by A. B. King
“Very well,” she agreed.
The bedroom door was ajar, and as they entered they saw that the girls were examining everything in the room with interest.
“I hope you two are happy with this arrangement,” Martin said, dropping the cases he was carrying at the foot of one of the two single beds that occupied one wall of the room.
“This is great!” Beverley exclaimed. “It’s a lovely room, don’t you agree, Georgie?”
Georgie agreed heartily as June placed the remaining cases at the foot of the other bed.
“If you two would just like to get changed, we will put everything away for you a bit later,” she said, “and if you want the bathroom, it is just across the hallway.”
“Come on, Georgie,” Beverley cried excitedly as she kicked off her shoes, “I bet I’m ready before you are!”
“Right, we will leave you to it then,” Martin said hastily, and left the room in company with June and descended the stairs once more.
On reaching the ground floor, the housekeeper disappeared into the kitchen and Martin left by the front entrance to put the car away. As he returned to the house as few minutes later he saw the girls charging out in jeans and tee-shirts to go running off on their initial trip of exploration. He watched them vanish round the corner of the building, and then went in, closing the front door behind him. As he entered, he saw June ascending the stairs once again, and guessed that she was about to deal with the luggage. On impulse he fell in behind her.
“I will just pack their things away,” she explained, confirming what he had surmised, “and then I will get tea, I expect they will be hungry, and I’ve told them what time it will be served.”
He was pleased that she did not seem concerned that he was accompanying her on what was a purely domestic task.
“Beverley’s always hungry,” Martin commented, “and no doubt her friend Georgie will be much the same.”
They reached the landing and entered the bedroom where as anticipated the found cases open, and clothing strewn everywhere. June settled to the task of putting clothes in the dressing table and hanging coats and uniforms in the large old-fashioned wardrobe. Martin had very little idea what to do, and contented himself with just passing things over to her from time to time.
“You know, I never thought about toys or games,” he exclaimed suddenly. “I doubt there is a thing in this house that they will be able to amuse themselves’ with if the weather turns nasty. I tell you, it is now dawning on me that as a father I’m really no great shakes. I don’t seem to have the first idea about anything.”
“I think you will find that they are both a bit old for toys,” she observed. “If I’m any judge, they will be more into computers, pop music and boys.”
Martin looked at her in astonishment. “Boys?” he echoed in disbelief. “Beverley’s only a child; she’s not even thirteen yet!”
“If you don’t mind me saying, thirteen-year-olds today are a good deal more sophisticated now than they might have been when you were that age,” she responded, closing on e drawer and opening another as she continued with her task. “Maybe you still see Beverley as your little girl; I’ve seen her only once, and I can tell you the ‘little girl’ is fast slipping into history. She’s already developing quite a nice little figure, and I would be very surprised indeed if she hasn’t started to take an interest in the opposite sex.”
As if to illustrate her point she held up a small, carelessly discarded bra.
Martin was almost speechless. The thought that Beverley was growing up had simply not crossed his mind. It dawned on him that June was so right; in his mind she was still his little girl! The thought that he was suddenly being presented with a teenager, and all that that implied really rocked him back on his heels. It wasn’t until June had actually put it into words that he realised that she really was turning into a young woman, and it came as a bit of a shock.
“Good God!” he muttered, looking at the bra almost as if he expected it to bite him! “I mean, how? I mean, good grief, what the hell am I going to do?”
Quite suddenly June laughed. It was the first time he had actually seen her giving way to the humour of a situation, and somehow it helped to thaw a bit more of the emotional ice that surrounded her.
“Don’t worry,” she said good-humouredly. “I would be surprised if she has got far beyond the 'noticing' stage, although no doubt her head is full of schoolgirl smut; she wouldn’t be human if it wasn’t. I can assure you that's quite normal these days. I would be more than surprised if the school didn’t keep a very watchful eye on all their maturing charges, so I doubt that there is any chance of her running off the rails for some time yet.”
“Even so, this isn’t the school, and I can’t be on watch all the time whilst they are here! In any case, there are going to be all sorts of things that will need sorting out. I mean, I don’t know the first thing about such matters, particularly where young adolescent girls are concerned; it’s the sort of things that Alicia-”
He stopped suddenly. He was going to say that it was the sort of thing that Alicia would have dealt with without any reference to him, but Alicia was dead, and now the problem was unavoidably his.
“I would think,” said June as she carefully closed a drawer and turned to face him, “that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Young girls these days are not brought up in cotton wool. She probably knows more about the ‘facts of life’ than you do if it comes down to it. In any case, you needn’t worry about them whilst they are here, I’ll keep an eye on them.”
He heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks,” he said, and meant it, “You have no idea how grateful I am to hear you say that!”
“Think nothing of it.”
June busied herself putting the last of the clothing away, and watching her dealing with matters so efficiently reminded him painfully of the times he had watched Alicia doing much the same sort of thing. He tore his mind away from that concept and looked about the bedroom. It was bright and cheerful, and he noticed that some of the furniture that might have been more suitable for an older person had been moved out during his absence, so that the youngsters now had plenty of space. Mrs Brent was obviously a thoughtful person along with all her other undoubted attributes. When the job was finally complete they returned to the lower floor.
