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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Larch Tree Lane
- Sprache: Englisch
From the multi-million copy bestselling author ... Recently moved to the village of Essington St Mary, Rob Carswell discovers the plight of his new neighbour Ilsa who is battling illness as well as the bullying tactics of a local builder. It is proving to be a more dramatic corner of Wiltshire than the tranquil atmosphere would suggest. Nearby, Amy Hatherall is feeling adrift following the death of her mother, but a final handwritten letter leads her in an unexpected direction to a great-aunt she never knew she had. As the line of old hawthorn trees begin to blossom, they keep watch as romance and new beginnings bloom for the residents of the close.
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Seitenzahl: 419
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
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3
Hawthorn Close
ANNA JACOBS
Contents
Author’s Note
The hawthorn tree is associated with Beltane, the ancient festival celebrating spring, and it is one of the most sacred trees in Celtic mythology. It symbolises love and protection.
In March, the leaf buds start to open and pale green leaves appear, joined by masses of delicate white flower buds in May, whose blossoms have five white petals surrounding stamens with bright pink heads. They produce red berries in July.
Songbirds love hawthorns and they’ll visit often in the autumn and winter to enjoy the bright coloured berries.
Hawthorn trees are most frequently used as hedges in the UK, and to have a whole street of very old trees would be extremely rare and precious.
Chapter One
Rob Carswell woke suddenly during the night. For a moment he lay there wondering what had disturbed him. Then he realised it was someone sobbing. It sounded like a woman’s voice and was coming from the house next door, which looked to be in a very bad state of repair.
He’d never seen the person who lived there, but then he’d not spent a lot of time in Essington St Mary since he inherited this pair of semi-detached houses in Hawthorn Close from his great-aunt Flo three months ago in early January. That legacy had been a wonderful surprise, but it had hit him in the middle of a super-busy time at work in London, with a lucrative contract pending that would leave him able to semi-retire if he could pull it off.
To his delight it had all come together nicely and he had now stopped working full-time for others, but would take on occasional contract work as well as developing his own programs and apps. He’d moved here permanently a couple of days ago and put his London flat on the market. He was looking forward to starting work on the renovations this pair of older houses needed.
The woman next door was sobbing more quietly now but he could still hear her. She’d probably be horrified if she knew how the sound carried, but as long as it wasn’t too cold, he preferred to keep his bedroom window open, and he lived next door to her in Number 4.
Heaven alone knew how noisy it’d be here when the damned builder who’d recently bought the first two houses on this one-sided street started knocking them down. Belkin was apparently youngish and a hustler. He’d no doubt be erecting several others in their place.
But at least the building noise would be a finite nuisance because he only had two plots of land to build on. Rob had been horrified, however, to overhear the builder arranging to have the two old hawthorn trees on the verges outside his houses knocked down.
How could he do that? They were heritage-listed. The trees lined the whole street and were over two hundred years old. They were glorious when they were all in bloom.
He’d played under them as a child when visiting his great-aunt, gathering their fallen blossoms in his toy bucket and making patterns with them on the paved area at the back of the house. Hawthorn Close wouldn’t look right with the first two magnificent trees missing from the entrance.
Belkin had tried to buy this pair of semis from Rob the day after he’d found out that he’d inherited them, and you had to wonder how the man had got hold of the information so quickly. But Rob didn’t intend to sell them, most definitely not.
Unfortunately, the fellow didn’t seem to understand the word ‘no’ and had tried twice more since then, increasing his offer slightly each time and sending his agent to pester Rob about them.
No way was he selling! And if he blocked Belkin’s progress up the street, maybe it would remain a quiet, happy place for the most part, not a noisy one crowded with tiny homes whose owners’ cars were parked along the nearby part of the road.
Last month, Rob’s long-term tenant in the other semi had given notice unexpectedly and moved out from next door almost immediately, saying he didn’t want to live so close to a building site. But as no demolition work had started there yet, except for removing all the plants from the gardens, and there were two houses between his rental and the building sites, he had to wonder whether someone from Belkin’s had bribed the tenant to leave.
Since Rob had been working long hours just then, sometimes well into the night, he’d simply left both houses empty. After a couple of windows had been smashed, he’d hired a local security firm to keep an eye on them.
He had sentimental reasons for living here as well as the financial ones. As a boy, he’d always loved coming to Essington St Mary to visit Auntie Flo. Such a charming little town. Those holidays were some of his happiest childhood memories and he’d put up a magazine picture of a blossoming hawthorn tree in his bedroom when he had to go home again. He still had it somewhere.
He’d never give away his inheritance to a ‘property typhoon’, as Flo had called builders like that one.
He turned over in bed, trying to ignore the sobbing next door but couldn’t, just could not. It wasn’t loud but it sounded despairing. No one should cry alone like that. And she must be alone. In his four days of living here permanently, he’d been using the smaller front bedroom as an office and had seen no one enter or leave the old house next door, nor had the postman delivered any mail there.
