by David Woods
Chapter Twelve
The breeze sent wisps of straw scurrying around the floor of the empty stable, the brood mare having been sold soon after the fire. Garry decided the farm staff would be too busy to deal with her properly, so Gemma was alone in the adjoining stable and had pined for her companion and Angela, who had been away so long.
The day arrived when Angela decided to go out for her first ride since leaving hospital but after about half an hour she began to feel tired and headed back to the stable. Gemma let out a whinny of disappointment as they entered the stable yard. As Angela got off her legs felt like jelly, so she led the mare back into her box and then sat down on a bale of straw in the adjoining stable. She smelt the sweet aroma of the hay piled high around her and as she moved back to rest her head against a bale, she felt a lump under the palm of her hand. She picked up a button and studied it. The coat button was large and brown with a fleck of yellow in its texture, and seemed familiar to her. She turned it over in her hand, trying to think where she had seen it before. Somehow it seemed important, so she put it in her pocket and went back to Gemma who was waiting to have her saddle taken off.
Another week had passed, and as she prepared an excited Gemma for a long ride, she felt much stronger than on the previous occasion. They set off on a warm sunny day with only a few puffy clouds in the clear blue sky as they rode away.
Gemma seemed content to walk in the heat of the afternoon, and they followed hedgerows around wheat and barley fields until they reached a bridleway where they stopped. Angela wondered in which direction to proceed. Gemma chose for her and walked off at a brisk pace. Angela looked back at the disappearing farm buildings and wondered why her mare was so keen to go down this particular path and hoped she would remember the way back. She patted Gemma’s neck and said, “You’d better not get me lost.”
When they reached the edge of a wood, the bridleway ahead was overgrown with a narrow track just passable down the centre. Angela pulled back on the reins. “That’s as far as we’re going.” They stopped and Gemma whinnied, her ears pricked as she stared at the trees. “What’s the matter with you? We can’t go in there.” She felt the need to walk a little so she got off and stretched her legs, which were still not used to riding. Gemma nibbled at a tuft of grass and moved slowly towards the wood, eating grass as she went. Angela watched and thought how peaceful it was and pleasing to see the horse content in finding the best tufts of grass to eat.
Suddenly Gemma lifted her head, whinnied and walked forward along the bridleway with Angela hanging on to the reins.
“Hey, come back. Where d’you think you’re going?”
The mare took no notice and turned right between two trees and, once under the canopy of old hardwood trees, Angela felt at home and happily walked beside the horse.
“Gemma, where are you taking me?” She giggled.
Gemma just carried on walking, picking her way between oak and beech trees, and sometimes just brushing against their thick lower branches. Angela was out of breath by the time they had climbed up the side of the hill, and then Gemma suddenly stopped and whinnied again.
When Angela looked around she saw large rhododendron bushes, some flowers blooming on their top branches.
“Well. Why have we stopped here?”
Gemma just stood still, staring at the bushes with her ears pricked. Angela followed her stare and saw a gap between the bushes. She walked through and when she emerged the other side the lodge came into view, and she knew she had been there before.
Trembling with excitement she tried the door but found it was locked. The windows were covered in cobwebs and dirt, but she could see a table inside and a pile of what looked like rubbish against one wall. She stood back and felt a warm glow come over her as she realised this was a happy part of her former life. She walked back slowly to Gemma.
“I know why you brought me here. This place is special, isn’t it?”
Gemma nuzzled up to her and whinnied softly. After a little while Angela broke away and studied her surroundings, finding it all very familiar as the breeze rustled the leaves and branches above, letting sunlight through in dancing shafts of light.
She was mesmerised by the scene and started walking along a faint path where bluebell leaves were shorter and stunted. As she looked back, Gemma was just standing still watching her, and Angela moved farther away along the side of the hill as if drawn by a magnet, until she reached the pool. She stood staring at the crystal clear water, listening to it splashing as it flowed over the rocks and on to the stream down the hill. Her reflection was clear in the pool, and she studied it for a minute before looking around, suddenly feeling weak as she sat down on a rock.
A weight seemed to be lifting from her mind as she remembered the last time she was at the rock pool. She stared again at the water, trembling as the memory of that afternoon and making love came back to her, and she closed her eyes to re-live the wonderful time they had in that beautiful pool. “Oh Jim,” she muttered over and over again.
She walked slowly through the wood, finding the spot where they had eaten lunch and made love, and a shaft of brilliant sunlight marked the clearing not far from where Gemma was still patiently waiting. Angela looked at the lodge again and peered through the windows. The bed was still there on the floor with its bedclothes in a pile covered with cobwebs, and the cooking utensils were stacked neatly by the blackened fireplace. The old motorbike, covered in dust, was still leaning against the wall. She walked back to Gemma and hugged her warmly.
“Thank you for bringing me here, you wonderful horse.”
Gemma twitched her muzzle from side to side and pressed it against Angela’s face.
