by Bill Kitson
‘I can see to that when the fingerprint men have finished,’ Frank Jolly volunteered.
‘That will mean more dusting,’ Mary said with a despairing sigh. ‘Anyway, if you’re going to be busy with that, Frank, you won’t be able to help me prepare dinner. I’d better make a start, or it won’t be ready until breakfast time.’
‘We’ll help you,’ Eve and Alison said in unison.
‘Yes, and Robert and I will help Frank with the defences,’ I suggested.
‘Good idea, Adam,’ Robert agreed.
‘Just don’t let Adam near a hammer, unless you’re prepared for the language when he hits his thumbnail instead of the one he’s aiming at,’ Eve warned him.
‘You’ll have to give Eve detailed instructions,’ I told Mary, ‘she has to open a recipe book to boil water.’
‘Are you certain you two aren’t married? It certainly sounds like it,’ Robert said.
Robert and I followed Frank out through the utility room, passing a bank of freezers, a laundrette-sized washing machine, and a dryer. He collected a couple of torches, which he handed to Robert and me. ‘It’ll likely be dark by the time they’re finished,’ he commented.
Armed with these, we went across the yard at the rear of the building, to where a long terrace of what I guessed had once been stables were now used as garages and workshops. In the first of these, I saw a large, gleaming Mercedes saloon, obviously almost new. Plainly Stephen Pengelly didn’t believe in stinting himself when it came to life’s luxuries. Passing through the garage, Frank opened the side door and switched the light on in the first workshop, from which we collected two sets of stepladders, a large square of plywood, and some battens, plus hammers and nails. Fully equipped, we set off for the front of the building, where we made our preparations for the boarding over of the window.
One of the fingerprint officers looked out of the window. ‘Shouldn’t be much longer,’ he remarked.
The plan was for Robert and Frank to mount the steps, fixing the plywood into position against the wooden window frame and adding the battens for extra security. My task was to ensure the stepladders were secure and to shine the torches on the workers as they completed the job.
Once we’d started work, it took less time than I’d anticipated; which was good, because the air already had a frosty feel to it. As they stepped off the ladders, I heard a chink as Robert’s foot dislodged something. I shone one of the torches on the ground and stared with interest at what it revealed. I moved the beam, and within seconds my wild idea was confirmed.
‘Let’s store this stuff and get back inside,’ Robert told us. ‘I’m not used to this outdoor life.’
I agreed, because I wanted to take a look into that study before Mary began tidying it.
We returned to the kitchen, where a minor argument was settled at once by Robert. ‘There are only four portions here,’ Alison was saying.
‘That’s right,’ Mary replied.
‘No it isn’t,’ Robert intervened. ‘What about you and Frank?’
‘We’ll eat at the lodge later, Mr Robert.’
‘No you won’t. I’m not having you go home to prepare and cook another meal. You dine with us.’ He smiled sweetly at her. ‘And that’s an order.’
Eve looked across at me. ‘No bruises?’ she asked.
‘None, partly because I didn’t go near a hammer. How are your fingers? Any cuts?’
‘None, and I’ve just about finished, so I think if nobody objects, I’ll go for a shower. Or at least I would, if I knew where our room is.’
‘Before you go dashing off, Evie, I think we should take a look at the study.’
‘I’ll take everyone’s bags upstairs, Mr Robert,’ Frank said.
We followed Robert to the study and waited while he opened the door and groped for the light switch. We followed him inside, but stopped just over the threshold, shocked beyond measure at the sight before us. The room was a scene of utter devastation. Much of the damage was superficial, but some of it was savage, vindictive, sickening.
Alison gasped aloud, ‘Oh, Robert, this is awful.’
Alongside me, Eve shuffled, her agitation obvious in her voice, which was little more than a shocked whisper. ‘This was not a robbery,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘whoever broke in here came looking for something. If they took anything away, it’s purely because they found what they were searching for. If not,’ she paused and sighed, ‘there’s every likelihood that they’ll be back. And if they do return, I for one wouldn’t want to be in their way.’
