Another Home, Another Love

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘Very well.’ Andrew MacNicol nodded and sat down. He reached for his glass of water.

  ‘My father has dealt with most of the moveable assets which belonged to our client but as you know there remains the land and houses of the farm known as Martinwold, including Martinwold House. Mr and Mrs Caraford, you have been very patient and I thank you. What I have to say concerns you and with your cooperation we shall endeavour to fulfil our client’s most earnest wishes.

  ‘Mr Turner had great respect for both of you. Moreover, Mr Caraford, he assured us you are trustworthy and the best person to carry out his wishes, along with your wife.’ Steven flushed but he didn’t know what to say or what they were expecting him to do. Megan was uncomfortably aware of Natalie glaring furiously in their direction.

  ‘It was our client’s greatest regret that he had neither son, nor grandson, to carry on his life’s work at Martinwold Farm. He could not contemplate the prospect of his pedigree herd and the farm being sold and broken up. It is for this reason he made his proposition. It was his wish that you should be given the opportunity to purchase the farm, for a fixed sum of £60,000.’

  Steven and Megan gasped. It was worth far more than that but it was well beyond their reach. There were 360 acres, of good land and several cottages. Never in their wildest dreams could they expect to buy such a farm. They felt comfortably well off with £10,000 in the bank and a well stocked rented farm. Steven shook his head in bewilderment, but Drew MacNicol went on. ‘You will have one year to decide whether you can raise the money. If you decide to go ahead you will have a further year to pay the sum in full.’ Again Steven shook his head, knowing it was impossible.

  ‘I must urge you to take time and consider carefully, Mr Caraford,’ Mr MacNicol Senior interrupted. ‘It was our client’s dearest wish to keep the farm together if at all possible and he had faith that you and your sons could do that. He hoped Martinwold would continue for generations to come.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Wright-Manton bellowed, getting to his feet. He was very unsteady. ‘The property belongs to us. It must be worth—’

  ‘Please sit down and let me finish,’ Drew MacNicol said coldly. ‘Mr Caraford, apparently Mr Turner trusted you and your family implicitly. He probably knew you would be cautious so we are instructed to keep Martinwold as it is for one year to give you time to consider. Whatever you decide he hoped you would manage the farm on behalf of Mrs Turner and arrange a sale if that is your decision. You will be paid a manager’s salary. He was most anxious that things should be made as easy as possible for his wife. I should add he did not anticipate this situation arising for many years yet. He expected your sons would be working with you and he knew they were both keen to farm.’ Again, Wright-Manton got to his feet unsteadily.

  ‘I pot – p-prot-test. The fool was out of his mind. We sh-shall con-cont—’

  ‘I must ask you to remain silent, or leave the room,’ Drew MacNicol said sternly. ‘It may interest you to know, Dr Wright-Manton, that your late father-in-law’s aim was to prevent you benefiting from his hard work. Whatever Mr and Mrs Caraford decide, the farm is no concern of yours.’

  ‘Of course it’s our concern, you silly bloody—’

  ‘Dr Wright-Manton! If you cannot be civil please leave.’ Natalie tugged his sleeve and pulled him back into his chair. ‘As I was saying, whoever buys the farm the proceeds are to go to a charity named by our client.’ He held up his hand as Wright-Manton began to bluster and swear. ‘One of his aims in purchasing an annuity was to give his wife security for life. This removed a large part of his moveable estate from your grasp.’

  Natalie’s face had grown pale with shock. Charity! How could her father have been so mean? They were already more than the five thousand pounds in debt, and her husband sought every possible excuse for evading his duties at the hospital these days. She was afraid he would make a serious blunder and be struck off. Then where would they be? She had not realized until a year ago that Niven’s drinking had become a serious problem. One of his colleagues had advised her to seek help. Until then she had thought he knew how to enjoy the good things in life. Now she knew it was at other people’s expense, including hers.

  ‘What about Martinwold House?’ she asked hoarsely.

