Leaves Before the Storm

by Angela Arney

  ‘Hmm, Gerald involved,’ Lavinia observed when Megan told her of the meeting. ‘It won’t be good news for us if Gerald has anything to do with it.’

  The whole Lockwood family sat around the oval dining table in the rose room. On the table before them was an assortment of box files, piles of paper and bank statements, all brought in by Angus Penny who was also in attendance.

  Bertha’s head popped round the door. ‘Shall I bring the tea in now, madam?’ She addressed Lavinia.

  ‘Yes, bring it in quickly and leave it. We will serve ourselves.’

  ‘Certainly, madam.’ Bertha sounded a little put out. She wasn’t used to Lavinia sounding officious. Quickly, she’d said, but Bertha wanted to linger. Like everyone in Folly House she sensed there was something going on between Gerald and Henry, and that Lady Lavinia and Megan didn’t like it. Bertha wanted to know what it was.

  ‘I think it’s something to do with money,’ Bertha told anyone who would listen that afternoon. She was making a late lunch for Molly and Pat, who’d come in from a morning’s shoot with a couple of young rabbits, and four pigeons. They were laid out on the butcher’s block ready for cleaning.

  ‘If it’s to do with money, then it’s no business of ours.’ George emerged from behind his newspaper, his old cherry pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth. ‘You shouldn’t even talk about it.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ retorted Bertha. George glowered at her. In his opinion, she’d grown far too bold in her relationship with the Lockwoods since the war. ‘If they run out of money,’ went on Bertha, warming to her theme, ‘we’ll be out on our ear. It happens to people, you know.’

  ‘I don’t think you need ever worry about that.’ Molly slit open a rabbit’s underbelly with practised ease and, slipping her hands inside pulled out the innards. ‘Do you want the kidneys now, or shall I leave them in?’

  ‘I’ll have them now. I’ll sauté them for Mr Henry’s breakfast tomorrow,’ said Bertha, then returned to her theme of money. ‘Personally,’ she announced firmly, ‘I don’t trust Mr Gerald as far as I could throw him. Never have done. He always managed to get what he wanted as a child. The only thing denied him was this house, and he’s still after that. And Miss Megan,’ she added as an afterthought. ‘He’s always been after her an’ all.’

  This was too much for George. Throwing the paper down on the kitchen table he sat bolt upright and took his pipe from his mouth. ‘Enough of that talk, my girl,’ he said. ‘It’s not right and proper to talk about the family like that.’

  Pat and Molly raised their eyebrows at each other. They had never been in awe of any of the Lockwoods, because as far as they were concerned they were just ordinary people who paid their wages. The fact that they had more money than most people they knew didn’t change anything. Pat was about to say this when an article in George’s newspaper caught her eye.

  ‘What’s this?’ she cried. ‘Hitler’s got a new weapon.’ Picking up the paper she peered at the article and announced, ‘In Germany it’s called the vergeltungswaffe which means reprisal weapon, and it can fly at four hundred miles an hour and is pilotless.’ She flung down the paper and continued plucking one of the pigeons. ‘Fancy that! Just when I thought we were beginning to win the war, what with the landings in France and all.’

  George picked his paper and settled back in his chair. ‘There’ll be no end to this war until Hitler is dead and buried,’ he pronounced, and then disappeared behind the newspaper with a puff of smoke.

  Bertha, as usual, had the last word. ‘Well, I’d still like to know what’s going on in there.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the rose room.

  After Bertha had left and closed the door the family sat in uneasy silence until Lavinia spoke to Gerald. ‘Now, according to Angus Penny, you’ve been manipulating Henry’s investments, and it appears from these statements here that you’ve lost him a lot of money. In fact, nearly all of it.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly lose it. I invested it, and the investment went sour. These things happen,’ said Gerald defensively.

  ‘My fault, I suppose,’ said Henry. ‘I did ask Gerald to manage my money. He told me he would reinvest it and I agreed. But that was before I got my memory back and really knew what was what.’

  ‘You took advantage of Henry.’ Megan turned angrily towards Gerald.

  ‘You should know all about that. Taking advantage, I mean,’ sneered Gerald.

