A Time for Hope

by Anna Jacobs

  Gabrielle caught her breath as she stopped inside the graveyard. It was like a scene from Wuthering Heights: a windswept oblong of ground, about as big as a football pitch, sloping slightly down from the crest of the hill, where they were standing, towards the moors behind it. It was surrounded by drystone walls, with grave markers leaning this way and that, some lying flat, half covered by long strands of unkempt grass.

  Beyond the graveyard stretched the moors, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the hilltop land, which spread out in gentle undulations towards the horizon. They called to her, those moors did, made her want to stride off across their wide spaces. A wind was blowing steadily towards them from the ‘tops’, as Dan said locals called them, sending Gabrielle’s hair flying and making her pull her thin jacket more closely round her body.

  He didn’t speak, letting her gaze her fill and breathe in the clean upland air. She liked the way he didn’t push her to do things instantly.

  ‘These northern moors are more beautiful in real life than when you see them on the television, aren’t they?’ she said at last. ‘Are there walks across them?’

  ‘Yes. Some of the most used walks are well signposted, with indications of how long and difficult each walk is. I’ll take you one day.’ He laughed. ‘Another place to put on our to-visit list.’

  ‘I’d like that. It’s a wild, lonely place, isn’t it? I bet it’s bleak in winter. Is this where Cousin Rose is buried?’

  ‘Yes.’ He pointed. ‘She’s lying in that far corner. Come and see. She had to get special dispensation, because the graveyard is officially full and closed to new occupants. But her ancestors are here and there was still room among them, so she got her final wish. She’ll be the last King buried here, though.’

  They had to wind round lines of graves and clamber over a few headstones to get to the corner. These graves were better tended, standing in a neat little group. To one side was a modest, new-looking headstone with Eleanor Rose Josephine King and the date of her death. Underneath it said simply With her family now, but missed by her many friends.

  ‘I’m glad she got her wish to lie here,’ Gabrielle said. ‘She sounds to have been a lovely person.’

  ‘I never met her, but I get the same impression. Mr Greaves always speaks very warmly of her. And look at how she’s left her money to help others. I even liked the way her own house felt when I visited another member of your extended family who was living there for a while. I meant to tell you when we were there. Libby’s only just moved out. She and Joss are renting till they buy a house together.’

  ‘I’m not the only one the trust has helped, then?’

  ‘No. That’s another thing I’ll do soon – introduce you to your umpteenth Cousin Libby by adoption.’ He laughed. ‘I can work out the exact degree of cousinship if I look at your family tree, but I haven’t connected the two of you in my mind yet.’

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Nice woman, about your age. She has a young son from her first marriage, a lively little lad, and she’s hooked up with a friend of mine, Joss, an ex-policeman. They’re planning to marry soon.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll tell you more about them later. We have three more houses to inspect before two o’clock.’

  ‘I’d like to come back another day and put flowers on Cousin Rose’s grave,’ Gabrielle said as they walked back to the car. ‘I’m very grateful to her.’

  ‘Good idea. I’m grateful to her, too.’

  She glanced quickly at him.

  He winked, then tugged her towards the car, making her run, so that they arrived slightly breathless.

  Had he been giving her another hint, or was she reading too much into what he was saying? She hoped she wasn’t. Suddenly, her life seemed to have hope creeping back into it again. She’d felt very downhearted for a while. Not clinically depressed – at least she didn’t think so – but definitely on the blue side.

  It was time she had something to hope for.

  The second of Cousin Rose’s houses was in the village itself, slightly smaller than the first one, with only two storeys because it didn’t have the weavers’ upper room. It had two bedrooms and was more than adequate for one person. The furnishings were in good order and the windows of the ground floor seemed to let in more light than those on the ground floor of the first house.

  Still, nothing about it made Gabrielle want to live there.

  She shouldn’t be so picky, she thought guiltily. She was lucky to have the chance of any free accommodation. But Mr Greaves had said she could choose which house she lived in, so she didn’t need to make a decision till she’d seen them all.