In the end Rob gave up on sleep and went down to get a drink of water, not bothering to turn on the lights. He stood by the kitchen window, staring out at the stars sparkling in an almost cloudless sky. He noticed the vague outline of a figure on the back patio next door but she didn’t have an outdoor light on, so he couldn’t make out any details.
She’d stopped crying now, thank goodness, and he’d expected her to go back into the house, but she hadn’t. Wasn’t she afraid of being attacked, sitting out there alone? Most women would be, even in a peaceful little town like Essington. But perhaps she wasn’t thinking clearly.
She got up and walked slowly across to sit on a two-person swing. As it moved to and fro, it let out a regular squeaking noise. It wasn’t loud but it set his teeth on edge. That was more than enough to stop him getting back to sleep.
He didn’t like to confront her about it just then. A strange man coming into her garden in the middle of the night would frighten any woman.
The squeaking went on and on, and when he went back to bed he could still hear it, even in the front of the house. He’d go across in the morning and offer to oil the damned thing. Like the house and garden, it was probably in sore need of maintenance.
Perhaps the owner was, too.
Even after the noise eventually stopped, it was a long time until he fell asleep.
The next morning, Rob woke late feeling heavy-headed. After breakfast, he sat scowling at his computer, too tired to feel inspired. The creaking of the swing could easily be stopped, but how to approach her tactfully to suggest he oil it for her?
He’d never even met her, hadn’t particularly wanted to because since his divorce last year he preferred to keep himself to himself where women were concerned. He felt rather embarrassed at the thought of knocking on a stranger’s door and betraying the fact that he’d been awake and heard the swing creaking.
If he did that, she was bound to realise that he’d have heard her weeping too. No, he’d leave it. She hadn’t sat outside on that damned swing before and probably wouldn’t again.
Chapter Two
Corin Drayton turned off the main road and drove through the village of Essington St Mary, glad to be nearly home after a long, hard day. As he started up the final hill, he suddenly caught sight of a new sign beside the road and slowed down, then drew up nearby to stare across at it, horrified.
Des Belkin, Builder
Comingsoon
What had brought that scoundrel to this peaceful valley? He’d already crammed a lot of shoddy little houses on tiny building plots near Swindon. As an architect, Corin despised builders who short-changed the poor buyers who were probably making the most important purchase of their lives.
He had crossed swords with Belkin verbally a couple of times over recent years at functions and meetings. Once, the fellow had even sued Corin for slander when he said publicly that one Belkin house design had a couple of potentially unsafe features. Corin had successfully defended that lawsuit and Belkin had been forced to pay his costs and make the necessary changes.
You couldn’t do anything about the houses being built so close together since the council had approved that, just wince when you saw it.
Hawthorn Close was one of his favourite streets in the valley so he stopped the engine and got out to see exactly what was going on.
He stopped to smile at the lovely old trees, which were just coming into leaf. The left side of the street was occupied by a retirement complex with a small warden’s house attached to the far end of the row of buildings. A high wrought-iron fence set on half a dozen rows of bricks separated their grounds from the street and there was a one-way drive behind it with an entrance at the near end and an exit at the far one.
The houses on the other side of the close consisted of a mixture of semis and detached houses from various eras, which somehow managed to form a harmonious whole. Sadly, Belkin’s signs were in front of the two large old detached houses at the entrance to the short cul-de-sac and someone had already cleared their gardens of plants and trees.
Corin couldn’t hold back a groan. What was going to happen to the hawthorn trees? When the beautiful old trees flowered in May, they formed a canopy of blossoms all along the street that brought in sightseers from all over the county. He’d only moved to the valley recently but had seen photos of it and had been looking forward to seeing the real thing this year.
He couldn’t see a man like Belkin wasting parking spaces on the verge because of mere trees, heritage-listed or not.
The third house along on the lower side didn’t have a sign in the garden but it looked very run-down so would probably be Belkin’s next target to purchase. All three of those detached houses must have been beautiful in their day, early Edwardian probably. They could have been renovated and modernised tastefully to stand there proudly for several more decades.
Feeling depressed at what he’d seen, Corin went back to his car and continued up Larch Tree Lane, looking forward to getting home to his wife. Lucia was in the early days of pregnancy and they were both thrilled about that.
Near the top of the hill, he clicked his remote and turned in to an entrance on the right, waiting impatiently for the gates to the small estate to swing open.
Locals still called it the Marrakin. It had been appropriated during World War Two by the War Office, who had presumably used its collection of houses for housing staff working on special defence projects. They’d kept it for decades longer than usual, no one knew why, and had only released it for sale to the public last year.
Buying it had taken a big chunk of his savings but it had been an architect’s dream come true. Renovations and extensions would be needed for the existing buildings and there was empty land at the rear where brand-new houses could be built. He was looking forward to designing that part of the development from scratch.
