“No, `nor me.”
They went through to their table and ordered ribeye steak and salad with a portion of thrice cooked chips to share. As she tucked into her steak Bella said “Do you think it could be him who’s been doing all those things?”
“It’s possible I suppose, but he’s not too bright and what’s been happening has been a bit too subtle for him. He’s more likely to throw a brick through the window or vandalise your van. The shooting could have been him, but the other things?” Roman shook his head, “too complex for him.”
They didn’t linger over their meal, declining coffee as Bella was dying to look for Lucy’s letter, and drove back to the cottage. Once inside Bella flung off her coat and hurried up the stairs to the attic room, Roman following. As she’d thought, on the shelf was the box full of papers, and Roman lifted it down and carrying it downstairs, put it on the dining table.
“You start,” he said, “I’ll make a hot drink, tea or coffee?”
“Coffee please, tea makes me feel sick,” Bella said as she lifted a pile of papers out of the box.
Roman joined her, with two mugs of coffee, and they went through the papers, mostly old paid bills. One gave him pause and he asked “Have you been paying the council tax over the last four years?”
She looked at him and her mouth fell open “No, I never gave it a thought. I wasn’t living here so...”
“This is the last one Lucy paid, nearly five years ago, it was for one thousand five hundred pounds.”
“Oh my god! Does that mean I owe four times one thousand five hundred pounds?”
“It could do. But look, don’t get upset. I’ll get the estate’s accountant onto it, they should have sent the tax demand to your home address. I wonder what happened to the three final demands you would have received?”
Bella was close to tears. Cursing her baby hormones for making her so weak she said “Gervaise bloody Loveday. It’s just the kind of thing he’d do. I expect he’s been laughing at me all the time I’ve been here, knowing I’d get a gigantic bill that would knock me for six.”
“Well it won’t because I’m here,” Roman said as he hugged her.
“There’s enough money in Wishing Well crafts account to pay the three years back tax, and I expect I’ll be able to pay this years monthly.”
“It’ll be changing anyway, once the barn conversion is done, the accountant will sort it out, so don’t worry.” As she went to interrupt him he squeezed her against him and went on, “after all we are a team, but I know how proud you are so, yes, Wishing Well crafts will pay the back tax.”
Bella turned to him and taking his face between her hands said “Thank you. Do you know how much I love you, Roman Cowle?”
“Mmm,” he growled, “perhaps you’d like to show me?”
Papers were forgotten as he carried her through to the bedroom to spend the next hour making gentle love to her. Afraid of damaging the baby he held back, until she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close “I won’t break, you know, and they say it’s good for a woman to have intercourse while she’s pregnant.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, let me feel you Roman.”
His concerns put aside he let his desire take over and took her until her orgasm grew and overwhelmed him. Lying satiated in his arms Bella lay with her head on his chest, his coarse hair caressing her cheek as he rubbed the small of her back and stroked her pert buttocks.
When she sighed he asked “What?”
“I was wondering how fat I’ll get.”
He roared with laughter “Fat! You’ll never get fat, you never sit still long enough.”
Thinking of the weight she’d put on when she was so miserable with Gervaise, she said “I hope not, I’ll have to work out an exercise regime.”
“Nonsense, what with all the work you’ll be doing, walking the dogs and,” he leered at her, “sex. You won’t have time to get fat.”
She punched his arm and said “Go make me another coffee, please, while I finish looking through those papers.
Grumbling he took himself off to the kitchen, pulling on his jeans along the way and she grabbed her pyjamas and housecoat, went to the loo, then through to the living room. When he came in with the coffee she was opening a large envelope; flap open she tipped the contents out onto the table and gazed at the pile of letters in front of her. Picking one up she said “Oh my, these are my letters to Aunt Lucy, she kept them all.”
Roman had picked up another envelope from the pile and said “I think this might be what we’re looking for. It says For Bella on the front.”
She pushed the letters to one side and took it off him. As she slit it open her hands were shaking; pulling the pieces of paper out she discovered two coins in the envelope and showed them to Roman. One was a silver crown and the other a tiny silver penny, both in surprisingly good condition. On examining them he found the dates they were minted, 1755. “I wonder if Lucy found the treasure?” he asked.
Bella had been reading the letter, written in Lucy’s copperplate handwriting, and said “It appears so, let me read you her letter.”
“My darling Bella.
“When you read this I will be dead and hopefully you will be living in Wishing Well cottage. I have a confession to make and I hope you won’t think too badly of me.
