Wishing Water

by Freda Lightfoot

  Humbled by the passion in her foster mother’s voice and shamed by her own negligence in not warning her, Lissa grabbed Meg’s hand and clung to it. ‘Don’t Meg. Please don’t blame me for this. I tried. I really tried. I meant never to see Derry again but I couldn’t help myself, and nor could he. I prayed it was all a meaningless threat, no more than Philip’s hurt pride.’

  ‘Yet this letter tells me Manchester Water Board are sending some geologists to inspect the land and take samples, whatever that might mean.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ Lissa felt panic rise in her throat. ‘It must be a mistake. He’s agreed to a divorce. Why should he do this?’

  Meg’s face was grim. ‘Broombank has been chosen as a possible alternative to Winster Valley, and if the samples are good, then our dale will be flooded, not Winster. My beloved home, Ashlea, and all the other farms, the land upon which we all depend, will be flooded and destroyed for ever.’

  Derry did not catch the train from Windermere that Monday morning. After a sleepless night tossing and turning in a bed that felt harder with each passing hour, dawn found him walking by the lake, desperately seeking a solution. He sat on a log, head in hands as he glumly watched the swirl of mist roll over the water, swallowing up a troop of ducks waddling out for their first paddle. The tips of the far mountains seemed to be suspended in space, like fairy mountains.

  Never had he felt so low in all his life. He loved Lissa and she loved him. They wanted to be together, was that so wrong? Derry refused to feel guilty about their lovemaking last evening. Hadn’t her marriage been over for months, if not years? And hadn’t Brandon tricked her into it in the first place? But how to get her out of it? There must be something he could do. Brandon was the slippiest customer he’d ever met.

  Derry knew that given a choice between himself and her children he would lose out every time, and quite right too.

  ‘But it’s not fair to ask it of her in the first place,’ he shouted, flustering the ducks.

  He’d wished for Lissa, that night by the tarn when they’d drunk the wishing water together. For her to be by his side for the rest of his life. But it had been no more than a desperate, childish game. He couldn’t rely on wishes, he had to find an answer.

  At ten to eight he was waiting at the office door, knowing that Miss Henshaw always arrived early. She was surprised to see him but delighted to offer coffee in her inner sanctum, a minuscule kitchen little bigger than a cupboard.

  `I still love my morning cup before everyone comes,’ she confessed, smiling flirtatiously at him. ‘’Gives me a lift for the day ahead.’

  ‘So, how’re things?’ Derry asked, leaning against the wooden draining board and giving the best imitation of his usual grin that he could manage.

  ‘It’s been very dull since you left, Derry. Not at all the same.’

  ‘And Mr Brandon?’

  Miss Henshaw fiddled with her glasses as they bounced against her flat bosom on their long cord, her lips pursing slightly as she picked up her cup, small finger extended. ‘Much as you might expect.’

  Did he detect a slight slackening of devotion in her stiff-lipped reply? Derry wondered. His mind was whirling. What exactly was he looking for? He had this idea that if he learned more about Brandon’s life and professional matters, it might help. But what and how, he couldn’t imagine. Miss Henshaw had seemed the obvious person to try, now he hadn’t the first idea where to start. Hope slid away, and his depression must have showed in his face for Miss Henshaw leaned forward and patted his hand.

  ‘There, there, don’t look so sad. You weren’t wanting your old job back, were you? I’d heard you were doing well.’ She looked suddenly troubled.

  ‘Good lord, no. I have a job, a much neglected one back in the States. I hope it’s still waiting for me when I get back.’ If I go back, he thought. There was no real reason why he shouldn’t do the same thing here, if he wanted. He’d had to conduct some of his business by telephone since he came anyway.

  She sighed with relief. ‘That’s all right then. It wouldn’t do at all for you to come back here.’ She glanced about, as if half expecting her employer to appear like a genie from behind her shoulder. ‘Business is slack. Bank putting on pressure, I believe. Not that he ever tells me anything, or lets me look at the accounts but I know money is tight. He always gets slightly tetchy, you know?’

