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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Larch Tree Lane
- Sprache: Englisch
In the quiet of the Wiltshire countryside, Maggie Hatherall, full of life despite her advancing years, is worried about what she is going to do with her two-hundred-year-old home. Newcomer Lucia Grey has escaped a bad marriage but her ex is reluctant to let her go. For architect Corin Drayton, an unexpected inheritance is the start of a complicated family wrangle but it does mean he stumbles upon Larch Tree Lane, hidden among the rolling hills. From the cottages and farms to the local shop, pub and old manor house, residents' lives are set to intertwine, relationships bloom and both romance and heartache lie ahead.
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Seitenzahl: 406
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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Larch Tree Lane
Anna Jacobs
Contents
Chapter One
Wiltshire
When Lucia decided to leave her husband, take back her own name and become Ms Grey again, she found a unit to move out to and took all her things from their house before telling him she was going.
‘What?’ Howard’s fury at her for daring to end their marriage was so fierce it echoed round the house.
‘It’s surely not a surprise. We haven’t been getting on for a while now and you’re sleeping in another room.’
‘I was going to work it out.’
‘It takes two to make a marriage, and I no longer want to work it out.’
‘You’re not leaving!’
When he raised his fist, she snatched up the nearest implement, a ghastly ornament he’d brought with him, and brandished it at him. ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’
She edged towards the door. She’d been right to get her things out before she took the final step.
As she stood by the door, she asked, ‘Do you want to do this amicably and save money or are you going to pay a fortune to a lawyer?’
‘It’s not worth paying to keep you, but I’ll make damned sure I get my fair share of the goods and chattels, believe me.’
From then on, he made every step of the process more difficult than necessary. He even appealed formally about the jewellery passed down from her grandmother being excluded from the financial settlement. But to her relief the appeal was dismissed because she’d inherited it on her twenty-first birthday, long before she met him.
Thank goodness she’d kept her finances separate! That had caused their first quarrel, but when you married at twenty-nine you were used to having your own money.
After the divorce was finalised, Lucia breathed a sigh of relief and prayed she’d never have to speak to him again.
That hope didn’t last long. Howard stopped her in the street a few days later, smiling and speaking quietly so that no one could overhear what he was threatening.
‘I’m not going to accept that financial settlement. You’ll see. I’ll be one step behind you till you sell that jewellery and give me my fair share of the money it brings. I know exactly how much it’s worth because I had it valued too.’
‘Go away and leave me alone. We’re divorced now. It’s over.’
‘Not until I get my money. You’ll find out, as others have, that no one ever gets away with cheating me or messing me about in any way.’
After that there were several nasty little incidents she was sure were down to him: a serious scratch along the side of her car, two flat tyres late at night when she was inside a restaurant with friends, the bedroom window of her rented unit smashed by a half brick hurled through it in the small hours of the morning, showering her dressing table with broken glass.
He walked past her several times in the street not saying anything but running one finger across his throat in a slashing gesture.
It was the stuff of nightmares. Would it ever stop?
Maggie was feeling old that morning, so she stared at herself in the mirror on the landing and stuck her tongue out. This usually made her laugh, it was such a silly thing to do. Today it failed because the mere thought of turning seventy next month was upsetting her more than she’d expected.
She sneaked another look in the mirror. Her hair looked pretty and like most of her family she had only a light frosting of grey. She’d been a bit plump all her life so she wasn’t going to start starving herself now in what she knew would be a vain attempt to become slender. Been there, done that, total waste of time with the Hatherall genes.
No, she was doing OK for her age with regard to appearance. It was just the thought of being seventy that was getting to her.
She started walking down the stairs then ran down them instead. There! She was still able to do that with ease. ‘You go get ’em, girl!’ she told herself. But who or what was she going to ‘get’? That was the problem. Her closest friends were starting to move away to live nearer to their children, a few of whom had settled in the valley, ‘in case’. A couple of the older ones had died recently and another one was ill.
When they said growing old was not for the faint-hearted, they were right.
Don’t get maudlin, she told herself firmly. You’re physically fine and you’ve still got things to do.
Her main concern at the moment was to find a way to ensure that this house would still be cared for after she was gone. It had been in the family for over two centuries and she didn’t want to be the one who let it slip into other hands. It was such a warm, lovely place to live, a comfortable little manor house, not a stately home or anything.
But she couldn’t seem to figure out which of her relatives to leave it to. Which one, if any, would keep it safe? The men of her branch of the family hadn’t done well with their lives. Her older brother had never married and had died ten years ago, leaving her as the last of this branch of the family.
