by Anna Jacobs
‘I’m signing nothing without Ian Hannow’s say-so. I trust him; I don’t trust you.’ She gestured towards the door. ‘If that’s all, we’ll say goodbye. Don’t come back here again, Miles. You can make any further arrangements through my lawyer. If you want access to Amy, he’ll arrange that too.’
He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I might have known you’d go back to the Hannows. They’re as stick-in-the-mud as you are. Right, then. I’ll go up and pack my things, then I’m off.’
He was out of the kitchen and up the stairs before she could stop him.
She followed him up. ‘Your clothes are no longer here; they’re packed and waiting for you out in the barn.’ She hadn’t been able to face sharing a wardrobe for one hour longer with his precisely arranged row of designer jeans and trousers, expensive shirts and tops.
‘You don’t mind if I check that you’ve got everything?’ He moved towards the wardrobe and stared inside, then opened the drawers that had been his one by one. ‘You were very thorough, weren’t you?’
‘It was a labour of love.’
Before he went downstairs he flicked a scornful finger towards her jewellery box. ‘You should put that away. It’s stupid leaving it in full view. Any burglar would go straight to it. As I said, you have no financial sense.’
She shrugged and followed him downstairs.
He looked at Amy. ‘I’m leaving now. Be a good girl.’
But he didn’t touch the child or even wait for her answer, simply moved on across the yard to the structure they still called the barn, though it stood empty now, housing only her car and a few old farm tools. She gestured to the pile of rubbish bin bags to one side. ‘There you are. Every single thing that belongs to you. I doubt anything’s missing, but if it is, tell me and I’ll send it on.’
‘You realize I’ll need to have them all ironed after they’ve been stuffed into those bags and dumped out here.’
She shrugged. Whether his suits and shirts would need ironing had been the last thing on her mind. He dressed well, she had to give him that. No woman took more care with her appearance than he did.
For a moment he continued to glare at her, then he picked up a couple of the bags and carried them out to his car.
In the yard, Amy took a few uncertain steps towards him, the rolling gait caused by her weak lower spinal muscles very marked. He didn’t even slow down as he walked to and fro, just said, ‘I’m busy, Amy.’
Ella put her arm round her daughter. ‘Let’s go into the house, love. Your father’s in a hurry to leave.’
Inside, she went round bolting all the external doors so that he couldn’t come back in. She’d have the locks changed tomorrow. Well, the house locks, anyway. The barn locks were centuries old and would have to stay, but she didn’t think he had keys to them. Why would he? After his first tour of the group of outbuildings, he’d hardly ever gone inside again.
‘Why is Daddy so angry?’
‘Because he’s not going to live with us any more.’
Amy frowned. ‘Never?’
‘Never.’
‘Nessa’s old daddy went away. It’s called a divorce. Are we going to have a divorce?’
So much for breaking the news gently! ‘Yes.’
‘Nessa’s going to have a new daddy soon. Are we going to get a new daddy?’
Ella shuddered at the thought. She was done with men. ‘No. There’ll just be you and me.’ She hugged the child and settled her with a glass of milk and a biscuit, keeping an eye on the barn through the kitchen window, watching Miles load his possessions into his car. When he’d finished he stood for a minute or two, studying the jumble of outbuildings, turning slowly round in a circle, staring for a few minutes at the picturesque eighteenth-century farmhouse then staring at the line of willow trees along one side, where the stream ran into the lake.
Taking out a camera, he snapped a few photos then climbed on a nearby wall and turned his attention to the chalets. The outsides were fully clad in timber now, waiting for the insides to be finished, and the buildings looked pretty, even without being painted.
That raised her suspicions again. She could only suppose he’d not given up hope of making money from Willowbrook. Well, I’m not going to sell it, whatever you do! she thought as he put the camera back into his briefcase. You’ll get nothing from knowing this place exists.
