Legacy of Greyladies

by Anna Jacobs

  He stared at her, mouth slightly open as if she’d told him something outrageous, then let out an aggrieved sigh. But for the rest of the day she noticed him studying his wife surreptitiously and he did stop nagging Cecily to snap out of it, at least in Olivia’s hearing.

  The long, tedious day ended at last and she filled hot-water bottles for them all, then took hers up to bed before Donald could find her any more little jobs to do for him. Cecily helped Donald get ready for his makeshift bed, taking him in a glass of water and the chamber pot before coming upstairs.

  Olivia let out a low groan of relief as she pulled the covers up to her chin, enjoying the luxury of silence.

  Babs had phoned that evening to tell her that a Mr Seaton would be coming in two days’ time to drive her up to London.

  Not long now, she thought as she felt sleep taking over. I shall definitely not miss running round after Donald.

  What a poor husband he was. Selfish to the core. She had been so lucky in Charles.

  The stone-throwing attack on Greyladies went unsolved and left Phoebe feeling as if her assailant had won that trick in the game.

  It had to be Hatterson, or someone connected to him, but he didn’t seem to associate with anyone in the village, so who could be helping him?

  The soldiers had asked around, but no one had seen any strangers in the neighbourhood. Or at least, no one admitted seeing any strangers. She knew there were still people who resented the internees living in luxury at Greyladies, so who knew whether they might be giving shelter to strangers.

  She went to church on Christmas morning, but Captain Turner insisted on escorting her. It felt strange going out to worship on a Saturday.

  He had told the internees they would be safer staying at Greyladies for the moment and most of them had agreed, because they’d already faced hostility and even violence before being brought here. They decided to say prayers together in honour of the day and one man would play hymns on the piano, which had remained in the front part of the house. Phoebe allowed them to use it because one or two of them were very musical.

  As she and Captain Turner walked to church, she enjoyed the crisp morning and the sunlight on her face. Of course, it wasn’t warm, but still, the brightness cheered you up. However, when they reached the church, she noticed some members of the congregation standing by the door, making no attempt to go inside. They were looking worried and murmuring to one another.

  Something was definitely wrong. She let go of the captain’s arm and hurried forward to find out.

  ‘They’re fighting in there,’ a woman whispered to her. ‘Don’t go inside till it’s over, Mrs Latimer. It’s that Hatterson creature again.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Could she not even have a peaceful Christmas Day?

  Captain Turner pushed through the group and said, quite unnecessarily, ‘Stay there, please, everyone.’

  But Phoebe followed him into the porch and watched from the doorway as he strode down the aisle.

  At the front of the church the verger and one of the farmers were trying to drag Hatterson and a complete stranger from the Latimer pew but were hampered by the pew’s narrowness and high back.

  Hatterson’s wife was cowering in one of the rear pews, looking distressed.

  The two intruders were putting up a spirited fight, jabbing at those trying to remove them from the pew with walking stick handles.

  ‘Will you get out of that pew!’ the verger shouted. ‘This is a church and you’re causing a disturbance.’

  Hatterson yelled, ‘No, I won’t get out. Us Englishmen have a right to worship where we choose and—’

  He fell silent as the captain came to a halt next to the pew. ‘Kindly stop causing a disturbance and take your place with the rest of the congregation! This is the Latimer pew and you have no right to use it.’

  ‘She lets those Huns sit in it!’ Hatterson yelled, stabbing his finger in Phoebe’s direction. ‘Look at her! Standing there as if she owns the place. If Huns can sit here, so can us Englishmen.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ the captain roared. ‘Get out of this pew and don’t try to sit here again or I’ll arrest you.’

  ‘The magistrate would just let us go again. There’s no law against sitting in a pew in church.’

  ‘There is a law against causing an affray.’

  After standing staring at him defiantly for a few seconds, Hatterson shrugged and when his friend nudged him to move out of the pew, he did so, but very slowly indeed.

  Phoebe stepped to one side as they walked back down the aisle but Hatterson paused when he was level with her. ‘It isn’t finished yet,’ he whispered. He didn’t even look at his wife, sitting there with her head bowed.

  She watched the two men leave the church and wondered where they’d gone, what mischief they were plotting now, then she took her place at the front with the captain by her side.

  ‘What did that fellow say to you?’

  She repeated it.

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll keep you safe.’

