Yew Tree Gardens

by Anna Jacobs

  Her expression brightened. ‘Oh, thank you, sir. If I can only get the money for Mam, I shan’t care what them in the village say about me. It fair breaks my heart to see the little ’uns go hungry.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Five shillin’ a week, sir.’

  It seemed a pitifully small amount. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his change purse, selecting three half-crown pieces and holding them out to her. ‘Here.’

  She took two of them, leaving the third coin on his palm. ‘It’s too much, sir. I don’t get seven shillings and sixpence a week.’

  ‘You do now. You just got a rise for your loyalty.’ He could see Walter nodding approvingly.

  ‘Oh, sir.’ She clapped one hand to her mouth and blinked her eyes, but a few tears escaped. ‘It’ll be such a big help to Mam.’

  He pressed the other coin into her hand and said gently, ‘You can run home tomorrow morning and give your mother the money.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ She mopped her eyes then pulled a pinafore out of the bundle and tied it round herself. ‘Right. What shall I do first?’

  ‘Can you please make us all a cup of tea, you included, Lizzie? Then perhaps you can tell me what’s going on. I have no idea why people are angry with me.’

  He’d lost all desire to sleep, but his bad leg was aching furiously, so he limped across to the big kitchen table and sat down.

  ‘They said you had a gimpy leg and a bad arm, sir. Did you have an accident like Miss Bennerden?’

  Somehow he wasn’t offended by her question. ‘Yes, a riding accident.’

  ‘Must have been a bad one. Still, you’ve got the house and all, haven’t you? So you’ll be all right.’

  Walter grinned at him from the other side of the room and Gil knew what he was thinking. The girl was right. Suddenly he knew he would manage better, thanks to a kind lady. Whatever happened from now on, Miss Bennerden had given him a chance to do something useful with his life. Like helping Lizzie and her family. That might not be exciting but it was important.

  He had felt so useless!

  Leaning back in his chair, he watched Lizzie make a cup of tea, her movements quick and sure.

  Walter came to sit next to him. ‘Nice big kitchen, this. Where did the cook go, Lizzie?’

  ‘She went to work for Mr Chapman as well. He must have got some money, because even though he has a big house, it used to be just Ben as helped him out and Mrs Kendey to scrub and wash for him twice a week.’

  She quickly produced a pot of tea and found them some stale bread, which she toasted and offered with a new jar of jam. ‘Sorry, sir. They took the butter and stuff that’d go bad with them. They wasn’t meaning to steal anything, but no one likes to see good food go to waste.’

  ‘You’ll need to eat too,’ Walter pointed out.

  ‘Ooh, it wouldn’t be right to eat with the master!’

  ‘It would if I say so,’ Gil told her. ‘Sit down, Lizzie. I won’t eat anything till you do.’

  He waited till she was finishing her second cup of tea, after three slices of toast and jam. ‘I’d be really grateful if you’d tell me why people are so upset with me, Lizzie. I need to know.’

  ‘Well … it’s because of Mr Chapman, sir, Mr Duncan Chapman. He lives in the village and he’s a relative of Miss Bennerden as well. He did a lot for her after he come to live here, a few years ago. She got very frail towards the end, poor lady.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘I think he helped her with her money. He said she always promised to make him her heir.’

  That didn’t sound like the woman Mr Mortlake had talked about. It suddenly occurred to Gil that anybody could say what they wanted about a dead woman, with no chance of being contradicted. ‘Did you hear your mistress say she’d make him her heir?’

  She frowned. ‘Well, I didn’t hear her myself, but then, she wouldn’t talk about such things to me, would she? I suppose Mary must have heard her say it or she wouldn’t be so angry now. Mary and Cyril have gone to work for Mr Chapman as well. He lives the other side of the village in his uncle’s house. Bit tumbledown it is for a gentleman, even if it is big. Mary and Cook won’t like that. They’re snickety-pickety about keeping things just so.’

  He hid a smile at her turn of phrase. If she had many made-up words like that, he was going to enjoy chatting to her. ‘The lawyer didn’t say anything about Miss Bennerden having other relatives. I must ask him when he comes tomorrow afternoon.’

