Good Manors

by Victoria Blisse

  “I managed to leave my camera here. Xander found it and very nicely brought it back to me. He was at mine when Mary rang and I wanted to come and help,” India calmly lied through her teeth.

  “Yeah.” I nodded at her appreciatively. “And I thought the more the merrier, really.”

  Jenny seemed satisfied and we entered the barn. Poor Harriet was nuzzling around, clearly distressed to be without her lamb.

  “It’s all right, girl, we’ll find her,” I said. She responded to my voice with a bleat that was enough to break my heart.

  “We’ve looked all over in here, Xander, we’ve not found a thing.” Mary was using her placating voice. That irritated me. She’d already given up.

  “But a new pair of eyes might pick up on something you missed. Let me look,” I snapped back.

  “Xander”—India scrabbled in her bag—“I’ve just remembered something, something I picked up when I was here. Well, just outside.”

  I walked over to stand beside her as she rifled further.

  “Ah, here it is.” She pulled out a scrunched up bit of paper and passed it to me.

  “Old Marsden’s place, nine p.m.,” I read.

  “I picked it up outside, not far from here,” India added. “I put it in my bag, thought it was rubbish.”

  “Anyone know what this is?” I asked.

  “No.” Harry shook his head. “But that’s Jenny’s dad’s farm. I don’t think he’s got anything to do with this. He’s a nice enough bloke.”

  “It can’t be me dad,” Jenny squeaked. “And it’s not me!”

  “It’s okay, Jenny,” I reassured her. “I know it’s not you.” I didn’t know that, of course, but I wanted to calm everything down.

  “But it’s worth checking this out. What time is it?” I asked.

  “Six-thirty,” Mary answered.

  “Well, let’s go. Will your dad let us have a poke round his place, Jen, just to check the thieves aren’t hiding our Grace there?” I addressed her as part of our team. I didn’t want her to think I was using an accusatory tone—we needed her to get onto Barry Marsden’s farm.

  “I’ll ask him, I’m sure it’ll be fine. We don’t use a load of the old outbuildings so you’ll be best to look there, first.”

  “Okay, Jenny, India, Harry, come with me. Mary, can you stay here and hold the fort?”

  “Sure.” She nodded. “Ring me the moment you find anything.”

  “I will.” I smiled—having Mary to rely upon made my life so much easier.

  “Okay, well, good luck.” Mary smiled and nodded reluctantly then left to go back to the house. I walked out of the barn, the others following, and headed toward the car.

  “Thanks, India,” I said when I noticed her walking beside me.

  “I’ve not really done anything.” India shrugged.

  “Well, you picked up the litter and if you hadn’t we wouldn’t have this tip-off.”

  “It might not be a tip-off.” She laughed uneasily.

  “But it might be, and it’s something. I don’t know what we’d have done otherwise.”

  “Well, I hope it’s useful, I really do.”

  “Me too.” I didn’t know what else to add. An awkward silence fell over us and I was thankful when Jenny walked up and started to chat to India and I didn’t have to think of anything else to say.

  It was an interesting car journey—Jenny and India sat in the back chattering away and Harry sat beside me on the passenger seat. He was never a brilliant conversationalist so I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t say a word.

  “I’ll go talk to me dad, wait here. He can be a bit funny with strangers on his land.”

  Jenny leaped out of the car and ran over to the small farmhouse, yelling all the way. Marsden’s farm was a familiar sight. I’d been there to pick up stock since being a child. The only change was the degradation, the growing weeds and the weathered plaster.

  I wanted to move off and look around but I knew that would be a mistake. Upsetting Barry would make a huge dint in the profitability of Mallard’s farm shop. Anxiety lay in the pit of my stomach, and not just about Grace. Once all the fluster of the kidnapping, lambnapping, whatever you’d call it, died down, I knew I’d have to face India and her confession, and I really didn’t want to.

  “Dad says we’re all right to look round. Said he’s not seen owt but he was up in the top field all today so he wouldn’t have.” Jenny bounded back over to us.

  “Well, I think we’re best to search the outer buildings and barns first. If they’re hiding Grace here I’m certain that’s where she’ll be.” I nodded. It was already seven o’clock—we only had a couple of hours left.

  “Okay, me and Harry will go to the right, you and India work out to the left.” Jenny grabbed Harry’s hand and was hurrying off before I could say another word.

  “Well, looks like it’s me and you then.” I smiled at India who returned it awkwardly. I’d have split us up if I’d been deciding the teams. I wondered briefly if it was weird for Jenny to split herself away with Harry. Maybe I should have insisted on her staying with me and India partnering Harry. A trusted person in each camp. I couldn’t believe I was thinking that about those two but all this madness was making me even less trusting than usual.

  “This place is huge.” India gasped. “Look at all these buildings.”

  “Back in the day, Marsden’s supplied beef and milk for the entire county and beyond. Business is still going but it’s not robust. The prices of beef and milk have come down so much and the big suppliers aren’t able to give as much back to the farmers. Barry’s moved into artisanal seasonals to bulk up his income. His herd’s dwindled considerably.”

  We headed into the first barn, which was in relatively good repair. It was obviously one of the buildings they still used.