  Dan read her mind again. ‘Not this one?’

  ‘No. Well, not if there’s a better choice.’

  ‘Which of these two do you prefer?’

  ‘The first one.’

  ‘I thought you might. I’ll be interested to see how you react to the next place, which is different again.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Aha! Wait and see.’

  He drove down to the main road, turning on to a side road which ran along the floor of a small valley, then turning left along a narrow lane barely one car wide. The gravel at the edges was patterned by the marks of car wheels, and there were a couple of wider places near each of the three houses they saw, with a car parked outside one house.

  About a hundred yards up the hill from the other houses, the road stopped at a dead end with a small turning circle. To the right lay a single detached dwelling.

  ‘This is it,’ Dan said.

  As she got out of the car, Gabrielle stopped to study the house, which was much larger than the first two they’d looked at and appeared quite old. It was bordered along the front garden by a narrow stream, and they had to cross this on a little bridge made of two huge blocks of stone. There were no walls to the bridge, which felt like a continuation of the footpath.

  ‘How lovely!’ She stopped to peer down into the water. ‘Are there any fish in the stream?’

  ‘Shouldn’t think so. It trickles out from the edge of the moors and probably rushes down the hill in rainy weather in a torrent. See how deeply it’s cut into the ground below us. That must have taken decades.’

  From the bridge they moved along a crazy-paving path to the front door, and Dan opened the envelope to get the key, which was large and old-fashioned, made of wrought iron.

  But Gabrielle’s eyes were still on the house and she took a couple of steps back to study it again, glad that he was waiting to open the door. It was like a child’s drawing, with a central door framed by a small, glassed-in porch with an inverted V of a roof in dark slate to match the house roof. There was a window on either side of the front door, and identical windows above these on the upper floor, with a smaller window between them, presumably to illuminate the stairs.

  ‘Will you let me open the door?’ She took the key Dan held out and inserted it, listening in delight to the loud clunking sound as the tumblers moved in the lock. When she turned the handle and pushed open the door, bright morning sunlight flooded inside with her, revealing an old-fashioned, stone-flagged hall. It seemed lit up in a cheerful greeting.

  There was a door on the left; beside it, well-worn wooden stairs led upwards. They must have been carpeted once, because the screw marks of carpet holders were still there in the bare wood.

  There were two living areas at the front, one to each side. The one to the left was stiffly formal, filled with dark, old-fashioned furniture. Somehow, she didn’t think many people had ever used it. The room to the right wasn’t untidy, but it gave the impression that it had been well used and might become untidy at any minute.

  She had the fanciful thought that if she turned quickly, she might even see the smiling, ghostly faces of people who’d been happy here in the past.

  Dan didn’t break the silence as they went back out into the hall, and for that she was grateful. She wanted to listen to the house, its faint creaks, the sound of the wind agains
t the panes.

  At the rear was a large, old-fashioned kitchen, and to the left a door led into a dining room. Beyond the kitchen, to the right, was a narrow scullery and washhouse, rather like those her grandmother had had. A relatively modern washing machine was installed in the washhouse next to the ancient copper boiler, which needed a good polish. The sink was still what her grandmother had called a slopstone, low and square, made of stone, and there was a dusty enamel washing-up bowl standing in it beneath the rather newer taps.

  ‘I remember Henry once telling me that Mrs King had intended to live here herself,’ Dan said. ‘It was the last house she bought and she knew it from her girlhood, had always loved it. But she fell ill soon afterwards and didn’t have time to renovate it as she’d planned. The place is very old-fashioned, but …’ He looked sideways at her.

  ‘But rather charming,’ she finished. She went back into each room on the ground floor, then returned to the kitchen, which had a coal-burning range with stove and hotplate, as well as a gas cooker. The big wooden table was dusty but had been scrubbed white over the years – and would be again, she vowed.

