The Courtyard

by Marcia Willett

‘Let’s just hope,’ said Guy, who was in a rather black mood having discovered that Nell was going to Italy with Elizabeth on a working holiday whilst Jack was in Scotland with friends, ‘that it’s nobody worse. Mr Jackson was quite harmless, after all, even if he wasn’t as friendly as some of us might have liked.’

  Phoebe laughed outright at this oblique attack.

  ‘Dear Guy,’ she said. ‘Always so optimistic. Anyway, it was nothing to do with me. He said that the cottage wasn’t big enough for wifie and all the little Jacksons to have their hols in, after all. He’s looking for something a bit bigger in South Brent.’

  Guy gave a disbelieving snort which sent Phoebe into further fits of mirth and he stalked off, whistling to Bertie who was having a wonderful game with Bill Beresford and who followed rather reluctantly. Joan and Bill raised their eyebrows and Phoebe grimaced.

  ‘Crossed in love,’ she said succinctly. ‘Never mind. Now. What about a little party to celebrate?’

  At the top of the drive Guy was detained by Gussie and Gillian, who were deciding whether it was warm enough to sit out on the terrace, and only agreed to stay when he realised that Nell would be along presently. When she arrived both Jack and Elizabeth were with her and Guy found himself recounting the story of Mr Jackson’s rout.

  ‘So she’s done it,’ Elizabeth chuckled. ‘It hasn’t taken too long.’

  ‘Well.’ Guy shrugged. He felt a little happier now and was prepared to admit to himself that he might have been a little churlish with Phoebe. ‘I know he never fitted in but we could do worse. That’s the problem with a small courtyard development. So much depends on one’s neighbours.’

  ‘Poor Henry’s quite terrified of selling Number Five to the wrong people,’ said Gillian. ‘He thinks that the Courtyard will rise in a body and come up to lynch him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past Phoebe,’ muttered Guy and smiled at Nell.

  ‘The problem is,’ said Nell, ‘that you can’t possibly know what people are like from one or two viewings.’

  ‘Phoebe says that a questionnaire should be sent out with the details and prospective viewers should be selected accordingly,’ said Gillian and everyone burst out laughing.

  Even Guy smiled unwillingly and Nell was relieved when Elizabeth suggested that they should be on their way to Plymouth. She felt increasingly shy and uncomfortable with him now and knew that the time was approaching when she would be able to prevaricate no longer. When they got up to go, Guy decided to continue his walk with Bertie, Jack disappeared in search of Mr Ridley and Gillian and Gussie sat on together, speculating on the fate of Mr Jackson’s cottage. However, it was several weeks before they heard through Mr Ellison that the house had been bought by someone upcountry and was to be let for the time being.

  Phoebe watched anxiously as people, sometimes alone, sometimes in twos and threes, crossed the Courtyard with Mr Ellison to view the cottage. Poor Mr Ellison grew to dread the sight of her, leaping out like a trap-door spider to waylay and question him. The owner, apparently, was very particular indeed and had made several rules; no children, no pets, no smoking, no DSS. Mr Ellison could have let it ten times over, so great was the need now for rented accommodation, but no one yet had been able to comply with all the restrictions. Phoebe was rather impressed with this comprehensive list of prejudices – ‘Nearly as long as your own!’ Guy said somewhat acidly when she told him – and was beginning to wonder if she knew anyone who might fit the bill when fate stepped in and took a hand.

  ON A HOT DAY in late May, Nell parked her shiny new car at the end of the avenue, paused to admire it for the hundredth time and let herself through the little wicket gate. Her own gate was slightly ajar and she wondered if the postman had been with a letter from Jack. Nell, who received very little post, felt a thrill of anticipation. When she saw that the back door stood open, it occurred to her that Gussie – who had a spare key – might have come along with some newly baked offering. As she paused to drop her bag and kick off her shoes, she called out, feeling rather surprised that Gussie, who rarely let herself in, had ventured further than the kitchen. There was a sound of running feet on the stairs and a figure loomed in the doorway. Nell opened her mouth to scream, saw the raised arm and felt an agonising blow to the head before she fell, unconscious, against the Rayburn.

