PENDEEN LIGHTHOUSE IN WEST CORNWALL
ONE OF THE TYPICAL NARROW LANES OF ST IVES
LOOE HARBOUR
THE LITTLE TRAIN ALONG THE COAST RUNS BETWEEN ST ERTH AND ST IVES
And yet the bay sparkled in sunshine, just the way it had always done, and the air was filled with the scream of gulls and the strong tang of sea-wrack. Athena was there, waiting for her. Standing on the platform, and instantly visible with her blonde hair blowing in the breeze.
COMING HOME
The smaller train waited on the single line branch track that ran round the coast to Porthkerris. It was impossible not to feel excited as familiar landmarks loomed up through the darkness, and were recognised, and then fled past. There were only two small halts before Porthkerris and then, at last, the steep cutting which in spring was quilted in primroses, and then the tunnel, and then the sea was below them, dark as ink, the tide out, the wet sands like satin.
ANOTHER VIEW
LELANT STATION IS DIRECTLY BELOW THE GARDENS OF ROSAMUNDE PILCHER’S FIRST HOME
For years she had kept Carn Cottage, refusing to sell the house, refusing to admit to herself that she would never go back. For years, through an agent, it had been let to a variety of tenants, and all this time she’d told herself that one day, sometime, she would return. She would take the children and show them the square white house on the hill with its secret high-hedged garden and the view of the bay and the lighthouse.
THE SHELL SEEKERS
LIZARD PENINSULA COTTAGE NEAR CHURCH COVE
THE WEATHER IN CORNWALL IS TEMPERATE, BUT THE FIRE WILL BE LIT ON A DAMP OR CHILLY EVENING
IN MANY COTTAGES THE KITCHEN LEADS DIRECTLY TO THE HERB AND FRUIT GARDEN
I have always thought that you don’t know a man until you have seen his home, his books, his pictures, the way he fixes his furniture.
THE END OF SUMMER
CAPE CORNWALL ON THE WEST COAST
LONDON’S MOST TRADITIONAL DEPARTMENT STORE: HARRODS IN KNIGHTSBRIDGE
LONDON
“Tell me about the house in London.”
“Oh, Henry, do you not weary of all these old tales?”
“I like hearing about the house.”
“All right. It was in Kensington, in a row. Very tall and thin, and what a work. The kitchens in the basement and the nurseries right up at the top of the house. It seemed to me that I never stopped climbing stairs.”
SEPTEMBER
Shopping in Harrods did not, in Rupert’s book, count as shopping. In other stores, he was inclined to feel a bit lost, demeaned or embarrassed, but buying things in Harrods was like spending money in a splendidly exclusive and reassuringly familiar gentleman’s club, and so, enjoyable.
COMING HOME
LUXURY ON A SMALL SCALE: TERRACED HOUSE IN KENSINGTON
DRAWING-ROOM IN A TOWN HOUSE IN BEDFORD GARDENS, KENSINGTON
Lady Keile reached the top of the stairs, crossed the small landing and went in through the drawing-room door and Virginia followed her, and, despite her anxiety of mind, was struck, as always, by the timeless beauty of the room, the perfect proportions of the long windows which faced out over the street, open today, the fine net curtains stirring. There were long mirrors, filling the room with reflected light and these gave back images of highly polished antique furniture, tall cabinets of blue and white Meissen plates, and the flowers with which Lady Keile had always surrounded herself.
THE EMPTY HOUSE
He went to the window and looked down into the garden – a small paved courtyard, with roses climbing the brick wall and a raised bed of wallflowers. There was a white wrought-iron table with four matching chairs, conjuring up visions of alfresco meals, summer supper parties, cool wine.
SEPTEMBER
A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN IN THE HEART OF CHELSEA
But his social life was a different matter altogether, and here he was thrown back on his own resources. Which were, fortunately, legion. He was tall, good-looking, clever at games, and even as a boy had learned to cultivate a sincere and open manner that swiftly disarmed. He knew how to be charming to older women, to be discreetly respectful of older men, and, with the patience and cunning of a well-trained spy, infiltrated with little difficulty the upper circles of London society. For years he had been on the Dowagers’ lists of suitable young men for Debutante dances, and during the Season he scarcely slept, returning from some ball in the early sunlight of a summer dawn, stripping off his tails and his starched shirt, taking a shower, and going to work. Weekends saw him at Henley, or Cowes, or Ascot. He was invited to ski in Davos, fish in Sutherland, and every now and then his handsome face appeared in the glossy pages of Harpers & Queen, ‘enjoying a joke with his hostess.’