His purchase was already proving successful financially, and he had just signed a contract to renovate and extend another of the older houses for a couple about to retire.
This one was near the former underground site that the War Office had dug out on the lower part of the land. There was no sign left of what they’d used it for and he still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it.
Those tunnels and underground rooms certainly wouldn’t make good dwellings, whatever you did to them, and their commercial use would be strictly limited, too. Well, he’d think of something eventually. It wasn’t urgent. All you could see of them at the moment was a grassy mound.
As he stopped in their drive, he saw Lucia peer out of the front window and wave to him. His heart lifted as it always did at the sight of her.
He didn’t remember to tell her about the new development until they were eating their evening meal.
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Is Belkin that bad? I’ve seen his company’s signs on the outskirts of Swindon. He looks to be doing well.’
‘Only if you want to live in the slums of the future. He sells a lot of houses but skimps on both size of rooms and quality of the building products he uses. I hate the thought of him erecting his tacky little houses anywhere in Essington St Mary. We have a wonderful variety of periods of architecture here in the valley and some lovely old buildings. He’ll simply knock them down.’
‘It’s really upset you, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes. Sorry to go on about it. How he got his plans for the last lot in Swindon through the local council there, I do not know.’
‘He must have useful friends on it.’
‘I suppose so.’ He picked up her plate and his own. ‘Go and sit down, darling. I’ll put these in the dishwasher and pour you a drink, and we won’t talk about that man any more.’
‘I’ll have a Gaudy Lady tonight, please. Thank goodness for your brother’s brilliant non-alcoholic drinks. I bet he makes the family firm a fortune with them.’
He handed her a glass and clinked his own against it. ‘Here’s to Pete and a more successful future for Drayton’s drinks.’ As they chatted happily, she snuggled against him on the sofa.
She was starting to look drowsy now. He couldn’t resist dropping a stray kiss on her nearest cheek. Good thing they hadn’t been late-nighters. Since she’d become pregnant, she seemed to need far more sleep and tonight he was exhausted too after driving back from London.
When her eyelids fluttered then closed, he stared fondly down at her. He might have married later than average but she had been well worth waiting for. She was, quite simply, his soulmate.
Chapter Three
The next day, after a good night’s sleep, Rob woke in a better mood. He went downstairs to get a second cup of coffee and what he saw through the kitchen window took the smile from his face. Hang being tactful with the woman next door! A huge dog of nameless parentage was busily digging up the flower bed to one side of his patio, grunting happily as it tore into the soft new earth and scattered the delicate seedlings he’d planted yesterday.
He’d seen the trays of baby plants at the local supermarket and bought one as a token gesture to brighten up the place till he could get round to sorting out the garden properly. He’d already regretted the purchase by the time he got them home and planted because he had other jobs that were far more pressing.
He looked for his intruder’s point of entry and quickly found the spot where it had pushed through a gap where the low fence between the houses had been broken. The dog looked vaguely familiar. It must live next door.
When it sent a particularly pretty purple petunia that had been the only seedling in bloom flying across the paved area in a shower of earth, he roared, ‘That’s it!’ and rushed outside to do battle.
Only, he didn’t have to worry about restraining the dog because it came when he called it, wagging its tail and giving him a broad doggy grin, then nudging him with its head to get him to stroke it.
He couldn’t resist giving it a token rub, then grabbed its collar and walked it round to the front door of the next house. When he rapped on the door, he was surprised to see scratch marks on the frame, and new unpainted putty round the panel of frosted glass in the upper half, as if the window had been broken recently. Windows like that didn’t usually break easily, so how had that happened?
The whole place was in a dreadful state, far worse when you saw it from close up. He was about to knock again when he heard footsteps come along the hall and a shadowy figure appeared behind the glass panel.
A breathy woman’s voice asked, ‘Who’s there?’ but the door stayed shut. He suddenly noticed that it had a shiny new peephole in it. A pang of guilt shot through him. Her voice had quavered. He didn’t want to upset some poor old lady, so he would offer to help her sort something out to keep the dog in her garden.
‘I have your dog here,’ he began gently, then the rest of the speech he’d prepared died in his throat as the door opened.
She wasn’t an old lady. Most definitely not. She was about his own age or perhaps a little younger, say thirty or so. And she was gorgeous in a pale, ethereal way. Her long, honey-brown hair had enough curl in it to make you want to wind it round your fingers. She had huge blue eyes and generous lips.
He blinked and the words he’d been going to say went right out of his head. All he could manage was, ‘I’m Rob Carswell, your next-door neighbour. Is this your dog?’
‘I’m Ilsa Norcott. I’m just looking after the dog for a few days.’ As she stood on the doorstep, staring up at her tall visitor, Ilsa was torn between good manners and wanting to snatch Tiny’s collar from him and slam the door in his face. She’d had enough of men towering over her.
