An Independent Woman

by Anna Jacobs

  They gaped at her for a moment then put down the tea chest. One said, “What are you doing here, miss? We’ve orders to clear out this house. They said no one was living here.”

  She pulled the dressing gown tightly around her, only too conscious of her bare feet and dishevelled hair, which she’d been too tired to plait last night. “Well as you can see, I am living here, and since I’m the owner . . . ”

  He looked at her scornfully. “Don’t give me that. Mr Fleming owns these cottages, only he’s just sold them. And now that the old lady’s dead, he needs her stuff clearing out.”

  “Indeed he isn’t the owner! I am. Kindly take those tea chests out with you as you leave.”

  They exchanged glances. “Can’t do that,” the one who seemed to be the leader said. “We’ve strict orders from Mr Hudd to have the place cleared by nine o’clock. You’ll have to see him about this, so if you’ll just get dressed and take yourself off, leave us to do our job, we’ll say nothing about finding you here.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.” His expression grew ugly and the way he looked her up and down made her shiver and take an involuntary step backwards.

  “If you don’t get dressed and leave, we’ll put you and your things outside ourselves, and we won’t be gentle about it.”

  “But this is my house.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “My name is Serena Fleming and my father definitely doesn’t own the house, I do.” The look that had frightened her for a moment vanished abruptly from the man’s face and he stared at her as if uncertain whether or not to believe her. “Take your things and leave. I’ll let my father know I sent you away, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “Even if you are his daughter—and I’m not so sure I believe you about that, because why would you be living here when he has a big fine house in town—you’ll have to take this up with him. Mr Hudd doesn’t like it if we don’t obey his orders. So if you’ll please leave us to get on with our job . . . ”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She backed into the house again.

  “I did warn you.” He grabbed her and dumped her outside the door, banging her elbow against the door frame as she began to struggle and scream for help.

  Mrs Diggle, carefully keeping out of sight of the men, nudged her youngest and bent to whisper in his ear. He set off running into the village and as she turned back to see what would happen next, her neighbours came running out of the nearby cottages and a man who’d been walking slowly along the lane came hurrying to join them.

  It was his voice which cut through the babble of exclamations and questions like a knife.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Something about the tone, the sense of confident authority, made them all turn towards him.

  He looked at the woman standing on the path, barefoot, her hair flowing down over her shoulders, her eyes flashing with anger, and it took him a moment or two to realise who she was, so different did she look. “Miss Fleming, can you tell me what’s going on here?”

  He frowned as she came to the end of her explanation and turned to the two men. “I think you’ve made a mistake. And this is definitely Miss Fleming.”

  “Even so, Mr Hudd gave us strict orders. Clear it by nine,” he said, “so that the new owner can take over. And we’re already late.”

  “There isn’t a new owner!” Serena exclaimed. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we have to do as we’re told.”

  Marcus went to stand beside Serena, pushing open the front door behind her. “If you’d like to go inside, Miss Fleming?”

  One of the men grabbed him, trying to drag him away from the door and the other took hold of Serena’s arm. As Marcus punched the man on the jaw, Serena gasped in outrage and slapped her attacker’s face good and hard. With growl of anger, he clouted her round the ears and drew back his hand to give her another wallop, but some of the men in the circle of people around them rushed forward to stand between him and her. Others came to stand next to Marcus as his assailant struggled to his feet and glared at him.

  A voice from the distance boomed, “Stop that at once!” and Constable Yedhill, a burly man in his sixties, came pushing his way through the crowd, panting with the effort of running from the police station a few hundred yards away in the village centre. The people who lived in the other cottages seized the moment to slip back and stand at their doors, trying to look as if they’d been there all the time. No one wanted to get on the wrong side of their landlord’s men. The others from further down the road bunched together to watch.

  “What’s going on here?” the constable demanded.

  One of the men pointed. “This woman is stopping us doing our work.”

  She glared at them. “They’re trying to take away my furniture. This is my house, Constable, and I don’t know why they think they have the right to steal my things.”

  Marcus watched with amazement as Serena’s eyes flashed and her cheeks grew rosy with indignation. She looked like a younger sister of the prim spinster of yesterday—and a very much more attractive younger sister at that.

  The constable looked from one to the other. “Do you have any proof of ownership, Miss?”

  “Yes, of course I do. But my lawyer has it, Mr Redway of Bridge Lane in Tinsley.”

  “I know the gentleman.” The Constable scowled at the two men. “Until I find out who’s the owner, I’m ordering you to stop at once.”

  “But the new owner is coming to take possession at nine o’clock,” the taller man said.

  Marcus decided to intervene. “Perhaps the best thing to do, Constable, would be to send someone for Mr Redway immediately?”

  The constable nodded to him. “Exactly what I was going to say, sir. Only who’s to go? I shall be needed to keep an eye on things here.”

  “We could send Vic Scott.”

  “You’ll pay the cab fare, sir?”

  “No need. He’s working for me now. I’ll go and tell him.” He nodded to Serena and walked off towards the Lodge.