THE SHELL SEEKERS
ONE OF THE MAIN SOCIAL EVENTS OF THE SEASON IS HENLEY ROYAL REGATTA IN EARLY SUMMER. EVER SINCE 1839 ENGLAND’S BEST ROWING TEAMS HAVE COMPETED EVERY YEAR IN THIS SMALL VILLAGE ON THE THAMES (TOP AND BOTTOM RIGHT). ROYAL ASCOT, AND THE GENTLEMAN IS FOLLOWING BOTH THE HORSES AND THE LADIES IN THEIR EXTRAVAGANT HATS (BOTTOM LEFT)
OASIS OF PEACE IN THE HEART OF THE CAPITAL: HYDE PARK ON A SUMMER’S EVENING
AFTERNOON TEA AT THE RITZ
He spun the door for her, and Selina was injected into the warm, expensive interior of the hotel. There was the smell of fresh cigars, of warm delicious food, of flowers and scent. Elegant little parties of people sat about in groups, and Selina felt wind-blown and untidy.
SLEEPING TIGER
London was glamour, excitement, old friends, shops, theatres, galleries, music. Dining at the Berkeley and the Ritz, motoring down to Ascot for Gold Cup Day; lunching in clandestine fashion at The White Tower with some other woman’s husband, or dancing the small hours away at the Mirabelle, the Bagatelle, or the Four Hundred.
COMING HOME
ELEGANT TOWN HOUSES WITH BEAUTIFUL GARDENS: SOUTH KENSINGTON
One of the delights of the big old house in Milton Gardens was living there in the summer. At the end of a warm and stuffy June day, and after the frustrations of a snail’s-pace, petrol-laden journey back down the Kensington High Street, it was a positive physical pleasure to come in through the front door and slam it with happy finality behind you. The house always felt cool. It smelt of flowers and wax-polish, and in June the chestnut trees were out and so thick with leaves and pink and white blossom that the surrounding terraces of houses were shrouded from sight, sounds of all traffic were muffled, and only the occasional aeroplane, passing overhead, broke the evening calm.
ANOTHER VIEW
COTTAGE NEAR DUMFRIES IN THE SOUTH OF SCOTLAND
SCOTLAND
Graham and Rosamunde Pilcher lived first at The Gows, near Dundee, which had been Graham’s family home. She remembers: “It was an enormous Victorian fourteen bedroom villa without central heating.” All four of her children were born here (left to right: Mark, Robin, Fiona and Philippa), and this is where Rosamunde Pilcher started to write again.
Rosamunde Pilcher found an old Hermes typewriter in the attic which had been bought but never used by her father-in-law. She wrote whenever she found the time - short stories at first which were published in various magazines - and later novels. She still uses a manual typewriter and has never mastered either lap-top or computer.
In 1955 Rosamunde and Graham built their house near Dundee, and still live there. There is a large garden, with a tennis court and a small swimming pool, and plenty of space for children, grandchildren, friends, relatives and dogs and cats.
Rosamunde and Graham Pilcher today: “Marriage is like a job. A long, difficult job and both partners have to work harder than ever before.”
KILCHURN CASTLE NEAR LOCH AWE (ARGYLLSHIRE)
THE TWEED NEAR ITS SOURCE IN TWEEDSMUIR
We had to cross the main road, and follow a track which wound up between grass and heather, crossing and re-crossing a tumbling burn which passed under the road by means of a culvert and emptied itself into Elvie Loch. It had travelled from deep
and high in the mountains, and the glen down which it ran, and the hills on either side, were all part of my grandmother’s estate.
THE END OF SUMMER
LOCH SHIEL, NEAR GLENFINNAN (HIGHLANDS)
The village was miniature. Oliver had never, in all the ten years of his life, seen such a tiny place. Six grey granite houses, a pub, an ancient church, a vicarage, and a little shop. Outside this was parked a rackety-looking truck, and somewhere a dog was barking, but apart from that, there did not seem to be anybody about.