  ‘It is included with the farm. I must add there are certain conditions regarding the purchase of Martinwold. I shall let you have the details in writing, Mr Caraford, but the main condition is that if you do buy the farm you, or your family, must keep it for at least ten years. If you were to sell it with vacant possession before then, all profit over the £60,000 purchase price, plus the cost of any improvements you may have made, must be repaid and go to the same charity. The exception to that is Martinwold House. When Mrs Turner has finished with it, if you cannot afford to live there yourselves, you may sell it along with the five-acre paddock at the back. There will be no other exceptions. However if you purchase the farm with the intention of continuing to farm there you will also retain stock and machinery to the value of the remaining third of the moveable estate, as valued by Mr Vincent.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ Natalie burst out, almost sobbing with fury. ‘What have they done to deserve anything! It should all be mine.’

  ‘We are carrying out your father’s wishes, Mrs—’

  ‘Whims, bloody insane whims!’ Wright-Manton shouted.

  ‘Meanwhile,’ Drew MacNicol went on firmly, ignoring the interruptions, ‘for Mrs Turner’s sake, as well as the staff and the animals, it is essential that we know whether you feel able, and willing, to take over the management of Martinwold Farm immediately. Mr Caraford?’

  ‘I…yes, I think I can do that,’ Steven said, his mind racing, ‘but I would like to discuss it with my wife.’

  ‘Yes, I understand. Mr Turner has done his best to guarantee the cooperation of the Martinwold staff by making each bequest dependent on them continuing to work for a year. Mr Fisher is one of the executors. He has undertaken to help you in any way he can. According to our client, your wife,’ he smiled at Megan, ‘deals with your own farm accounts. He hoped you would take over the Martinwold accounts for a year in return for remuneration, Mrs Caraford. There are one or two other points we can discuss later.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Steven agreed but he felt he was being swept along on a tidal wave. Ella Turner sent him a pleading look. He summoned a smile. ‘I promise I shall do my best, whatever happens,’ he said quietly.

  ‘You’re a good man, Steven.’ He didn’t feel good. He felt trapped, out of his depth. The Wright-Mantons were shooting daggers in their direction.

  As Mr MacNicol ended the formalities Wright-Manton struggled to his feet intent on refilling his whisky glass but Drew MacNicol hurried from behind the desk and took him firmly by the arm, beckoning Steven to take his other arm.

  ‘What you need, my man, is some strong black coffee,’ MacNicol said coldly, ushering him through the door. Catherine had been hovering in the hall. The group at the bar had dispersed.

  ‘I will order you some coffee at once, Dr Wright-Manton,’ Catherine said obligingly, ignoring Steven and smiling at Natalie who was trailing behind them looking peevish, leaving her mother in Megan’s company.

  ‘I fear there’s going to be terrible trouble,’ Mrs Turner said. ‘They are always so short of money. I don’t understand it. Niven has an excellent job and his children are adults and independent.’ Mr MacNicol Senior was walking behind them.

  ‘I will call on you in a day or two, Ella, but you must try to ignore Dr Wright-Manton’s complaints. Take my advice and stop giving them money. I believe Wright-Manton is well on the way to becoming an alcoholic. It will do no good if you subsidize his craving.’ Ella Turner looked at him in dismay. ‘Murdo hinted as much several times but I thought he was prejudiced.’

  ‘I gather things had deteriorated between them.’

  ‘He refused to come when I telephoned to say Murdo was ill.’ Her voice shook as she remembered. She could never fo
rgive her son-in-law for that.

  ‘The sooner he gets help the better,’ Mr MacNicol said. He considered telling Ella that his old friend had made provision for their daughter if she divorced Wright-Manton, or found herself a widow, but he didn’t believe she could keep the information to herself when Natalie put her under pressure. It was time the girl faced facts and accepted responsibility for her actions.

  FIVE

  The months sped by. Steven was conscientious in his management of Martinwold and having worked there as students both Sam and Alex were familiar with the fields and the stock. They got on well with the workers and understood their routine.

  ‘It would be more efficient if we could work both farms together,’ Sam said but Steven was still undecided about buying. ‘We shall never get such an opportunity again,’ he persisted. He couldn’t understand why his father didn’t seize the opportunity.