The only relative who still lived reasonably close was a cousin ten years younger whose company Maggie didn’t really enjoy. It had especially annoyed her when Sheila had hinted more than once that she would love to have the old house ‘to love and care for’ when the sad time for that came.
As if! Sheila would sell it to a developer as fast as she could. In fact, one of her closest friends was a developer. And whoever bought it would certainly find a way to persuade the local council to change the zoning, then would build small identikit houses on the land, with gardens not much bigger than tablecloths, even if they were forced to keep the listed family home intact.
And why was she standing here going over the same old ground? ‘Get on with your day, Maggie Hatherall. What will be, will be.’ Oh dear! She was talking to herself aloud again, something she’d vowed to stop doing. That’s what happened when you lived alone.
She saw that the clouds had passed. Good. She’d go out for a walk and enjoy the bluebells. She tried to walk most days because exercise was good for you. She only used the lower part of the semi-circular drive these days to drive in and out of the grounds, so she’d finish her walk along the upper part of the drive. It was overgrown with gates that no longer closed properly but she liked to keep an eye on it.
From mid-April to early May it was no chore to walk there because the beauty of the bluebell woods filled her soul, making her feel relaxed and happy. And they were an English variety, too, growing naturally here and smelling beautiful, not the showy foreign invaders which were almost scent-free.
Locking the house doors and slipping the key in her jacket pocket, she strode briskly towards the patch of natural woodland between the two parts of the drive, slowing down when she reached it to revel in the sea of soft blue.
Ten minutes later, she caught sight of a greater spotted woodpecker and looked round eagerly, hoping it was nesting nearby. Such attractive, cheerful-looking birds.
Did that hollow in a nearby tree contain a woodpecker nest? She took another step to one side to get a better view and next thing she knew her foot twisted awkwardly as she trod in a concealed hollow and tumbled helplessly sideways. Pain shot through her head as she landed.
When she managed to pull herself together, she realised she was lying on the ground in among the bluebells. She wiggled her arms about and they seemed all right. She moved her left leg and that was OK, but when she tried to move her right leg, pain stabbed through her ankle and she couldn’t hold back a whimper. She must have twisted it as she fell. Or broken it. Oh, please, don’t let it be broken!
She pushed herself into a sitting position but couldn’t stand up because she couldn’t bear to put any weight on the foot and there was nothing nearby to hold on to.
What the hell was she going to do? She hadn’t brought her mobile phone with her, never did when walking round her own grounds. Her cousin had told her more than once that was stupid when you lived alone and she’d been proved right.
‘You’re a fool, Maggie Hatherall,’ she muttered.
She decided to try crawling but that hurt too. She’d have to do it, though, couldn’t lie here because people rarely used the upper drive these days, even though it was part of an ancient right of way through the grounds of Larch House.
Tears came into her eyes involuntarily at the pain of moving, but she blinked them away. ‘No good crying,’ she said aloud and took a few deep breaths. ‘You’ve no choice but to do it, my girl.’
She had to stop talking to herself or people would think she was losing her wits. That was the trouble with being old: some people assumed you were automatically becoming more stupid and forgetful by the year. She wasn’t. At least, she didn’t think she was.
‘Just do it!’ she said aloud.
And even though it hurt, she continued crawling towards the road.
On her thirty-first birthday, a sudden attack of appendicitis sent Lucia to hospital for an emergency operation. Howard sent her a get-well card afterwards, which proved he was still watching her every move, damn him.
When she got back, she realised he’d broken into her unit and gone through every single drawer and cupboard, leaving them messy enough to show that they’d been touched but not taking anything. The police said nothing could be proved and at least she hadn’t been robbed.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, to her dismay, two days after she returned to work, she was made redundant.
She signed up with a temping agency for any sort of office work, something she’d done years ago as a student, because she wasn’t sure yet exactly where she wanted to live, only that she wanted to move as far away as possible from Howard. His actions were, she admitted to herself, getting her down, as well as making her worry that they might escalate into something physically dangerous.
To top it all, a few days later her landlord offered her a rent-free week and full refund of her bond money, no questions asked about damage, if she’d move out at the end of that free week. He had a niece looking for a flat to rent and, well, blood was thicker than water, wasn’t it? He didn’t meet her eyes as he said that.
It seemed like a sign, a good hard nudge from fate to admit defeat and move away from Bristol and Howard. She decided to look for somewhere safe and quiet in the country, and try to stay off his radar. Surely he would leave her alone if he felt he’d driven her away?
Or was he serious about getting more money out of her? She drew the line there!
Their house had recently sold so she had just about enough money for a deposit on a smaller house or unit, but she probably wouldn’t be able to buy one till she got another permanent job so that the bank would give her a mortgage.
