A Stranger in Honeyfield

by Anna Jacobs

  This time the anger would not go away because it was tied to another deep-seated anger about the way her husband had treated her. One day she would get her revenge. One day soon, if things worked out.

  Francis Filmore heard that Spencer had gone up to London and waited impatiently for his friend to come home again.

  But even when Spencer did return, he didn’t call on Francis or phone him. What was the matter? They hadn’t quarrelled. They rarely even disagreed, since they shared a common cynicism about the world and the war.

  He drove round to Westcott at a time he would normally catch his friend in, but was told by the maid that Mr Spencer was out shooting pigeons and wouldn’t be back till much later.

  So he asked for Mrs Cotterell and was shown in. She might know what was going on with her son.

  ‘How are you today, my dear lady?’

  She shrugged pettishly, knowing him too well to pretend. ‘Angry.’

  ‘Might one ask why?’

  ‘I’ve had to pay full price for the house Philip left to that horrible woman, which means I’ll have to economise for a while. He should never have been associating with a person like that in the first place, let alone leaving family property to her.’

  ‘Couldn’t you just have let her keep it?’

  ‘No, I could not. There are things in it that I happen to care about. And anyway, I don’t want her living in Malmesbury, right on our doorstep.’ After a pause she added in a vicious tone, ‘And there has been no sign of my stupid daughter, either. When I find Georgina, I will make her regret defying me, believe me. Do not give up hope of marrying her.’

  ‘I’m sure you will deal with her appropriately. And I want to find her just as much as you do because I do still wish to marry her.’ Or more accurately, get his hands on her money. He said nothing about his own and Spencer’s attempt to kidnap Georgina and force her to marry him. It didn’t do to advertise failures. But he too would be watching out for any sign of her. People couldn’t just vanish into thin air.

  The doorbell sounded again and this time it was one of Mrs Cotterell’s few remaining friends come for a gossiping session, so Francis took his leave.

  But as he drove home, he couldn’t help wondering why she was making such a fuss about the house – or was it the contents? Who could tell with a woman as cunning as her?

  When Spencer got home from his day’s shooting, his mother was still furiously angry, so he had to listen to her going on at length about the price she’d have to pay.

  ‘You’re the one who wants the house,’ he pointed out, which started her off again, shouting and yelling at him even more loudly.

  He poured her a glass of brandy and made soothing noises till she’d calmed down a little. ‘Why do you want the house so urgently anyway, Mother? I can’t work that out. You’ve never lived there because it belonged to Father’s side of the family, so it can’t have any sentimental value.’

  ‘Well, I happen to like it a great deal. It’s so convenient, near the centre of town. And I’ve fond memories of the first cousin who lived there. We were great friends. Not so much the second cousin. I didn’t realise she’d bought it off your father. He never tells me anything.’

  Spencer listened to this in surprise. His father never told anyone more than he needed to.

  ‘That woman favoured Philip unduly. Fancy leaving him everything! You’re the elder son. It should have gone to you. Or to me. I’ve always thought I could go and live there when you bring home a wife and start a family. There are a lot of spare women around now, you know, with so many young men being killed. You could have your pick, find yourself a rich wife.’

  ‘I don’t want to marry … yet. I’m happy living with you.’

  As usual that appeased her slightly, because she couldn’t bear to be alone for long. She sipped some more brandy and he frowned because something was nudging his memory and it was to do with that house. Yes, it was coming back to him now. There had been huge rows between his mother and father at one stage when the cousin living in the house had died and his father had allowed another relative to take over house and furnishings without consulting his wife.

  That must have been a few years after the twins were born, when Spencer was in his late teens and, for once, his father had come down to Westcott to tell his wife about the new occupant and check that everything was in order there.

  His mother had claimed she wanted to allow two elderly cousins of her own to live in it. ‘They’d be company for me,’ she’d said several times.

  His father had noticed him listening and shepherded his wife into another room and closed the door on their continuing quarrel.

  Maybe he should go and have another look round the house once the sale went through, or even before. What had he missed last time he searched the place? He hadn’t found any valuables or seen any papers that were worth taking. In fact, the only papers he’d found had been old letters from many years back, dating from the mid-nineteenth century. They’d been crammed into a large inlaid wooden box any old how. He’d pulled out a few, but found nothing of interest, so had shoved the box back in the cupboard.

  But perhaps he should check the papers out more thoroughly before his mother got her hands on the house? He’d check out the box, too, and the rest of the house if necessary.

  There had to be something there still, otherwise why would she continue making such a fuss about the place?

  Tez hired a man to drive him down to Honeyfield on the Friday after Isabella moved into Pear Tree Cottage. There wasn’t time to send a letter alerting her to his coming, or if he did, he’d have to wait another day to go there. No, he’d told her he’d be down at the weekend so surely she would be expecting him?

  He had to fill in some more army paperwork and attend a final meeting on the Friday morning. No one could dream up forms to fill in and procedures to be gone through like the army. But at last that was done and his final steps out of the armed forces had been taken and ratified. He wasn’t sad about that because he hadn’t been a career soldier; it just felt strange. He’d had to buy some more civilian clothes and that was it.