  ‘We’re only tenants here, at Bengairney,’ Steven reminded him. ‘The landlord would never agree to us combining the two farms.’ Sam was silent. He had tried to explain that to Lidia since she had insisted on rekindling their relationship. As far as he was concerned everything had been over between them but Lidia had heard all manner of rumours since Mr Turner’s death and the possibility of living in a house like Martinwold had fuelled her ambitions of grandeur. She refused to listen to reason. Several times she threatened to harm herself when Sam refused to see her. He couldn’t believe she would do so but he had seen her fly into hysterics more than once. He was afraid she might act on the spur of the moment if he pushed her too far. He felt sickened by the situation but he didn’t know how to extricate himself.

  Alex was even keener to buy Martinwold than Sam. He came home from college every weekend and he worked hard, taking his turn with milking at Bengairney while Sam continued relief milking at Martinwold. He worked out figures for bank interest and rent, projecting their income, and schemes for repaying the money.

  ‘Figures on paper are only half a story,’ Steven insisted. ‘You two boys should talk to Rosemary. According to your grandfather she’s turning into a proper young business woman and she doesn’t do anything without considering every angle.’

  ‘But Dad, the gardens are small in comparison,’ Alex protested.

  ‘Exactly. We have more to lose with all of us in the same boat. Farming is equally dependent on the weather, though, and diseases can strike out of the blue and wipe away our income,’ Steven reminded him. ‘We’re talking about half a lifetime, maybe more, before the money will be repaid,’ He was tense and abrupt. It worried Megan. He was fifty-one and she felt it was not a good age to be taking on so much responsibility, even without the worry of a huge loan.

  ‘You can’t project what our income will be,’ she told Alex. ‘Remember how we lost those young heifer stirks? They would have been coming into the herd now as milking cows, and we’d have had their calves to rear as well as extra milk to sell. You boys should stop badgering your father. He’ll reach the right decision when he’s ready.’

  ‘But what if it’s not the right decision for us?’ Sam said. ‘It’s our future as well, remember.’

  ‘Your future is all your father and I have thought about since the day you were born,’ Megan said ‘We’ve always done our best for you.’

  ‘I know, Mum, I’m sorry,’ Sam muttered.

  ‘It’s just that it’s such a great opportunity,’ Alex persisted, ‘especially with two of us.’

  ‘And what if you both want to get married?’

  ‘We’d go on farming both places as a partnership,’ Alex said.

  ‘You have so little experience of life.’ Megan sighed. ‘I’ve seen brothers who are the best of friends until they each get a wife.’ She was thinking of Lidia. ‘Before you know it you are splitting up, or getting divorced and selling up everything your father and I have worked for all our lives.’

  ‘But Mother—’

  ‘That’s enough. Give your father time to reach his own decision, and Samuel, think on what I’ve said about wives. You need someone who will stand beside you through thick and thin in a business, especially farming.’

  Megan felt it was a welcome distraction when Tania and Struan broke the news of their engagement the week before Christmas.

  ‘That’s wonderful, Tania.’ Megan hugged her and then Struan. ‘Welcome to our family, Struan,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Aye, ye’re more than welcome into the fold, laddie,’ Steven said, ‘but I don’t feel old enough to have a daughter getting engaged.’

  ‘Oh Dad, don’t you say that. Struan’s mother is always saying we’re far too young to think of marriage. We are twenty-two you know, in fact Struan will be twenty-three in January and that’s only a few weeks away. We’re not planning to get married for another couple of years. We want to give everyone time to get used to the idea.’

  ‘Tania means my mother but she’s too polite to say so,’ Struan chuckled and drew Tania close to drop a kiss on her cheek. Megan beamed at them. Oh to be young and in love. She sighed and caught Steven’s eye.

  ‘We must have a family party and invite your parents, Struan. Have you any other relatives you would like me to invite? I know your sister and her husband live abroad.’

  ‘There’s no one else,’ Struan said. ‘We might have a problem persuading my mother to come though. She often calls off at the last minute but we shall not allow her to spoil things,’ he added with determination. Steven looked at him with respect. He liked Struan. He was cheerful and easy going but there was a firmness about him which reflected character and reliability. He would have said Samuel was pretty much the same but recently he had been tense and irritable, even unreasonable.