The trouble was, she didn’t want to move too far away because her parents lived in Bristol and when they returned from their holiday in Australia she’d want to visit them regularly – more often than she had during her marriage, for sure. They had never got on with Howard and hadn’t been fooled by his initial efforts to charm them.
She planned her departure from the flat carefully, had her furniture and most of her possessions taken away in an unmarked vehicle during the time of Howard’s weekly staff meeting, which she knew he never missed. She put them into storage and camped out in the flat for two days till she’d finished this temping job, sleeping on the cushions from the seat in the bay window, praying Howard wouldn’t find out she was leaving.
And all the time she felt furious. Why should she have to go to these lengths to sneak away without him knowing?
It wasn’t a free country for people as long as ex-partners could get away with doing that to you.
She packed the car in the middle of the final night, glad there was an underground car park at the block of units, which would hide what she was doing. And even so, she was jumpy as she moved in and out of the big, echoing space, slinging bags and boxes into the car boot any old how, till the flat was empty. She drove out of the basement car park before dawn, not switching on the car lights till she was a few streets away.
She stopped at a motorway services after about an hour and parked near the entry road for a full ten minutes to make sure he wasn’t following her, getting angry all over again at the need she felt to do this.
When she continued her journey, however, she felt much better about the future. She’d done it, got away.
She turned off the M4 at Royal Wootton Bassett, simply because she liked the name. She’d never actually been to the small town before. She stopped there for a coffee and toilet break, then headed off into the nearby countryside, driving more slowly now. After a while she turned left at a minor road on a whim, because it looked so pretty, and drove even more slowly, stopping occasionally to enjoy the lush green scenery.
She didn’t bother to plot a course, turning down roads simply because they looked attractive. She hadn’t relaxed this much for ages.
When the car started to jerk, slowing down briefly then moving smoothly forward for a hundred metres or so, before slowing down again, she let out a yelp of dismay and studied the various dials, desperate to figure out what was happening.
It didn’t take her long. The petrol gauge was showing that the tank was empty. Oh, no! She’d meant to fill the car up once she’d left Bristol, but she’d been so desperate to get away undetected, so happy when she thought she’d done it that the need for petrol had slipped her mind.
Staring round now, she saw only a narrow road and had no idea where it led. There were no signs of houses and in fact, it looked more like a lane than a road, only one car wide with occasional passing places. Burgeoning hedgerows further reduced visibility and a bend completely hid whatever lay ahead.
When had she last seen any other vehicles? Not for ages. She hadn’t a clue how far she was from a village with a petrol station. All she knew was that she was somewhere in Wiltshire. And she didn’t have a satnav program any longer because Howard had played a few nasty little tricks and had wiped a few programs from her car’s system, doing something to stop her reinstating them. She’d get them fixed, should have done it before now. The break-up had affected her life in so many small and uncomfortable ways.
He was good with digital stuff, damn him. And she wasn’t. She shook her head. Stop that. Forget about Howard and just get on with building a new life.
Her car’s next slow-down and jerking about lasted slightly longer and she began to worry that she’d have no choice about stopping. The car seemed likely to decide that for her – and soon.
Then the road widened slightly to show a proper road. It had a sign which showed that it was called Larch Tree Lane, and there was another sign below the name directing people to turn left to the Marrakin Hiking Trail, whatever that was.
She turned the other way therefore, praying that this would take her to the nearest village. Her car must have found another spoonful of petrol in the tank because it started functioning normally, though she didn’t try to drive faster.
Unfortunately, after about a couple of hundred metres the engine gave a feeble cough and cut out completely. There was just enough downward slope for her to guide the car off the road onto the verge before it stopped. Beyond the verge was a pair of tall, ornate double gates, which must have been open for a long time, judging by the unkempt grass and vegetation growing in front of them. Behind them were huge trees, one on either side with another pair of the same trees further along the weed-filled drive.
Did the drive lead to a house or was it just the remnants of a former country residence?
She closed her eyes for a few seconds and managed not to burst into tears. ‘You need to do something,’ she said aloud, so got out of the car and stood listening.
There were no sounds of humanity at all, not even a hum of distant traffic, only the sounds of nature: birds, the faint buzz of an insect passing busily by and a breeze rustling the bright, spring-green leaves of the huge trees. Mother Nature might be beautiful here but Lucia would rather have found a village and petrol station for stranded travellers.
Make that stranded idiots. She definitely considered herself to have been an idiot today. That’s what stress did to you, she supposed.
