Moorcroft The Possession

by Sandra Callister

  Back home he collected all the necessary deeds and paperwork for each farm and made notes of the acreage and size of each plot then put them in a large envelope and placed them in his safe. In the kitchen he found Mary rolling out pastry.

  “Mary, I will be going to town so don’t bother with lunch and if you could make something I could warm up for dinner, you may as well go home. Oh and if you could make my bed before you go I would be most grateful, it’s in a bit of a mess.”

  Mary stood looking at the door in amazement; it would seem Master Richard had turned over a new leaf.

  He ran upstairs to change, he would go and see some estate agents and get a rough valuation of each farm and make enquiries about auctions. Somehow he must make some quick money and save his home.

  Bill Walters came through with the mortgage and he and Richard shook hands over a cup of tea and one of Mary’s scones. It would be several weeks before the money came through but that was one less thing to worry over. He had good feed back from the estate agents, it seemed there was a new fashion of owning your own smallholding and being self sufficient and there had been plenty of interest in the one remaining farm. Richard had decided to auction off Joe’s farm and had stood and watched as car after car made its way down the track to inspect the farmhouse. With a cup of tea in his hand Richard looked across the gardens and spotted a Range Rover approaching the house. The well dressed young man from the auctioneers stood and admired the front of Moorcroft then knocked on the door. Richard showed him into the drawing room. They shook hands.

  “You have a lovely house here Mr Gardener, now I could guarantee you a good price if you ever put this up for auction.”

  Richard smiled and shook his head. “No thanks, it’s just the farm I’m selling, how does it look?” They looked out of the window.

  “We’ve had a good response as you can see from the amount of cars coming up your drive. There are always onlookers just nosing but we have had quite a few offers, I think it will go well for you, having your own farm seems to have become a trend.”

  There must have been a dozen or more vehicles parked in front of the house and people began crowding round the rose gardens. The young man turned to Richard with an austere look on his face as he took from his pocket a piece of paper. Richard looked at the man expectantly.

  “Mr Gardener on this piece of paper is a sum of money I have been asked to offer you. It is a good offer but if you decline to take it and should the auction not go your way I must take the highest bid even if it does not reach this figure. You do understand that?”

  “That offer wouldn’t have come from Reginald Phillips would it?”

  “I’m sorry I’m not allowed to say, but it is a close neighbour.”

  Richard shook his head. “I think I would rather loose money then hand it over to that man.”

  The man smiled. “I think you have made a wise decision, with a little effort I’m sure we could do better, now let’s get on with it. Richard watched from the drawing room window as the young man took a stool from the Range Rover, stood on it and gathered the people around him. He banged a small wooden mallet onto his clipboard and the bidding began.

  Richard could hear the bids rising until it hovered around the amount that Phillips had offered. He held his breath as the auctioneer worked the crowd, then another bid was offered and then another. The auctioneer finally brought his hammer down and pointed to a young couple who were hugging each other. Richard breathed a sigh of relief, he had done it. He watched as the cars slowly made their way down the drive and then he spotted Metcalfe’s car. The bastard had been here all the time. Reg Phillips sat beside him and he was not a happy man. Richard threw back his head and laughed.

  A few weeks later Richard was in discussions with his mortgage broker and a figure was given to Richard to pay off his mortgage in full. It was a hefty sum but it would safeguard Moorcroft and wipe the smirk of Metcalf’s face. The following Monday morning he finally sat opposite the deceitful man himself. Aubrey Metcalf was finding it hard to look Richard Gardener in the eye and shuffled papers across his desk. He finally looked up and saw the contempt on Richard’s face.

  “I’m here to pay off my mortgage.”

  This was not good. “Please Mr Gardener don’t be too hasty.”

  Richard felt in his pocket for the cheque made out for the full amount and handed it to the horrid man.

  Metcalfe looked at the figure and tapped away at his computer. He smiled. “I’m afraid this will not be enough.”

  Richard stiffened, what game was he playing now? “What, but I was here the other day and was told this figure would be it, the final payment.”

  “That was over a week ago, since then you have incurred more interest.”

  Richard scowled. “How much more?”

  Metcalfe smiled. “The kingly sum of four hundred and thirty five pounds, to be exact.”

  Richard grimaced. “That’s extortionate.” He took a cheque book from his inside pocket. Metcalfe noticed it was an opposing bank. Richard took out his pen and wrote out the cheque and handed it to Metcalfe. His hand shook as he took the piece of paper. Richard stood up and lent across the desk and faced him only inches away.

  “I will make sure you pay for this treachery Metcalfe, mark my words.”

  Aubrey Metcalfe felt the bile rising as he watched Richard leave his office.

  Richard stood outside the bank and looked up to the sky and took in a deep breath. At last Moorcroft was safe, no more debts to pay off, now all he had to do was pay for day to day living, how hard could that be?