  ‘I remember,’ Derry grinned, glad that he was no longer under Philip Brandon’s edict. ‘It’s an ill wind, as they say. Did me a favour sacking me, as it’s turned out.’

  She set down her cup. ‘Well, I can’t sit about here gossiping all day. I must get on. I’ve a funeral to attend later this morning.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Anyone close?’

  ‘A client.’

  Derry lifted one brow, almost his old cheeky self. ‘I thought Brandon usually did those, enjoying the kudos and the funeral teas. Not like him to let you out of the office. How will he manage without you? Even for an hour.’

  Miss Henshaw clattered the cups as she washed them up, handing them to Derry to dry. ‘I insisted, as a matter of fact, though it really shouldn’t be my place,’ she said, tight-lipped. ‘Mr Brandon had declined.’

  Derry’s eyes narrowed with speculation. There was something not quite right here. Brandon never missed the funeral of a valued client. It was part of the deal. He read the hatched, matched and dispatched columns every day in the local paper to check if an esteemed client would be requiring his probate services. And he always liked to be seen to be doing the right thing. ‘Anyone I know?’ he asked.

  Miss Henshaw set the cups and saucers back in the tiny cupboard and slammed the door with a firm click. ‘A dear old lady. Elvira Fraser. Utterly senile by the end and not a penny to her name, but it wouldn’t have hurt him to go anyway. I don’t understand him these days, I really don’t.’

  ‘Elvira Fraser? I seem to recall that name.’

  ‘Lived on the Parade. Had a falling out with her son-in-law and came to us for cherishing and support.’ Miss Henshaw half glanced about her again, then leaned forward and whispered in Derry’s ear.

  ‘Philip bought her house, after she’d had a stroke and ended up in The Birches nursing home.’

  ‘I see,’ Derry said, not quite seeing at all but feeling a quickening of interest. ‘I remember her now. I once took some papers for her to sign, didn’t I?’

  Some papers to sign. It was like an echo in his head. Lissa had signed some papers. So had Elvira Fraser. But then Philip Brandon dealt with forms and papers every day, he was a solicitor for God’s sake, so where was the significance in that? The significance was that Lissa had not signed what she’d thought. Not divorce papers at all, but a confession to adultery. He still had to break that awful news to her.

  Had Elvira Fraser signed what she expected?

  Miss Henshaw was still talking and he hadn’t heard a word. ‘I do remember her. Quite a sparky old thing. Reminded me of my gran. Where is this funeral?’

  ‘Oh, how lovely of you to come. I was so disappointed in Philip.’ She told him the time and place, then, on hearing a sound from the inner office, shooed him away. ‘Go quickly. He’s arrived.’

  Giving a wicked wink, Derry wrapped his arms about Miss Henshaw’s birdlike figure and kissed her soundly on her flushed cheek.

  ‘Bless you, Vera, I knew I could depend on you.’ Then he was gone, leaving the back door swinging open as he’d always used to.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she mourned. ‘Nothing has been at all the same without him.’

  The lady at The Birches remembered Elvira well. ‘Though she hasn’t lived here for quite some time. Ran out of funds, poor thing, and had to move into council care. A not uncommon occurrence, I’m afraid.’

  ‘But how did she lose her money? I always thought Mrs Fraser had substantial funds. That house must have been worth quite a bit for one thing, and then she had shares, money in the bank and so on.’

  The matron shook her head. ‘Property is
often mortgaged and they’ve usually been living above their means for years, poor dears. Still living in the style they were used to back in the good old days of Empire and servants. Edwardian affluence, a world gone by. I know nothing about her investments, but prices rise and income shrinks.’ She gave a resigned shrug, her mind already on the next task. ‘It’s a changing world.’

  Not if it’s invested properly, Derry mused to himself as he bade her goodbye and took his leave. ‘Thanks anyway. I’ll try the council home.’

  Whatever it was he wanted from them, and he wasn’t entirely sure himself, they could tell him nothing more. Yes, they said, Elvira Fraser had lived with them. Old, confused, still expecting her young husband to call and collect her. Now she was dead. End of story.