She had her phone with her but without her satnav had no idea where she was and anyway, there wasn’t much of a signal here. She should have got a new satnav program installed. If she’d needed one sooner, she’d have got it all sorted out, of course she would, but there had been so much to deal with and she hadn’t planned to go anywhere new – until today.
She shot a worried glance at her car. The possessions she felt she might need, including some of the things she valued most in the world, like her family photos, were crammed into it. She didn’t like to leave it here in the middle of nowhere, but she had no choice.
‘Oh, just do it,’ she muttered, locked the car and set off walking along the overgrown drive, praying it would lead to some sort of habitation.
Chapter Two
Maggie managed to crawl awkwardly through the bluebells and took a short rest before tackling the short distance towards the drive. ‘Come on!’ she told herself. She didn’t care now that she was crushing the flowers, only that she was managing to move along, albeit slowly and painfully.
After a while she had to stop for another rest and it was a struggle to hold back sobs of pain.
When a young woman walked round the bend towards her, she thought for a moment she was hallucinating then realised the woman was real and called, ‘Help!’ before bursting into ugly sobs of utter relief.
The stranger hurried towards her. ‘What’s wrong? Can I help?’
‘I had a fall and – and I think I’ve sprained my ankle. I can’t bear to walk on it. Only, people don’t often come this way, so I’ve been trying to crawl to the road and that isn’t much used either at this top end. Thank goodness you’re here!’
‘Oh, poor you! Shall I help you up?’
‘I daren’t try to put any weight on that ankle. I’m praying I haven’t broken it.’ She looked down the drive. ‘Don’t you have a car?’
The stranger flushed and looked embarrassed. ‘I do, but it ran out of petrol just before I got to some big gates. Life has been, um, rather difficult lately and I was in such a hurry to get away today I forgot to fill up the car.’
Maggie stared at her in dismay. ‘Oh dear. What are we going to do?’
‘Don’t you have a car nearby?’
‘I don’t live far away and I came out for a walk. My car is still at home, a couple of hundred metres away. What a pair we are! Do you have a mobile phone?’
‘Yes. But the signal is very weak round here and my phone hasn’t got a satnav program on it at the moment. It, um, got wiped off. I don’t even know whereabouts in Wiltshire I am.’
‘If you’ll let me use your phone, I can try to call Ted at the garage in the village and get him to come and help me – and he can bring some petrol for you at the same time.’
She did that but Ted apologised for not being able to come immediately because he was at a delicate stage in a bodywork repair and it’d ruin the whole thing if he stopped now. He’d be there in about three-quarters of an hour, sooner if he could.
‘Thanks, Ted. I’ll send our visitor to fetch my car and if she can get me to the house in it, we’ll both be a lot more comfortable while we wait. Try the house first. You can pick her up and take her to deal with her car.’
The phone began fading in and out and a message popped up. Battery low.
Maggie gave a wry smile. ‘Phew! I just got through in time, didn’t I? Did you hear what we said? He’ll be here as soon as he can. I can’t thank you enough. You’re getting me out of what could have been really serious trouble.’
‘You’re getting me out of trouble too.’
‘Well, there you are. I’m Maggie, by the way, Maggie Hatherall.’
‘Lucia Grey, late of Bristol, currently of nowhere at all.’
‘Are you on your way somewhere?’
‘Not really. I was just driving round the countryside, trying to find a new place to live.’
Maggie stared at her as an idea popped into her mind. ‘You don’t sound to be doing that in any particular hurry. Don’t you have a job to go to?’
‘Not at the moment. I’ve been made redundant and at the same time I was asked to vacate my flat, so I’m just trying to get myself together again.’
‘Are you on your way to stay with your family?’
‘No. My parents are in Australia at the moment and they’ve swapped houses with an Australian family so I can’t stay at their place. And, well, I’m recently divorced.’
‘Must be a real turning point in your life. I’ve seen friends go through that. Not easy, is it?’
‘No. Not easy at all. And my ex is being … difficult.’
‘All my friends came good eventually, and you’ll probably do the same, especially if you can get away from him. I’m just wondering whether you’d like a temporary job for a few days.’
The silence went on for so long that Maggie braced herself for a refusal, then realised she was being subjected to a very thorough scrutiny.
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ She gestured to her ankle. ‘I’ll need help getting to the doctor, or even to an A&E if necessary, to find out what’s wrong with my ankle. And the way it’s hurting when I move it, I’ll need help in the house for a while till I can walk comfortably again. I don’t have any close family to turn to, you see, and most of my friends are quite elderly and have enough trouble managing their own bodies. I can pay you to help me and give you a bedroom.’
They stared at one another again, neither saying a word till Lucia asked suddenly, ‘What made you ask me? I’m a complete stranger.’