  Back at Moorcroft he wandered from room to room. He thought he would feel different now that he no longer had to worry about it, but nothing had changed, in fact he felt deflated. He had this big house and no one to share it with. He sat on the settee and wept for Victoria. There was a knock on the door and Mary entered with a tray.

  “I heard you come in the back door and thought you might like a cup of tea and a piece of cake, made fresh this morning.”

  Richard smiled at her. “Mary how come you never married?”

  She blushed. “Well I almost did some years back, but the week before our wedding he was made redundant and the wedding was called off. He was a very proud man see and refused to live off my wages. We could have managed, just about, but he would have none of it.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “He packed his things and went down South to look for work, he wrote regular every week, and then the letters stopped. I never heard from him again.”

  “Oh Mary I’m so sorry, but surely you must have met other men?”

  “Oh yes sir, I did my fare share of courting but it was never the same and I for one wouldn’t settle for second best.”

  Richard lowered his head. “Yes I know what you mean.”

  Mary nodded and quietly left the room.

  In the study Richard picked up the phone and dialled the number in front of him. It rang several times and he was about to put the receiver down when he heard a woman’s voice. “Is that Joan Wesley?”

  “Yes, how can I help you?”

  “This is Richard Gardener, may I speak to Sarah?”

  There was a long silence and a sigh before she answered. “I was sorry to hear of your mother’s death, you have my sincere sympathies.”

  “Thank you, but I need to speak to Sarah if that’s alright.”

  “I’m sorry Richard but they don’t live here any more.”

  “Well can I have their address or phone number?”

  “No, you see after the funeral Sarah was taken ill again and had to be put back on medication, we were all so worried about her. When they moved back into their own home Charles forbade me to pass over any details to you. He doesn’t want Sarah upset again. I’m sure when she is well enough she will contact you again. I’m sorry Richard.” The phone went dead.

  ####

  CHAPTER 15

  For several days Richard locked himself away in the study fe
eling sorry for himself. He relived over and over again Victoria’s death and each time he came back to the same conclusion. Sarah was the only one chasing her that fateful morning. He understood that Sarah had loved her dearly and would not deliberately harm her but he had seen events with his own eyes. Why was Sarah chasing her, why was Victoria so scared that she was running away, why did Sarah insist that someone else was involved when there was no one else in the house? He knew that he was wrong to stop her from returning to Moorcroft, he could see that now that he was sober, but Victoria was still lost to him and he didn’t know why. He knew that he must speak to Sarah and sort things out, but he didn’t know how to find her. In the end it was Mary who gave him the solution.

  Night after night he had the same bad dream, watching the horse rear and Victoria falling. He would reach out his arms to catch her, shouting her name and then he would wake up in a cold sweat. It was on such a night when he was in the kitchen making himself a coffee when he spotted a book that Mary had left on the table. It was one of those mystery thrillers. On the front cover was the picture of a man in a trench coat and trilby, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. That was it, first thing in the morning he would look for a detective agency, there must be some around. That night he slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

  Richard looked at the address he had written down on a piece of paper. He was in the right street but he couldn’t see any signs for Parker Investigations. Half way down the street he noticed several plaques on a wall by a green door. The third one down was the agency. He pressed the buzzer and he heard the door click. He pushed it open and walked inside and found a flight of stairs in front of him, to the left on the wall was a sign, the agency was on the third floor. He looked around for the lift, there wasn’t one so slowly he climbed the stairs. At the top he took a rest before looking at each door for the agency. He knocked and walked in. A short fat man sat behind a desk, he looked like anything but a detective. He was on the phone and beckoned Richard into the office. He wondered if he had made a mistake. The man put down the phone and stood up and offered Richard his hand, it was cold and sweaty. “Mr Gardener?”

  Richard nodded.

  “Please take a seat. Now, what can I do for you?”

  Richard handed him the envelope containing the photograph of Sarah and the address of the Wesley’s. “I need you to locate this young woman. I just want her address.”

  He studied the picture. “What is your connection to this woman?”

  “She’s my sister, we’ve had a row and now I’d like to make it up, but I don’t know where to find her.”

  “Should I mention your name, if I contact her?”

  “No. I just need to know where she lives, that’s all.”

  The man rhymed off a long list of rules and regulations that he had to abide by and finally, his fee, before shaking hands and walking Richard to the door. That was it, now he just had to wait.

  He still took Dancing Lady out everyday to give her some exercise but now he didn’t have the land to stretch her so he went to see Bill Walters. He was greeted like an old friend and Richard could see that Bill had already started to put his own mark on the property. Over a beer he thanked Richard for giving him the opportunity to own his own farm; Richard feeling embarrassed thanked him for getting him out of a hole and an agreement was made that Richard could exercise his horse on Bill’s land at any time. Richard walked away happy, knowing he had made a friend that day. He decided that Eddie would have to go, now that he had plenty of time on his hands he would be able to muck out the stables and tend to the exercise of Dancing Lady and her colt. His bank balance was dwindling now he had no income from the land. Eddie wasn’t too happy with the news but understood Richard’s reasoning and he would get a good payout and a glowing reference. Eddie was sad to be leaving Moorcroft but things had never been the same since Victoria’s death. The horses kept Richard busy, they became his life and an excuse to visit Bill Walters, he missed male company and a chance to talk.

