Grace Hardie

by Anne Melville

  ‘Where does Greystones come into it? If we can simply borrow money –’

  ‘When a loan is secured on a property, the rate of interest is much lower. That’s because there’s no risk to the lender. If by any chance we were to default on the loan, he could take possession of the property and sell it. Most houses are bought in the first place with the benefit of such a mortgage. I was surprised when I looked into the matter and discovered that Greystones is free of any such encumbrance.’

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Grace. ‘To risk losing the house –’

  ‘There’s no risk,’ said David impatiently. ‘The money will earn an immediate return. Even if it took a little time before the capital sum could be repaid, there could be no possible difficulty about meeting the interest payments, and that’s all that matters.’

  Grace struggled incoherently to express her doubts. ‘But it isn’t ours … We couldn’t … What would Mother think when she returns and finds out?’

  ‘If nothing is done, she’ll return to find herself living in a large house without the income to support it.’

  ‘All the same, it’s too big a step to take without her approval.’

  David sighed and continued his efforts to persuade her. ‘Mother doesn’t understand about business, Grace, any more than you do. When she comes back, she’ll accept my advice – but by that time more than a year will have been lost. If you don’t believe what I’m telling you, ask Mr Witney. He might consider it a presumption to suggest taking out a mortgage, but he’ll certainly confirm the need for capital. You mustn’t think that this doesn’t concern you. If the trading profits continue to fall, or if they’re absorbed by the interest payments on an unsecured loan, Greystones may have to be sold because it will be impossible for the business to pay all the expenses.’

  Midge had made the same point when she first brought up the matter a few weeks earlier – but she had presented it as a warning. From David’s lips it sounded more like a threat. He gave her a few seconds to consider this.

  ‘Have you any idea how much it costs to run a property of this size?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve been trying to find out, and to cut down. Mother used just to sign the tradesmen’s books every week. She may have checked that they only charged for what they supplied, but I don’t believe she bothered about how much they supplied. There’s been a great deal of waste. Mrs Charles has told me that she likes to use only fresh ingredients, but I’ve said that this can’t continue. Left-over food must be used up. Especially since I’m alone here, so that she’s cooking mainly for the staff. And in the gardens, the cost of heating glasshouses just to produce out-of-season strawberries or vegetables is ridiculous. We shall make savings on coal there, and in the house as well. There’s no need to keep so many rooms warm just for me.’

  ‘That’s not as simple as you think. If the building becomes damp –’

  ‘We shall keep log fires burning low, using our own wood. It’s only a short time since Aunt Midge first mentioned the problem to me. I intend to make every possible economy.’ Grace spoke firmly to ward off the threat, but David was not to be gainsaid.

  ‘About time too. But you still can’t make real economies with a property which is far too large.’

  ‘You didn’t think it too large when you lived here yourself. You didn’t complain that your meals were too lavish or your room too well-heated. You’re talking as though all this is somehow my fault.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t. Calm down, Grace. The plan I’m putting forward is intended to let you and Mother go on living in Greystones in proper style. It’s only if you refuse to co-operate that we should have to consider whether the business could continue to pay all your bills in the old way.’

  The repeated threat made Grace angry rather than prepared to be helpful. ‘I’m not prepared to put the ownership of Greystones at any kind of risk whilst Mother is away,’ she said. That was an excuse. It was her own refusal to accept the risk of losing the house she loved so much which made her speak with such determination. Then she gave a rueful sigh. ‘But I don’t suppose anything I say is going to make any difference. As soon as you’ve done this business of presuming Father’s death, you’ll arrange everything the way you want it, won’t you?’

  ‘No. I need your agreement.’

  ‘Why?’

  There was a long silence. David seemed to be considering whether there was any alternative form of words he could use. At last, reluctantly, he answered her question, revealing something that no one had ever told her.

  ‘I can do nothing without your consent,’ he said. ‘Greystones belongs to you.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘Did you know?’ Grace asked her aunt. David’s reluctance to admit the truth about his sister’s ownership of Greystones had led to a violent quarrel, and the matter had been on her mind ever since.

  ‘Know what, dear?’ Midge Hardie’s attention was not on the conversation. With her examinations successfully passed she had returned to Oxford, dressed in the regulation black and white, to take her degree. As she awaited the start of the ceremony in which she would at last be presented to the Vice-Chancellor of the university, her dark eyes sparkled with excitement, searching for old friends amongst the animated crowd surrounding the Sheldonian Theatre.

  ‘Did you know that Greystones belonged to me?’

  ‘I knew that it would at some time or other. Not the details, though. When you came of age, I suppose.’

  ‘I came of age in 1918. Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘I expect your father intended to; but then, of course, he wasn’t here. Your mother may not have known the exact position any more than I do. It’s not of any great consequence, is it? I mean to say, Greystones is your family’s house.’

  ‘But it isn’t,’ said Grace. ‘It’s my house. And that is of consequence, because David wants to mortgage it, and he can’t unless I let him.’