She relaxed a little, however, as she realised he wasn’t at all like the last man who’d hammered on her door. This one might be angry about something, but he didn’t make her feel threatened personally or seem likely to break the window as that other one had.
In fact, he looked – well, rather kind, and ‘wholesome’ was a word that sprang into her mind to describe him, with his clear blue eyes, light brown hair and fresh complexion. She found that very attractive.
He was holding the dog tightly by the collar and although his voice had sounded a bit sharp, Tiny was wagging her tail. She only wagged like that when she was with people she liked but Ilsa’s heart sank as she noticed the dog’s muddy nose. Oh, no! Not again! Tiny had escaped custody and dug up part of her own front garden only yesterday.
The poor dog was bursting with energy, missing the hired dog walkers who’d been taking her for long walks three times a week previously because her late owner hadn’t been well enough to exercise her. Perhaps that’s why the poor creature had taken up archaeology as a hobby, hunting for buried treasure under every soft piece of earth she could find.
Ilsa should have asked the lawyers to continue paying for the dog-walking services, but she’d been too upset to think clearly. Well, everyone in the nearby houses and retirement flats had been upset when Judith died suddenly last week. Since she’d known her health was chancy, she’d told all the neighbours who her lawyers were ‘just in case’.
When the visiting nurse found Judith lying peacefully in her chair, with Tiny at her feet, someone had phoned them with the sad news and a clerk had come at once to take charge.
Ilsa had promised Judith to look after Tiny if necessary, so when someone emailed her, she’d rushed back from Great Yarmouth. A friend had lent her a flat there for a couple of weeks to try the effect of bracing sea air on a lingering reaction to a virus. But keeping her promise to a dead woman was much more important than fresh air or even her first holiday in two years. And anyway, as the doctor kept saying, only time would sort out her body and see her fully recovered.
The lawyer’s clerk had been intending to put Tiny in some kennels while they waited for Judith’s heir to fly back to England from Spain, but Ilsa had taken her instead.
It had seemed a simple thing to volunteer to look after the poor creature. She was doing it partly because she liked the dog, and because Tiny looked a lot fiercer than she was and she was hoping that a big dog would provide some protection against Belkin’s foreman, a bully who was trying various nasty incentives to persuade her to sell her home.
Only yesterday one of Belkin’s men had parked his car next to her house and left it with its radio on loudly for three hours. She’d got dressed quickly and gone looking for someone to complain to, only she hadn’t been able to find anyone.
To make her current situation worse, she was missing Judith greatly. The old lady had been more like a grandmother than a mere neighbour and had helped Ilsa through a few bad weeks.
She sighed. Her new neighbour was scowling down at the dog as if Tiny had committed a major crime. The tapping foot suggested he was waiting for an answer so Ilsa dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, not wanting to cry in front of him.
‘Well, is this your dog or isn’t it?’ he asked loudly, trying to glare down at Tiny. But when she wagged her tail vigorously and grinned up at him, the glare faded and he shook his head ruefully and spoke in a softer voice. ‘Is it?’
‘No. She’s not mine. She’s called Tiny, by the way.’
‘I don’t give a damn what she’s called. Whose dog is she if she’s not yours?’
Ilsa could feel tears overflowing, couldn’t hold them back. ‘She belonged to my neighbour and friend Judith, from Number 6. She died a few days ago so I’m just l-looking after Tiny till the heir gets here and takes over. Pam lives in Spain but she’s been away in Morocco on some sort of holiday tour.’
‘What? That nice old lady is dead? I’m sorry to hear that. I met her a couple of times, though I don’t remember seeing the dog. But they were only flying visits and I spent most of the time sitting with my great-aunt.’
‘Judith kept Tiny inside except when the walkers took her out.’
‘Well, do you think you could keep the dog in your garden and stop her visiting mine?’
‘I’ll try.’
As he glanced at her, Rob saw more tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked unwell, as if a breath of wind would blow her away, yet she was doing a last favour to her late neighbour. And here he was shouting at her – he, who hated bullies.
She bent down as if to cuddle the animal, only she had suddenly lost every last vestige of colour in her cheeks and was looking dizzy. Was she about to keel over?
‘Are you all right?’
She didn’t reply and he saw her grab hold of the door frame and cling to it. ‘I’m sorry. I’m – recovering from a bad virus and—’
He was barely in time to catch her as she started to crumple. He swept her up into his arms, surprised at how light she was and how protective he felt. He stood for a moment staring down at her unconscious face, wondering what the best thing to do would be, then moved into her house, muttering to himself, ‘Lay her down somewhere, you fool!’
Fortunately, the dog followed him inside, whining anxiously now as if she sensed something was wrong, so he quickly nudged the door shut with his foot to keep Tiny inside.
It had been a couple of years since he’d split up with Siobhan, and this was the first time he’d been attracted to any woman in all that time. Well, Ilsa was lovely, no doubt about that, but her kind nature was just as attractive.