  Gil drained his cup and suddenly felt too exhausted to do more. ‘I know it’s early, but it’s been a very long day. I think I should go to bed. Can you show us to the bedrooms, Lizzie?’

  She bounced to her feet, young, graceful and full of energy. He couldn’t help feeling envious, but then he glanced round and it reminded him how lucky he was. No more feeling sorry for yourself, Gil, my lad!

  ‘They didn’t get anything ready for you, sir, but I can easy make up beds if you decide which rooms you want.’

  Walter went over to the back door. ‘It’s getting dark now. Let me just lock up before we go upstairs. Better to be safe than sorry. You’ll have to show me where all the doors are, Lizzie.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘Oh, I don’t think anyone from our village would come and steal anything, Mr Bilham. We don’t usually bother to lock up at all.’

  ‘I’m afraid us townies feel better if doors are locked at night, so you and I will go round all the outside doors before we go upstairs to sort out bedrooms for Mr Rycroft and myself.’ He looked across at Gil. ‘Wait for me here, lad, while I make everything safe. Your leg must be aching.’

  ‘Thank you. It is.’

  Gil smiled as he heard Walter insisting on shooting the bolts on all the outside doors as well as turning the keys in the locks. He even went round checking the windows in every downstairs room, finding several of the old-fashioned sash windows that weren’t locked.

  It was annoying to be so feeble that an older man had more energy. It was about time Gil started doing more, even if it did make his leg ache. He’d have to go back to London to see the man recommended by Seaborne, so that he knew which exercises would help him most. And he’d see the bootmaker, too. However bad the built-up shoe looked, if it made him limp less, perhaps his hip wouldn’t hurt so much.

  When Walter and Lizzie came back, she found them all candlesticks, since the house didn’t have gas lighting, then led the way upstairs.

  ‘Are there no oil lamps?’ Gil asked.

  ‘Yes, sir, but Cyril usually sees to those and he didn’t clean and fill them this morning. He was too busy packing up. I could get the fancy lamps from the sitting room, only they’re hard to carry round.’

  ‘We’ll make do with candles tonight, then.’

  The bedrooms looked as comfortable as the downstairs rooms, filled with old-fashioned furniture but of good quality. The one where Alice Bennerden had slept pleased Gil and he opted to use it. Lizzie bustled around, finding clean sheets and making up the beds. Then she hesitated. ‘I’ll just take her clothes out of the drawers and lay them on one of the other beds, shall I? It won’t take me long.’

  ‘We’ll help you,’ Gil said.

  When that was done, Walter said he’d sleep next door, if Gil didn’t mind the liberty. ‘Just to be within call if you need me.’

  ‘I shan’t need you, but you deserve a comfortable room after all you’ve done for me. I don’t consider it a liberty but a right. Thank you, Walter.’

  ‘I’ll bring you up some water to wash in, shall I, sir?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  ‘We’ve got warm water still in the tank, though it’s not hot now. It won’t take me long.’

  While she was gone, Walter unpacked Gil’s things.

  ‘It’s a strange welcome,’ Gil said.

  ‘It’s a nice house, though, and I like the looks of that lass.’

  It was a relief when his two helpers stopped fussing and left him alone. Gil u
ndressed slowly, enjoyed a leisurely washdown with the lace-trimmed facecloth, and got into bed, sighing with relief.

  Although his bad leg was aching furiously, he wasn’t going to take a sleeping powder, because they always left him dopey in the mornings.

  He felt quite sure he’d need all his wits about him for a while.

  Why were people so angry about Chapman not inheriting? Why had Miss Bennerden not left the money to the fellow if he’d been helping her?

  Well, whatever Chapman had or had not done, Gil wasn’t going to give up his inheritance. He needed it.

  Besides, Miss Bennerden didn’t sound like an unfair sort of person. She must have had a very good reason to cut Chapman out of the will.

  I’m home, he thought as he snuggled down. I have my own home now.

  Chapter Five

  Gil woke with a start, his heart pounding as he realised what had disturbed him: the sound of breaking glass.

  He got out of bed and went to look out of the window, but could see no sign of anyone near the house.