The happiest time in my life was when Daisy came to me, pregnant and in very poor health. I nursed her back to health and my life felt complete when you were born, strong and healthy. Daisy and I lived, what I thought was a very contented life. We grew vegetables in the old plot behind the barn and Daisy painted, even managing to sell some of her work to local galleries. She even reconciled with her parents, then on one terrible disastrous day my life ended. On their way down to see us, Daisy’s parents, your grandparents, my much younger brother and his wife, died in a pile up on the motorway. Daisy was inconsolable, blaming herself for the accident and her mental health, which, after her injury had never been stable took a turn for the worse. On the day she learned that her parents had left her everything, she took you and disappeared. I tried to stop her and she knocked me to the ground. When I recovered my senses she had gone, leaving behind all your clothes and toys. The police or the social workers could do nothing as she had enough money to live on and feed you. She rented a flat and when a social worker visited, you seemed to be clean and well fed. I’ll say no more about your younger days, but as you know I did manage to persuade Daisy to let you stay with me when you were older. Unfortunately she turned back to cocaine and the low lives connected to that drug and you were put into care. I’d just instructed my solicitor to start proceedings to enable me to adopt you when I had my first stroke. Although I recovered well from it the powers that be decided I was too old and infirm to take on a young teenager and you were put into foster care, which broke my heart yet again.”
Bella’s voice had become more and more choked with tears and Roman took the letter from her and continued reading.
“To help with my recovery I was gardening again and a very good friend of mine, who passed away recently, was helping me. Among the briars and brambles at the end of the garden we found the old well. The walls were broken down and the wood had rotted, but I decided to renovate it. My friend hired a mini digger and started to dredge the silt of years out of it. He piled it up next to the well telling me that it would be good for the vegetables.
When it had dried out sufficiently for us to handle we were shovelling it into a barrow when we discovered lots of different sized discs. Maurice, my friend got the hose pipe and we started to wash them, becoming more and more excited as the glint of silver and gold shone through.
It was a treasure trove, probably the tythe money stolen off the bailiffs in the eighteenth century. So this is where my confession starts. We didn’t report it, I knew we should but, yo
u were wanting to get an art degree, your mother had been put into a government run secure unit; she’d become more and more unstable and violent, doing anything to get cocaine and they just kept her sedated to make her easier to handle. So, with Maurice’s help I clandestinely sold the coins, gave you the money for university and lodged the rest with a firm of solicitors , who knew nothing of me, to ensure your mother’s care and hopefully an attempt to rehabilitate her. Please don’t think badly of me, I know it was wrong.
Be happy Bella
All my love
Aunt Lucy.”
Bella was valiantly trying to hold back the tears, swallowing hard and biting her lip. Roman picked her up and carried her to the fireside chair and sat down with her on his lap. As he cuddled her he said “I knew Lucy was a strong minded woman but who would believe she had it in her to do that.”
“How did she know who to go to to sell the coins?” Bella asked.
Roman frowned, deep in thought “Did she call her friend Maurice?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, then if it’s the same person, Maurice Peskett was an antique dealer from Tavistock, he would know who would buy the coins, no questions asked and he died shortly before Lucy.”
“They must have been worth a fortune.”
“All depends what was in there, I suppose. I suspect some coins would have been worth more than others.”
“I didn’t get a grant, did I? It was Aunt Lucy who gave me the money to help me through college.”
“It appears so, and it answers the question about your mother being in The Portway all these years.”
“I never asked, never wondered why she was there for so long. I locked away my childhood and the hurt of her last rejection.” Bella shook her head in dismay. “I was so weak and useless when I was with Gervaise, weak like my mother was with all those men who used her.”
“Well my love, there is one thing for certain now, you’re not weak anymore.”
“No, thanks to you.”
“Nonsense you were strong from the day you walked out of that apartment into a new unknown life.”
Bella looked thoughtful “Yes I was, he did me a favour by being so horrible. Jerked me out of the mould he’d pushed me into.”
Roman hugged her, “I’ll be forever grateful to him,” he said dryly.
She giggled and cuddled into him stifling a yawn.
“Bedtime,” he said lifting her off his knee and tapping her bottom, “you go to bed, I’ll put all the papers back into the box and put them away again. We don’t want Lucy’s confession to fall into the wrong hands.
Chapter 20
On the following day, Friday, Roman had a meeting with the architect who had drawn up the plans for The Manor, in the morning, and another in the afternoon with the architect and builder who would be doing the work on the barn conversion.
Waking up in his arms Bella lay contentedly thinking of the new life ahead of them, until she tried to sit up. As she moved her stomach heaved; slapping a hand over her mouth she jumped out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. Reaching the toilet just in time, she heaved and retched until her stomach hurt. On hearing her moan in between heaves Roman joined her, holding back her hair and rubbing her back. Her stomach slowly settled and she slumped to one side feeling exhausted.
“Are you alright now?” he asked.
“I think so. Phew, how long is this going to go on for?”
“I don’t know love. Perhaps the doctor can give you something.”
“No, I’m not taking anything that might affect my baby,” she sat up and pulled the flush.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” he said picking her up as if she were a child, “then I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“I think I’ve heard that dry biscuits help with morning sickness.”
Roman deposited her on the bed and plumped up the pillows behind her, “I’ll get you some then,” he said leaving her there and hurrying through to the kitchen.
He was back in seconds with a plate holding a couple of ginger biscuits and a digestive, a glass of water and an empty bowl.