Not now, for heaven’s sake! he told his body. Hell, she isn’t even conscious and you’re lusting after her like a raw youth.
He knew a little about first aid so laid her down on a shabby sofa in the room nearest the door with her head slightly raised. The first-aid rulebook said that if someone was unconscious for more than a minute or so you might need to call a doctor.
To his relief she was already starting to regain consciousness, stirring and moving her head from side to side. Thank goodness there would be no need to call for help. Well, not unless something serious seemed to be wrong.
She blinked at him, closed her eyes then opened them again, looking puzzled.
‘You just fainted. How are you feeling?’
‘Dizzy. Disoriented.’
‘Do you often faint?’
‘No. I – haven’t eaten anything today. I’ll be all right.’
‘I’ll get you a cup of tea and maybe a biscuit.’
She closed her eyes. ‘Cup of tea would be lovely.’
He was still worried about her so went to find the kitchen and put the kettle on. After doing that, he opened the fridge to find her something to eat and stood staring at it in shock because it was almost empty. He looked round the kitchen for something else, but a container labelled BISCUITS contained only a few crumbs.
He went back to her and saw with relief that she had a slight trace of colour in her cheeks again. ‘I’ve put the kettle on but you don’t seem to have much food.’
‘I was away for over a week and when I came back the virus flared up again, so I went straight to bed. I felt too ill to get to the shops, too dizzy to drive safely. I gave Tiny my last slice of bread this morning.’
‘Couldn’t you have got food delivered?’
‘There’s something wrong with my phone and internet connections. They’re not working at all. I think the developer must have done something to them. He’s trying to make things difficult for me to persuade me to sell to him.’
‘He wants my houses too but he’s not getting them. He’s not even offering a decent price.’
‘He’s – very persistent. Or rather, the man he sends to pester me is.’
‘Tell me about it. If someone ever looked shifty, it’s him. Look, I’ll nip home and fetch you something to eat. Won’t be a minute.’
‘No need to—’
But he was gone. Ilsa turned her head to watch through the window as he strode down the front path, pushing one of the bushes aside. Like every other shrub in her garden, it needed pruning. She’d spent the last of her money on buying this house but had fallen ill almost immediately and hadn’t had the energy or money to do any outside work, or to find herself a new job.
The doctor had said it was a retrovirus, then when it came back again recently another doctor at the practice insisted it was only a minor relapse and assured her that she would gradually get better. This didn’t help her earn a living. She usually had no difficulty finding jobs because she was good with IT.
Like the first doctor, the second one had advised rest and eating a healthy diet to help her improve further. Only she’d been ill for long enough now to be running out of money and credit, because a payment for a big project that had been due hadn’t arrived.
Tiny came up and licked the hand that was trailing over the edge of the sofa, so Ilsa patted the dog’s head gently. ‘I’m sorry, Tiny, but I’m going to have to keep you inside the house from now on. But I will find a way to get some food delivered.’ Maybe Judith’s lawyers would pay for the dog’s food, at least? Only, she couldn’t get a phone signal to ask them.
Rob came back as she spoke and stopped in the doorway of the living room. ‘I can easily get you some stuff from the shops.’
‘Would you really? I’d be very grateful. I do have a debit card you can use to pay for it.’ But she was trying not to use that because it was all she had left. If she hadn’t been able to buy this house with money left to her by her aunt, she’d have been homeless by now.
He frowned. ‘Don’t you have any friends or family to turn to for help?’
‘My only close relatives live in Australia now. And I can’t keep pestering my friends.’ She scowled at him and added, ‘I went through a bad divorce last year. It’s needed a restraining order against him and the lawyers’ fees weren’t cheap, so I’m rather short of money. Luckily for me, he’s found another woman now and stopped annoying me.’
‘That must have been difficult. Look, I’ll just get you a cuppa. Piece of toast with it be OK?’
‘Yes. And – could you do one for Tiny? Since she’s not my dog, I don’t have any tins of dog food.’
‘I’ve got a tin of corned beef. She can have that till I go to the shops. I’ll go back for it once I’ve sorted something out for you to eat.’
She opened her mouth, looking as if she was about to protest but he forestalled her. ‘At the moment, you’re in a far worse state than she is. She doesn’t look like she’s about to faint on me so her food can definitely wait.’
He was right. Ilsa closed her eyes and when he brought her something to eat, she forced it down.
He then fetched the corned beef for the dog, after which he looked at his watch. ‘Sorry, but I have an appointment in Essington shortly. It’ll only take me about half an hour and after that I’ll get you some food. Will you be all right for a while?’
‘Yes, of course. Thank you so much for your help.’
‘I’ve left some more slices of bread in the kitchen and a jar of jam. Tiny ate the tin of corned beef in a couple of gulps, so she’ll be all right, and I filled her water bowl. I won’t forget to buy some dog food.’
‘Just a couple of tins. Judith’s niece will be sending couriers to fetch the dog in a day or two. I don’t want to be left with dog food sitting in my pantry.’