THE BLUE BEDROOM
CROVIE IN THE GRAMPIAN REGION ON THE EAST COAST OF SCOTLAND
COUNTRY HOUSE ON THE BANKS OF THE TWEED IN THE BORDERS
Built of grey stone, long and low, turreted and gabled, it faced south, across a wide sloping lawn, to the loch. Too big, draughty and unheatable, shabby and constantly in need of repair, it was, nevertheless, his home, and the only place, in all his life, that he had ever really wanted to be.
WILD MOUNTAIN THYME
THE FURNITURE OF A SCOTTISH COUNTRY HOUSE HAS BEEN COLLECTED OVER GENERATIONS
CARVED AND INLAID WOOD IS TYPICAL OF OLD SCOTTISH FURNITURE
“Now, that’s something that Benchoile has got and to spare. Security oozes out of the walls. I suppose it’s something to do with the people who’ve lived in the house, and the way people live there now, as though nothing has changed in a hundred years.”
WILD MOUNTAIN THYME
DRAWING-ROOM OF A COUNTRY HOUSE NEAR DORNOCH
Isobel led her visitor into the drawing-room, not with any intentions of grandeur but simply because it was full of sunlight, and the library and the kitchen, at this time of day, were inclined to be gloomy. The windows stood open, the room felt cool, and a mass of sweet peas, which Isobel had picked that morning, filled the air with their fragrance.
SEPTEMBER
He got up and went to build up the fire, and to draw a chair close to the blaze, for Roddy. Roddy brought the drinks over, and handed John his, and then sank into the chair with what sounded like a sigh of relief. John remained standing, and the warmth of the flames crept up his back, and he realized that he was stiff and cold.
WILD MOUNTAIN THYME
TARTAN IS NOT JUST RESERVED FOR KILTS
THE ‘AULD ALLIANCE’, THE SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN SCOTLAND AND FRANCE GOING BACK TO THE 12TH CENTURY HAS ALSO INFLUENCED SCOTTISH CUISINE
She trod firmly down the flagged passage in the direction of the kitchen. Here the huge Aga, which never went out, rendered all comfortingly warm and cosy. Nancy sometimes thought, especially at this time of the year, that it was a pity they didn’t all live in the kitchen … and any other family but theirs would probably have succumbed to the temptation and spent the entire winter there.
THE SHELL SEEKERS
The library at Corriehill was a pleasant room, smaller than most of the other apartments, and smelled comfortably masculine – of pipe-smoke and wood-smoke, of old books and old dogs.
SEPTEMBER
THE WORKS OF THE FAMOUS SCOTTISH POETS AND WRITERS ARE PART OF EVERY PRIVATE LIBRARY: SIR WALTER SCOTT - ONE OF ROSAMUNDE PILCHER’S ANCESTORS -, ROBERT BURNS, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AS WELL AS ROSAMUNDE PILCHER’S FAVOURITE POET LOUIS MACNEICE
THE FIRST FLOOR OF A COUNTRY HOUSE NEAR HELMSDALE
A floor creaked. Somewhere a door slammed shut. Croy. An old house with a heartbeat all its own. Her home.
SEPTEMBER
GUN DOG CONSERVING ITS ENERGY OUTSIDE THE SHOOTING SEASON IN SCOTLAND
ROSAMUNDE PILCHER ON THE BEACH BELOW DUNROBIN CASTLE
MONORGAN FARM, ON THE RIVER TAY
COUNTRY LIFE IN SUTHERLAND: ROSAMUNDE PILCHER ATTENDING A SHEEP AUCTION
BUACHAILLE ETIVE BEAG IN GLENCOE (HIGHLANDS)
THE TWEED, SPEY, TAY AND DEE ARE EXCELLENT SALMON FISHERIES
Fishing was special, because when you fished you thought about nothing else.
FLOWERS IN THE RAIN
FISHING ON THE TWEED
She imagined the two young men in that world of endless moors and towering hills, bitter-cold northern seas, and deep, brown, fast-flowing rivers. They would fish together. Yes, it was a good decision that Danus had made. Fishing was said to be immensely therapeutic.