  “It’s his business with us at Mallard’s and other independent suppliers that keeps him in business.”

  “That must feel good.” India moved into the barn and looked around the machinery, peering underneath and giving me a fabulous view of her arse encased in denim.

  I inhaled sharply and shook my head. I didn’t have time to be distracted by desire.

  “Yeah, yeah it does.” I nodded.

  “No sign of her in here.” India sighed.

  “I guess that makes sense.” I let her pass me and exit the barn ahead of me. “This is a working barn. If Grace is here, she’ll be somewhere quieter.”

  We checked the next few outbuildings with no luck and not much in the way of conversation. As we got farther from the farmhouse, the buildings became more run-down, with chipped paint, broken windows and trees and weeds growing in, up and around them.

  We had pushed and pulled our way through two of them and stood outside the last visible building, wiping sweat and muck from our brows.

  “What was that?” India placed her hand on my arm.

  I stood stock-still but my heart thumped madly at her touch. All I could hear was the rushing of my blood, no matter how hard I strained. I was about to break the silence when I heard it too. A little bleat.

  “Barry doesn’t keep sheep, that must be Grace.”

  We rushed to the last building, heaved the wooden bar blocking the double doors out of the way then I carefully pulled the rotting door open.

  “Grace?”

  The barn was dark, lit only by a few high skylights. There didn’t seem to be an electricity source at all. I could barely see where I was walking.

  “Hang on.” India fished in her bag and pulled out her mobile. She swished her finger down the screen and activated a light. “I knew the torch feature would come in useful someday.”

  I walked next to her, keeping to the pool of light. We heard the bleating again and headed toward it. In the back corner, we found a cage, and inside that cage was a trembling Grace.

  “Bastards,” I growled. The lamb was in a bare cage, no water or food. I unlatched it and pulled Grace into my arms. She nuzzled up against me.
r />   “We need to get her some water.”

  We headed back to the farmhouse and stopped by an old outside tap to give the thirsty lamb a drink. She lapped gleefully from my cupped hands.

  “Who the hell would keep her in here?” Harry shook his head when we met them back at the farmhouse.

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “I can’t believe it’s someone who lives here.”

  Jenny shook her head vehemently. I didn’t want to think it was her or one of her brothers but who else would be able to get on old Marsden’s property without raising the alarm?

  “Shouldn’t we wait here and see who comes to get her?” India asked.

  “I’m not sure that’s wise. What would we do when they turned up? They might be dangerous.”

  “We should call the police.” Harry nodded. “Mary rang them to report Grace stolen, we should tell ’em where we found her and about the note.”

  It was a good plan, and while the others looked on I rang up the local police station and updated them.

  “Okay, they’re going to send a few officers up to check it out.”

  “I’ll let me dad know,” Jenny chirped. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I danced from foot to foot agitatedly until she got back. Grace needed to be back with her mother, she needed Harriet’s milk. Jenny was as quick as her word and we were soon in the car and heading back home. India sat in the passenger seat this time, Grace cradled in her lap.

  Back at Mallard’s, I sent Harry and Jenny to tell Mary the good news and India followed me up to Harriet’s barn.

  “I should probably go home,” she said. “I could get a taxi.”

  “No, no, stay,” I insisted. “I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

  “Xander—”

  “Look, India, I don’t care what it is you think you’ve done. Honestly, you could be a convicted murderer and I wouldn’t care.”

  India’s eyes widened and she looked like she might be sick.

  “I like you and we’re good together. Really good together. I want to explore that, get to know you more. Please stay.”

  India sighed. The conversation stopped as we walked into the barn and Grace and Harriet both went mad. As soon as I set the lamb down in the pen she ran over to her mother who fussed and bleated and sniffed and snuggled her.

  “Aw,” India sighed. “I’m glad they’re back together.”

  “Yes, and hopefully they’ll stay that way now.” I sighed.

  We stood side by side, watching the pair frolicking then Grace suckling from her relieved mother. We’d stood side by side watching them like this several times before, and remembering those happier times, I wanted to reach out and touch her, hold her close.

  “So, will you stay?” I asked her again, not looking at her, staring straight ahead.

  “I don’t know, Xander, I don’t think you’ll like me once I tell you—”

  “Then don’t tell me. Just don’t. I don’t need to know. I’ve got all the information I need. You’re gorgeous, funny, kind, you like me tying you up and spanking you, I don’t need to know anything else. Please stay. We can talk about the future tomorrow but tonight I just want to be with you.”

  “I’ll stay,” she said, then quickly followed it up with, “because it’s getting late, but I need to tell you—”

  I silenced her with my lips. I didn’t want to hear anything else—why ruin something good with something potentially awful? I’d kiss her every time she tried to mention it if I had to, forever if she’d let me.

  I pulled her tighter to me, felt her arms wrap around me, and sensed extra heat in her kiss when her phone rang, blasting Dolly Parton’s Nine to Five into the air.

  “Crap, I have to get that! It’s Maxine and she only rings in an emergency.” India disentangled herself from me and lifted the mobile to her ear.