  She had lost her aunt’s attention. ‘Ah, the group of Home Students is assembling,’ said Midge. ‘Grace dear, I shan’t be coming straight back with you after the ceremony. Mr Witney is going to open a bottle of champagne in the shop – just as he did on the day I finished taking my final examinations. We shall take luncheon together, and then he has suggested an afternoon on the river, since the weather is so mild. As though I were an undergraduate again.’ Midge gave something which sounded very much like a giggle. ‘Except that in those days I should have had to have a chaperone. I’ll be at Greystones before dinner.’

  She hurried away to join her group. Grace, taking her seat inside the Sheldonian, tried not to feel disappointed. It had been thoughtless of her to expect advice on a day when her aunt was excited about her own affairs.

  There was a long time to wait. Only after all the male graduates had received their degrees was it the turn of the women – more than five hundred of them, so that Grace had to search for a sight of her aunt amongst the procession. Each curtsied to the Vice-Chancellor and was tapped lightly on the head with a Bible while a Latin formula was repeated.

  After the last of them had left the building, Grace thought that the ceremony must be over. But in a dramatic gesture the great doors were flung open again. Standing in the entrance were the principals of the five women’s colleges. Unlike Midge they had not been required to sit the examinations which they missed earlier in their lives, but had been given honorary MAs. Now, proudly wearing their scarlet hoods and long gowns for the first time, they led back into the theatre the procession of women in academic gowns.

  The sight brought the audience of friends and relatives to its feet. Grace, joining in the applause, felt tears pricking her eyes. How pleased and happy her aunt must be!

  By the time Midge was Grace’s age she had completed her Oxford education. By that age, too, she had obtained her first employment as a teacher at Cheltenham Ladies’ College. She must regard a young woman who was content to live at home as hopelessly unenterprising. Indeed, she had implied as much when pressing her ni
ece to take a more active part in the family business. How could she understand the depth of Grace’s feeling for Greystones? Were her advice to be asked again, she would probably recommend risk – the kind of risk that David was proposing – as a necessary step on the path to independence. Because Grace admired her aunt so greatly, there was a moment in which this seemed less unthinkable than before. Perhaps she should consider the matter again.

  She intended to return to the subject after dinner that evening – but Midge had news of her own.

  ‘You must be the first to know, Grace. Will and I are going to be married.’

  ‘Married!’ Grace stuttered for a moment in surprise. ‘But – but you told me once that you weren’t allowed to marry while you were a headmistress.’

  ‘I’m not. So I shan’t be a headmistress any longer.’

  ‘You can give that up?’

  ‘I’ve been teaching for more than thirty years; a head teacher for more than twenty. I shall be glad of a change.’

  ‘You’ve always said that a woman fortunate enough to have a good education was under an obligation to put it to use.’

  ‘True enough, but I’ve surely discharged that obligation by now. Anyway, I don’t intend to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs. My first ambition when I was young was to have a school of my own, and I might start something of the sort in Oxford. On a small scale, perhaps – a tutorial college for older girls who wish to go to university. I thought you’d be happy for me, Grace, but you seem to be trying to persuade me to change my mind.’

  ‘Oh no. I’m sorry if it seemed that way. I like Will immensely. It’s just that you’ve always seemed to think that marriage was a bad thing for a woman.’

  ‘I do think it’s unfortunate that so many young women move from school to marriage without considering what other use they might be able to make of their lives. But I’ve had plenty of time to consider. A headmistress’s life is a lonely one, you know, dear. Since Patrick died …’ She gave a sigh before continuing briskly. ‘There’s no lack of society, but it’s difficult to develop any intimacy with one’s own staff or with the governors. There comes a time when you find yourself longing for companionship. Will’s been a friend for very many years. It’s taken me a long time to realize that a loving friendship lasts longer than a passionate love affair, and will bring more satisfaction in the end.’

  ‘I’m so glad for you, Aunt Midge. Really I am. I’m sure you’ll be marvellously happy.’ Ashamed of her first ungracious reaction to the news, she embraced her aunt; and for the rest of the evening they discussed Midge’s plans for her resignation and marriage.

  Only after she had gone to bed that night did Grace acknowledge disappointment to herself. It was Midge’s example which had encouraged her to believe that she could be happy without being married, and now it was Midge whose change of direction suggested that not even a successful professional career was sufficiently fulfilling. Earlier that day Grace had intended not only to ask for Midge’s advice but to take it. Now she was not so sure. She must make up her own mind whether she was prepared to put Greystones at risk.

  As clearly as though it were yesterday she remembered the first night she had spent in the house, in the very same round tower room which was still her bedroom. She was the first of her family to arrive, brought early because she was ill. Pepper had come with her: the tiny kitten which later had been shot by David.

  Was it, she wondered, the memory of that death which still, after so many years, prevented her from feeling friendly and co-operative towards the only one of her brothers who seemed capable of looking after the family affairs? She shrugged the question away, remembering instead how she had crept out of bed as a little girl to butter the soles of her feet, as Nanny had earlier buttered Pepper’s paws. She had done it so that she would never find herself lost away from home. She had wanted to spend the whole of her life in Greystones, and that was what she still wanted.