‘It was a sudden impulse,’ Maggie admitted. ‘But you have an honest face and in case you’re worrying, I promise you I’m honest too.’
Lucia smiled. ‘You don’t look crazy and I think you’re definitely going to need help, so all right, I’d be happy to accept your offer. It’s a godsend, actually. I’ll be right off the grid here.’
Maggie closed her eyes as relief skittered along her veins. ‘How about we say you help me for about four days to start off with, which will take us past the weekend, then we’ll see how I’m managing to move around?’
‘Sounds like a plan. How much are you paying?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Think about it and tell me what you’d be happy with, given that I’m providing accommodation and I’ll pay for the food though you’ll have to cook it.’
‘I’ll do that. I promise not to overcharge you. And I won’t let you down, I promise.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Sometimes you have to take a risk. I’m not usually wrong about people, though. After seventy years in this world, I’ve had a lot of practice.’
‘Goodness, you don’t look seventy.’
She chuckled. ‘Now I know I like you. I must admit I’m vain enough to think I’m wearing quite well.’
Lucia put her phone away, happy that she’d have somewhere to sleep tonight which wouldn’t cost her a penny.
It was more than that, though. She didn’t want to be on her own at the moment; she felt so disoriented about where life was taking her and there was still a faint worry about Howard, she didn’t know why, even though she’d checked that he hadn’t been following her.
No, surely she’d be free of him now and he’d find something else to focus his nastiness on. Unfortunately, once she was settled somewhere, she’d better not give her new address to any of their mutual friends. How unfair that all was!
She realised Maggie had spoken. ‘Sorry. I was thinking about something.’
‘Not something pleasant from the look on your face.’
‘My ex.’
‘Ah. Understandable. I wonder if you could fetch my car now, please? It’s parked behind the house, which is the only one at the end of this drive. If you’ll get me home in it we can have a cup of coffee while we wait for Ted.’
‘If you’ll trust me to drive it.’
Maggie chuckled. ‘It’s not a new vehicle.’
‘Keys?’
‘It isn’t locked and the keys are under the floor mat at the passenger’s side.’
‘Goodness, you’re trusting.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘It’s pretty safe round here.’
‘Sounds like the sort of place where I need to live, then.’
‘He’s really frightened you, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes. Anyway, forget about him. How about I help you across to lean your back against that tree trunk before I go? You look so uncomfortable, half-lying like that, and the tree is next to the drive so I can stop your car next to it.’
‘Good idea. Thanks.’ It was a painful transition, but they got there and as Maggie leaned back, she let out a long sigh of relief. ‘Yes, that feels much more comfortable.’
‘What sort of tree are these? They look attractive in pairs on either side of the gates like that.’
‘Larch trees. They’ve been there for over two hundred years, ever since the house was built.’
‘And the road I came along was called Larch Tree Lane.’
‘Yes. And my house is Larch House. We don’t have much imagination round here, do we? This is the top end of the drive and it isn’t much used these days. There’s a minor walking trail at the top end of Larch Tree Lane, not far away from here. And the lane is the major road in the district, if you can call it major. It only carries local traffic down to our village, Essington St Mary. There are various clumps of houses strung out along the sides of the lane, as we call it, and the village is right at the lower end. Even the village is a bit of a backwater, really, since no main roads pass through it.’
‘Sounds more and more like the sort of place I’d like to live in. But what am I doing chatting like this when we need to get you home and comfortable? Sorry.’
‘That’s all right. I’m rather proud of the area I live in and I’d show you round if I were in a better state.’
From her new position, Maggie watched the younger woman stride off along the drive, then allowed another couple of tears of sheer relief to trickle out.
What would she have done if Lucia hadn’t come along? It didn’t bear thinking of. Her ankle was throbbing painfully even after moving only twenty or so extra metres to this tree. The whole incident was a reminder of how your life can change in a few seconds. Was it only an hour since she’d run confidently down the main stairs? She couldn’t even crawl confidently now.
She hoped she was right about Lucia being trustworthy. She thought she was. The young woman was tallish, with a striking face, beautiful auburn hair and a very pleasant smile. Well, she wasn’t all that young really, about thirty at a guess. But that seemed young to someone who was almost seventy.
If Lucia hadn’t come along, there might have been no one passing along the upper part of the lane for a day or two because the hiking season was only just beginning.
When she crested a rise and saw what must be Maggie’s home, Lucia stopped dead in amazement. Goodness! This wasn’t an ordinary house but a country manor, early Georgian in style she’d guess. Not huge but what she’d heard called a ‘gentleman’s residence’.