  It was Mr Ridley who found her. He’d jolted slowly along the avenue in his old car with the Flymo in the back and, seeing the doors open, had put his head in to announce his presence. He found Nell bruised and bleeding, huddled against the Rayburn. She’d been very sick and blood was still trickling from the ugly gash on her head. Pausing only to cover her gently with a rug from the rocking chair, he telephoned for an ambulance first and Gussie second and then kneeled down beside her.

  ‘’ Tis all right, maid,’ he said, tucking the rug round her and using the kitchen towel to try to clean away the vomit and blood without moving or hurting her. ‘They be on their way.’

  Nell opened her eyes with difficulty. ‘Don’t leave …’ The words trailed away and her eyes closed again.

  ‘I bain’t goin’ nowhere,’ he assured her and looked up with relief as Gussie and Gillian came rushing in.

  ‘Oh, Mr Ridley!’ Gussie caught sight of Nell and gave a gasp. ‘Oh, dear God!’

  She kneeled down beside Mr Ridley and took Nell’s hand whilst Gillian stood with horrified eyes, her palms pressed to her lips.

  ‘’Twas an intruder,’ Mr Ridley was saying. ‘Winder’s bin took out. See? ‘E panicked an’ ’it ’er.’

  ‘We called the police,’ said Gussie, her eyes on Nell’s face. ‘Her breathing seems quite regular. D’you think … ? Ah! Nell dear, it’s Gussie. You’re going to be quite all right. The ambulance is on its way.’

  ‘Gussie.’ Nell’s voice was very faint. ‘Don’t leave it.’

  ‘I shall come with you. Of course I will. Gillian dear?’ Gussie’s eyes remained fixed on Nell’s face but she turned her head a little. ‘Could you bring a glass of water?’

  ‘No, no.’ Nell sounded distressed. ‘Not me. He might come back …’

  She sank back and Gussie stroked the hair tenderly away from her white face.

  ‘Don’t worry, my dear. You won’t be here. No need to be afraid.’ Gussie took the glass from Gillian and held it to Nell’s lips.

  Nell raised her head to sip and gave a wince of pain.

  ‘My things,’ she whispered. ‘Please …’

  ‘I think,’ said Gillian, watching from behind Gussie, ‘that she’s afraid that the man might come back with a van and take her furniture. Now he’s seen what’s here. She doesn’t want the house left empty.’

  Nell sent Gillian a look of pure gratitude and closed her eyes again.

  ‘Of course,’ said Gussie remorsefully. ‘It’s all she has. But how—’

  ‘I’ll stay,’ said Mr Ridley. ‘I’ll get Doris to bring me gun down.’

  Gussie looked quickly into his eyes, inches from her own, and felt a twinge of anxiety. She felt that there would be nothing he’d like better than to have a go at Nell’s assailant. She opened her mouth and shut it again as an ambulance siren could be heard wailing its way closer and closer.

  Nell, reassured by Mr Ridley’s promise not to leave the Lodge empty for a single moment, gave herself up to pain. As she listened to the voices and the footsteps and felt herself lifted and jolted to the ambulance, she thought for one dizzy, dreadful moment that she was back in the flat and losing the baby and she cried out in despair. Her hand was seized and held and she opened her eyes to see Gussie beside her and remembered and was comforted.

  DURING NELL’S STAY IN hospital the whole of Nethercombe rallied round. Guy and Mr Ridley took it in turns to stay at the Lodge whilst Gillian and Gussie did their best to decide what might have been stolen. Certainly nothing obvious was gone and they all hoped that the thief had been disturbed before he’d had chance to find anything of value.

  Nell, recovering from concussion and severe
bruising, tried to help and it was finally agreed that, apart from several pieces of jewellery, everything else was intact. Nell, weak from shock and pain, was terrified that the man might return and wondered how she could have lived in such an isolated place for so long without worrying about it before. She knew that she would never be able to let herself in to the Lodge again without the fear of that huge shadowy figure with its arm upraised looming at her, and wondered how she would be able to be alone at night there without finishing up mad with fright. She communicated her terrors to Gussie who in her turn reported them to Gillian and Henry whose reactions were immediate and identical: Nell must move back to Nethercombe.