  He was able to set off mid afternoon, only an hour later than he’d planned. The driver was cheerful about the delay, because neither of them expected the journey to take more than three or four hours.

  Unfortunately en route they met with a series of problems that delayed them. First they had a flat tyre, and it took ages to get it fixed. Then they had to stop to render assistance to an elderly man who’d had a seizure while driving and run into a tree. He couldn’t have been going very fast because he was in more trouble from the seizure than from the accident.

  They got the man to a nearby cottage hospital and even brought back a mechanic to drive his car home, since his elderly wife had no idea how to cope.

  It was nearly ten o’clock by the time the car turned into Pear Tree Lane and it surprised Tez how much driving into the village felt like coming home. Even with the recently introduced daylight-saving changes the light was fading and curtains were drawn. Most people thought it was a good idea to change the clocks and push the lighter hours further on in the day. What use was daylight at four or even five o’clock in the morning, after all?

  Trust the Germans to think of changing the time first. He had a lot of respect for their enemy’s intelligence. Daylight saving was such a good idea that the British authorities had been quick to follow suit.

  The curtains were drawn at Pear Tree Cottage too, but there was a light showing in the sitting room so Isabella must still be up.

  ‘I’ll unload your luggage and bring it in, sir,’ the driver said.

  Tez went to use the door knocker. There was no answer but he saw the edge of the curtain twitch and called, ‘It’s me, Isabella. Come and let me in.’

  Only then did someone slide the bolts and unlock the door.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad to see you.’

  She’d been crying, he coul
d tell, even in the dim light shining from the sitting room. She stepped back out of sight as the driver brought in Tez’s suitcase and then the two boxes of food he’d purchased from Harrod’s, putting them down in the hall.

  ‘Thank you.’ Tez fished out the payment they’d agreed on, adding a big tip because of all the troubles there had been on the way.

  ‘Thank you very much, sir. If you ever need a driver …’

  ‘I’ll definitely call on you.’ He closed the door and turned back to Isabella, saying bluntly, ‘You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?’

  ‘I hoped you wouldn’t notice, or if you did, not say anything.’

  ‘I notice everything about you. And I can’t know that you’ve been crying without trying to help. Was it for Philip?’

  She looked first startled then shamefaced. ‘I’m afraid not. I was crying because I’m alone. Silly and weak of me, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not at all silly. We can talk later and maybe work out some way to cheer you up when I’m not here, but for the moment you’re not alone. Let’s get these boxes unpacked. I brought some food and I’m ravenous, I must admit. We’ve had a hell of a journey and were unable to stop for a meal. We left London just after midday.’

  ‘Goodness, that was a long drive. I’ll get you something to eat straight away.’

  He tried to pick up one of the boxes, but as he fumbled she took over the job. ‘Leave me to do that, Tez. A box is a two-handed job.’

  ‘I don’t like you doing the heavy lifting.’

  ‘It’s not all that heavy. Never mind me. Tell me what the doctors said about your hand.’

  ‘They were pleased with my progress but I have to be careful not to strain this hand. They said if I do that, I should get a lot of the function back, which cheered me up a lot. I was afraid the hand would just be there for decoration because it’s seemed numb at times.’

  ‘I’m glad for you. We both have ghosts sitting on our shoulders, don’t we? And what are we doing standing in the hall talking?’

  She carried the boxes through and began to take the tins and cartons of food out of them, exclaiming at his extravagance. ‘These must have cost you a fortune.’

  ‘I wasn’t skimping. I wanted to pay my share of the expenses here and to be sure I wouldn’t be taking your food. I’m a hearty eater, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Let me make you some sandwiches, then. We won’t open the tin of ham this evening. I have some very good local cheese and a tomato to slice up with it, plus an apple pie from the baker’s.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘I’ll make us some cocoa, too.’

  After they’d finished eating and drinking, they both yawned at the same time then laughed.

  ‘Let’s go to bed,’ she said. ‘Your bed’s made up now. We’ll worry about our new ways of life in the morning. I didn’t sleep at all well last night, but I’m sure I’ll do better tonight.’

  As he stood up, he said, ‘Don’t forget to lock all the doors.’

  Her smile faded. ‘That’s one thing I’m not likely to forget.’

  So she was nervous, he thought. Well, no wonder.

  There was no sound from her bedroom after the light went out. Tez lay listening but heard nothing so hoped she was asleep.

  It took him a long time to get to asleep. She needed him now and he had nothing else to do with his life till his hand had fully healed, so he could try to help her.

  The fighting mangled your mind, left you with horrific images. Like many men he had nightmares. But he had none that night, thank goodness. He’d have hated to wake her up.

  In the morning Isabella looked well rested and they chatted cheerfully over breakfast.

  ‘How does it feel to be out of the army, Tez?’

  ‘Strange. I know it’s only just over two years since I volunteered, but I feel as if I’ve been a soldier for ever.’