‘Good thinking.’ Another glance at his watch and he rushed away. She heard his car start up a few minutes afterwards.
She lay down again, feeling slightly better for her snack and sensing that she was about to take another nap. She still felt tired nearly all the time.
Chapter Four
Ilsa was woken abruptly by the sound of a large vehicle throbbing loudly just outside the front of her house. When she looked out, she saw that her drive was now blocked by a lorry, a vehicle she had seen a few times before. But it wasn’t the foreman driving it this time.
Was this man going to leave it there as he’d threatened yesterday? Surely even he wouldn’t dare do that?
The engine was switched off, and a beefy man she didn’t recognise jumped down from the driving seat and started walking away from the house.
She got up and anger took her to the front door, which she flung open. ‘Hey! You! You’re blocking my drive. This is private land. Move your lorry!’
The man turned and came right up to her, grinning as he thrust his face so close to hers that she was pressed back against the door post by the rest of his body. She tried to move away from him, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the smell of stale sweat and beer that emanated from him.
He put one arm out to stop her edging away and spoke with a slight foreign accent. ‘No, lady. I won’t move it. My boss think this parking place is perfect for our lorries. Is convenient to the new development, right next door. We start work here soon. I come and see you every day.’ He blew her a kiss.
It was like a poor TV show, she thought: stereotyped violence, sexual harassment and a huge nasty villain. Only it wasn’t a show, it was really happening. She tried once again to shove him away but couldn’t get him to move at all. She felt utterly helpless because even if she screamed for help, there was no one likely to be around at this time of day. Even her kind next-door neighbour was away in the village.
Her tormenter hooked one finger under her chin. ‘Unless you change your mind about selling house.’ He waved his hand scornfully. ‘Is old ruin? Not good to live here.’
She batted his hand away and gave him another shove, but it was like pushing against a cliff face.
She yelled, ‘Get off me!’ right in his ear but he didn’t move an inch. And everything was starting to waver around her again. She hadn’t the strength to do more than hold herself upright. ‘Go away. Tell your boss I haven’t changed my mind and I won’t do. I like living in Essington – it’s where I grew up and I’m staying right here!’
She was unaware that her words were carrying clearly across the street as she added, ‘Des Belkin can just find another plot of land to develop.’
‘My boss want this one. Number 3 is right next to the other two houses he’s bought, makes it perfect for further development. He’ll get it, too, always does. You’ll be sorry about saying no, lady, but you’ll sell to him in the end. They always do.’
He ran one hand down her body in a parody of an intimate caress and she stiffened in shocked outrage. In desperation, she tried to scratch his face but he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake.
She could feel tears of helpless outrage rolling down her cheeks as dizziness swept through her again.
Despair filled her but also determination. She would not sell! She had been born stubborn and illness hadn’t changed that. Besides, she had nowhere else to go. Closing her eyes for a moment against a surge of dizziness, she wondered if she was going to faint.
The heavy weight leaning against her jerked abruptly away and another man’s deep voice said, ‘Have you gone deaf? This lady has asked you several times to leave.’
Ilsa opened her eyes and blinked in astonishment at the sight of a complete stranger standing there. He was taller than her tormenter and looked strong and fit, also angry.
‘Mind your own business.’ But for all his bluster, when the stranger took a step towards him, the man moved backwards.
‘Stop harassing her or I’ll call the police.’
‘I’m not harassing her. And it’s only your word against mine.’
‘And her word. I hear the police are cracking down on violence against women. And you can take that lorry away from here, for starters.’
‘It’s tired. Needs nice long rest.’ Laughing loudly at his own feeble joke, the man turned and strode away.
The stranger watched till he’d gone round the corner and vanished down Larch Tree Lane, then he turned to Ilsa. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am now.’
‘I’m Corin Drayton. I live at the top of Larch Tree Lane.’
‘Ilsa Norcott. I can’t thank you enough for coming to my rescue.’
‘Any decent person would have done that. You don’t look at all well. Did he hurt you?’
‘I’ve had a bad virus. I thought I was going to faint again.’
‘Again?’
‘Yes. I fainted earlier today.’ She sagged against the door frame. ‘Thank goodness for whatever brought you to Hawthorn Lane.’
‘I wanted to see whether Belkin had started knocking these houses down yet. Then I saw that bully annoying you. I’ve heard he brings in men who cause trouble sometimes.’
She shuddered at the memory, staring in despair at the lorry. ‘How am I going to get my car in and out? I need to go to the shops later today. I’m nearly out of food. And my internet and phone connections have stopped working properly so I can’t order online. I think Belkin must have done something to them. I have no way of even complaining about the phone connection at the moment.’
‘I think we’d better call the police about this because Belkin will no doubt find a reason to sue anyone moving his vehicle without permission. He can be tricky to deal with.’ He gave her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Fortunately, that fellow didn’t see me approach and I was able to record him harassing you and refusing to move the lorry on my mobile phone.’