She studied it with interest because she loved houses with historical character and this one had a beautiful symmetry to it. There were two windows on either side of the front door and matching windows not quite as tall on the storey above, then what must be attics above judging by the dormer windows jutting out of the roof.
Wow! This would give a fair number of rooms inside the house. And she’d be staying there. Double wow!
There were no other dwellings in sight, just some lower buildings which looked like stables or outhouses partly concealed behind the house at the right-hand side. As there were no other houses nearby, all this land probably belonged to the house as well.
She walked round to the rear as instructed and found an old Renault, faded silver in colour, small and very upright, parked to one side of a gravelled area.
She found the key and got into the car, surprised at how comfortable it was to sit in such an upright position. It started first time and purred its way happily round the house. It didn’t take long to get to where Maggie was leaning back against the tree, looking white and strained, poor thing.
Lucia parked with the passenger seat as close as possible to the injured woman and helped her into the vehicle. She winced in sympathy when the poor thing banged her foot and let out an involuntary whimper.
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ll close the car door.’
As she turned the vehicle round and set off back along the drive, she asked, ‘Do I park in front or behind this time?’
‘I always park behind. As close to the kitchen door as you can this time, please.’
Once she’d parked, Lucia had an idea. ‘You don’t happen to have an office chair on castors, do you?’
Maggie nodded. Why hadn’t she thought of that? ‘What a good idea, and yes, we do have an office chair. Maybe I could use that to get around downstairs at first. Most of the floors are wood or tile, so it should roll along OK. And we have a pair of crutches somewhere as well, I think.’
‘Good idea. Tell me where to find the chair first. We can look for the crutches later.’
Lucia felt like an intruder as she walked through the spacious rooms to the library, which was at the far end of the building from the kitchen. The office chair was old but rattled along easily and though it couldn’t be moved over the gravel outside, she put it ready just inside the kitchen doorway.
She helped Maggie to hop across and sit on it, then pushed the chair further into the kitchen. ‘We should probably stay in here, don’t you think? We still have to go and see your doctor.’
‘Yes. I’ll phone Tom first and explain what’s happened. He’s been my doctor for years and I know him socially. Could you pass me the phone? It’s over by the window.’
While Maggie was speaking to whoever had answered her call, there was the sound of a vehicle approaching and a van with Ted’s Garage written on the sides drew up outside. A sturdy, grey-haired man got out, striding across to the kitchen door.
Lucia went out to greet him. ‘Maggie’s on the phone speaking to the doctor. I don’t think she’ll be long.’
‘You’re the lady who needs petrol?’
‘Yes, please. I’m Lucia Grey. I stupidly forgot to fill my car before I set off today.’
‘I’ve got my grandson with me.’ He pointed to a young man in the van, fiddling with a mobile phone. ‘If you tell me where exactly your car’s parked, we can fill it up and bring it back to you while you continue to keep an eye on Maggie.’
‘Thank you so much. I can pay by credit card, if that’s all right.’
‘That’ll be fine.’
She didn’t hesitate to hand over her car key because he was another person with an immediately likeable face and a warm, genuine smile. She watched the two men drive away, by which time Maggie had finished her call.
‘Tom’s coming round to check the ankle first. If it’s only sprained, he can bind it up and save me a trip to hospital.’
‘Can he be sure without an X-ray?’
‘He says if there’s any doubt, you can drive me to the hospital and the A&E people will check it. But it’s over twenty miles away on the other side of Swindon, so I’d be glad not to have to drive there and no doubt hang around for hours. I’m feeling a bit washed out, I must admit.’
‘I’m not surprised. Shock and pain can do that to you. Your friend Ted has brought his grandson and they’ve gone to fill my car and bring it back here.’
‘How about making us all a cup of coffee? Ted never says no to one.’
By the time they’d drunk the coffee and Ted had taken her payment details then driven off again, the doctor had arrived.
He checked the ankle and said, ‘I fairly certain it’s not broken, Maggie, though it’s a bad sprain. It’ll feel a lot better if you can get the swelling down. Icing it at regular intervals should help.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘You couldn’t have done some of those movements with a broken bone.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Maggie sagged back in her chair and closed her eyes.
‘What do I need to do to look after her?’ Lucia asked.
‘Ice it at regular intervals for a while, and apart from that only time and rest are needed. She’s a tough old bird, should be OK in a few days. Better not let her climb the stairs yet, even on her backside. If you’ll make up a bed downstairs for her, you could perhaps sleep nearby in case she needs anything during the night. There is a cloakroom down here, if I remember correctly.’
‘I can do that.’