  She looked down and realised she was still in her dressing gown, pulling the front more tightly around her. “Constable, will you be staying here?”

  “Yes, miss.” He gave the two men a look that said he mistrusted them.

  “Then I’ll go inside and get dressed.”

  “Certainly, miss. You’ll be quite safe with me here.” As she closed the door, he went to stand in front of it, arms folded, watching the two men who now seemed uncertain what to do. He looked around to find that most of the villagers had slipped away to get about their daily business, though the women from the cottages were all standing outside their front doors still, watching with great interest.

  The carriers went to lean against their cart, muttering to one another as they lit cigarettes.

  Peace settled for a short time until Vic drove up in his cab.

  Marcus got out and Vic drove off. “I thought it’d be best if I came back, Constable, just in case you needed help.”

  “Very thoughtful of you, sir. I appreciate that, though they haven’t given me any trouble so far.”

  Serena popped her head out of the door. “Would you two gentlemen like a cup of tea?”

  “That’d be very welcome, miss,” the constable said enthusiastically.

  “Would you like to come inside to drink it?”

  “Better stay out here and keep an eye on these two, I think.”

  “I’ll come inside, if I may,” Marcus said. “I’d appreciate the chance to sit down. My leg isn’t fully healed yet. I have to rest it regularly.” He followed her inside, surprised once again by her appearance. The dowdy woman was back, in clothes, in hairstyle and in guarded expression.

  If he hadn’t seen the transformation for himself, he’d not have believed it possible. But he had seen it and by hell, she was an attractive woman when she let herself go. His body had woken up for the first time in months at the sight of her flushed
, indignant face, soft female curves and that mass of shining, wavy hair. He’d welcomed the revival of feeling in his lower body because he’d been rather worried about that aspect of his life.

  Inside the front room she indicated a comfortable chair. “I’ll go and make the tea.”

  “I’ll join you in the kitchen if I may. I’m better on a more upright chair at the moment.”

  She suddenly noticed the bruise on his chin and then glanced down at his knuckles, which were grazed. The tight expression vanished and she hurried over to him.

  “You’re hurt!” She picked up his hand to examine it.

  He felt a warmth run up his arm and she must have felt something too, because she slowly raised her eyes to his with a puzzled look, which made him realise she wasn’t used to reacting to a man. Was the dowdiness used as armour to keep them away? If so, why? “It’s nothing,” he said when the silence had gone on for too long.

  She let go of his hand. “You must let me bathe that for you. We don’t want it getting infected.

  I’ll start the tea brewing first.”

  He sat down and leaned back, enjoying watching her. She had a neat way of moving, her hands sure on the teapot and kettle, though she hesitated for a moment when searching for cups.

  “I’m still finding my way around,” she confessed, as if she knew what he was thinking.

  “What brought you here? It’s not the sort of place I’d expect to find Fleming’s daughter.”

  “Oh. Well. Now that I’ve turned thirty my inheritance has come into my own hands. Or it should have.” Her expression turned angry and her cheeks became slightly rosier. “My father’s been managing things for me and it seems he’s sold the other cottages without telling me, and was about to sell this one, too. Only I never signed anything, so how can he have done that?”

  “Redway will know the ins and outs of it all, I’m sure.”

  “I hope so because I’ve nowhere else to live and not much money.” She blushed. “I—um—left my father’s house the day after my birthday, you see. I don’t—get on with him. I’m supposed to have inherited an income as well as some cottages, but I need somewhere to live temporarily. If I can’t stay here, I don’t know what I’ll do. But I’m not going back to live with him again, not now that my mother is dead.”

  She hesitated and added, “I could tell yesterday that you don’t like him—not many people do, actually—and that you didn’t want anything to do with me because of him. Well, I don’t like him, either. All I want is to go and live somewhere peaceful, make a few friends and get a dog, perhaps. I like dogs.”

  He was touched by the picture she painted and by the way her voice softened as she confided these modest dreams. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have judged you by him.”

  “Can I ask what he’s done to upset you?”

  “The main thing is that he encouraged my cousin Lawrence to gamble and get into debt. Who knows what else he’s done, however? He has a reputation in the town for being a difficult man.”

  “Yes. Difficult to live with, too. He’s always frightened me.” She poured some hot water into a bowl and brought it across to bathe Marcus’s hand. She also dabbed at his forehead, an activity which brought her very close to him. He could feel her soft breaths against his skin and her hands were gentle as she cleaned. He was sorry when she stopped. Women’s hands could be very . . .

  soothing.

  “There, I think they’re all clean now.”

  “Thank you.”

  She went to pour away the dirty water. “How do you take your tea?”

  “White, no sugar.”

  She nodded and began filling his cup. She seemed to be regretting her confidences, because she sat and sipped from her cup as if it was the only thing in the world she cared about, avoiding his eyes and making no attempt to speak.

  He was sorry for her, but it wasn’t his business to interfere once he’d helped get today’s problem sorted out, so he too sipped his tea and let the silence flow around them. He enjoyed that.

  There weren’t many people who could sit quietly, and not try to fill every minute with meaningless chattering.