  ‘We’ll have a Boxing Night buffet,’ Megan said. ‘How would that suit? Or if your mother doesn’t like being out at night we could make it a lunch party.’

  ‘I’m sure evening will be fine,’ Struan said. ‘It suits everyone better if the work is finished.’

  ‘I’ll invite Rosie for Boxing Day,’ Tania said. ‘She will bring Grandfather and take him home again. She has persuaded her parents to invite Paul Keir and his mother for Christmas dinner at Langton Tower this year. The hotel is closed for Christmas Day so they’re having a family dinner for once. Granny Caraford will be staying over for Christmas, won’t she?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I was dismayed to see how frail she is getting when I called last week.’

  ‘She seems to have lost her confidence for going out since Mr Patterson died,’ Steven agreed.

  ‘Samuel can drive down to get her on Christmas morning,’ Megan said. ‘After all, she gave the boys her car so they ought to chauffeur her.’

  ‘Shall we ask Dean and Avril and the children?’ Tania asked.

  ‘Yes, of course, and Lint if he’s not on call,’ Megan nodded. ‘The twins will be home from university too. I expect Alex and Rosie will be pleased to see their old chums again.’

  True to character Struan’s mother took to bed after dinner on Christmas Day saying she was too ill to contemplate going to Bengairney, and her son was far too young to be getting engaged.

  ‘That’s all right then, dear,’ her husband said. ‘You can stay in bed if you think you’ll feel better lying down. Lizzie will be here if you need anything.’ Lizzie was their live-in maid-cum-cook and housekeeper and Struan often wondered how she put up with his mother’s whims but she had no family or home of her own.

  ‘Of course Lizzie will be here, but you’ll be here too.’ Mrs Ritchie said.

  ‘Oh no, I can’t miss my only son’s engagement party and Mrs Caraford and Tania are excellent cooks. Anyway we’re all the family Struan has. He needs my support.’ Struan stared at his father in surprise. He had humoured his mother for as long as he could remember. Mr Ritchie winked at him and Struan realized that for once his mother would not get her own way. He smiled. Mr Ritchie smiled back like a schoolboy up to pranks. ‘I’ve humoured her too long and too often,’ he said. ‘It’s her d
uty to be there tomorrow.’

  ‘But I need you,’ Mrs Ritchie wailed. ‘I might need the doctor.’

  ‘We’ll see what tomorrow brings, dear. You may feel right as rain. If not I’ll ask Doctor Jones to admit you to hospital for some tests to get to the bottom of your troubles.’

  ‘I don’t need to go to hospital,’ Mrs Struan insisted; patches of angry colour rising.

  ‘Whatever you say, dear. Tomorrow is another day. We’ll go to the Carafords together and celebrate with Struan and Tania.’ His voice was firm and Struan knew his mother would go to Bengairney.

  Reluctantly Lidia had gone north to her own family for Christmas when Mrs Caraford did not issue an invitation to Bengairney. Tania and Rosie agreed it was like having the clouds lifted. They were both in high spirits and there were kisses all round, with and without the mistletoe. Only Sam seemed quieter than usual. His kiss was gentle but he couldn’t resist holding Rosie in his arms longer than was strictly necessary. She felt her knees tremble and in her heart she knew Sam was the man she loved. It was a happy occasion and Steven felt it had been like an island of calm amidst waves of indecision and worry.

  Strangely it was Natalie and Niven Wright-Manton who forced a decision. They were impatient for their share of the money.

  ‘It’s months since my father died,’ Natalie declared, storming into the solicitor’s office on a cold March morning. ‘It’s a miserable pittance but I demand it now. The farm, the house, it should all be mine. I was his only child.’

  ‘It was your father who insisted on waiting a year before his affairs were wound up, Mrs Wright-Manton,’ Mr MacNicol reminded her.

  ‘The Carafords will never be able to buy Martinwold. It’s all a pretence to say they are considering it. The price of cattle might have gone down in another six months.’

  ‘If you are needing the money I will consult the other executors and talk with Mr Caraford, but if prices rise you will have no further claim if you insist on payment now.’