She turned to Gyles in frightened bewilderment. 'I —I don't understand. Why have you brought me here?'
For answer he led her out of the barn and towards a field entrance. Kirsty went with him willingly enough, she couldn't stand having those men looking at her like that another minute. He held open the gate for her and she preceded him into the field, but stopped dead when she saw the carcases of some more cows lying on the grass. She went to turn away, but Gyles caught hold of her shoulders and forced her to turn back. His voice was harsh in her ear.
'Look at them, Kirsty. Take a good look. See what your thoughtlessness has led to. These animals have died because of your stupidity and we'll be lucky if the vet can save the other. Prize cattle that have taken years of careful breeding to produce—and you've killed them in a day I' His voice filled with disgust and his fingers bit cruelly into her shoulders. 'Go on—take a closer look at your handiwork.'
He let her go suddenly, pushing her towards the dead animals so that Kirsty almost lost her balance. She turned to him, her face pale. 'But I haven't done anything to them. I haven't been near them. You're making a mistake.'
'It's no mistake. Look.' He strode to a sack that was lying on the ground near the cows and upturned it. A pile of twigs and leaves fell out at his feet and Kirsty realised dazedly that they were clippings from her front hedge. She stared at them in bewilderment.
'But I don't understand. What have they got to do with the cows?'
Gyles looked at her impatiently. 'It's yew, Kirsty. It's poisonous to farm animals. God, you're so ignorant you probably didn't even know what it was.'
Kirsty looked at him unhappily. 'Yes, I did—someone told me. But I don't understand how they got it. How could they get in the garden?'
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His look turned to one of anger. "They didn't have to. Because you were too lazy to dear up your own rubbish and threw it over into the field! The men found it there at the back of your garden this morning.'
Her face suddenly ashen, Kirsty gazed at him in appalled dismay. 'But that isn't true! I didn't. I piled all the rubbish in the back garden ready to burn.'
The harsh look in his eyes turned to contempt. ‘Don't try to lie your, way out of it, Kirsty. I know that you're still ignorant of country ways and if you'd come right out and apologised for what you'd done I'd have been more than willing to forgive and forget. But to try and wriggle out of responsibility with a brazen lie!'
'It's not a lie,' Kirsty said vehemently. 'I tell you I didn't throw the cuttings over.'
'No?' His voice was openly sneering. 'Then who did?'
She shrugged helplessly. ‘I don't know. But I swear it wasn't me.' She saw the look of scornful disbelief on his face and impulsively stepped towards him, putting a hand on his arm. 'Please, Gyles, you've got to believe me,' she said desperately.
Deliberately he looked down at her hand and shook it off as if it was something dirty. Starting to shake with emotion, Kirsty gazed helplessly into his set face, then turned with a sob and began to run across the field, away from the contempt in his eyes.
She didn't stop running until she reached the gate leading into her own back garden, and then she leaned against it, panting for breath and with the tears still running down her face. How could he be so cruel, so unjust? Her hands were trembling and she gripped the top bar of the gate hard to try and stop them. She was horrified by what had happened and could still hear
the noise made by the poor sick, cow ringing through her head, but what had shaken her most was the way in which the men had looked at her and the withering contempt in Gyles' eyes when she had protested her innocence. And of course he hadn't believed her; he had merely despised her even more, thinking her a liar as well as a thoughtless idiot. And it had hurt, that look—she felt shrivelled up inside.
'Kirsty't Kirsty, what is it?' Penny came running across the garden towards her, her face frightened and anxious.' What did he do to you?'
Trying to pull herself together for Penny's sake, Kirsty wiped her eyes and climbed over the gate into the garden. 'It was a mistake. Nothing to do with us, after all,' she answered, trying to keep her voice light.
'So why are you crying?' Penny squared her shoulders. 'Kirsty, will you please stop trying to shield me and tell me what's happened,' she said forcefully.
So Kirsty told her; after all, it would probably rebound on Penny as much as her. When she had finished the younger girl stared at her aghast. 'He thinks you did it deliberately?'
Kirsty shook her head. 'No, bethought I was just lazy and ignorant, and it wasn't until I told him that it wasn't me that he really got nasty.' The memory of it made her shiver again.