  ‘I can imagine cooking meals here, sitting at that table to eat them, with my book propped up against a bowl of fruit,’ she said.

  ‘I like to read with my meals, too. When you live alone, it keeps you company. There’s a bookcase with some old books in it in the best room, did you notice?’

  ‘No. How lovely! I’m going to need something to read.’

  Upstairs were four decent-sized bedrooms, complete with old-fashioned beds. Dan tried one and grimaced. ‘You’ll need a new mattress at the very least, if you come to live here.

  She sat down beside him. ‘Wow, it’s like lumpy concrete.’

  ‘Probably a flock mattress. Goodness knows how old it’ll be, but out it goes. Give me springs and comfort any time. Let’s look at the bathroom.’

  It was large, with a claw-footed tub on a low platform at one side.

  She went to look at the various fittings more closely. ‘These look like original Edwardian pieces. Look at the patterns on them. They’d be worth a lot of money in an antique shop because they don’t seem to be chipped or cracked, apart from a little crazing, which is only to be expected.’

  ‘I doubt you’ll want to use such big pieces. We’ll get a modern suite put in if you choose this house, complete with shower.’

  She looked at them regretfully. ‘I agree. They’re pretty and interesting, but not all that practical. That bath is so big it must take a huge amount of hot water, and I prefer showers, anyway.’ She tried to turn on a tap and found it hard to move.

  Dan tried and managed to turn it on, but it gave out only a trickle of rusty water. He had even more trouble turning it off. ‘Not good enough. The plumbing needs checking.’

  ‘It might wear in with use.’

  ‘I doubt it. Mr Greaves is well aware that this house and the fourth one aren’t up to scratch, but we had no one coming to live here and two of the cottages in Top o’ the Hill were perfectly functional, so he didn’t think it worth having anything changed. Once I take over management of the trust, I may decide differently. We can’t wait weeks to modernize the plumbing if someone comes to us in an emergency.’

  ‘Does Rose have a lot of other descendants, then?’

  ‘The more I look, the more I find. Some branches of the family seem to have had big families.’

  ‘I’d love to find some cousins of my own age,’ she said wistfully.

  ‘I’ll do my best to oblige. Now, let’s check the attic before we go.’

  From the back of the landing, narrower stairs led up to the roof space. This was lit by two dirty skylights and one light bulb on a long flex. This was swinging gently to and fro as a stray breeze crept in through some crevice or other. If she’d been of a nervous disposition, Gabrielle might have found that spooky, but she felt so at home in this house, so welcome, it didn’t worry her.

  There were dusty boxes in one corner, a jumble of furniture in another, and a large old-fashioned wardrobe on one side.

  ‘One day when it’s raining, I ought to come and make sure it’s watertight.’ Dan walked round the big uneven space, studying the walls and ceiling. ‘However, I didn’t see any signs of stained plaster in the bedrooms, and I was looking, and there are no trails of leaks on the walls here, either.’

  Gabrielle swung round to speak to him just as he stepped towards her and they bumped into one another.

  He grabbed her to steady them both, then kept hold and pulled her closer for a kiss. ‘In stage two of our relationship, regular kisses are obligatory,’ he murmured as his lips brushed hers, then settled in for a proper kiss.

  When he ended it, her studied her. ‘Why are you looking so surprised?’

  ‘That should be obvious! I wasn’t expecting a kiss now. Anyway, you told me once we didn’t have a relationship.’

  ‘I lied. I didn’t want to frighten you away. But after our night of mad passion, I think things might have changed just a teeny bit, don’t you?’

  She had to laugh at that. She loved the way his mouth twisted up slightly more at one side. He helped her see the amusing side of life in general, and their relationship in particular. ‘You didn’t frighten me away. And may I say that you’re a very good kisser, Mr Monahan. Let’s see if I can do as well.’

  She pulled him back towards her and gave him another kiss, as gentle as his, and also, she hoped, as warmly arousing.