“Rinse your mouth out first,” he said, “then try the biscuits.
She did as she was told, using the bowl to spit into after she’d swilled her mouth out.
“Are you going to be alright if I go to The Manor for this meeting?” he asked as he surveyed her pale face.
“Yes honestly, it goes as quickly as it comes and then I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure, I’ll have a shower and get dressed then I’ll make us some breakfast.
“Don’t worry about me,” Bella insisted, “just look after yourself, as soon as I feel better I’ll get up and make myself something to eat.”
He looked at her, saw some colour coming back into her face and said “Ok if you’re sure.”
By the time Roman left after a cup of coffee and some toast, Bella was feeling a lot better, so she had a shower then made herself some toast and coffee. Although she wanted to read Lucy’s letter again and see if there was anything else of interest in the box she decided against it; she needed Roman by her side if there was anything there which might upset her. So instead she pottered around the cottage, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom and laid out the clothes she would be taking to London.
Roman returned at lunchtime, in his car, with his packed suitcase in the back. “I didn’t bring the dogs as I’d only have had to take them back later,” he said as he handed her a small hamper.
“What’s this?”
He grinned “Lunch and dinner courtesy of Mrs. B and a batch of her special biscuits guaranteed to stop morning sickness.”
“You told her then?”
“Yes although I needn’t have bothered. She said she knew a few weeks ago that you were expecting, so she’d made the biscuits, ready for when you started to throw up.”
“She said something funny, well before I started to have my suspicions.”
“Mmm, there must be something in these old wives tales she keeps on about.”
She carried the hamper through to the kitchen as Roman carried in his suitcase. “I’ll bring this in for tonight,” he said, “it’ll get cold and damp in the car overnight.”
When he joined her in the kitchen, after depositing his case in the bedroom, she was lifting out a plethora of goodies. “We won’t starve for the next month,” she laughed as she showed him the fish pie, for that evening, and three lots of plastic containers for the freezer she’d bought, which now stood in the lean to. As well as a large tin of the `special` biscuits there was a bowl of fresh salad, a pot of Mrs. B’s salad dressing, two types of hard cheese, fresh cooked sliced roast beef, coleslaw and potato salad and a loaf of Mrs. B’s fresh crusty bread.
“She said to tell you not to eat that French soft cheese or mayonnaise,” he laughed.
“Do you think I’ll survive her fussing? Seven and a half months of it at least.”
“She’ll calm down,” he said, putting his arms around her and caressing her belly, “she also told me` none of those there shenanigans until that baby’s got a tighter grip. Whatever that means.”
Leaning back against him Bella sighed “I don’t know what she meant but it is nice to be fussed over.”
“You’ll be sick of it by the time the baby’s born. You’re too bloody minded to be told not to do things.”
“Mmm, maybe,” she said closing her eyes and thinking how nice it felt at the minute. The only person, before Roman, who’d fussed over her had been Aunt Lucy, and she was angry with herself, at the thought of the wasted years when she hadn’t been to see her because of Gervaise.
Roman sighed and pulled away from her “I suppose we ought to have lunch, or the architect and builder will be here before we’ve had a chance to enjoy this feast Mrs. B’s mad
e for us.”
Bella laid the beef slices onto two plates while Roman set the table, then they carried the salad items and bread through and put them in the middle. The bread was too fresh to cut so they tore chunks off and covered them with local butter. Roman poured the dressing on the salad and they piled their plates. While they ate they discussed their findings of the night before, and Bella decided to telephone the clinic that afternoon to make an appointment to see her mother and the manager of the clinic, at the end of the following week.
Tyres crunched over the gravel outside and Roman got up to look out of the window “Ah, it’s the builder,” he said as he saw a large orange pickup pull up outside the burnt out barn.
“You go,” Bella said, “I’ll clear up then come and join you.”
Roman pulled on his barbour and went out to speak to the owner of the building firm he’d employed to do the conversion.
“Bloody hell,” the builder said as they shook hands, “you told me you’d had a fire but I didn’t think it’d be as bad as this.”
“The walls are still solid and we were going to change the roof and inside anyway so it could be worse.”
A car pulled up behind them and Roman turned to greet the young man who climbed out of it, plan tube in his hand.
“Hello Mark,” Roman said, “this is Charlie Butt, the builder who’ll be doing the work, Charlie this is Mark Poole, the architect.”
“Yeah, we’ve worked together before,” Charlie said.
“Yes, sorry I knew that,” Roma rubbed a hand through his hair.
“You look a bit harassed,” Mark said.
“Could say that, what with the changes at The Manor, this job and the fact that my fiance is pregnant, things are proving to be more worrying than I thought they would be.”
“I don’t suppose this fire helped.” Charlie said.
“No it didn’t. I did wonder if it would be easier to pull the old walls down and build anew.”
“Well you’ve got planning permission for the barn conversion, and you might have to apply again for a new build. Anyway let’s have a look and see what we can do.”
The Wishing Well Page 22