'But I don't understand,' said Penny, walking towards the pile of garden rubbish. 'It's yards from the gate. The clippings couldn't have blown over, could they?'
Kirsty joined her and shook her head. "There wasn't any wind yesterday, and if there had been the stuff would be all over the garden.'
'Well, if you didn't do it, there can only be one solution,' Penny looked at her unhappily. 'Someone must have got into the garden and deliberately taken some clippings and put them into the field, knowing that it would poison the cows!’
'I know,' Kirsty admitted reluctantly. 'And whoever it was must have been a country person to know that yew was poisonous. Somebody must want us out of here pretty badly,' she added miserably.
'Well, we both know who that is,' Penny pointed out vehemently. 'The Squire J'
Kirsty turned to her with a shocked face. 'But it couldn't possibly be him. He wouldn't deliberately poison prize animals.'
'Why not? They're not his cows, are they? They belong to the farm. And he's already done his best to try and get rid of us, so what makes you think he wouldn't go this far?'
'But I told you; when he found out there were just the two of us he said he wanted to help us. And he said we could get whatever we wanted from his garden centre.'
Penny snorted. 'Oh, that's really big of him—especially now that we've proved that we can, get along without it
Kirsty stared at her sister incredulously. 'But he was so angry, really furious. No one could have pretended that kind of feeling.'
'You don't know him well enough to say that. He's probably quite capable of putting on any act he likes. I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't telling everyone right now how he offered us friendship and help, and "now we've done this to the fanner. You realise that after this none of the villagers will want to have anything to do with us she said bitterly.
Quickly Kirsty crossed to her. 'Yes, they will. Because we'll tell them the truth. They're not all influenced by
the Squire, you know. And if you think a thing like this will keep Dave away, you're very much mistaken. A whole herd of dead-cows wouldn't keep him away -from your cooking,' she added in a sorry attempt to cheer the younger girl up.
But Penny couldn't even manage a smile. 'It would be a whole lot better if we could prove it wasn't us.'
Kirsty nodded and looked glumly at the muddy ground. 'We'd better go inside, your feet will get cold in the mud.'
Penny obediently went to go in, leaving a trail of footsteps behind her, and Kirsty moved to follow but suddenly stopped dead. 'Penny! If whoever it was took the clippings last night, they must have walked across this Mud. If we can find a footprint…'
Frenziedly she looked round at the ground and Penny hurried to join her.
'There must be something. Look, over there.' She pointed excitedly to part of a heelmark on the very edge of a clump of grass a few feet from the bonfire. 'It's much larger than our heelmarks. It must have been made by a man in gumboots.'
'But it's so far from the pile," Penny objected. 'No one could possibly have taken a stride that long.'
'No, not unless he realised that the ground was muddy and put something down to tread on and hide his steps.' Kirsty searched round between the mark and the bonfire. 'Yes, look. You can just see the outline where a piece of cardboard or wood has been laid on
the ground, but unfortunately we've walked right over it and almost obscured it. If only we'd thought to look first,' she said hopelessly. 'No one will ever believe us just from this.'
'The police might.'
Kirsty stared at her aghast. "The police? We can't go to them.
'Why not? We're going to need all the help we can get to fight the Squire.'
'Penny, we can't be sure it was him. It could have been anyone. And I still don't believe that he'd do this’ to us,' Kirsty added emphatically, although her mind was a turmoil of doubt and uncertainty.
She insisted that Penny go in while she poured paraffin over the bonfire and set light to it, making sure that every twig and leaf was burned, that there would be nothing left for anyone to play the same trick on them again. For the rest of the day she tried to concentrate on her work, but all the time she was turning the thing over and over in her mind, wondering whether Penny was right and she should have called in the police. After all, she'd been accused of a crime she hadn't committed and she had the right to try to dear her name. But somehow she shrank from taking the matter further. There would be lots of questions and she would have to say if she suspected anyone and then it would all come out: She could imagine the look that would come into Gyles' face at her accusation, and all her senses- shrank from such a confrontation. But more than anything she couldn't believe that he could be so two-faced, to offer friendship one day and to do this to them the next. No, it was impossible.