‘Oh, well done!’
She watched him dial the police helpline and explain what was going on, then email them the film he’d taken. She winced when he said it was more urgent at the moment because the houseowner had been ill and hadn’t fully recovered yet so needed her car to get around in.
That was bad enough but she felt even more embarrassed when he added that there might be a sudden need for ambulance access because she’d fainted earlier today and wasn’t looking at all well after being hassled just now.
He listened intently and nodded, then put his phone away. ‘They’ll send someone round, hopefully within the next half hour. I’d better wait for them and keep an eye on your safety if you don’t mind, and – are you sure you’re all right? You’re utterly white.’
‘I’m just – a bit dizzy still.’
There was the sound of a car drawing up next door and she saw that Rob had just come home. As he looked towards her house, he frowned at the sight of the lorry.
When he came to join them, he glanced at the man who’d helped her but spoke to her first. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am now.’
He turned to her companion. ‘Aren’t you Corin Drayton?’
‘Yes. You look familiar, I must say.’
‘Rob Carswell. We met at a seminar last year.’
Corin snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it. You’re a specialist in putting together classy technical presentations.’
‘Yes. Well, I was. I’m not doing so much of that now.’ He turned back to her. ‘What exactly happened, Ilsa? You’re looking as if you’re going to faint again. And how dare Belkin park his lorry on your drive?’
‘One of his employees left it there and harassed me but when Corin rescued me from his unwanted attentions, he still wouldn’t move it. He said my problems would only get worse till I agreed to sell to them. But I won’t. Can’t. I don’t have anywhere else to live and anyway, I like it here in the valley.’ Her voice faded and she rubbed her forehead as if it was hurting.
‘And all of a sudden her internet and phone access aren’t working,’ Corin said.
‘They’re still not working?’ Rob asked.
‘No.’
Both men shared angry glances.
Rob turned back to her. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘He touched me.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘I was afraid he might do worse, but Corin stopped him, thank goodness.’
‘What’s wrong with Belkin? Is he utterly crazy, thinking he can force people to sell to him?’
‘Don’t get me started on that man’s faults,’ Corin said. ‘He’s made his money quickly, mostly through luck and being in the right place at the right time. He isn’t my favourite person, professionally or personally. How he manages to get away with things like this, I don’t understand. Look, we should go inside and let Ilsa sit down while we wait for the police.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘I just happened to catch the incident on my mobile phone so the police have evidence and are taking it seriously.’
‘Oh, brilliant.’ Then Rob saw she was dizzy again and put one arm round her shoulders, guiding her inside and hovering while she sat down. Tiny, who’d been shut in the house, came across, wagging her tail.
‘I’ll just bring in some shopping I bought for you, Ilsa, then you might like to eat something simple like a yoghurt. I got enough food to last you and your hairy friend for a day or two longer.’
‘Let me pay you.’ She fumbled for her handbag.
‘I don’t need paying. There are only a few things. We’re neighbours. You can do me a favour sometime.’
She leant her head against the back of the sofa. ‘Thanks. Please sit down, Corin. Rob, could you let Tiny out for a quick visit to the garden, please? She really needs to go, but I’m afraid I haven’t had time or the materials to repair that gap in our mutual fence.’
‘I’ve got some tough cardboard boxes left from my recent move. I’ll use a couple of those to block the way through temporarily.’
A short time later, the dog bounded back in, sniffed Corin carefully, gave him a few wags of approval, then plonked herself down next to Ilsa again.
‘Your dog’s very friendly,’ Corin said.
‘She’s not mine. My neighbour at Number 6 died a few days ago and I’m only looking after Tiny till her niece can sort things out.’
Corin looked thoughtful. ‘Do you think the niece will sell the house or move in?’
‘Probably sell it. Pam’s been living in Spain for years and her aunt always said she loves it there. Trouble is, she’s off on holiday in Morocco at the moment, so it’s taking her a few days to get back.’
‘Bad timing for you,’ Rob said. ‘You’ve enough on your plate without looking after this monster.’ He reached down to ruffle Tiny’s fur as he said that and she wagged double time at him.
‘Yes. But she’s good company.’
‘Going back to your neighbour’s house, unfortunately I should think Belkin will be first in line to make her heir an offer, may even have got to her already,’ Corin said.
Rob nodded. ‘He certainly got to me quickly when I inherited next door and he’ll be even more anxious to get hold of our houses now, because Ilsa and I are in the next three houses, blocking his chances of doing a bigger development. He’ll probably redouble his efforts to get rid of us.’ Rob let out a little growl of annoyance at the prospect.
‘Yes. Unless …’ Corin’s voice trailed away and he stared into the distance for a moment then said, ‘Unless someone else comes up with a better offer for Number 6.’