“The kettle is on,” said June as they reached the hallway again. “I thought perhaps you would like a quiet cup of tea before you get ready for a meal with the youngsters?”
“That would indeed be most welcome,” he agreed. “Having the chance to sit quiet and unwind for a bit sounds remarkably like heaven right now; I have endured a continuous verbal battering ever since I collected them from the school.”
They repaired to the kitchen, and whilst June busied herself making the tea, Martin sat in the same chair as he had t previously, his mind still full of the revolutionary idea of his daughter growing up, and all that that entailed. As if he didn’t miss his wife enough, now this totally unexpected development had been thrust upon him. He knew that it was going to require some radical rethinking about a lot of things in the future, and frankly he didn't know where to start. He came out of his reverie as June placed a cup and saucer in front of him, and then settled in the chair opposite, a second one placed ready to hand in front of her.
“I have confirmed my holiday,” she said “It is a quiet period at work, and they were quite happy about it.”
“I don’t quite know what I would have done if there had been a problem with that.”
“I expect you would have arranged for your regular housekeeper, Mrs Croft I think you said her name was, to come down. At least she would be well known to your daughter.”
She said it quietly, yet he had the feeling that if he had suggested doing such a thing at the outset she would have been highly offended.
“I think,” he answered slowly, “that in the circumstances I would much rather have you. Please don’t misunderstand me; Mrs Croft is a l
ovely lady, brilliant at her job and gets on so well with Beverley, but she doesn’t know this house and she is, well, she is far too close to the tragedy that has overtaken Beverley and myself, and is inclined to be a bit too, well, over-motherly I suppose. She means well, yet I'm not sure it helps either of us, particularly Beverley”
“I think I understand,” she responded. “I admit it was a bit of a surprise when you first asked me, yet once I had had a chance to think about it I found that I was quite looking forward to looking after the pair of them. May I ask; do I have a free hand with them, or do you have certain restrictions in mind?”
He sat back in the chair and looked at her seriously.
“June,” he said, “the honest truth is that I just don’t know the first thing about young girls; if you can take it all on I shall sleep very much better. Restrictions? Well, I don’t want either of them in trouble with the law, keep them away from drugs, and above all, make sure they don’t get too adventurous with boys; the last thing I need is to have to explain an unwanted pregnancy to Georgie’s mother!”
She smiled at his comments. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll keep them far too busy for any of that sort of nonsense.”
Chapter Ten. Tuesday Evening.
Even if it was a far livelier meal than he was accustomed to, Martin thoroughly enjoyed having high tea on the terrace with the girls. For perhaps the first time since the dreadful day he had been robbed of Alicia he felt as if he had really unwound and enjoyed a meal. Both girls were real live wires, and they had chattered and laughed in a way he had forgotten was possible. They had been exploring every inch of the grounds, and were looking forward to going over every part of the house before retiring. They had been fascinated by the ornamental pond, explored much of shrubbery, and had already essayed climbing some of the trees in the spinney that formed the far perimeter of the property.
When at last the meal was complete they scuttled off to the freedom of the outside world once again, and he settled back with a final cup of tea just to unwind from all the chatter. It was pleasant and peaceful on the terrace; the weather was warm without being uncomfortable, with the smell of blossom once again heavy on the air. June had disappeared with a tray containing the dirty crockery and remnants of food, and he took advantage of the lull to just relax. Looking out over the pleasant vista of the garden to the rear of the house, he felt a trace disappointed that he remembered so little from his only visit to the place as a child. Inevitably there would have been many changes since that distant day of course. More than likely the patio areas had been added subsequent to that visit, just as the kitchen had been greatly modified to incorporate the old servant’s hall, and even the layout of the garden itself had probably changed.
He vaguely remembered playing for a while by the pool; he recollected that he had been throwing stones into it in a effort to hit the fish, but of course never got anywhere near them. He remembered in a hazy manner having a meal in the dining room. No doubt his aunt and uncle had been there along with his mother, yet all he could remember was being keen to leave the table, and to go exploring. No doubt he had trawled over much of the house, but what he had seen, or what rooms he had looked into were now long forgotten. When it had been time to leave, he recalled that he had thought it a good idea to hide from his mother, and secreted himself in a cupboard.
He suddenly stopped daydreaming as that long forgotten memory filtered into his mind. He had hidden himself in a cupboard! That was something he had totally forgotten for many years, yet he had little doubt now that that was exactly what he had done, because he remembered his mother opening the door and scolding him. Which cupboard had it been, he wondered? He sat there, trying hard to cast his mind back over the intervening years in an effort to remember in which of the many cupboards that existed in Springwater House he had sought to conceal himself. He closed his eyes as he endeavoured to picture the interior of the house as it must have been on that visit, trying hard to remember the sequence of events that occurred after he had left the table and gone exploring. He recalled looking through the ornate banisters as he had descended the stairs, and then clear as a bell he heard his mother’s voice.
