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After my ghostly experience in the Manor, I never played that piano again. In fact I wouldn’t stay in the big house alone.

We had one particular weekend, before her ladyship departed for Spain, when they invited some friends to stay; one in which neither Hub nor I had a moments respite. From early morning till about 9 in the evening we were on the go. To our relief the guests departed on the Sunday night but Sir stayed on till Monday lunchtime. The whole weekend had been one of cooking, cleaning, making beds, with just Jane coming in to help me. I was exhausted!
But we’d had one piece of news that brightened us. The week after her ladyship was due to leave for Spain, Sir had informed us that he would be flying out to join her for a couple of weeks holiday.
As we left the kitchen on the Sunday evening, having first cleaned and tidied up, Sir called me back.
“I’d like a nice fry up tomorrow Ellie about midday, before I leave for the City”
I simply nodded and once back in the cottage I kicked off my shoes and slumped in the chair, in a huge sulky mood. Hub sat there with a slightly worried look on his face, then said, “I’ve applied for a job”
“What?!”, that had me wide awake!
 

Once more we were loading up her ladyship’s car as she got ready for her long drive back to southern Spain. The Manor was emptying fast! Hub had delivered the youngest girl at the station the weekend previous and she was now back at boarding school. As her ladyship sped off I felt a relaxing calm sweep over me; another week and Sir would be off too.

Friday came round and Sir was climbing into the back of the Rolls, ready for Hub to whisk him off to the airport.
On Saturday morning Hub went into Southend to fetch the keys for the house, while I went to the annexe to pack Jamie’s clothes, whilst he was out with his mates.
When I returned to the cottage there was a young man standing on the doorstep. He gave me his card and said that he was an aerial photographer. I gave him a puzzled look as he went on to explain that he specialised in taking aerial photos of fine old buildings and asked if we wanted one taken of the Manor? I explained the owners and the family were away and that he would have to come back another time. He gave me his card which I put to one side.

Sunday morning and we were all ready to go, our old car packed with belongings and bags. We went into the Manor and checked that all was tidy, windows and back doors locked. There was one thing I was a sad about, I hadn’t said goodbye to Jane. We had become quite good friends. So I left her some chocolates and a card explaining what we were doing. I knew she wouldn’t be very surprised as most previous housekeepers/chauffeurs had left without any notice; she told me that one woman had actually thrown the dinner at the kitchen wall, when Sir had criticised her and had walked out never to come back! So I supposed we were being quite civilised.
As I placed our letter and the keys on the hall table, I noticed another folded piece of notepaper. Curious, I picked it up and there in bold handwriting was this:
‘Dear Sir, Mr O’Toole would like to know if you would like the Manor blown up’
The photographer’s card fell on the table; his name ‘O’Toole’.
I recognised my mischievous son’s handwriting. Of course he meant blown up in the photographic sense but it read more sinister….
As we drove away, I looked back at that big lonely house and wondered how on earth we had spent almost 5 months of our life there.

It was wonderful being in our own house again; a bit like being let out of prison after the confines of work and living at the Manor. Hub was looking forward to starting his new job on the Monday and Jamie very happy to be in town with all the facilities on our doorstep.
It was as though we were starting to live again, I had all the shops close by as well as a huge library and the beach just 15 minutes walk away. We felt at ease and content.
The weeks went by and Christmas came and went; a real family Christmas, with Jeff and Mel, Lesley and Ray eating around our big kitchen table. It was wonderful.

Jamie had returned to school and Hub was on day duties at work, so I was alone for most of the day. I recall one day particularly towards the end of January, I was watching morning TV and it was a programme about either properties abroad or holidays I can’t remember which but there were long golden beaches, sunshine, people enjoying themselves and I found myself crying. I was so lonely, missing my friends in Algarve and the outdoor life. I didn’t fit in here at all. I remember going to the kitchen for some water then stepping outside into the garden I leaned back against the door, feeling so miserable.
This wasn’t how it was meant to be.
Suddenly a movement caught my eye as something flew into the pear tree. As I stared I made out the pink and blue feathers of a Jay. Id only ever seen a picture of this bird in a book before and there it was perched in the pear tree.
Looking at the pretty bird, my eyes drifted upwards and the white clouds parted, a patch of blue sky appeared and the sun shone out on that crispy cold day and I sighed “Algarve”
It was then it started; crying myself softly to sleep at night. I was so homesick for Portugal .It went on for days. I was beginning to make myself ill. One night Id had enough and told Hub and Jamie how bad I was feeling. What is the old saying, ‘Out of the mouths of babes’?
Jamie said “You need a job Mum”
I said doing what? I had no qualifications.
He replied “Gardening”!
Within a week I had an advert in the local paper.

I was still having my weekly chats with Maria. She told me that spring was very much in evidence in Algarve, with all Almond trees coming into blossom. I didn’t need much imagination to remember how beautiful that was and I longed to see it, as winter was still with us in England.
As I told Hub about my chat with Maria that night he said,
“It may not be long before you see her again”, then winked at me.

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