  Angus tapped the table with his pen. ‘I must point out that Henry did, quite freely of his own will, allow Gerald to manage his money.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask me to manage your money?’ demanded Megan, turning towards Henry.

  ‘Because, my dear sister-in-law, you are a country vicar’s daughter and know nothing of the world of high finance,’ said Gerald before Henry could answer. ‘You may have climbed up the social ladder and become the lady of Folly House, but it hasn’t given you the knowledge to deal in complex financial matters.’

  ‘Well, with all your knowledge, it seems you haven’t been able to deal in complex financial matters either,’ Megan shot back.

  ‘Perhaps I should have included you, Megan,’ Henry said quietly. ‘But I didn’t tell you because I wanted to do something myself. I’m tired of being a useless blind man. You have enough responsibilities running the house and farm, something I never envisaged for you. Getting my memory back made it worse in a way, because now I know that I always thought you’d have the life of a county lady, like Lavinia. But when Gerald read me all my statements, I found the interest I was getting from the stocks and shares was minimal. Even before I got my memory back I knew we couldn’t live on what I had in the bank. So I decided, with Gerald’s help, to make more money. I get a very small pension from the army, and nothing at all for the years I worked in the hospital. Therefore we needed to make what little money I had work for us.’

  ‘But I’ve never thought there was a problem.’ Megan blurted the words out without thinking, then immediately regretted them. ‘I’ve loved making the farm efficient, although I’ve always thought of the farm money as being extra to your fortune in the bank in London, which I thought we’d have after the war. I thought the Lockwoods were rich.’

  ‘And that’s why you married him, isn’t it?’ Gerald leaned forward as he spoke and spat the words out. ‘That and the house.’

  ‘Gerald!’ said Lavinia sharply.

  A hot flush crept over Megan’s cheeks. It was true. She had wanted both the house and the money. She was glad Henry couldn’t see her guilty expression.

  But Henry went on talking almost as if nothing had been said. ‘I remember now that in those days I was a very well-paid private practitioner; the hospital paid less but I thought I had years ahead of me. I never thought about the future.’

  ‘I didn’t think about the future either,’ said Megan guiltily. ‘It never occurred to me that one day you might …’

  ‘Be a useless blind man,’ interrupted Henry bitterly

  ‘Be short of money,’ said Megan.

  ‘But when you went off to war surely you thought perhaps you might not come back,’ said Lavinia. ‘Did you not think of Megan’s future?’

  Henry gave a bark of a laugh. ‘Of course I thought I might get killed, so I took out a good life insurance policy, which I still have. So that if that had happened Megan and the house would have been well taken care of.’ He turned towards where Megan was at his side. ‘Ironic, isn’t it. As I still have the insurance you’d be better off now if I were dead.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Reaching out she took his hand. More guilt washed over her; it was more ironic than Henry knew. If he were dead then she’d be free to marry Jim. Except of course, it might be Jim who was dead. There’d been no news.

  A tense silence filled the room. Lavinia got up and began to pour the tea. She looked at Gerald. ‘You’d better come up with a good explanation for this,’ she said sharply.

  Gerald shrugged his shoulders, took a sheaf of papers fro
m Angus spread them out across the table. ‘See for yourselves,’ he said. ‘I put a lot of money in with the Baltic states, and other Eastern European states. I admit it was a gamble, but the money should have flowed into my account in Switzerland and I’d have made a killing with the sales of armaments. Everyone was buying, even Germany. All through neutral Switzerland. But unknown to me, they were double-dealing criminals, and in fact Henry has ended up owing money.’

  Everyone gasped, and Lavinia said, ‘This is disgraceful. Surely Henry can’t owe money?’

  Angus Penny interrupted quickly. ‘The good thing is,’ he said calmly, ‘that because they are criminals and are wanted throughout Europe they dare not pursue anyone for the money which is owed.’ He looked severely at Gerald. ‘I understand you got off comparatively lightly.’

  Gerald had the grace to look discomfited. ‘I did it for Henry,’ he said defiantly. ‘He wanted me to make money, and there’s no room for scruples in business.’