  But Derry felt certain this wasn’t the end of the story. There was more to this than he’d yet discovered. He’d go to the funeral. Just in case. Then he would go and see Lissa.

  Lissa rang Renee to say she would not be home as early as she’d hoped, and would Renee collect the twins from school at the end of the afternoon session as well as the morning, and look after them till she got there?

  ‘It could be early evening. I can’t explain on the phone but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

  ‘No problem. They can have lunch at the shop here with me. And Jimmy’ll love having them home for tea,’ Renee said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Lissa spent the next several hours hanging around waiting rooms and chatting people up who might help them in their fight. Meg talked with the local newspaper to enlist their support, but Lissa insisted on doing most of the legwork. She felt it was her fault that they were in this mess, so it was really up to her to get her out of it.

  She gained five precious minutes to speak with a National Park authority spokesman, who was very sympathetic but admitted they could do little since Broombank was not quite in the National Park and many people would be agreeable to the pressure coming off Winster.

  The Friends of the Lakes took a similar line but offered their support, so long as it didn’t prejudice their own efforts.

  Lissa was worn out by the time she returned to Broombank, but her frustration and lack of success made her all the more determined. ‘I called at Lord Carndale’s place but he wouldn’t see me. I’ll try again later. He is a neighbour after all, and may be able to put the right word in the right ear.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Tam offered. ‘I worked for the old boy once. He’s fair and I’m sure he’ll do all he can, but a bit deaf and doesn’t readily take to strangers these days. He has a son though, who may be willing to help. Let’s hope so.’

  ‘Great, then we must have a word with the mayor and the town council and work our way through the District and up to County.’

  ‘Why stop there?’ Tam grinned. ‘How about Westminster and the Lords?’

  Lissa stiffened her spine, jutting her chin almost as Meg did. ‘I’d willingly try.’

  ‘You’ve got a lot more spunk than you used to have,’ Tam said, admiringly. ‘It’s good to see it, lass.’

  ‘I’ve had to learn how to fight and stand up for myself. Perhaps it’s being a mother,’ and she caught Meg’s smile and laughed. Meg suggested they also go and talk to the National Farmers’ Union representative, and so it went on as they worked out their plan of campaign. Time flew by without her realising.

  The funeral took place at the local parish church. A small knot of people whom Derry did not know gathered about the open grave. Miss Henshaw stood by his side and next to her was Miss Stevens, who had been an old friend of Elvira Fraser’s. Derry felt as if he were an intruder, but then remembered the old lady’s essential dignity, her kindness to him when he, young and green, had no answers to her many questions. How sad that she should lose the ability even to think of the right questions to ask in the end, let alone understand the answers. Anyone could take advantage of such a situation.

  A young man approached and thanked Miss Henshaw for coming. ‘Glad to, I liked her enormously.’ They exchanged small talk about the weather being fine for once, though the skies were darkening, and how he appreciated the fact that a representative from The Birches had also attended.

  ‘She did at least find a modicum of happiness there for a while. My grandmother once had the reputation of being a tartar. Made my late father’s life a misery, I’m afraid. He never quite came up to scratch in her opinion.’ The young man, named David, smiled. ‘But she was simply sad in the end.’

  ‘Sad that she lost her money, despite careful investments,’ Derry put in.

  The young man glanced sharply at him and Miss Henshaw hastily introduced him.

  ‘Mr Colwith used to be a clerk in Mr Brandon’s office many years ago. He’s quite important in a music agency business now but he still remembers visiting your grandmother, taking papers for her to sign.’

  ‘Ah.’ The young man nodded then glanced about him. ‘Mr Brandon didn’t find time to come himself then?’

  Miss Henshaw flushed. ‘He’s very busy, I’m afraid.’

  An awkward pause then someone came and spoke to him and he started to move away. ‘You’ll come to the Marina Hotel for a spot of lunch, both of you? You’re very welcome.’

  ‘Can I give you a lift?’ Derry quickly put in.

  The young man looked surprised, almost as if he’d not expected them to accept. He was about to refuse the offer when he met Derry’s gaze and changed his mind. ‘That would be good. Thanks.’

