebastian, do something.”
“If you think I can stop Peter and Yash on their quest for comedy glory,” Sebastian said to her, “you have more faith in me than I deserve.”
“Theo?”
“I am but one woman,” Theo replied. “I cannot perform miracles.”
They made the final turn of the drive, breaking out of the woods. Suddenly they were surrounded by walls of hydrangeas in hypnotic shades of electric blue and violet. Around them there were pergolas and paths wound with wisteria, and rosebushes with peach-colored blooms that stood on point. The air was full of the smell of lilacs that trapped the raindrops and released their perfume into the air.
Merryweather was before them. A sprawling creation of sand-colored stone, flat-fronted and hip-roofed, with a columned portico. Ivy and flowering vines crept up the house, an organic coat to soften the solidness of the building. A stone terrace wrapped around the house, lined with urns and statuary. A glass orangery jutted from the far side of the building, filled with potted trees. Out the front, a long apron of green rolled down to an ornamental pond with a folly. The rest of the grounds were quilted in a pattern of walled brick gardens and paths.
“It’s always absurd to me that this is your house,” Sooz said.
“Well, I’m an absurd person,” Sebastian replied. “Half of it is falling down anyway. We use the lesser staff to hold up the roof.”
The journey ended on the gravel drive, next to a garage on the side of the house. Rosie bolted from the car, walking off a few paces. Sooz and Sebastian got out to stretch and have a cigarette, while Theo and Yash set about unpacking the car.
“Rosie’s having a hard time of it,” Sebastian said quietly.
“Yes,” Sooz said, accepting a cigarette that was offered. “Also, did you see the way Yash elbowed Peter out of the way to ride with us?”
“Hard to miss. Do you think this will be the week one of them finally makes a move? It’s now or never. Maybe we need to take action. Lock them in the attic together.”
“I like that,” Sooz said, watching as Yash almost fell over himself trying to lift the heaviest of the bags, even though Theo was more than capable. “Too bad you don’t have a dungeon.”
“The dungeon is for my private use, darling. But perhaps I could make an exception for a good cause.”
“If Yash was busy shagging, he couldn’t be working.”
“Don’t bet on that,” Sebastian said. “Anyway, Peter would carry on. You know our ambitious boy can’t be stopped. He’d sit by the bedroom door with a notebook and write down any awkward sexual remarks Yash made.”
“Oh God. That could actually happen. They would turn it into a sketch.”
“Are you two planning on helping at any point?” Yash called out as he pulled Sooz’s suitcase from the car.
“No,” Sooz and Sebastian said in unison.
“Just checking,” Yash said, nodding.
The Golf pootled up and parked. Four more people extracted themselves from it, far more crushed and rumpled than the passengers of the commodious Volvo. Peter, who had been riding in the passenger seat with a map in case the group got lost, popped out, beating a happy rhythm on the roof of the car. Noel, the driver, unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. He placed another in an endless series of cigarettes between his lips, lit it, and stretched his arms above his head.
“Bloody hell,” he said. He didn’t elaborate. The remark might have been about the drive, the mansion and grounds spread out around them, or life in general.
Angela and Julian had to be released from the back seat, where they had been packed in with suitcases and assorted bags. Angela crawled out from the space, clinging to her bag, her clothes sweaty and wrinkled. Julian emerged from the other side, looking just as warm and sweat-glazed, but he wore sweat well and the warmth only loosed his gait. Nature had gifted him pool-water blue eyes, a tiny gap between his two front teeth that rendered every smile a heartwarming aw-shucks vibe, and an overall symmetry in every feature that resonated deeply and pleasingly with all who looked upon him. No amount of time crushed into the back of a Volkswagen under a pile of luggage diminished his appearance.
“We made good time,” Julian said. “It didn’t take that long.”
Angela, who had dropped down onto the gravel of the drive and was flapping her shirt to air out her chest, groaned in reply.
“Picture!” Sooz said. “Picture, now! We’ll do it here.”
There were several protests from the group, but Sooz waved them away.