‘I’ll call in on my way to the surgery first thing tomorrow morning to check that she’s all right. If you have any worries about her condition before then, don’t hesitate to give me a call.’ He handed over a business card.
When he’d gone, Lucia could tell that Maggie was ready for a nap and wheeled her to the cloakroom just off the entrance hall. After that Maggie said she’d sleep quite well on the big sofa in the library. When Lucia saw it, she wasn’t surprised. It was huge, made of burgundy-coloured leather in an old-fashioned buttoned style, and would tempt anyone to take a seat.
Once again, following the older woman’s directions had Lucia going into uncharted territory, this time upstairs, to get her a quilt and a blanket to go under her. What a big house it was!
She found the linen cupboard easily enough, at the end of a big gallery landing but was astonished at how big it was, more like a room than a cupboard. It was far bigger than her bathroom had been at the rented flat. It felt strange to be rummaging through someone else’s possessions, but she found what she wanted quickly: a pillow, quilt, blanket and sheets.
Maggie smiled at the sight of the quilt. ‘I used to have this on my bed when I was a child.’
When a bed was made, she snuggled down and closed her eyes.
Lucia stood watching her for a moment or two. The house was quiet except for the faint ticking of a grandfather clock in the hall. She’d hear Maggie calling if she was needed, but just to be sure she put a hand bell she’d found on a low table next to the sofa.
She brought everything inside from her car, just in case Howard found her and took or damaged things out of spite. Surely she’d got away from him now? She hoped and prayed so.
She’d brought her microwave oven, camping stove and kettle, thinking she might need them if she found somewhere unfurnished to rent. She could make do on those three for cooking if she had to.
She looked round and found a second pantry that was completely empty. There was plenty of room to stack all her things in it. She’d check with Maggie, but she felt sure there would be no problem about using that space. She couldn’t imagine the older woman being unreasonable about anything. She added the leftover bits and pieces of food to the supplies in the fridge.
And all the time she worked, she had a strong sense of welcome from her surroundings. Some houses were like that.
Suddenly she was ravenously hungry and after a brief hesitation she decided to fry the last of her bacon, together with an overripe tomato she’d not liked to throw away because she hated waste of any sort. She took one of the eggs from the fridge because there were plenty, as well as bread to make some toast. Again, she was sure Maggie wouldn’t mind.
When she’d finished eating, she tiptoed into the library to check on the invalid but found her still fast asleep.
It was wonderfully peaceful so she sat down to rest in a huge old armchair near the unlit kitchen fire, just for a few minutes.
Chapter Three
Australia
It was a shock when the phone call from England turned out to be the family lawyer, telling Corin in a hushed voice that his father had died suddenly of a heart attack.
‘I think you should come home at once, Mr Drayton, and … well, I’ll explain it all when I see you. I’ve taken the liberty of booking you on a flight tomorrow. I’m afraid the only one left was economy class and you’ll have to change at Dubai.’
He didn’t let himself sigh aloud, but he’d spent a lot of hours at Dubai between flights and at the moment he wanted more than ever to get home to his brother, who would be bearing the brunt of things with their mother.
‘All right. Give me the details and I’ll be on it.’ Corin scribbled them down. ‘Got that.’
‘I’ll have a car waiting for you at Heathrow Airport.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘I wonder if you could call in to see me on your way home?’
‘Can’t that wait?’
‘Not really. You see, you’re the main heir.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll explain in more detail how things have been arranged when I see you, then I’ll try to answer any questions.’
Corin put the phone down and stared into space, wondering why on earth his father had left the family brewery to him. He’d refused to do as expected and make a career there, partly because he didn’t like the smell of the place. He’d studied architecture at university instead, a subject he was passionate about.
So why was he the heir? He certainly hadn’t been close to his father. Well, none of them had. Charles Drayton hadn’t been a family man by any stretch of the imagination. Or even a very sociable person. Which had always seemed strange for someone who ran a business focusing mainly on hospitality.
Corin hadn’t been back in England for more than an occasional few weeks’ holiday for nearly a decade and even then hadn’t spent much of them at his family home. The only person he cared about there was his younger brother, Pete.
He’d loved working for a housing charity in a series of developing countries, using his training and experience to help people. He’d learned so much about what worked and what didn’t, because he had the freedom to design homes that suited the climates and the various groups’ needs – well, freedom within their financial constraints. He’d even won a minor award for one innovative design.
Oh well, he’d been near the end of this project and had been thinking it might be time to move back into the commercial world. He could leave the wind-up of the project in the capable hands of a colleague. She was an architectural star of the future, he was sure.