I trusted Eve’s judgement implicitly. She was becoming an expert at reading scenes such as this, gauging people and their motives.
‘There’s more to it than that, though.’ She pointed to the desk, where the centre drawer had been prised open and was now little more than kindling, then to the ornaments that had been smashed way beyond repair, and the slashed canvas of the oil painting that hung over the fireplace. ‘Whoever did this has a mind filled with hate. Whether it’s hatred of Stephen Pengelly, the family, or simply people with money, I can’t tell. Alternatively, there could be no motive behind it. Which would mean it’s the work of a psychopath.’
‘If you’ve seen enough, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.’ Robert switched the light off and closed the door. As we followed him up the staircase I thought about what Eve had said, coupled with what I’d seen inside that room. I decided not to tell her what I’d discovered outside. It was bad enough me knowing, without burdening someone else.
It was only as we approached the first floor that I realised the house was designed in a curious way. The grand staircase, as I’d already mentally christened it, split at a half-landing, behind which was the walkway that Mary had referred to as a Minstrel’s Gallery. Twin corridors ran from either side of the gallery, which Robert informed us stretched all the way from the front to the rear of the house. These apparently contained enough bedrooms to cope with a large family and a considerable number of guests. The manor house was configured like a letter H, which was a curious method of building in its day. Towards the rear of the first floor, Robert said, a smaller, less ornate staircase led to the upper floor, which I guessed would have contained the servants’ quarters in years gone by.
The first floor was in shadow, but as soon as he reached it, Robert went as if by reflex to a switch on the wall. As he depressed it, a gigantic chandelier hanging from the ceiling flooded the centre of the building with warm light from dozens of candle-shaped bulbs.
‘I bet that’s sent the electric meter into overdrive,’ I remarked.
Robert took my flippancy seriously. ‘I hadn’t thought of it before, but now you mention it, I suppose household bills are part of the things I shall have to consider in future.’
We looked at him, surprised by his remark. ‘Does that mean you intend to stay here?’ Eve asked.
Robert looked at Alison, and I noticed the couple were holding hands, and realised it was the first sign of intimacy that I’d seen from them. ‘I think so,’ Robert spoke slowly, hesitantly. ‘We talked it over on the train coming here. A lot depends on what Alison wants, and whether she is comfortable living here.’
‘I like the house, Robbie,’ Alison assured him. ‘Or rather, I like what the house could be, if we made it our home. But it isn’t as simple as that. It’s whether you could be happy here after all the bad memories. And there are other people to consider.’
‘I feel sure I can be happy here as long as you are.’
‘What did you mean about other people?’ Eve asked.
‘I think Alison was being tactful and pointing out that I have responsibilities now. Apart from Frank and Mary there are plenty of others who work on the estate, or depend on it for their income. For quite a few of them it not only provides employment, but also somewhere to live. I can’t simply walk away and let them down.’
‘I’d never given it much thought, but I guess it must be a bit like being the managing director of a company,’ E
ve commented.
‘Anyway, let’s sort out the rooms.’ Robert turned to Frank who was waiting patiently on the landing. ‘Which of them has Mary made up, Frank?’
‘All of them on this floor, Mr Robert. She wasn’t certain which you’d prefer. There’s Mr Stephen’s room.’ He gestured to the room at the front of the house.
Robert shuddered. ‘No fear; definitely not that one. It used to be my father’s room. I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep in there.’
‘How about the one opposite?’
‘Yes, I like that room. I believe it used to be where my mother slept and where I was born. Alison and I will be fine there. We could put Adam and Eve in the Rose Room. Is it still called that?’
‘Aye, that it is, Mr Robert.’
‘Where did you sleep when you were a boy?’ Eve asked.