It was a relief when he got into the car and drove away, but sounds carried clearly in the still air and she heard the car stop again on the other side of the house. She ran upstairs and watched him get out of the vehicle near the end of the long dirt drive. Once again he took photos.
Surely he didn’t think he could still get his hands on the farm?
She’d see him in hell first.
After lunch the next day, Ella went up to the bedroom to change out of her old jeans ready for her trip into the village to see Ian Hannow and discuss the divorce plus Miles’s suggested financial agreement.
Sitting down at the dressing table she tidied her hair then opened her jewellery box. Tears came into her eyes as she took out three eighteenth-century pieces she knew to be valuable. They were family heirlooms, but she’d have to sell them now to finish fitting out the chalets. Perhaps Ian would be able to advise her on how best to do that.
‘Georgina’s set’ was named after the jewels’ original owner. The small gold brooch was in the form of a circle bridged by a bar studded with pearls and it was one of her favourite pieces. She held it up against herself one final time, admiring it in the mirror, then put it resolutely into the padded bag, together with the matching necklace and bracelet.
She couldn’t afford to get sentimental. Keeping Willowbrook was more important than keeping the jewels and anyway, there were still one or two other pieces of jewellery left, so she could at least pass on part of the family inheritance to Amy.
Closing the drawers, she locked them carefully, something she didn’t usually bother doing, then studied the battered old box, which held her last objects of real value.
Perhaps Miles was right, about this at least, and it wasn’t safe to leave the box on her dressing table. She hadn’t bothered much about security before, because she was two miles out of the village and could see or hear if anyone drove up the track to the house.
But now . . . She couldn’t be too careful of what few treasures she had left.
So she put the box in the safest place she knew. The old house could still keep its secrets, she thought with a smile as she went back downstairs afterwards.
Ten days later, having sold Georgina’s set with Ian Hannow’s help, Ella went into the village to look at paint colours for the inside of the first three chalets. She’d thought about it a lot and had decided not to press for child maintenance because it might push Miles into demanding his money back. Anyway, Amy was hers, had always been hers and she didn’t want Miles to have any reason for interfering in how she brought the child up.
Ian had tried very hard to change her mind about that, but she’d stuck to her guns. She wanted Miles to leave his money invested in Willowbrook.
It’d take all the money from the sale of Georgina’s jewels to finish the chalets. She’d got slightly less money than she’d expected, but if she managed it carefully, it would be enough. She was considering giving each chalet a colour theme, so in the end she left the shop with a handful of sample colour cards. She’d get her cousin to come over and help her decide. Rose was the artistic one of the family. They’d grown up together, been inseparable till her cousin went away to art college, were still close friends.
When Ella got back to Willowbrook there was no sign of Porgy and she noticed the broken kitchen window straight away. Instantly on the alert, she told Amy to stay in the car and locked it after she got out.
From the barn came the sound of hysterical barking. Porgy. She ran over there first. As she opened the door, he came out growling and sniffing the ground, but he didn’t run round as usual. In fact, he was walking gingerly as if i
t hurt him to move. When he stopped beside her she saw that he had a cut over one eye. The blood was matted, so it must have happened some time ago.
Picking up a piece of wood for protection, she gestured to Amy to stay where she was and went inside the house, with Porgy limping along behind her. She stood listening carefully but even without the dog she could sense that whoever had broken in had left. She’d always been able to sense whether a building was empty or not, had been surprised as a child to find that others didn’t have the same ability.
She went out to fetch her daughter, keeping watch for anyone coming out of the outbuildings, but again, she could sense no human presence, only feel the wind blowing her hair gently across her face and making the flowers bow their heads to her as she passed.
Together she and Amy inspected the house.
The intruder had trashed the sitting room, but hadn’t stolen anything that she could see – well, her TV, sound system and computer were elderly, worth nothing. He’d smashed them, though. Perhaps he’d been disappointed by the lack of valuables.
‘Some bad people have been here,’ Ella told her daughter by way of explanation.