  There was a knock on his bedroom door. ‘Gil?’

  ‘Come in, Walter.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes. Did you hear it too?’

  ‘I did, sir, and cursed myself to think we don’t have anything to defend ourselves with. I wonder if there are any guns in the house.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. An elderly spinster would hardly collect guns, and she wouldn’t be the hunting type anyway, not if she was a friend of my grandmother’s.’

  ‘I’ll go and take a look downstairs, see if anyone’s broken in. There’s enough moonlight to find my way. I don’t want to show them where I am by carrying a lighted candle.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. No, don’t argue. This is a case of two being safer than one.’

  When they went out on to the landing, they saw something white at the end of it, then it moved towards them, to reveal Lizzie, in a floor-length nightdress with a darker shawl clutched tightly round her shoulders.

  ‘We’re going to look round. Do you want to come with us?’ Gil whispered.

  She answered very quietly too. ‘Yes, please, sir. I don’t like being on my own up there in the attics. I’ve never slep’ on my own in my whole life before.’

  They heard no sounds from below as they crept down the stairs. The broken window was in the front sitting room, as they’d thought. The floor near it was covered by shards of glass which gleamed in the moonlight, but the hole wasn’t big enough for anyone to climb through.

  ‘Good thing we locked up,’ Walter said in a low voice.

  On the floor near the window was a brick with some paper tied round it.

  ‘Looks like a message to me.’ Walter glanced down. ‘I’ve got my shoes on, you two are wearing slippers, so I’ll get that brick, then we can see what they want.’

  ‘We could light a candle in the hall to read it,’ Lizzie volunteered. ‘We always leave matches and candles there. No one will be able to see what we’re doing.’

  ‘Good idea. You light some candles for us, lass. You know where things are kept.’

  The message was short but to the point, printed in big black letters in pencil.

  GO AWAY

  YORE NOT WANTID HERE

  ‘We’ll keep this to show to the police. Is there a village policeman, Lizzie?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but …’ she hesitated, then finished in a rush, ‘he’s Mary’s cousin, and I don’t think he’ll do anything to upset her or the others in the village.’

  ‘He’ll have to take action if a crime has been committed. It’s his job.’

  She didn’t contradict him, but she looked unconvinced.

  ‘We’ll do our best to keep you out of it, lass,’ Walter said soothingly.

  She sighed and looked at him. ‘How will you do that if I’m working here?’

  ‘Do you want to leave?’ Gil asked. ‘If you do, I’ll give you enough money to tide you over till you find another job.’

  She looked from one man to the other. ‘You’re that kind!’ She seemed surprised by it. ‘I don’t want to leave. I never did, but they said I had to. I like working here, with good food and clean clothes and all. Mam was desperate when they told her I had to leave. All of a tozz-wozz, she was, for days.’

  ‘Well, we’re very happy to have you stay.’ Gil looked at the time on the big grandfather clock with a gleaming brass trim around the dial that stood in the hall. It was just after midnight.

  ‘Do you think they’ll come back, sir?’ Lizzie looked round nervously.

  ‘I doubt it. They didn’t try to break in this time. I think they just wanted to upset us.’

  ‘We might as well go to bed, then,’ Walter said. ‘I agree with you, lad. They’ve sent their message and that’s probably it for tonight.’

  Gil picked up the piece of paper and put it in his pocket.

  Walter patted Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘Thank you for staying, lass. Your mother’s not the only one who needs your help. Two men on their own would have trouble finding anything in a strange house. We’ll get some other help for you as soon as we can.’

  ‘Mrs Turvey would come back, sir. She does the scrubbing and she didn’t want to stop working here, neither.’

  ‘Can you let her know she’s still wanted? And perhaps she can come in every day.’

  ‘Yes, sir. She lives near Mam.’

  ‘Then you can see her after you take your mother her money.’ Gil had a sudden idea. ‘Tell Mrs Turvey I’ll pay her an extra shilling a day. Just as I’ll continue to pay you higher wages. Walter and I value your loyalty.’

  She drew in a breath of surprise. ‘That’ll mean a lot to Mrs Turvey, more work and more money for it.’