After a few more minutes of looking around they left, walking down the hill slowly to the bridleway. Angela remembered the way and went first, and they arrived back at the stable just as Peter was organising a search party.
“Angela!” he exclaimed. “Are you sure you’re well enough to ride?”
“Yes, thank you. I feel marvellous.”
“Oh, good. I thought you’d got lost.”
“So did I. But then I began to remember!”
“You remembered?”
“Yes, the lodge! I’ve been there before!”
“That’s splendid news. How did it happen?”
She told him briefly, leaving out the intimate details.
“Good heavens. So you really did know Grainger?”
“Yes, I certainly did.”
They unsaddled and brushed Gemma down together, and went in for a meal. Peter related the good news to his wife, Sue, while Angela, who was ravenous, sat and ate.
* * *
Jim gripped the wheel and drove up on to the empty pavement, passing the car with the four men inside. With the other car on his tail, he drove hard through the town and out into the country. A glance at the fuel gauge indicated a nearly full tank, the car clock was at 1 a.m. and the roads were empty, but no matter how fast he drove the pursuing car stuck close behind with its headlamps on main beam.
Jim was beginning to get used to driving the big car, resisting all attempts by the following car to get in front, and once out into the country lanes in familiar surroundings he felt more at home. Gradually he got ahead of the green car and the lanes were very narrow with high banks either side, and he took each corner at breakneck speed using the banking to good affect. A glance in his mirror told him the following car had fallen back several hundred yards, so he took two sharp left turns and then went into a farm entrance, turning off his lights.
As he drove by moonlight into the farmyard, he looked behind and saw the other car flash by the entrance, so he sat and waited for a while. As he got out of the car, his heart was beating almost painfully against his chest, but he took a deep breath of cool night air and started to relax. The Home Farm buildings were just as he remembered them, but now they were strangely silent — no cows could be heard munching away in the cowshed. He stood for a few minutes appreciating the ca
lmness and silence, comparing it with the frantic chase he had just abandoned. An owl hooted nearby and he watched its distinctive flight, as it disappeared across the fields in search of prey.
He walked around in the moonlight, noticing how desolate the buildings were without animals, and there was not even a bale of straw. The house was empty, and as he walked back to the car a breeze brought with it the smell of the woods and fields. He stood breathing in the fragrance, remembering the good times he had and wishing he could return to the heart of the country again.
His present predicament was too urgent for his dreaming to continue, and he tried to work out where the four men would be by now. He decided they would give up and go home, ready to try again in daylight, which would not be long coming. A glow on the horizon reminded him that it was summer and it would be light in a couple of hours, so he got into the car and started the engine; the smell of his clothes making him feel sick and desperate to get home and change.
* * *
When they had finished eating, Angela felt in the pocket of her trousers for the large button pressing against her leg, took it out and placed it on the table. Remembering where she found it, she spoke slowly. “My God, Jim must have been in that stable.”
Peter and Sue had not mentioned her parents’ death, and were dreading the moment when Angela remembered what happened. Peter sat down beside her. “Yes, he was there on the night you were injured.”
Angela picked the button up and turned it over in her palm. “What happened to me?”
“Well, you were attacked by a man. Jim found you and carried you into the stable, staying until the ambulance took you away.”
Angela gripped the button as she saw the leering face of the ginger-haired man clearly in her mind, and stared at the table as the terrible events of that evening came back to her. She choked and whimpered, clasping her head in her hands. Peter and Sue came around the table and he stood beside her, putting his arm around her, although she did not feel him. After about five minutes of silence Angela said shakily. “Mum and Dad. What happened to them?”
Peter’s voice was croaky. “Oh Angela, I’m sorry. But they died that night.”
Angela, remembered her mother’s screams and her father’s angry protestations. Sue nodded to Peter and they left the room quietly.
Angela’s shoulders began to heave and tears ran down her face. Having cried until her eyes and throat were sore, Angela dried her face and went into the next room to reassure the anxious couple. “Please don’t worry. I did wonder why they hadn’t come to see me.” Now I understand. I must accept what’s happened.”
Sue got up and led her to the settee.
“Come and sit down and talk if you want to. It may be good for you.”
“Yes I’d like to know what happened.” She looked straight at Peter.
“What happened to Jim?”
“He found you lying on the ground being beaten by a man. But unfortunately he went mad, killed the man and ended up in jail.”
“Oh my God. Poor Jim. I can remember being chased by a ginger-haired man.” She went on to tell them what happened that evening, stopping to cry a little when she told how her mother had screamed. They listened in amazed silence, Sue with her arm around the grief-stricken girl trying to comfort her. She sobbed again and said,
“How long did Jim get?”
“One year.”
“So he’s still in prison. It must be terrible for him.”
“As far as I know he is,” said Sue.
“We were very close.”
“Yes I’m sure you were. And he saved your horses from the fire.”
“Did he really. That sounds just like him. He loves animals.”
“Obviously.”