  Were it to be mortgaged, David could rob her of it at any time simply by failing to pay the interest and she didn’t trust him not to be spiteful. Nor was she prepared to keep a watchful eye on the arrangement he proposed by going into the business. Buying and selling wine was not a woman’s job.

  So she must become businesslike at home instead. David would not be above carrying out his threat to cut off the flow of House of Hardie funds to the property. She must learn what was involved in running it. What precisely did its upkeep cost, and how could she make it pay for itself? No answer came immediately to mind, but in the security of the tower room she felt confident that somehow she would be able to manage.

  Her confidence proved short-lived. It was shattered by a letter which arrived on the day after her aunt’s return to London. Before Mrs Hardie left England it had been agreed that Grace should open correspondence addressed to either of her parents. What she read now was so unexpected that her breakfast cooled as she stared at the typewritten words, finding them at first incomprehensible and then alarming. What was Tilsden House? And why should its superintendent be regretting that its monthly charge must be increased and that a first instalment of the new sum was now due?

  Chapter Four

  Tilsden House had an address near Bournemouth but no telephone number. Rather than rely on an exchange of letters to resolve the puzzle brought by the morning post, Grace decided to travel to the south coast next day, to see the place for herself and talk to the superintendent face to face.

  A bus from the railway station carried her to the end of a long drive, leaving her to walk up to a large, secluded house which had the air of an institution.

  ‘I came because I didn’t understand your letter,’ she confessed after she had been shown into the superintendent’s office. ‘You addressed it to my father, but he’s abroad. Could you explain to me what the fees are for, and why they’ve been increased?’

  ‘The increase has been caused by the need to transfer Mr Hardie – Mr Hardie junior – from our children’s home to permanent quarters here. When I last saw your father, he explained that he’d set up a capital trust for Felix. The interest has covered all his expenses until now. Mr Hardie thought he would be back in England well before the time came to adjust the arrangement. But now that Felix is seventeen –’

  Grace interrupted him. ‘Who is Felix?’

  The superintendent gave her a puzzled look. ‘Surely, Miss Hardie, you know about Felix. Your brother.’

  There was a long silence as Grace searched her memory. Yes, the name did seem familiar. Little by little she remembered the baby who had been born on the day that Pepper was killed, and what had happened to him. Her face and neck flushed – was it with guilt or with horror? Silently she prayed that her first guess at an explanation might prove mistaken.

  ‘I remember there was a baby,’ she agreed. ‘But he died. I was ill at the time, and only six, but I’m quite certain that he died. Because he was premature. Too small.’

  ‘That was said, no doubt, to spare you grief. Small children are often alarmed when defects are found in other children, in case the same problems may occur in themselves. Your brother Felix didn’t die, Miss Hardie. But it was suspected soon after his birth that there was an abnormality, and time proved this to be the case. He’s seventeen now – a handsome, strong young man. But his mind is that of a child of three or four, and will always be so.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘It’s one of the dangers of a premature birth. The infant’s lungs are immature, causing breathing difficulties. These in turn mean that the flow of oxygen to the brain is insufficient, inhibiting normal development. It was a wise decision on your parents’ part to bring him to a children’s home where his special needs would be understood and cared for. No one is to blame for such misfortunes in a family, but to keep such a child at home can prove disruptive.’

  Grace was silenced again by shame. No one is to blame, the superintendent said, but she knew better. It was a six-year-old’s fit of temper which had tipped the new-born baby
on to the floor, banging his head. How vividly she remembered now!

  ‘He’s been very happy all these years,’ she was told. ‘The change of quarters is purely on account of his age. From now on he should live amongst adults. So you’ll understand why a different scale of fees applies – and the funds from your father’s trust are unfortunately insufficient to meet these.’

  That explained the withdrawal of capital from the family business which had puzzled David. But the solving of one mystery did nothing to resolve the immediate problem.

  ‘Your request for an increase comes at an awkward time, because my mother is also abroad at the moment,’ she said slowly. ‘Until she returns, it may not be possible to vary the terms of the trust. But I’ll discuss the matter with one of my other brothers to see what can be done immediately. If I could ask you to be patient –?’

  ‘Oh, of course. The attention which Felix receives here isn’t medical. He’s provided with the attendance and care needed by a child. The most important consideration in his life is that he should remain in familiar surroundings. We’ve been bringing him over from the children’s home every day for several months, to make him feel at ease here. Now that the move’s completed, we wouldn’t wish to upset him by altering the arrangements. As long as the matter is receiving your attention … And now I’m sure you’d like to visit your brother.’

  Could she face that prospect? If she were to be confronted by some kind of gibbering idiot, whilst believing herself responsible for his condition, would she be brave enough to stand her ground?

  ‘Did my mother come here?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Hardie has paid four visits every year until recently. I’m afraid she often found them distressing. Felix doesn’t recognize her as his mother, you see. But he loves to have company. Even though he’ll quickly forget that you’ve visited him, he’ll be happy while you’re here.’