  ‘I take issue with that,’ muttered Marcus from his side of the table.

  Lavinia finished handing the tea round and sat down. She looked across at Gerald with a steely expression. ‘Comparatively lightly,’ she repeated. ‘How much?’

  He looked more uncomfortable than ever. ‘Well,’ he mumbled after a moment or two, ‘I did lose some, but I managed to get most of my money out before the deal finally collapsed. Of course, my money was invested differently; not such a profitable deal as Henry’s. I let him have the best offer.’

  ‘Strange then that it turned out worse for him than for you,’ said Megan. She wanted to shout but knew that would do no good. Standing up, she began to gather all the paperwork in towards her. ‘Something has to be done,’ she said to no one in particular. ‘But there’s no point in talking about it any more. I may be an ignorant little country girl and know nothing of high finance, but I can add up. Folly House will survive, as it’s survived before. I shall make certain of that.’

  Gerald stood up, ‘Of course I can always offer Henry a loan at a very good rate. A loan against the house.’

  ‘No,’ Megan and Lavinia both shouted as with one voice, then looked at each other and laughed. It broke the tension, and then Lavinia said, ‘I think Megan’s idea of sorting it out ourselves is a good one. We’ll do that with the help of Angus. You can go, Gerald; you’re not needed here any more.’

  ‘And don’t think that you’ll ever get your hands on Folly House,’ said Megan fiercely. ‘Because you won’t. Not while I’m alive anyway.’

  Arthur, who’d been sitting beside Marcus the whole time, wheeled himself over and opened the door. ‘Goodbye,’ he said politely as Gerald passed.

  Gerald’s answer was to slam the door on his way out.

  No one spoke for a few moments, then Henry said mildly, ‘Why would Gerald want Folly House? He has Brinkley Manor.’

  ‘Because he’s always wanted it,’ said Megan. She didn’t add that she feared Gerald, and that lately she’d thought that his desire for the house bordered on fanaticism. Everyone would think she was exaggerating.

  ‘I want to be involved in sorting this out,’ said Henry. ‘I want to help.’

  ‘What can you do,’ snapped Megan, still thinking of Gerald and his invidious ways. Henry was no match for him and never had been. ‘How can you help?’ The moment the words were spoken she felt ashamed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  She tried to catch hold of Henry’s hand, but he recoiled from her touch. ‘No, you’re quite right,’ he said. ‘I’m no use at all.’

  Looking back Megan wondered how they would have survived without Lavinia. They had Henry’s paltry pension from the War Office, but no other money coming in on a regular basis. The money from the gardens and farm paid day-to-day bills, but all the customers Megan had acquired at HMS Mason had now disappeared.

  Lavinia’s money was in trust for the maintenance of Folly House, so that was one thing Megan didn’t have to worry about.

  ‘That was always Richard’s intention,’ said Lavinia. ‘He always wanted Henry to marry you and raise a large family at Folly House, without the worry of repair bills to an old house.’

  ‘If he were alive today he would be disappointed,’ said Megan. ‘Somehow I don’t think we’ll have a large family.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time,’ said Lavinia, who was blissfully unaware of the fact that Henry and Megan didn’t sleep together as man and wife. ‘In fact,’ she carried on blithely, ‘I’ve been wondering if you are not pregnant already. I’ve noticed that you’ve been a bit off colour lately.’

  ‘I’m definitely not pregnant,’ Megan told her. ‘But I do think I’ve picked up some stomach bug. I’ll visit Dr Crozier if I don’t feel better soon.’

  ‘I’ll get Bertha to make you up one of her herbal tonics,’ said Lavinia.

  The visit from Captain Eugene Morgan of HMS Mason came on 14 June, the same day as the first of Hitler’s new weapons were unleashed on London and the south coast. The weapons came streaming in from their German launch pads at low altitude, wreaking death and destruction wherever they landed.

  Captain Morgan arrived in an official car just as the residents of East End heard the explosions in Southampton. Megan was in the garden and could see puffs of black smoke rising in the sky from Southampton.