  Nell shook her head when Gussie suggested this as an alternative to going back to the Lodge. It might serve as a short-term answer but it couldn’t possibly work as a final solution. Big though Nethercombe was, now that Henry and Gillian were starting a family there would be no room for outsiders. Gussie was different; she was one of the family. As for herself, she must make other plans. But where should she go? How could she possibly bear to leave the people who had become like a family to her? Guy’s suggestion, faithfully transmitted by Gussie, was that she should have a dog. A good guard dog would frighten away a would-be intruder and would be company for Nell. She smiled a little at this. She guessed that what he really wanted to suggest was that she accept his offer of marriage and move in with him. Unfortunately for Guy, the time never seemed to be right to make this suggestion and he felt, in some obscure way, that he would be badgering her whilst she was at a disadvantage. After all, she was aware of his feelings for her. She only had to accept for her problems to be over. ‘Or just beginning!’ muttered his cynical inner voice.

  It was Phoebe who provided the answer. Newly returned from a holiday with her family, she had been met with the dreadful news and the problem of Nell’s terrors. She sat on the terrace having an early evening drink with the Morleys and Gussie and the solution was so obvious to her that she was amazed that nobody else had thought of it.

  ‘Mr Jackson’s cottage,’ she said. ‘Nell must rent Mr Jackson’s cottage.’

  The others stared at her in awed silence for so long that she was irresistibly reminded of Keats with Henry, naturally, cast as stout Cortez.

  ‘Honestly!’ said Gillian at last ‘What idiots we are! It’s so obvious.’

  ‘It’s very clever of you, Phoebe dear,’ said Gussie and Phoebe smirked a little. ‘She’ll feel quite safe with you all down there. I really can’t imagine why we never thought of it.’

  ‘It’s not let, then?’ asked Henry and immediately doubt and anxiety crept in amongst their sensations of relief like foxes in a chicken run.

  ‘Not as far as I know …’

  ‘Supposing the owner won’t let Nell have it? He sounds terribly fussy …’

  ‘Henry dear, telephone Mr Ellison at once …’

  They all spoke at once, anxious lest their brilliant idea should come to nothing. Henry hurried into the house with Gillian and Phoebe finished her drink and smiled encouragingly at Gussie.

  ‘Surely nobody could object to Nell!’ she said bracingly. ‘Professional woman, non-smoker, no pets.’

  ‘She has a child,’ objected Gussie.

  ‘Jack’s hardly a child. What is he? Thirteen? That’s not a child. And he’s away at school nearly all the time.’

  ‘I wonder if she can afford the rent,’ mused Gussie. ‘We’ve no idea what it is, have we? The Lodge is very reasonable …’

  ‘Oh hell!’ Phoebe stared at Gussie in dismay. ‘I never thought of that. He’s probably asking an extortionate amount.’

  Henry and Gillian reappeared looking excited.

  ‘Mr Ellison’s getting on to the owner’s representative,’ he said, pulling out Gillian’s chair for her and sitting down beside her. ‘Apparently he has his private number. It’s not let yet so we’ll keep our fingers crossed.’

  ‘And you did point out Nell’s suitability?’ questioned Gussie anxiously.

  ‘You’d have thought it was the archangel Gabriel applying,’ grinned Gillian.

  ‘How did you get over the “no children” rule?’ asked Phoebe.

  ‘We glossed over Jack a bit,’ admitted Henry. ‘Said he was nearly finished at school and was away for most of the year.’ He looked rather defensively at Gussie who beamed at him approvingly.

  ‘Quite right, my dear,’ she said. ‘It is, after all, a matter of degree. How quickly can we hope to hear?’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow. John thinks that the fact that she lives on the estate and that we can personally recommend her might be in her favour.’ Henry paused. ‘I asked about the rent.’

  ‘Aah!’ Three pairs of eyes were riveted on his face.

  ‘It’s very reasonable. Almost exactly the same as she pays for the Lodge. Shouldn’t be a problem.’

  ‘I think,’ said Gillian, eyeing Phoebe’s glass, ‘that we need another drink.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said Phoebe cheerfully and when her glass was full, she raised it. ‘Here’s to us! And now there’s only one problem left.’ They stared at her. ‘I suppose we ought to take into consideration the fact that Nell might not want to live in the Courtyard. Perhaps we should have asked her first!’