THE SHELL SEEKERS
Scotland is a country geared to the pleasures of menfolk, and there was always shooting to be got, grouse in the summer, and partridges and pheasants in the autumn and winter.
THE EMPTY HOUSE
For the first drive of the day, Rupert drew the top butt, which involved a climb not far short of mountaineering, trudging up a long, daunting slope through knee-high heather. It was another glorious August morning. The clear air was filled with the sound of bees and heather linties singing their hearts out, and the splash of small peat-stained burns tumbling down the hillside to join the river at the foot of the glen. From time to time they paused to cool their wrists and douse their faces in the ice-cold torrent, but, hot and sweaty, they finally made it, and the view from the summit made it all worthwhile.
COMING HOME
GROUSE SHOOTING IN THE HIGHLANDS
GROUSE AND PHEASANT SHOOTING REQUIRES TIME AND MONEY
MOST LARGE SHOOTING-LODGES KEEP A GAME-BOOK SPANNING SEVERAL GENERATIONS. THIS LISTS THE BAG FOR THE DAY, AND THE NAMES OF THE “GUNS”. THIS ILLUSTRATION SHOWS AN ENTRY FROM THE GLENMARKIE GAME-BOOK DATING BACK TO 1898, THE ENTRIES WERE MADE BY GRAHAM PILCHERS GRANDFATHER, ARTHUR COX
SEPTEMBER IS THE SEASON OF HUNT BALLS IN SCOTLAND: THE INVITATIONS ARE ELEGANT AND THE DRESS SHOULD SUIT THE OCCASION
“You know what September’s like.” Isobel did know. The Scottish season, with a mass exodus from the south to the north for the grouse shooting. Every large house filled with house parties; dances, cricket matches, highland games, and every sort of social activity, all finally culminating in an exhausting week of hunt balls.
SEPTEMBER
Glenfreuchie was as much a success as Taddington had been a failure. The weather was perfect, the skies blue, and the hills purple with heather, and on their first day Athena cheerfully walked for miles, sat with Rupert in his butt, and kept her mouth shut when he told her to. The rest of the house party were friendly and informal, and Athena, with nothing expected of her, blossomed like a flower. At dinner that night, she wore a deep-blue gown that turned her eyes to sapphires, and all the men fell mildly in love with her. Rupert was filled with pride.
COMING HOME
Dinner was over. They had sat, the six of them, around the candle-lit table, and eaten their way through Isobel’s lovingly prepared celebratory meal. If she had not exactly killed a fatted calf, she had gone to great pains to produce a suitable feast. Cold soup, roast pheasant, crème brûlée, and a splendid Stilton, all washed down by the best wine that Archie could bring up from his father’s depleted cellar.
SEPTEMBER
FESTIVE TABLE FOR THE DINNER PRECEDING THE BALL
RECIPES FROM ROSAMUNDE PILCHER’S KITCHEN
DRY MARTINI
4 parts London dry Gordons Gin to 1 part high-quality dry Vermouth.
Stir over ice.
Add a twist of lemon peel.
The chillier the tastier!
POTATO AND LEEK SOUP
12 oz. leeks
1 oz. butter or margarine
1 1/2 lb. potatoes
3 pints light stock
bouquet garni
salt and freshly milled black pepper
French bread
grated cheese
Makes about 3 3/4 pints:
Discard a third of the green tops from the leeks. Slice the remainder finely and wash thoroughly. Drain and place with 1 oz. butter in a large saucepan, cover and sauté 5 min.
Meanwhile peel and roughly dice the potato and add to the pan with the stock, bouquet garni and seasoning. Bring to the boil, reduce heat, cover and simmer for about 1 hr. until potatoes are soft. Discard bouquet garni.
Purée in an electric blender goblet or pass throug
h a sieve.
Return to the pan, thin down with a little extra stock if you wish; adjust seasoning and serve with slices of French bread, topped with grated cheese and grilled. Garnish soup with chopped parsley.
PHEASANT THEODORA
named after Theodora Fitzgibbon who, some years ago, suggested this lovely idea of pheasants cooked with celery and bacon.
Serves 4
A brace of old pheasants
3 tablespoons soya oil
30 g (1 oz) rindless streaky bacon, diced
1 head celery, thickly sliced diagonally