  Then she stepped back, taking a deep breath to steady herself. ‘Now isn’t the time, tempting as this is. We have a house to choose and arrangements to make. I don’t like being without a home.’

  ‘I think we’ve found the house, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. But we should still check out the fourth one, don’t you think? What’s it like?’ She led the way downstairs to the kitchen, which she loved already, and waited near the window for his response, looking out on to the tangle of garden, itching to tidy it up.

  ‘The fourth house is quite far out on the moors, used to be a farm, and it’s seriously old. I’m not sure how old, because someone had started to modernize it, but perhaps eighteenth or even seventeenth century. I think this house is early twentieth century, probably Edwardian. I’ll find out when I investigate the trust’s papers.’

  ‘Is the farm near any other houses or does it stand on its own?’

  ‘There are no other houses in sight, not now, though there are one or two ruins across the old fields. The farmland up there was never very productive and has mostly gone back to moorland vegetation: scrub, boggy patches, tufty coarse grass and little streams. It’s scruffy-looking scenery to southern eyes – comes as quite a shock at first – but as I learn more about the terrain, I’m beginning to appreciate it.’

  She tried to picture the fourth house. ‘I think I might feel a bit nervous if I had to live somewhere like that, absolutely on my own. Actually, I’m going to be nervous living anywhere on my own till I’m utterly certain Stu has forgotten me. I’m a real wimp where he’s concerned. I could never stand up to him, however hard I tried. He was a good con artist, always had reasons for doing something his way.’

  After a moment’s hesitation, she confessed, ‘Stu hurt me physically, you know. At the end. When I wouldn’t reduce the price.’

  ‘What? He beat you? Is that why you sold so cheaply?’

  ‘Not exactly. Beating would have left marks. He proved that you can hurt someone physically without thumping them, though. He thought I gave in because of that, and I suppose I did in a way. I decided if he would do that to me, it wasn’t worth waiting for more money. Since I wanted nothing further to do with him, it was the quickest way to cut the final ties.’

  Dan’s face was flushed and his eyes were bright with anger. ‘If I ever meet that sod, I’ll make him regret hurting you.’

  She was touched by this. ‘Don’t bother. He’s not worth it. I know I’m free of him now. It’s just … well … emotionally, I don’t
feel safe. I feel as if he might still pursue me. Isn’t that stupid?’

  ‘No. Not at all stupid. You know him quite well, so if you still feel nervous, then maybe you have reason. But you’re not alone now.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They stood smiling at one another for a few moments, then he said, ‘First things first. Let’s sort out a house for you, then make it safe. You’ve definitely chosen Brook House?’

  ‘Is that its name?’

  ‘Yes. Not very imaginative, is it?’

  ‘No. But, then, it’s a rather unpretentious house, don’t you think? Straightforward. Cosy and homelike – not small, though not built to show off the owner’s wealth. It’s here to provide a home and withstand the weather.’

  ‘I think you’re right. That’s settled, then.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘There is one more thing.’ He hesitated, but she was looking out of the window again. He hoped he was doing the right thing. He took a deep breath. This next step was so important …

  Eleven

  Stu waited till Radka had gone to work before he switched on his laptop. She’d told him first that she worked in a senior position in the accounts department of a large company, whose name was unknown outside the Czech Republic. Now, she said she was a partner, hinting that it was in something quite big.

  She certainly lived in luxury, seemed to be able to take any time off she wanted, and she travelled regularly to other countries, which was how he’d met her. Was she telling the truth now? He shook his head. He didn’t feel sure about anything she said.

  First things first. He had to look into his ex’s situation.

  He let out a yell of triumph as he got into Gabrielle’s online bank account easily, using her password. As he studied the amounts in the various sections of the account, he whistled softly at the totals. He hadn’t expected her to be able to stash away so much of the sale money. She couldn’t have had any debts at all to pay off.

  The bitch must be living on the smell of an oily rag. Or else she’d found some guy to subsidize her.