  Back at the house Richard glared at the phone wishing it would ring, it was weeks now and he still had not heard anything from the detective and began to think he had wasted his money. Mary still came in to cook his meals and clean the rooms still in use and they often talked about the village and Moorcroft. Mary’s mother had retired, but she still visited the house from time to time and sat in the kitchen keeping Mary company. Richard started to tidy the rose garden to the front of the house. He looked down on the tangle of weeds and the dead heads of the roses. This had been his mother’s pride and joy and he was determined to make it beautiful again. Mary laughed at the number of times he came into the kitchen for plasters and antiseptic to put on his scratches and insect bites. He had dismissed the gardener months ago and the lawns were now knee high. He looked in the barn and found the ride on lawn mower, how hard could it be. Mary and her mother would watch from the dining room window, in stitches with laughter watching him manoeuvre across the rough grass.

  It was several weeks before Mr Parker, the detective contacted him; he had found Sarah and had her address and some photographs. Richard arranged to meet at his office the next day. Steven Parker shook hands with Richard and pointed to the seat opposite. He still had cold clammy hands and Richard was tempted to wipe his own down his trousers but resisted. “What have you got for me Mr Parker?”

  The little man pushed a large manila envelope towards him. Richard opened it and found inside several photographs of Sarah, some in her garden, some out shopping and some with Charles and his mother. She seemed happy enough but he could see how thin she had become and felt responsible. He opened the folded piece of paper and read her address. In the envelope was a report of hours spent, travel and so forth and a copy of Sarah’s marriage certificate. Richard put everything back into the envelope and took out his cheque book and settled the bill. As he approached the door Mr Parker spoke.

  “I don’t know if it’s of any consequence but one day I took the liberty of sitting at a table close to your sister and an older woman and listened to their conversation. They talked a lot about babies and prams, although you can’t see much proof from the photographs, I think your sister may be pregnant, but I couldn’t be sure.”

  Richard smiled and nodded as he opened the door. “Thank you for that Mr Parker; I may need your services again in the future.”

  Back at Moorcroft Richard laid the pictures of Sarah across his desk and looked closely at them. She was very thin and her clothes hung on her but he could see no evidence of a pregnancy, she must have been speaking about someone else. Although she was smiling her eyes were sad and he felt a lump in his throat, they used to be so close. Charlotte stood looking over his shoulder at the photographs and could feel Richard’s sadness. Why oh why was he interested in that woman, surely she had caused him enough distress; he was on the road to recovery and just look at him now. He slumped in his chair and his shoulders shook as he cried. He missed his parents and his sister and good friend Charles, but most of all he missed his sweet Victoria. He swept the pictures to the floor and collapsed over the desk. Charlotte wanted to comfort him but knew this was not the time; first she must gain his trust.

  He poured himself a whisky and looked at the amber fluid in the bottom of the glass. He rocked his hand from side to side and watched as it swirled around the sides. Should he drink this or would it be the start of another binge. He put the glass to his lips and drank it down in one large gulp. He picked up the bottle and poured another, his hand was shaking. He sat back at his desk and put the glass down and took a pen and paper from the drawer and began to write.

  Dear Sarah,

  I hope this letter finds you in better health, Charles’s mother told me of your illness after mother’s funeral, but refused to give me your address, I had to use other means to find you. I have stopped my heavy drinking and I am trying to bring my life back to normal. I am sorry for all the ill feeling between us and I am trying to put the pieces together so that I can underst
and what happened that fateful morning. I know the drinking and the affects of losing Victoria blurred my thinking but I know what I saw and I still cannot understand your explanation.

  Moorcroft is a lonely place and I miss you and Charles. I have tried to resurrect mothers rose gardens but I think it needs a woman’s touch. I have even ventured out on the lawn mower but I can’t understand why all the dull brown patches appear. Brandy is getting old now but he still plods after me when I take a turn round the garden, he’ll be the next to go.

  Give my regards to Charles and his parents and please consider coming home, I miss you.

  Your brother Richard.

  He put down his pen and read the letter, folded it and put it in the envelope; tomorrow he would post it and wait for her reply. Charlotte had watched him write the letter and after reading it had found a way to introduce herself to Richard and a plan was forming in her mind.

  Mary came every morning bar Sundays to make Richard a cooked lunch and would spend the rest of the day tidying and cleaning, she had started taking his washing home so Richard had bought her a new washing machine which was housed under the stairs. When he was out for the day she would just cook him an evening meal and leave it for him to warm up. Now that she only worked part time she and her mother could spend more time together. She had noticed a change for the better in his life style but wished he could put the death of Victoria behind him once and for all and start enjoying life again. The only visitors to the house now were the trade’s people and the occasional visit from the doctor, Henry Davenport.