  ‘Are you going to live in your London flat from now on?’

  ‘No, definitely not. It’s more like a cupboard than a home. It was all right when I was only there for a day or two on leave but I’d go mad if I had to live in it permanently. I don’t really want to stay in London. I’ll find somewhere in the country, I think. I’m not sure where yet.’

  She stared at the floor then changed the subject.

  He hoped she didn’t think he’d been hinting to come there full-time. That might give them too many complications. Though it was a tempting idea.

  But he did wonder how she was going to manage the heavier jobs around the house as her body grew more unwieldy and after the baby was born. Her mother didn’t sound at all loving and Isabella had said she didn’t have any other close relatives. Who was going to look after her? Women usually stayed in bed for a few days after a birth.

  ‘Shall we go for a walk or have you something else you need to do?’ he asked after she’d cleared the breakfast things away.

  ‘I’d love to go for a walk if you’re well enough. I’m going to explore the surrounding area but I’ve been out a couple of times and found some pretty lanes and footpaths near the village. But walks are always pleasanter with a companion to talk to.’

  They didn’t chat much as they walked, but it was a comfortable silence. They stopped a couple of times to look at particularly beautiful vistas and once to stare down across a gently sloping field at a large country house with a steep roof and gables.

  ‘That must be Honeyfield House,’ she said. ‘It’s officially a convalescent home but I’m told it’s really for women who need to take refuge somewhere.’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘Husbands who beat them, parents or relatives who treat them badly, who knows? My mother isn’t very maternal but she’s never ill-treated me. That gate in the back wall of my garden is apparently a shortcut to the back of that house. I’ve got a key to the gate now but I’m going to keep it locked. The farmer says I can pick up windfalls later, when the apples and pears are ripe. He’s very friendly. Says to call on him for help if I need anything while you’re away.’

  ‘That must make you feel safer.’

  She stopped walking to consider this, head on one side. ‘Not really. I still worry about whoever tried to knock my car off the road. What if they come back and try again to harm me? But at least there are people within shouting distance here if someone tries to break in, though the neighbours are mostly older than me, so how much practical help they’d be I don’t know.’

  ‘It isn’t easy for you, is it? No wonder you were upset last night when you thought I wasn’t coming.’

  ‘I expect I’m being cowardly, but that attack still haunts me. Philip’s family didn’t even bother to hide their hostility. And when Mr Marley phoned me – I must give you my phone number, by the way – to say that Mrs Cotterell has agreed to pay our price, he warned me that she’s very angry about having to pay the full price. She’s a horrible woman.’

  ‘I agree. You can see her spiteful nature in her face. Most people betray their nature in their face; the rankers certainly did when dealing with officers even though they didn’t dare protest about anything.’

  He didn’t offer to come and live with her full-time because they didn’t know one another well enough for that yet. Besides, he didn’t want her to feel obligated to house him if that wasn’t what she wanted.

  As they walked on a bit further in silence, he decided he might offer when he got to know her better, if only because she would need someone to look after her. Pregnant women could be very vulnerable. Then he looked down at his bandaged hand and told himself not to be stupid. A fat lot of good he’d be at protecting anyone these days.

  Instead he changed the subject and when they got back to Pear Tree Lane, they stopped at the tumbledown house next door to pick some raspberries from a tangle of canes.

  ‘Pity the house has been allowed to get so run down,’ he said. ‘It must have been very pretty once.’

  Her voice was so low, he wasn’t sure whether she realised she was voicing her thoughts. ‘I
’d feel better if I had a neighbour living there.’

  The following day they went for a drive in the car, not stopping anywhere for a cup of tea because she was afraid of being seen but enjoying being outside on another sunny day.

  On the Monday it was cloudy, echoing his mood. He felt obliged to go home. If you could call that box of a flat a home. He almost asked to stay another day but didn’t like to impose on her hospitality.

  As they drove into Malmesbury, they were both quiet. She dropped him at the station, saying, ‘I shall miss your company.’

  That made him think he should have suggested staying longer, but it was too late now. ‘I shall miss you, too, Isabella.’

  She gave him a faint smile. ‘I like you calling me that.’

  ‘Then I shall always do so. Don’t hesitate to phone my mother’s house if you need me, or there’s anything I can bring down next weekend.’

  ‘Thank you. I will.’

  He walked into the station, stopping to stare when he thought he saw Filmore in the distance. But the man turned off to one side and was so far away that he could have been mistaken.

  Anyway, Isabella had already driven off by then, so if it was Filmore, he’d not have seen her, which was the important thing, because he’d have told Philip’s brother.

  The phone call from Francis was put through to Spencer before he could stop the maid doing it.

  ‘How about coming over for a drink tonight, old chap?’

  ‘I’m afraid there’s—’

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

  ‘Tell me now.’

  ‘I’d rather tell you face-to-face.’

  There was a long silence, then Spencer gave in to temptation. ‘Just for an hour, then. I don’t like to leave my mother for long at the moment. She’s in a bit of a mood.’