He must have returned to the hallway, because he now remembered her voice calling out: “Come along Martin, it is time we were leaving.” That was when he had decided that it would be good fun to hide. Now which cupboard had he tried to conceal himself in? There were plenty of cupboards in the kitchen, but there was somebody working in there. There were no cupboards in the lounge, there were people in the library, and he was far too frightened to trespass inside his uncle’s study.
The cupboard under the stairs! He suddenly recollected turning round at the bottom of the stairs and running along to the cupboard underneath them. He had opened the door, but he hadn’t been quite quick enough, because his mother had seen him close the door, and he had been swiftly located and brought back into the hall to receive a well-merited lecture on the error of his ways. He smiled as he now recalled that incident so long forgotten. As he thought about that stair-cupboard, he suddenly realised that it was no longer in existence. He had already seen the oak panelling that now covered where he remembered the door once stood. Obviously it was a cupboard that his uncle had decided was no longer required. Maybe his deceased aunt didn’t much like the look of a cupboard in the hallway, and had arranged for it to be panelled over? There could be any number of reasons for doing it, and probably none of them would matter very much anymore.
His thoughts on the subject were interrupted when June came out on the terrace.
“There’s a telephone call for you,” she said. “Mr Buxted?”
All thoughts of the missing door vanished as he realised that this was the return call he had requested that morning. Peter Buxted was part of the puzzle, and now that he had a valid reason for seeking his professional services he hoped he might glean a little more information from the man. He had a feeling that there was something a little more than friendship between him and his late uncle, and he was curious to discover what it might be.
“Thanks,” he said, “I’ll take it in the study.”
“Hello Peter,” he said as he settled in the chair behind the desk with the receiver grasped in his hand, “sorry to keep you hanging on; I was out in the garden. Thanks for returning my call.”
“No problem,” was the hearty response. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me when you called in; maybe having the place fitted with an efficient security system might not be such a bad idea at that.”
“Ah, you are thinking of taking up permanent residence then?”
“I’ve made no firm decision as yet, still I suppose it is a possibility.”
“I see, and you now think that the place is vulnerable?”
“As a matter of fact I do; your warning turned out to be quite timely. There has been an attempted break-in.”
“Has there indeed? Well, I can’t say I’m overly surprised. It is remarkable that such an isolated place has not been broken into in the past. When you say attempted, what actually happened?”
“Sheer luck really, I happened to glance into the kitchen prior to retiring and saw the shadow of somebody endeavouring to force the back door. They made off when I went to investigate.”
“And you’ve no idea who chummy was?”
“No, never got a good look at him; I wondered at first if I had imagined it, until I found a lighted dog-end just outside.”
“Interesting; have you advised the police?”
“There was no point. No damage done, nothing taken. I’ve been along that path before; lots of note taking, lots of questions, lots of promises of action, lots of inconvenience, and then lots of nothing.”
“Tell me about it!”
“So, even if I decide not to stay here, having an efficient system installed might be a selling feature?”
“Selling feature or not,” he agreed in a positive tone, “I s
till think it is a good idea for anyone in this day and age. Right, now I would normally send out one of my technicians to examine the property in detail, and then submit a firm quotation, valid for twenty-eight days. I think in this case, because of my long-standing friendship with your late uncle I’d sooner do this personally. Naturally you will also need to solicit alternate quotes from other reputable companies however I think I can promise you the same hefty discount I would have offered your late uncle.”
“That’s decent of you.”
“If it is acceptable to you, I will call in next Sunday, perhaps just after lunch?”
“That would suit me, band as you are so kindly putting yourself out on my behalf to work on a Sunday, why not come to lunch; we can talk business afterwards?”
“Well, if you are sure that it is not too much of an imposition?”
“Not at all.”
“Then thank you; I am pleased to accept.”
“Naturally you must bring your wife as well.”
“I’m afraid it will be just me on my own; never got round to tying the knot!”
“Well, I’m a widower as it happens, so it will be a stag meal. Shall we say one o’clock?”
“That will suit me fine; I look forward to deepening our acquaintance. I’ll see you then, Goodbye.”
Martin replaced the receiver and remained deep in thought for a few minutes. The impression was growing stronger than ever in his mind that there was an undercurrent of something going on, something he couldn’t quite grasp. There were so many loose ends, unrelated facts and bits that didn’t make sense, and yet somehow he felt sure that there was a link somewhere. As he sat there, he realised that he was looking at the photograph album that still lay open on the desk where he had left it. He looked again at the picture that had trouble him earlier, and this time he saw at once what it was.
Clearly visible behind his aunt he could see the outline of a door under the stairs. Only it wasn’t a cupboard door, it was a door exactly like the others leading off from the hall. Now why on earth did a cupboard, if indeed it really was a cupboard, have such an imposing door? It was obvious that there wasn’t space under the stairs for a room, which is what a door of that nature would suggest, and it certainly did not resemble the doors to the other cupboards in the building. He looked at the picture for a few moments, and then left the study and went out into the hallway and crossed over to look at the panelling where the picture showed the doorway.