Her mind also went to the fanner who owned the cattle; she had no idea of the value of the animals but guessed they must have been worth quite a lot of money. The thought that the man had suffered this loss because of some cruel trick played against her haunted her and added to her worries and anxieties. It was so unfair on him when he was just an innocent bystander. She could guess how much he must despise her and felt sick with worry at having made such an enemy, especially knowing that however much she proclaimed her innocence no one was going to believe her.
After a long, sleepless night of mental stress, Kirsty made up her mind that she couldn't possibly let the farmer suffer. She would have to offer to pay for the cows. If this made her look guilty she couldn't help it. There was no other way of avoiding turning the farmer and possibly the whole village against them. Deciding that if the thing was to be done it had better be done straight away, Kirsty dressed in a tweed skirt and jacket and put on some make-Up; she would need to feel as confident as possible in her coming interview with the farmer. She was much too tense and nervous to eat breakfast and couldn't settle to any housework while she waited until she judged it would be all right to call at the farm. Luckily Penny was still in bed; Kirsty didn't want to worry the younger girl with this until it was over. Right or wrong, she felt it was the only thing to do.
At exactly nine o'clock she set off up the lane, taking a big gulp before she turned into the driveway leading to the farm and an even bigger one before she raised a shaking hand to knock at the door. It was opened by a buxom woman in a floral apron who, Kirsty remembered, had been standing outside the barn the previous day. The woman looked at her in astonishment.
'What do you want?'
- Kirsty flushed at her tone and said hurriedly, "Please, I'd like to speak to the farmer. I'm sorry, I don't know his name.'
His name's Ted Singleton. And I'm Mrs Singleton,' the woman said coldly. 'What do you want with him?'
‘I-it's a personal matter,' Kirsty faltered unhappily, aware of the woman's scornful gaze.
'Is it now? Well, you won't find him here. He's gone up to the Manor.'
'Oh. Will he be long, do you think?'
Mrs Singleton shrugged- "All morning, I shouldn't wonder. There's a lot to sort out after yesterday,' she added meaningfully.
Kirsty wilted for a moment, but then the knowledge that she was completely innocent helped her and she squared her shoulders and faced up to the farmer's. wife. 'Thank you,' she said firmly. 'I'll look for him there, then.' And she managed to walk steadily across the yard although the woman's eyes were burning holes in her back. Probably making sure I don't contaminate her pigs, or something, she thought resentfully. It was so unfair!
Grimly she walked back to the lane and continued up it until she came to an imposing gateway between two tall brick pillars with a small, discreet sign announcing that this was Motley Manor. The drive was wide and had large clumps of rhododendron bushes among the trees on either, side which she guessed would look beautiful when they were in bloom in a couple of months time, but right now she was too busy worrying about how she could get hold of Mr, Singleton without seeing Gyles as well to notice her surroundings. But when she turned a bend in the driveway and saw the Manor house before her she had to give it her full attention.
It was a beautiful place, built on two storeys with arched windows whose latticed diamond leads caught the sun and gave it a welcoming appearance, and with the tall, ornate chimneys that only Tudor buildings have. Her feet crunched on the thick, well-weeded gravel of the drive and as she came nearer she wondered for a moment whether she ought perhaps to find the tradesmen's entrance, but then she resolutely walked up to the front door. If she was going to beard the lion in his den she would do it without sneaking round to the back entrance. There was a big iron handle that she pulled and the door was quickly opened by an elderly butler.
'Good morning. I'm trying to find Mr Singleton. I was told that he was here.'
The man motioned her inside. 'Your name, miss?"
'Miss Naylor.'
He asked her to wait and Kirsty was able to look around her. The main door opened straight into a great hall, very high and with panelled walls which were lined with paintings, landscapes mostly. The floor was of polished wood enriched with one or two rugs and the furniture was mostly antique; heavy leather chairs, a buttoned settee and a big refectory table with a huge copper bowl full of daffodils on it. At the far end there was a wide flight of stairs, still of uncarpeted polished wood, mounting to a gallery that ran along the length of the room.