It was an innocuous enough question, but I saw Alison grip Robert’s hand tight; saw his expression change and darken. When he spoke, his attempt at humour failed to disguise the bitterness in his voice. ‘Oh, I didn’t mix with the rabble on the lower floor. I wasn’t good enough. The original nursery was even deemed too good for me. No, I occupied what had been servants’ quarters on the second floor. When I was allowed to come downstairs I had to be escorted by my nanny. Later, I could come out by myself at strictly controlled times, usually when my father and brother were out. That was so that I didn’t “get in the way”, as my father so kindly put it.’
We were still coming to terms with this fresh example of the mistreatment Robert had suffered as a child when he opened the door and gestured for us to enter the Rose Room. It was easy to see how it got its name. The amply sized room was decorated in pink and cream, even down to the furniture and the curtains and bedding on the four-poster bed in the centre. The en suite bathroom continued the motif. ‘This is beautiful,’ Eve said.
‘Glad you like it. I’ll see you downstairs for dinner.’
I waited until he had closed the door before speaking. ‘You tend to think of anyone brought up in a magnificent house like this as being really privileged, but I certainly wouldn’t have swapped places with Robert, knowing what I do. He must have been such a sad, lonely child.’
‘I agree, and the more I hear of his father and brother, the less I like them. It’s remarkable that Robert has grown up to be so well-adjusted.’
When we sat down for dinner, Eve was directly opposite the oil painting I’d noticed earlier. ‘That lady looks very much like you, Robert. Is it your mother?’
He looked at the painting, his smile infinitely sad. ‘It is, if my brother was telling the truth. He marched me in here on more than one occasion when I was little and made me stand in front of the painting. Then he would tell me about his mother and how beautiful and gentle she was, and how much he missed her. Then he would explain that she was dead because of me, that it was all my fault.’
‘Knowing that must have made it very difficult for you to sit and eat in this room with the painting in view,’ Eve sympathised.
Robert’s reply was, if anything, even more shocking than anything we’d heard thus far about his childhood. ‘I wouldn’t know. Tonight is the first time I’ve eaten in this room.’
There was a long moment of shocked silence before Alison said, ‘Robbie, do you mean that? Didn’t you even have one meal in here?’
Robert shook his head. ‘No, I was granted the privilege of a private dining room that doubled as my playroom. I had excellent company, because I always dined alone. I usually had exactly the same menu as my father and brother. That was unless they’d eaten it all. The fact that it was re-heated from the previous day didn’t matter, though. It was still fairly edible.’
‘You mean they fed you the leftovers from their dinner the night before?’
I think my voice must have reflected my disbelief, because Robert responded sharply. ‘Oh, it wasn’t just the dinner. I got the breakfast leavings as well. I couldn’t eat bacon for years afterwards, because I remembered how tough it is once it’s been left for twenty-four hours. Cold toast that has dried out is nearly as bad. And if anyone serves me porridge they’ll get it thrown at them.’ He smiled at Mary, who had capitulated to Robert’s insistence and was seated with Frank at the furthest end of the table. ‘Don’t worry, though, apart from that my eating habits are normal.’
There was a moment’s shocked silence, before he continued, changing the subject abruptly. ‘I forgot to mention it earlier, with all the excitement, but we could be getting another house guest soon. Alison’s friend Tammy is threatening to descend on us.’
‘She’s not sure yet,’ Alison explained. ‘We had planned a visit for her to stay with me and as I’m not going to be at home, Robert suggested she join us here – the more the merrier. Now it could be more a case of safety in numbers. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to make it or not. She still has to finish her thesis for submission and she’s desperate to get it spot-on because she’s relying on a doctorate to further her career.’
‘If Alison sounds smug, that’s because she has already submitted hers,’ Robert commented.
‘Just let me know in good time so I can plan the meals,’ Mary told them. ‘Now, who would like apple pie and custard to finish with? Frank picked the apples for me this morning.’
I looked at Eve. ‘Sorry, darling, the wedding’s off. I’m running away with Mary.’
Chapter Four
The sadistic treatment meted out to Robert as a child was still on our minds when we retired to the comfort of the four-poster bed.