After telling her all about the fire and the police, it was late when they all finally went to bed. Angela stayed awake first thinking about her parents and then about Jim. She imagined how he would have suffered in prison, and wondered if he was still locked up. She cried bitterly again, but eventually fell asleep.
The next day she walked around the farm buildings, seeing them in a more familiar light. She stared at the new building site, picturing the old house and remembering the last happy meal she had with her parents that dreadful night, but her deep thoughts were interrupted by the building site foreman.
“Morning Miss. Would you like to see the plans of the new house?”
Angela looked at the red-faced middle-aged man with a friendly smile. “Yes, please.”
They walked to the wooden site hut and looked at a large plan laid on a sloping desk. It showed a large Georgian house, not as big as the original mansion, but quite impressive. Angela studied the elevations and internal plans for some time and was impressed with the layout and detail.
“How d’you like it, Miss?”
“It’s very nice. My parents would have approved.”
“Our new boss designed most of it.”
“Oh. And who is your new boss?”
“Mr. Garry Osborne.”
“My brother’s your boss?”
“Yes. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No. But then I haven’t been taking things in lately.”
“Well, he married our boss’s daughter just after the governor died, and he’s been running things ever since.”
“What about Osbornes?”
“He runs that as well.”
“What a busy man.”
“Yes. And I must say we seem to be doing very well.”
Angela left the hut, deep in thought, and found Peter in the farm office. She questioned him about her brother and what had happened since her parents’ death. He told her all he knew, but did not say what a pain in the neck Garry had really been.
Angela asked a lot more questions and then said. “Does he try to run the farm as well?”
“He did at first, but soon gave up.”
“So he leaves it all to you?”
“He does now.”
She remembered the jobs she used to do in the office and spent the afternoon getting the farm records up to date.
That evening there was a warm breeze blowing up the hill, and she sat staring across the wood. The country smells filled her nostrils as she thought about Jim and how he would have enjoyed such an evening. She dearly wanted to see him again and pictured his wild-looking face in her mind, imagining him sitting near to her and talking about the countryside and his life with the animals. She could almost hear his deep husky voice, which she remembered was like music to her ears.
The following Saturday Garry and Jane arrived and were delighted to hear that Angela’s memory had returned. Jane talked non-stop about the things she had purchased for the baby, whilst Garry disappeared with Peter into the office.
Angela was dying to get Garry on his own to answer some questions, and spent a frustrating hour talking to Jane before he returned to the house with Peter. Angela looked straight at him. “Can we have a private chat?”
Garry looked worried. “Yes. Let’s go into the office.” They walked together in silence and Garry sat down behind the desk.
“What d’you want to know?”
“What happened to Jim Grainger?”
Garry grimaced. “He’s in prison where he belongs.”
“But he probably saved my life.”
“We’ve no proof of that.”
Angela gave him a steely glare, “I want to know exactly what happened.”
Garry told her roughly the same story as Peter but added, “Grainger killed Harry Briggs in cold blood and should have been done for murder. I believe he had a hand in the robbery and murder of our parents.”
“That’s rubbish. He couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”
Garry took no notice of his sister and raised his voice. “That evil bastard should have been strung up. But instead he only got a year.”
Angela stayed calm. “Now you can listen to my version of events.”
Garry listened, looking grim, his expression
not changing, even when his sister told of their mother’s screams. She finished with tears flowing down her face, and they both sat in silence for a minute.
Garry said in an even toned voice. “What d’you think Grainger was doing living in the lodge for so long? Apart from trespassing.”
“He loved the countryside.”
“Yes. I bet he did.”
Angela regained her composure and spoke clearly. “He lost his job when Home Farm was sold, and decided to live on his own in his favourite surroundings.”
“He was hiding from the police. And very effectively it seems.”
Angela was shocked and her eyes flashed with anger. “Why would he need to do that?”
“I’m not sure. And the police won’t admit they couldn’t find him.”
“That’s rubbish. He couldn’t have been a criminal.”
“Why not? He killed Briggs and probably killed before.”
“But he was trying to save me.”
“He could have done that without killing him. Besides he was convicted of manslaughter and sent to prison and, no one else has been apprehended for killing our parents, which I can assure you Grainger had a hand in.”
“I just don’t believe he was capable of a crime.”
“Why? What d’you know about him?”
“He’s kind, gentle and without malice.”
“So you say. But how d’you know he wasn’t on the run from some crime?”
“Because he wasn’t that sort.”
Garry let out a mirthless laugh. “How would you know?”
Angela got angry again. “He’s a good man and I love him.”
Garry was visibly shocked and stuttered. “D-do you mean you were lovers?”
“Yes, and I’m proud of it.”
“How could you associate with that wild looking gypo maniac?” He bellowed.
Angela sat silently staring at the floor and Garry lowered his tone. “Look, Angela, he was hiding from something. And I would guess his temper got the better of him before, and he probably hurt or killed someone. You met him when you were lonely and fell in love. He caught you in the company of another man and killed him in a fit of temper.”