The butler came back and said, 'If you would follow me, please, Miss Naylor.'
He led the way through a door at one end and down a corridor. Kirsty could feel her heart hammering in her chest and just hoped that Mr Singleton would be alone. But as they neared the double doors at the end of the corridor, the butler said, 'I'm afraid that ,both Mr Singleton and Mr Grantham have gone into Bar-ham, but if you will wait in here, Mrs Grantham will be down in a moment.'
'Oh, but I——' But before she could find words to tell him she'd rather not wait, the man had gone and left her alone in a pleasant morning-room that overlooked the landscaped gardens at the back of the house. Kirsty stood in perplexed indecision. He had said Mrs Grantham. It had never occurred to her that Gyles might be married. No one had ever mentioned his wife—-and Kirsty found that she had no wish to meet her. But she couldn't just walk out. Pacing restlessly up and down the room she wondered what to do, then made up her mind; she had come to see Mr Singleton and if he wasn't here there was no point in staying. She took a couple of determined steps towards the doors, but then the butler pushed them open and stood aside to let a woman enter. But she didn't walk in; she steered herself in an electrically-driven wheelchair. And she was middle-aged, in her mid-fifties, Kirsty judged, her grey hair drawn back in a bun. She propelled the wheelchair to a space on one side-of .the fire that crackled in the big old hearth and waited until the butler had arranged a rug around her knees and withdrawn before she spoke.
'Good morning. I'm sorry my son isn't here, but perhaps I can help you?’
'Well, no, I'm afraid not. You see it wasn't really Mr Grantham that I wanted to see. I wanted to talk to Mr Singleton.'
"He was here earlier, but they've gone into Barham and probably won't be back until after lunch. It's the cattle market today, you know."
'In that case I'll call on him at his farm this evening. I just wanted to see him about some cows he owns.’
'But Mr Singleton does
n't own any cattle. The farm belongs to my son. Mr Singleton is only the farm manager.'
'Oh, I see.' Kirsty felt at a loss. "Well, Fin sorry to have disturbed you.' She turned to go, but the other woman stopped her.
'Please don't rush away. Parker will be bringing coffee directly. Won't you sit down and join me?' And she gave Kirsty such a warm smile that she felt bemused and automatically sat down in a comfortable armchair on the other side of the fireplace. ‘You've taken the Briar Cottage, haven't you? I believe Gyles mentioned it.'
Kirsty looked at her rather suspiciously, imagining just what Gyles had said about her, but Mrs Grantham's face gave nothing away, she merely looked politely enquiring, and Kirsty decided that Gyles probably kept anything of an upsetting nature from her. 'Yes, we moved in last month.'
'I think it's quite old, almost as old as this house. And I've an idea it once belonged to the estate;' Mrs Grantham remarked. 'I believe it was originally used as a house for retired servants, but then one of the previous Granthams found it a convenient place to keep his mistress in—however, his wife found out and made him sell it.'
Kirsty's eyes flew wide in surprise at this unexpected piece of information and Mrs Grantham smiled. 'I thought that would surprise you.'
The butler came in with the coffee tray then and placed it on a small table at her hostess' elbow. He served Kirsty and quietly went away again. ,
If you're interested in the history of your house I'd be glad to look up the records for you.'
Kirsty smiled. 'Thank you, I'd like that very much. We found an inglenook fireplace in the sitting-room, but unfortunately we haven't had time to do anything other than expose it yet.'
They went on chatting and soon Kirsty felt completely at ease with Mrs Grantham, who seemed interested in everything she had to say. She was still a very good-looking woman and must have been beautiful when she was; younger, but although she was neatly dressed, she wore no make-up and seemed not to care much about her appearance other than to be tidy and clean. She was talking animatedly enough now, but Kirsty guessed that this was only a temporary thing and that when she was alone she was unhappy and depressed, only rousing herself for visitors. She had seen too many people like it when .she worked at the hospital not to recognise the symptoms, and she had voluntarily given up many of her evenings to sit and talk with the patients in an effort to encourage them to hope, to convince them that life had still much to offer them.
Sally Wentworth - Garden of Thorns Page 9