‘I wouldn’t blame Robert if he had killed his brother – or his father for that matter,’ Eve said. ‘If they behaved that way nowadays they’d be in trouble with the authorities.’
I had to agree, and it raised one or two disturbing doubts. ‘You don’t think that under the amiable facade Robert actually waited all this time to take his revenge, do you?’
‘No, all I’m saying is it would be understandable. The fact that he’s grown up without any apparent personality defects says a lot for his strength of character. It may well be that in sending him away to school, they actually protected him from becoming warped and twisted.’
I found sleep difficult to come by that night, despite the comfort of our bed. For much of the night I laid awake, waiting and listening for the slightest sound that might betray an intruder’s presence in the house. Although Eve slept far better than me, even her rest seemed troubled by dreams, and by her reaction, I guessed these to be less than pleasant.
Next morning, when I opened the curtains, I discovered that the Rose Room commanded an excellent view across the dale and beyond. The first few hundred yards comprised the manicured lawns and well-cultivated flower beds that I’d noticed when we arrived. These were bounded by a large evergreen hedge which divided the private part of the estate from the arable land that I guessed provided much of the manor’s income. The fields stretched into the far distance, until the ground began to rise towards the moors. The lower slopes, where the pastures were bisected by a network of dry stone walls, contained sizeable flocks of sheep which would further augment the estate funds. Further up, as the gradient increased dramatically towards the high moor, grassland gave way to bracken and gorse, providing shelter and food for pheasant, partridge, and grouse, but little else, I thought. Faintly, through the mullioned glass, I heard the plaintive cry of a curlew, and swiftly added that to my tally of the moor’s inhabitants. When Eve was ready we made our way downstairs.
Alison was alone in the dining room. ‘Robbie will be back soon. He insisted on helping Frank clean the grates out, lay the fires, and restock the coal and logs, so he’s gone for a shower.’ She smiled. ‘I think Frank was shocked when Robbie volunteered. It’s not what he’s used to, but that’s Robbie’s way.’
Talking of Robert gave Eve chance to bring up the subject she and I had discussed the previous night. ‘We were appalled by what he told us about his mistreatment as a child. Adam said he was surprised that Robert ha
s turned out as well as he had, without any of the psychological problems such abuse often causes.’
I didn’t remember having expressed it that way, but refrained from comment, being more interested in Alison’s response. In addition to explaining much about Robert’s poise and level-headed nature, it gave me an insight into how deeply Alison cared for him.
‘I admit that Robbie has never been one to show his emotions in the presence of strangers, which I guess could stem from his childhood here. And to outsiders I suppose he must appear as quite a solitary person, but when you get to know him better you find that he’s really warm-hearted and generous. I honestly believe he might have turned out very differently had it not been for Paul Markham. He was Robbie’s housemaster, and took him under his wing. He mentored Robbie through all his time at school, and I think he became more like a substitute father. I met Paul a few times. He and his wife were extremely nice people, and it was obvious they thought the world of Robbie. They didn’t have children of their own, so maybe the parental thing cut two ways. Robbie went to stay with them every school holiday, and they took him away, even when they went abroad.’
Alison paused, and I saw a shadow of sadness cross her face. ‘Paul Markham died just over six months ago. I was upset, but Robbie was inconsolable. He shut himself away for days on end after we came back from the funeral. I couldn’t comfort him, no matter what I said or did. Strangely, though, after he recovered from the grief, he seemed much stronger; more determined than ever. It was almost as if he knew that from that moment on he would have to stand up for himself, because there was no one else left to rely on. Apart from me,’ she added, ‘and that has brought us even closer together.’
She thought for a moment, obviously deciding whether to bare her soul even more to relative strangers, then added, ‘To be honest, until that point I hadn’t been absolutely sure about Robbie and me. When I saw the raw emotion of his grief and how well he coped with it afterwards, and when I appreciated the strength of character he showed at that time, I knew he was the right choice for me.’