  NELL COULD HARDLY BELIEVE her good fortune. The suggestion wasn’t made until Henry heard through Mr Ellison that the owner was prepared to grant Nell a lease and then Gussie told her everything. Nell imagined herself in the delightful little cottage with all her precious things round her, safe in the Courtyard, amongst all her friends and, when Gussie had gone, she wept. The only drawback would be her proximity to Guy but, in her heart, she knew that the time had come to put an end to the whole business. Guy might be hurt but it was unfair to keep stringing him along. She prayed that it wouldn’t spoil their relationship or make things difficult and spent many hours wondering how to put it to him as tactfully as possible. Although part of her was preoccupied by this problem, she was full of excitement and longing to get back to Nethercombe and take up her life again. Elizabeth had been to visit her and assured her that she mustn’t worry about anything except getting well and told Nell that she’d been wondering if it was the sudden appearance of the nice new car that had given the thief ideas. The car was now safe in the Courtyard’s car park and Elizabeth appeared to be deeply relieved at the news that Nell was to live in Mr Jackson’s cottage.

  ‘Phoebe had the right idea after all,’ she said. ‘Let me know when you’re in and I’ll be over.’

  Gussie and Gillian helped Nell to pack and, between them, Guy, Henry and Mr Ridley with a hired van moved her belongings down to the Courtyard. Very quickly she made herself as comfortable and homely as she had been at the Lodge.

  ‘You can’t imagine what a relief it is to have you here,’ said Phoebe, who had popped in to make sure that all was well. ‘Like it?’

  ‘I love it,’ said Nell at once. ‘I have the morning sun in the kitchen and my bedroom, and the afternoon and evening sun in the sitting room. The Lodge was a bit dark and gloomy with all those great trees around. And I’ve got French windows on to my little paved bit and no garden to worry about. It’s wonderful.’

  ‘Well worth getting hit on the head for then,’ said Phoebe cheerfully. ‘You know what Gussie’s always saying! “Out of evil cometh good.” Now we’ve only got Number Five to worry about!’

  Thirty-three

  NELL’S RECOVERY AND REMOVAL to the Courtyard seemed to give an extra edge to the Midsummer Eve party round the pool. It was obviously all set to become a Nethercombe institution like the Christmas party. The lights were put up and the summerhouse swept and refurbished and extra chairs and china were hunted out. Gemma came over early to lend a hand but Sophie – her infatuation for Guy over and with a boyfriend now in the sixth form – was coming later with her parents. Gemma, just home for the holidays from Hungerford where she was at the Norland Nursery Training College, was surprised and rather disconcerted to find Nell living in the Courtyard an
d horrified by the story of her attack. She seemed unusually subdued and when Guy teased her about it she said that she was missing Chris. Guy was somewhat taken aback. He’d never really taken the idea of Chris very seriously and he felt rather resentful that this unknown man should change Gemma in any way.

  He had, as yet, made no attempt to approach Nell again. She still looked so battered and bruised that he hadn’t the heart to harass her, although they’d had a few quiet evenings at the pub. He’d been looking forward to seeing Gemma, expecting her to jolly him along and make him laugh, and he felt somehow cheated. At the back of his mind he’d accepted that she had a bit of a crush on him and it was only now, when he seemed in danger of being supplanted by this Chris, that he realised how much he’d counted on it to boost his ego and how much he’d taken it for granted. It seemed something quite apart from his passion for Nell but he didn’t stop to analyse it or wonder whether it was fair to encourage Gemma, knowing that his heart belonged to Nell. Since Nell was still taking life gently, Guy decided to draw Gemma out of her preoccupation. After all, she was far too young to be serious about anyone yet. When he told her so she merely looked thoughtful but he soon had her laughing and by the end of the evening she was more like her old self. Guy was inordinately pleased with himself and, when Nell refused – very gently and politely – an invitation to the Church House Inn for one of their delicious Sunday lunches the next morning, Guy had no compunction in seeking Gemma out and asking her instead. She accepted and he was surprised at the relief and pleasure he felt.

  AFTER THE PARTY NETHERCOMBE settled back into its calm ordered routines. Gillian, now in her seventh month, was quite glad that the excitement was over and she could relax and, one morning in early July, she wandered out on to the terrace and settled in a shady corner with a book. Gussie was in Totnes and Henry was going up to Higher Nethercombe Farm.