  “Hiya, yeah, yeah, I remember that.” She nodded and smiled at me. “Really? No way. That’s awesome! Now? Like, now?” Her brow screwed up in agitation. “Well, I’m at Mallard’s. Yeah, I did but I came back. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. Okay, are you sure? All right, that’s great. I’ll only need five minutes to pack a case then I can be off. Okay, cheers, cheers, bye!” She hung up then turned back to me. “I’m going to have to go. Maxine has ordered me a taxi, I’m sorry, Xander.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I looked down at the floor and shrugged like a sulky little boy.

  “We’ve got the opportunity to go to a royal residence—it’s not something I can either talk about or not go to. We’ve been working to get this for years.”

  “Sure, no, I do understand.” I smiled up at her. “I’ll see you soon, though, yes?”

  “As soon as I’m back I’ll arrange to see you.” She nodded. “Promise.”

  What more could I ask for, really? She couldn’t help her job and I couldn’t hold her back. The small talk was strained and painful but when the taxi arrived a little later we parted with a hug at the front of the manor. I couldn’t wait to see her again.

  At eleven o’clock that night I got a phone call from a police officer who had news about the sheep hustling and he was stood on my doorstep.

  “Hello, sir,” he greeted me, and I invited him in.

  “Hi, so you caught someone then?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  I escorted him to my office and there he told me briefly what they’d found. I could barely believe what I was hearing.

  “So it was Graham Taughton who turned up?” I asked.

  “Yes, and we found Gerald Wheatley sat in a van just down the lane.”

  The van had contained several carcasses and a box of conserves and oils that had clearly come from Mallard’s farm shop. The police were still questioning the pair, but it seemed they had not only found the thieves who’d stolen my lamb, but the men who were behind the fall in profits at the farm shop.

  I didn’t understand why, though Graham was a grumpy bastard and Gerald had never liked me. I answered the officer’s questions, and after an hour he left. I’d have to fill Mary in with the details in the morning. It didn’t make sense, and I now had two positions to fill immediately. How we’d cope the next day with tours I didn’t know.

  Even though I had all that to sort out, India was on my mind constantly over the next few days, especially as the newest copy of Good Manors had hit the shelves, creating a surge in visitors I could barely believe.

  The article was really positive, and Mary kept reading bits out at me whenever she could. She was like a proud mother hen, telling anyone she saw that she’d gotten a personal mention in India’s article.

  “We’re good friends now, you know.” She’d nod. “She’ll be back soon. She loves it at Mallard’s.”

  I could only hope it was me that brought her back, not just the house. Everything was going really well, I’d had several comments about how much I was smiling. I sorted out the staffing problems by discovering that Harry was not only capable of talking to people, he had a brilliant memory for historical facts. He was doing really well as the new tour guide. I was even thinking of employing more staff, it had become that busy.

  It was one afternoon, a few days after the magazine had come out, when the phone went. I answered professionally because generally anything that made it through to me was important business.

  “Hello, Xander Patrick speaking, how may I help you?”

  “How could you do it?” a reedy, wheezy male voice asked accusingly. “How could you?”

  “Wait, do what?”

  “You don’t know?” The incredulousness of the tone was easy to identify.

  “No, I don’t know what you mean, Uncle Carl. It is you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed.

  Oh great. My dad’s brother rarely rang and when he did it was to complain or to demand something. I didn’t have much time for the man who’d stood by while my father had drunk himself to death then blamed my mother for it. He was a nasty old curmudgeon.

  “I
know you have no regard for your father’s memory, Xander, but this is beyond the pale.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t understand?” I was close to slamming down the phone on him, except I knew the nasty piece of work would just keep ringing back until he’d made whatever point he had stuck in his mind.

  “God, you are thick, Xander. I heard about the buzz at Mallard’s, how you’d got an article in that magazine. Well, I had to take a look, didn’t I, but I couldn’t believe it when I read the name of the journalist.”

  “India Grace?” I asked with a shake of my head, looking back down at the invoice before me, determined to do some work while he twittered on.

  “Yes, that evil harlot.”

  “Steady on, Uncle. India was lovely.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten, Alexander. I really can’t. I know you were but a youngster when your dad passed but I thought you’d remember the name of the journalist who killed him.”

  “What?” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “India Grace took the photo that lost him everything. She took that evil photograph. That’s what killed him, Xander. His reputation was in tatters after that. It broke him. And you let that excuse for a woman into Mallard’s.”

  “I didn’t know,” I replied. “I had no idea.”

  “Well, now you do. I’m ashamed of you, Alexander Mallard. I didn’t think even you could sink so low.”

  The line buzzed, and I stared into space. I didn’t care that my uncle was angry with me, that was pretty much par for the course. But he couldn’t be right—India couldn’t have taken that photo. It had to be a lie.

  It took a bit of digging, but an Internet search on my dad’s name and hers did eventually come up with the evidence that proved he was right. That photo, those glassy, empty eyes, stared back at me. That photo was hers. She’d sold it to the newspaper. I even emailed them for confirmation. They got back to me quickly with an affirmative. She’d taken it. She’d ruined my father’s life, broken my mother’s heart and denied me the chance to make my father proud. India had thoroughly broken my family apart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  India Grace