‘Why did they break our things?’
‘I don’t know. Some people are like that.’ She led the way up the stairs, waiting for Amy’s slower pace. Porgy didn’t even try to come with them, just stood at the bottom, whining in his throat.
‘Ooh, mummy! Look at that! The bad people have been in here too.’
Amy’s drawers and toy cupboard had been emptied out, but a quick glance showed the toys hadn’t been damaged.
Ella gave her a quick cuddle. ‘I’m sorry about all this, darling, but I don’t think anything’s broken. Don’t put them away until the police have seen the mess.’
‘Can I pick up teddy?’
‘Yes.’
Amy picked up the elderly teddy which had once been her mother’s and was her favourite toy, cradling it against her. ‘It’s all right now, Teddy. I’ve got you safe.’
Ella looked towards the chalets from the bedroom window. Thank goodness the electricians were working there today. The chalets should be untouched, at least. ‘Let’s look in my bedroom now,’ she said, speaking as cheerfully as she could manage.
The burglar had clearly concentrated his upstairs efforts on this room, trashing it thoroughly. It was as if he’d been searching for something. What?
‘Don’t cry. Mummy. I’ll help you to put your things away afterwards.’ Amy took hold of her hand.
Ella hadn’t realized tears were running down her face until than, tears of relief as well as pain. Thank goodness she’d hidden her jewel box!
‘Let’s go downstairs and call the police.’ She settled Amy and the dog in the kitchen, then slipped back upstairs to check the hiding place, which her daughter was too young yet to be told about.
Her heart was thudding in her chest as she opened the panel, but the box was safe, its contents untouched. She leaned against the wall for a moment, shuddering in relief, then closed the panel again. The old house had indeed kept its secrets.
Why had the intruder concentrated on her bedroom, though? He couldn’t have known about the jewellery, surely? In fact, why had anyone come to Willowbrook at all? Everyone in the neighbourhood knew she wasn’t rich. All her spare money had been sunk into the tourist chalets and she couldn’t even afford to finish all of them.
But perhaps someone passing by had seen the size of the house and assumed rich people lived there. Who knew what made people break into others’ homes and steal their possessions?
Picking up the phone she called the police, hesitated afterwards, then rang her cousin Rose. ‘The farm’s been broken into. Can you come round?’ Her voice broke on the last word, try as she would to stay calm.
‘Of course I can. Poor you. Did they take much?’
‘There’s not much of value to take, but they certainly made a mess.’
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
Ella walked slowly down the stairs, as always getting a sense of something – or someone – on the half landing. Today, she paused at the turn of the stairs, feeling comforted by that shadowy presence. It might sound foolish and certainly Miles had always laughed at her, saying the family ghosts were figments of her imagination. But she’d seen them since she was a tiny child, too young to know what ghosts were.
Her father had sensed them too. He’d told her the apparitions were real but nothing to be scared of, since they were members of the family who were still keeping an eye on their old home. Her mother had downplayed this side of life at Willowbrook, saying she had never seen anything. But then, Mum was more into practical stuff – and she wasn’t a Turner by birth.
Recently Amy had started talking about the lady in the long dress who came to say goodnight to her and sometimes about the man in funny clothes she’d seen on the stairs. Ella had had to try and explain what ghosts were. Not easy with a four-year-old. Since then Amy had taken to calling the main ghost the Lady, using a special tone of voice to say the words.
Ella looked round before she moved on down the stairs. The house was shabby, full of awkwardly shaped rooms, but she loved it, most especially this crooked set of stairs with a cupboard on the landing.
Miles had always said it was no wonder the heritage people weren’t interested in listing the farm, it was such a shambles. She’d been surprised that they didn’t want it, but Miles was right. The place was very run down and was indeed a mish-mash of styles.