‘Are you volunteering?’ Rob asked. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have that sort of spare money. I recently inherited 4 and 5 and they both need doing up, especially the one that’s been used as a rental, if I’m to get another tenant.’
Corin shrugged. ‘I’m not sure yet whether I want to buy it but I’ll give it serious thought. I’ll need to discuss it with my wife first and we’ll have to crunch a few numbers to see whether we want to use some of our money that way. Do you have the contact details for your late neighbour’s lawyer, Ms Norcott?’
Ilsa nodded. ‘There’s a business card on the mantelpiece. You can get the details from that. And do call me Ilsa.’
He did that, then pulled a couple of his own business cards out of his pocket and gave one to each of them. ‘In the meantime, this is how to contact me if you need any more help dealing with Belkin.’ Corin frowned. ‘Hmm. I really will have to think seriously about this. A Belkin housing development would spoil the whole tone of the valley and Hawthorn Close is such an iconic street, one of the earliest to be built. Not to mention the lovely avenue of trees. Oh, hell … Look, I’m going to contact that lawyer and tell him that I’m interested in buying the house, which I probably am. And it’ll be a cash offer, so will probably be far more tempting than Belkin’s.’
Rob and Ilsa said ‘Good!’ at the same time as they studied the business cards.
There was the sound of a car drawing up outside and footsteps approaching the house.
Corin stood up. ‘I’ll get it in case it’s the police. I’m the one who called them in and I have the evidence about that guy on my phone.’
His voice floated back to them from the front door, explaining about the harassment and the lorry.
‘You sure you’re all right?’ Rob whispered to Isla.
She nodded. But if truth be told, she was feeling distinctly shaky.
The conversation outside ended and Corin came back into the house. ‘Will it be all right if these officers join us in here, Ilsa? They had just finished their shift and were on their way home when the call came into the station. That’s why they’re out of uniform and driving an unmarked car.’
‘Yes, of course. Do bring them in.’
The female officer stopped in the doorway, studying Ilsa intently. ‘You don’t look at all well, Ms Norcott.’
‘I’m getting over a bad virus.’
‘She fainted earlier this morning,’ Rob put in.
‘No wonder the despatcher said it was urgent. Look, I’m Vicki and this is Murad.’
As the two of them questioned her about what had happened today, the male officer looked even more angry than his companion. ‘This sort of behaviour utterly disgusts me. I’ll phone my sergeant and see if we can get that lorry taken away for you.’
He went outside and, after a brief conversation, came back in smiling. ‘They’re sending someone immediately to tow it away, given that Ms Norcott can’t get out if she has a medical emergency. There just happens to be a magistrate at head office at the moment and they’re going to show her the phone images of you being harassed, then she’ll no doubt approve the towing-away officially.’
Ilsa was glad of that, of course she was, but it also worried her. ‘That’s good in one sense but – well, what will Belkin do next? He’ll be furious about his lorry being towed away. He broke the window of my front door a few days ago. He said it’d be a big rear window next. I can’t prove any of it, though, since no one else was around. And the retirement housing on the other side of the street is behind a fence, so people there don’t have a direct line of sight.’
‘And she’s suddenly lost her internet and phone access so she has no way of calling for help,’ Rob put in. ‘I wonder how they managed to do that?’
‘I’ll phone someone about looking into it,’ Murad said.
‘You don’t have CCTV here, do you?’ the female officer said thoughtfully. ‘Might be worth installing it. That developer is going to be around for a while.’
Ilsa could feel herself flushing. ‘I wish I could but I can’t afford it.’
‘Well, I can,’ Rob said. ‘I’ve been planning to install it on my own houses. I’ll be doing most of the work myself, so it won’t cost me much to extend it to your place as well, Ilsa, and no, you won’t need to pay me. But I will ask you to let me have some extra cameras fixed on your house, both front and back, focusing on my two places.’
She looked at him, knowing he’d taken pity on her, but he nodded encouragingly and she couldn’t resist accepting. ‘Thank you. And of course you can put as many extra cameras in as you wish.’
‘That’ll be much more secure for me and my tenants, when I get some new ones.’
A couple of minutes later, a tow lorry arrived and backed up the drive to the illegally parked lorry, fixing an attachment to it so that its front wheels were off the ground. It left shortly afterwards with the large vehicle trundling along behind.
Ilsa was still looking worried and Vicki whispered something to her partner. At his nod, she then held out a different business card.
‘Dial this number if you’re ever afraid for your personal safety, Ms Norcott. Don’t give the number to anyone else, though. It’s only for vetted people with ongoing problems who are facing possible physical danger, most of them women.’
What did that say about Belkin? Ilsa wondered. The police must know something else about him. She saw Rob look at them thoughtfully too when he heard that.
‘We’ll connect an alarm button to both our security systems as well,’ Rob told them. ‘It’ll scream loudly and alert a security company if you have to call for help.’
‘That’ll make me feel a lot safer,’ Ilsa said. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Rob.’