The flights seemed to go on for ever, partly because he was too tall to sit comfortably in an economy class seat and couldn’t easily fall asleep, and partly because his mind seemed unwilling to switch off its speculation about why his father had done this.
To his relief he passed smoothly through customs and found a limousine waiting for him.
In Swindon, the car deposited him at Mr Minchington’s rooms and the driver said he’d been told to wait in the rear car park but he’d get a cup of tea for himself first if Mr Drayton didn’t mind.
‘Go for it.’
Corin looked up at the tall, narrow building and sighed, already feeling hemmed in. He’d never be a city dweller by choice.
He was shown into Mr Minchington’s office and offered a comfortable armchair.
‘I’ll get straight to the point, Mr Drayton. You’ve inherited a major share in the family business.’
‘So you said. Why me and not Pete? He’s the one who works there. It ought to go to him.’
‘Only your father could tell you that. He never conversed much when he conducted legal business with me.’
‘He didn’t converse much, period! How major a share?’
‘Fifty-one per cent. Your mother has the income from ten per cent for as long as she remains unmarried and those shares are to be divided equally between you and your brother when she passes away or remarries. Your brother has the rest of the brewery shares.’
‘That seems grossly unfair. I’ve never been near the place since I worked in it during school and university holidays. I only did that because I needed to earn money. I haven’t a clue how things are organised there nowadays. Why on earth would my father do that?’
‘Mine not to reason why, Mr Drayton.’
‘Is there anything to stop me transferring some of my shares to Pete?’
The lawyer looked surprised. ‘I suppose not. But I’d advise you to look at your own situation in this country before you do anything drastic. I’m sure your brother will be able to help you settle in and you can run the brewery together.’
Corin wasn’t settling into it, wasn’t even going to try. No way. He didn’t even like to drink beer, let alone have the expertise to make it. His brother had not only worked at Drayton’s since he left school but was reputed to be a connoisseur of beer.
When he got to the brewery, he was greeted by a receptionist new to him. ‘Mr Drayton is busy today, I’m afraid, sir. Would you care to leave a message?’
‘I’m Corin Drayton and I’m quite sure my brother will see me without an appointment.’
She gaped at him for a moment. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll go and tell him straight away.’
When he was shown into Pete’s office, he was greeted by a dark scowl.
‘Come to gloat, have you? How did you persuade him to leave the major share to you? Well, I shan’t linger here to get in your way once I’ve handed over, believe me, and if you don’t buy me out I’ll sell it to someone else.’
‘You’d better linger if you want the business to continue operating. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with it.’
‘You must have shown some interest for our dear papa to leave it to you. And I’m not working under someone who doesn’t have the skill to operate it efficiently, let alone to develop new products and—’ He snapped his mouth shut abruptly.
‘I showed no interest whatsoever. He and I rarely communicated even when I was visiting them. I didn’t have the slightest idea that he’d ever leave it to me, nor did I express any wish to run it.’
There was dead silence for a few minutes as if Pete was digesting this. Some of the hostility faded from his expression but he still looked puzzled. ‘If he hadn’t left me to run it and dealt only with the financial side of things, I’d have found another job years ago. I … really care about it.’
‘I know, Pete. We can do something to remedy the situation, surely?’
‘Ha! Like you’re going to give away all your share of the business to me?’
‘I’ll donate some of it to you, for sure. Not all.’
‘I can’t afford to buy your shares.’
‘I said “donate”, not sell.’
Pete opened and shut his mouth. ‘Really? Won’t you want to remain the majority shareholder?’
‘Hell, no. Unless you need new premises designing, I’ll stay out of things. I’m an architect, not a brewer, Pete. That hasn’t changed, except that I love what I do even more than I’d expected when I chose to train in those skills.’
‘Hmm. Fine words. Let’s see how you carry through.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Anyway, you look exhausted so you’d better get home and let Ma weep all over you, then get some rest.’
‘She’s bound to be upset.’
Pete opened his mouth as if to comment, then snapped it shut again.
‘What?’
‘They were never a close couple and that only changed for the worse, especially during the past year or two. They’d hardly spent any time together lately. She’s enjoying being centre stage as the grieving widow at the moment and is planning a huge funeral, but she’s not really upset.’
‘She enjoys the social whirl. He never did.’
‘She enjoys the masculine attention part of it, not so much the women.’
‘You mean—’
‘Judge that for yourself. Anyhow, you’d better slow her down a bit on the funeral expenses. There isn’t a lot of money to spare. In fact, if we don’t do something drastic, the company will go down the gurgler. I hadn’t realised till Pa died and I got hold of the books what a mess he’d made of things.’
‘How did things get to be that bad?’