  At nine o’clock there were sounds of an arrival outside. Marcus and Serena exchanged glances and stood up. Without a word they went to the front door and saw a very shiny new motor car standing on the road outside the cottage. The chauffeur got out and opened the rear door, then a man descended from it.

  Marcus didn’t recognise him. He was dressed like a gentleman, but his nose had been broken at some stage and he looked more like a pugilist wearing a richer man’s clothes. He stared from them to the two men and their empty cart and frowned, then beckoned imperiously to Marcus, who folded his arms and stayed where he was. He wasn’t at anyone’s beck and call. “Who the hell is that?” he muttered.

  “Cyril Hammerton, a colleague of my father’s,” she said in a low voice. “We’ve had him to dinner several times. He’s got a son about my age and I think he and my father hoped at one time to make a match between the two of us, but I made sure Gregory Hammerton, who’s as bad as his father, didn’t take to me.”

  He glanced sideways in surprise. “How the hell did you do that?”

  For a moment her eyes danced with mischief and the other Serena was back again, the real Serena, he was sure. “I can be very silly and boring when I want,” she said with a smile. “And I can produce a most irritating laugh.”

  After a moment’s hesitation Hammerton came across to them. “Miss Fleming.” He looked questioningly from her to the man standing beside her.

  “Mr Hammerton, may I introduce Captain Graye, owner of the Hall.”

  He smiled and stuck out his hand.

  Reluctantly, Marcus shook it.

  “I came to take possession of the cottage,” Hammerton said to Serena. “Thought I’d find your father here ready to hand it over.”

  “I’m afraid there’s been some mistake. I am the owner of the cottage and I’ve no intention of selling it.”

  Hammerton frowned at her. “But you signed the contract. And I’ve paid over the money.”

  “I didn’t sign anything! Nor have I received a penny.”

  “I’m afraid I have to contradict you there. I’ve seen your signature before and I’d recognise it anywhere. It was on the previous contract for the other cottages, which I also bought recently.”

  “That wasn’t my signature either. I had no idea my father was selling them and would have prevented the sale if I’d known.”

  He scowled at her but before he could say anything, there was the sound of another motor vehicle approaching and he turned round. “Ah, here’s your father now. He’ll be able to sort things out, I’m sure.” He marched forward to greet his friend.

  Marcus turned to Serena and saw how white she’d gone. The knuckles of her clasped hands were bloodless with pressure and her eyes shadowed by what could only be fear. “He can’t hurt you,” he whispered.

  She looked at him, a pitying look as if he was talking nonsense. “Oh, but he can. He hurts as well with words and the threats behind them as other men hurt with deeds. Though he can occasionally be violent.” Her hand went up to her cheek again.

  We’ll see about that, Marcus thought as he turned back to watch Hammerton and Fleming conferring, looking in their direction from time to time. Then Fleming said something and walked across to his daughter with a disapproving expression on his face. “What are you doing here, Serena?”

  “Living in my cottage.”

  “It isn’t your cottage any longer. You signed the contract to sell, remember?”

  He was talking to her as if she was a fool, Marcus thought as he watched them, and she was shrinking into herself, her face more like a death mask now than that of a living woman.

  Her voice wobbled as she replied. “I didn’t sign any contract and you know it.”

  “My dear girl, you’re getting very forgetful lately, not at all yourself. Your mother’s death has upset you. Come home and
we’ll discuss this later.”

  “I’m never coming back to live with you!”

  Fleming flushed and for a moment anger sparked in his eyes, then it was quickly veiled and his face became calm again. “Don’t be foolish. You’ve nothing to live on.”

  “I’ve my inheritance! An annuity of five hundred pounds a year, isn’t it? I’m not greedy.

  That’ll be plenty for me to live on. And the income must have been accumulating.”

  He sighed and looked at her pityingly, though to Marcus he looked more like a bad actor than a sincere man now.

  “I’m afraid the money saved for you has been lost. An investment that went wrong. I feel dreadfully guilty about that but I’ll make it up to you. And the investment company is in difficulties. But you’ll never want for anything as long as you’re living with me.”

  There was a hidden threat behind those words, Marcus decided.

  Serena stared at her father in horror. “What? You can’t have lost the money from all those years! And why should an annuity fail? It’s not stocks and shares, after all.”

  At that moment Vic’s cab came round the corner, its shabbiness in great contrast to the two motor vehicles. Redway got out of it, followed by another gentleman whom Marcus vaguely recognised but couldn’t put a name to. They came across to join him and Miss Fleming.

  “We’d better go and discuss this inside,” Marcus suggested.

  “You’re not going inside my house again without my permission,” Hammerton declared at once.

  “It’s not your house. I’ve never signed a contract for sale,” Serena repeated.

  “I can prove that you have,” her father said at once, with one of his cool, confident smiles. “I have the contract in my office. No one can doubt that it’s your signature.”

  She looked at him in dismay. “Then you’ve forged it, because I signed nothing.”

  Fleming looked at the stranger, still smiling. “I’m delighted to see you, my dear Marley.