  A shilling, Gil thought as he lay on his bed. One shilling a day would mean a lot. He hadn’t realised. Why had he not realised? Because he’d been spoilt rotten and selfish, that’s why.

  He couldn’t get back to sleep, his thoughts were in such a confused tangle, but one thing had become clear: the independence which money gave meant a lot to him – not just the comfort but the purpose in life, the ability to help others.

  Why hadn’t Miss Bennerden left the money to this Chapman fellow if he was a relative? Did the lawyer know?

  There wouldn’t just be trouble in the village, Gil thought with a wry smile. He’d have trouble with his father, who would try to tell him what to do with his inheritance. But fortunately his father had no power over him now.

  And no one else was going to tell him what to do, either. He might limp, he might have a stupid, useless arm, but he could still stand firm against blackmail and bullying, couldn’t he?

  ‘I won’t let you down, Alice Bennerden,’ he whispered into the darkness and sighed with relief as he felt himself slipping gently towards sleep.

  In spite of his disturbed night, Gil woke up early. Outside, birds were making occasional soft noises in the dimness of the false dawn.

  He was in his own home!

  Yawning hugely, he snuggled down for a few minutes, but the lighter it became, the more he wanted to be up and doing.

  He heard footsteps coming down the attic stairs. If that was Lizzie starting work without anyone telling her what to do, she was a good, honest lass.

  Someone stirred in the bedroom next to his. Walter. So they were all three awake.

  Gil swung his legs out of bed and looked for his dressing gown, then realised he’d not brought it with him. He must send for his clothes from home – no, his family’s house wasn’t his home any longer.

  But if he sent for his clothes, he’d have to tell them where he was. He wanted to settle in a little before he faced his father.

  Someone knocked on the door. ‘Come in, Walter.’

  ‘You’re awake, then?’

  ‘Yes. Too excited to sleep.’

  ‘I’ll get dressed, then go down and get you a cup of tea. Once there’s some hot water, I can bring it up for you to shave.’

  Gil c
ouldn’t bear to wait around for others to fetch and carry. ‘I could get a cup of tea myself. If I come down, that’ll save some running about.’

  Walter nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking. We can’t expect that girl to run the whole house, even with a daily cleaner. We need a cook, a garden lad, all sorts of help – and quickly.’

  ‘Lizzie’s a good lass.’

  ‘Yes. You did right to raise her wages. I remember going hungry as a child.’

  ‘Did you really?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Walter’s eyes grew blind with memories for a few seconds, then he smiled and went to get dressed.

  Gil did the same, feeling excited and happy.

  In the kitchen Lizzie had just got the black lead out and was about to clean the cooking range.

  ‘It won’t hurt to leave the black leading for a day or two,’ Walter said. ‘Just get the stove lit and some tea brewed. We won’t wait for the water in the cistern to heat up. If you boil a kettleful, we can shave before breakfast.’

  Walter was studying the kitchen and its amenities. ‘We could do with gas here, couldn’t we?’

  ‘It goes past the village, sir, but no one here can afford to have it connected,’ she volunteered.

  ‘Well, we’ll look into that,’ Gil said. ‘It’d make all our lives easier.’

  She looked doubtful. ‘I’ve heard tell it’s dangerous.’

  ‘Not if you treat it properly,’ Walter said. ‘We had it in London. I know what to do and I’ll show you.’

  She smiled in relief. ‘That’d be good.’

  All the time she was talking, her hands were busy, first lighting the fire, then filling the kettle, Gil noticed. He’d never have been aware of that sort of thing before the accident. He’d only paid attention to his own needs in those days. ‘As soon as we’ve eaten, you can nip over to your mother’s with the money and ask Mrs Turvey to come back.’

  She beamed at him. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Any other people in the village looking for work?’ Walter asked. ‘We need someone to do the cooking. We shan’t mind if they can’t do fancy stuff.’

  Lizzie stood thinking, head on one side. ‘There’s Madge Hilton. She lost her husband two weeks ago and she’s got to move out of the tied cottage. She’s a good cook, everyone says. Only she’s got her daughter to think of.’