  It was raining by the time Renee darted between the traffic at Benthwaite Cross and on up the hill to Hazelwood Crescent where the small infant school was situated. The twins loved it and of course adored their teacher.

  Not like when I was at school, Renee thought, recalling being made to stand in a corner on more than one occasion.

  She glanced at her watch. Almost ten past twelve. She was late after all, but Miss Swift, their teacher, was very understanding and any child not collected on time was kept with her. Lissa had told her this, so Renee wasn’t worried that the twins would wander. It was considered almost a treat to help teacher clear away and make ready for the afternoon lessons.

  They’d eat their sandwiches by the lake, she thought. Sneak a half hour off work until it was time to take them back. Lissa wouldn’t mind. Nor would the ducks. The twins liked to feed them, and she could do with a bit of fresh air.

  Renee turned the corner into Hazelwood Crescent and hurried through the main swing doors of the small school, quite out of breath from running. Miss Swift was in the classroom, painting clowns on the windows in poster paint.

  ‘Hello, Renee. I didn’t expect to see you today. Is Mrs Brandon feeling any better? I heard she was unwell.’

  ‘Unwell? She’s fine, only she got held up at Broombank so I’m deputy today.’ She glanced about the classroom. ‘Are they hiding? Come out, you two terrors.’

  ‘Mrs Swift frowned. ‘They aren’t here.’

  ‘What do you mean, they aren’t here?’ A terrible dawning fear.

  The infant teacher smiled reassuringly. ‘No need to panic. They’re quite safe. Mr Brandon collected them, not twenty minutes since. They’ll be home by now I should think. Quite safe, you see.’

  Renee went straight to number 22, The Parade, and hammered on the door. Her guilt at being too late to prevent Brandon collecting the twins was almost overwhelming. Lissa would never forgive her.

  It was opened at once, as if he’d been expecting her, or Lissa.

  ‘Where are they?’ Renee demanded, in a voice like thunder. Dark brows rose in mild surprise. ‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.’

  ‘Don’t play the innocent with me.’ Renee brushed past him, marching down the long passage and straight in to the kitchen. ‘You aren’t supposed to collect them.’

  ‘Nor are you.’

  ‘Lissa asked me, as a favour, since she was a bit tied up at Broombank.’

  Philip smiled, as if at some private joke. ‘Seems she’
s more and more tied up these days. She should put the children first for once.’

  Renee opened her mouth to dispute this but thought the better of it. You couldn’t win an argument with a lawyer, particularly this one. Hadn’t she tried in the past? ‘Well, where are they?’

  ‘Nanny has taken them for a dental check up, if it is any concern of yours. They are my children and you may remind Lissa that, as yet, no court has given her custody.’

  ‘Or you access,’ Renee hit back but inside felt a flutter of nervousness. Dental check my eye, she thought, worrying more than ever.

  ‘Which can easily be rectified.’ He took Renee’s elbow in a firm grip and led her to the door, Renee protesting all the while as she struggled to free herself. ‘You can tell her that I wouldn’t have been forced to take the action I have if she’d left Derry Colwith alone. If children will play with fire they’ll get their fingers burnt. Tell her that.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘I think you know well enough.’

  Renee was beside herself with fury. ‘I know I shouldn’t have tried to put her off our Derry in the first place. I shouldn’t have told you that she thought herself a bit too grand for him. I was wrong, and look what a mess I’ve made of everything by interfering.’

  This seemed to amuse him and he laughed all the more. ‘Don’t blame yourself. Nothing happens in my life that hasn’t been carefully planned out beforehand.’

  ‘No, I can believe it. And you can take your hands off me or I’ll set my Jimmy on you.’ Renee wrenched her elbow free and stood facing him, blue eyes blazing, red hair standing out like flames about her head. Philip Brandon, however, didn’t seem at all put out by this threat, his handsome face as mildly composed as ever. Then almost as suddenly the smile died and he was advancing on her, forcing Renee to retreat backwards up the passage.

  ‘Tell Lissa that she may come and see the children at any time. That they are safely at home, where they belong, and where she belongs. The solution lies in her hands. Tell her that.’