  The captain walked round from the front of the house and found Megan in the vegetable garden, where she was picking some early broad beans. ‘Those are Hitler’s new V1 rockets,’ he said, nodding in the direction of Southampton. ‘They are coming in under the radar, so there’s no warning.’

  ‘How awful for the poor people over there,’ said Megan. She clutched the broad-bean trug to her chest. His was not a social visit. She knew that.

  His gaze was steady and gentle. ‘Captain Jim Byrne has been reported as missing in action,’ he said simply.

  She grasped at the lifeline that was inferred. ‘Then that means that there is a chance that he is …’

  His gaze remained steady, but he didn’t smile. ‘A chance, but a very small one. As an engineer he went in with the first wave at Omaha. He was building the Mulberry harbour, which he helped design. The casualties were very high on the beach in the first few hours. We’ve lost over forty thousand men. Not many who landed that day will be coming back.’

  I mustn’t cry, thought Megan. Not in front of this man with the kind and weary eyes. Not in front of anyone, because no one must ever know what is in my heart. I mustn’t cry. I mustn’t. She swallowed hard, and clasped the trug of beans tightly to her chest like a life raft. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she managed to say at last. ‘I’m very grateful.’

  He reached and briefly touched her hand. ‘I’m sorry.’ Then he turned to go. ‘By the way, officially I’ve come to tell you that the dower house will be returned to you within the next month. I’m sure Lady Lavinia will be pleased.’

  Megan nodded, beyond speech now, and watched as he made his way past the beans and the sweet peas towards the front of the house. Then she turned and watched the black smoke pouring into the sky from the burning buildings in Southampton. It reminded her that she was not alone in her grief. Many more would be weeping tonight.

  After supper she took the photo of Jim from the back of her drawer in the office, saddled up Major and rode to their secret place in the forest. Once there she let him roam loose. The old horse looked puzzled to be without his stable mate, but he went to his special spot and grazed on fresh summer grass.

  Megan sat down in the hollow and got out the blurred photograph. ‘Jim,’ she whispered, and then the tears she’d been holding back all day finally came. When at last she climbed back on Major she felt drained. Not a single tear was left. Not one. She felt as if she had wept for the whole world.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The long summer of 1944

  Henry was finding life easier as he gradually learned to navigate his way round the house from the gold room, through the hall, which he always r
ecognized when he bumped into the gasmasks hanging on the stand, and into the kitchen, one of his favourite places. He’d loved it there as a child and he still loved sitting listening to Bertha bustling about, peeling, chopping and cooking. He even helped Dottie shell the peas, and tried peeling potatoes, but Bertha took the knife away. ‘Too dangerous,’ she said.

  He was becoming more independent every day, finding his way to the stables and the gun cupboard to clean the shotguns which were kept there. Molly and Pat were happy to let him do that. They liked shooting rabbits which during the summer were plentiful and eating everything in sight if they got the chance. So they did the shooting, and Henry spent happy hours cleaning and oiling the guns, which made him feel useful.

  George was not happy. ‘I don’t like seeing Mr Henry with the guns, not now that he can’t see,’ he grumbled to Molly. ‘He could have an accident.’

  Molly dismissed his fears. ‘Of course he won’t. We never leave the cartridges nearby. They are carefully put away in the box on the top shelf.’

  But although Henry was feeling happier he was keenly aware of Megan’s melancholy. Of course he knew why. He wondered how many other people knew about her love affair with Jim. In the beginning he’d wondered whether she would ask for a divorce at the end of the war. But now that Jim was missing he hoped that she would stay with him. She belonged at Folly House, always had done; besides now she would have nowhere else to go.

  The thought of her loving another man aroused no feelings of jealousy. He felt that he should feel something, but emotionally he was barren. Not totally though, as he felt sorrow for them that their love should have been abruptly severed by the war. The only love there had been in his life since he returned to Folly House had been for Rosie. Yes, with Rosie there had been real affection; now he missed her childish chatter, her unrestrained, loving nature. Perhaps if she had been able to stay he might have learned more about loving. But according to Megan and Lavinia there was no chance of her coming back to Folly House, so like everyone he had to accept that she had disappeared from their lives for ever, and with her his chance of the ice in his heart ever thawing.