At first he’d made a joke of its condition, but even those remarks had been enough to make her keep quiet about the secret places in both the house and outbuildings. Some of them were accidents, nooks and crannies created during the various waves of rebuilding and modernizing that had taken place over the centuries. Others had definitely been put there on purpose, perhaps to hide people in the early days, as well as treasured possessions. The rooms and floors were so uneven you’d not notice that walls didn’t match exactly unless you were shown or took extremely careful measurements.
To her, Willowbrook was beautiful, a rambling place perfect for raising a family. She’d always intended to have several children, but after producing one child with SMA3, Miles had been adamant about not having any others, even though they could have got tested to make sure it didn’t happen again.
A vehicle drew up outside, an old van with a loud exhaust. She didn’t have to see it to know who it was and ran out to her cousin. Rose, taller than her by three inches, swept her into a big hug, as if she understood Ella needed the comfort.
‘Auntie Rose! Auntie Rose!’
Ella stepped aside to give Amy a turn at being hugged by the woman she called auntie, for lack of any actual aunts or uncles, then the two women went inside, slowing down automatically to keep pace with the slower-moving child.
‘Porgy’s very quiet today, not like himself at all,’ Rose said. ‘He didn’t come running to meet me.’
‘He’s been hurt. I think they hit him with something. I’ll have to take him to the vet’s as soon as I can get away.’
‘Once the police arrive, I’ll do that for you. But I’ll wait with you till then. There you are, you old scamp.’ As they entered the kitchen Rose bent to caress the dog, who sighed and leaned against her.
‘Thanks. I really need your support after this.’ Ella gestured to the mess.
The police arrived half an hour later and soon afterwards Rose left with the dog.
The two officers examined the house carefully, but once it had been established that nothing had been taken, they put it all down to vandalism and asked if she’d upset anyone lately.
‘Only my husband,’ she said, intending it as a joke. ‘We’ve just split up.’
‘Could you give me his name and address, please, Ms Turner?’
‘You’re not taking that remark seriously? Miles would never—’
‘People can do nasty things when marriages end. It won’t hurt to check where he was when this happened
.’
When they’d gone, she brewed a pot of tea and sat in the kitchen, trying to seem cheerful for Amy’s sake, but jumping at sudden noises, nerves on edge.
It couldn’t be Miles. He wouldn’t steal Amy’s inheritance. He’d trick it out of them but not take it in a way that made him liable for imprisonment if caught. She was sure of that.
The police were probably right and it had been casual vandals looking for something to smash. It was just bad luck that they’d picked on her.
After she left Willowbrook, Rose drove carefully along the narrow lane, worrying about her cousin, who had been looking strained for a while now, and no wonder. Ella was working inhumanly long hours to get Willowbrook’s chalets up and running.
How she could have fallen for that . . . that con man, Rose had never understood. Oh, Miles Parnell was quite good-looking, but he’d never fooled her and he knew it. After he moved in, he’d not encouraged her to visit them at the farm.
She grinned. He’d never known how often she and Ella met in the village or at her house for a quick cup of coffee or just a chat. He hadn’t realized how strong the bond was between them. They were more like sisters than cousins.
The van jolted in and out of a particularly bad rut and there was a whimper from the back.
‘Soon be there, Porgy!’ she called
The vet was new in town, young, giving her the glad eye until he started examining the dog, then becoming serious and forgetting her completely.
‘I’d like to X-ray him. I think he’s been kicked. He’s probably got broken ribs.’
‘Will it cost much?’ She winced at the amount. ‘Is it absolutely necessary to X-ray him? Much as we love the dog, neither my cousin nor I are exactly overflowing with money.’
He pursed his lips. ‘Well, I’m pretty certain that’s what’s wrong. How did it happen?’
She explained about the break-in. ‘What’s the treatment for broken ribs?’
‘Just rest, really, if they’re not too badly damaged. He’ll heal on his own.’ He sighed. ‘Look, I’ll let you have the X-rays at cost. We really ought to check that there are no chips of bone, or other internal damage.’