  But could they? It seemed to her that Hatterson was winning something with each incident, if it was only the planting of worries in her mind.

  She had trouble concentrating on the service and not a word of the sermon sank in. It was a relief when it ended.

  As they stood up to leave Captain Turner hesitated, then turned to the farmer now standing across the aisle with his wife behind him, waiting to follow them out of the church. ‘Could you please escort Mrs Latimer home for me when she’s greeted her friends, Ruddle? I think I’d better hurry back to Greyladies immediately, in case those two try to cause any more trouble there.’

  At the farmer’s nod, he left at once.

  ‘You don’t need to come home with me, Mr Ruddle,’ Phoebe told him as they walked out into the churchyard. ‘I’ll be quite safe walking through Challerton.’

  ‘You let him go with you,’ Mrs Ruddle said. ‘It doesn’t pay to take chances and I’ve got family to keep me safe.’

  Her husband nodded agreement. ‘I’d rather see you back, if you don’t mind, Mrs Latimer. The captain’s right to be concerned about your safety. That Hatterson fellow seems to have it in for you and I’d not put anything past him. His poor old uncle would be turning in his grave if he knew what was going on. What a pity Bill’s other nephew was killed.’

  ‘Well, thank you. That’s very kind. I won’t stop to chat today, so that you can get back to your family.’ Phoebe took the arm he offered and they set off at a rapid pace.

  Everything seemed peaceful enough until they reached the side gate to Greyladies and found signs of a struggle. The bare flower bed had been trampled, with earth scattered over the gravel path. Nearer the house one or two small rocks were lying on the path and the remains of a wooden sign on a pole were lying on the ground in two pieces. You could still tell that it had said, ‘Kill all Huns!’

  From the rear of the house came shouts and grunts.

  ‘I’d better go in the front way,’ she said in a low voice.

  Captain Turner opened the door before they even got there and called, ‘Come inside quickly, Mrs Latimer. Good thing I saw you coming. We’re keeping the front door locked.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘There were several men here yelling and shouting when I got back, all strangers except Hatterson, and some of them are still causing a nuisance round the back.’

  Her heart sank as she turned to thank her protector.

  ‘I’ll just stay a while in case you or the good captain need help,’ Mr Ruddle said.

  ‘We can’t ask you to do that.’

  ‘You didn’t ask. Besides, it’s my village too and I don’t like people causing trouble here.’

  The captain shot the bolts on the front door. ‘I’d better get back to my men. Mrs Latimer, please stay out of sight of the windows. This way, Mr Ruddle.’

  The burly farmer followed him out of the big entrance hall towards the servants’ quarters, which had an exit a
t the side.

  Phoebe went straight through the new house to the old part, and made her way to the kitchen, from where you could see more of the rear gardens. Since no one was in sight outside, she risked opening the back door just for a moment to see if she could hear anything.

  Yes! There were people yelling over near the crypt, their voices echoing in the frosty air. Well, they’d not be able to get inside the crypt from the garden, if that had been their intention. There was a locked iron grille across its entrance, protecting the last remaining room of the original abbey where the grey nuns had once worshipped. The only other way into it was through the cellars of the old house, and even then you had to know the trick to opening the entrance to the secret passage.

  As the sounds grew fainter, someone cleared their throat to one side of her. She jumped in shock to find Ethel standing there. ‘Didn’t you go to church?’

  ‘Yes, but when I saw you leaving I came back quickly, in case you needed me.’

  ‘You came back on your own? I thought you and Cook were together.’

  ‘I ran all the way. I’ve always been a good runner. I checked it was safe before I went round the back. Cook’s following me with a friend to keep her safe. She’s too old to run, she says.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to think of me, but please don’t take such a risk in future.’

  Ethel gestured towards the churned up gravel outside the kitchen, where a tin of white paint had been upended, leaving a sticky mess. ‘Lucky they didn’t get to use that. I’ve seen people painting words on buildings in Swindon and it’s a devil to get off. Eh, what is the world coming to when this sort of thing happens in England?’

  Phoebe couldn’t say anything because of a lump in her throat. She felt deeply upset at being helpless to stop this trouble, and horrified at the violence that was breaking out across the country, a lot of it aimed at people with German ancestry, some of whom had been born in England and had never even visited Germany.

  ‘We shall have to be on our guard, Mrs Latimer. We could do with some big dogs to give us warning.’

  ‘We’ll take care and we do have the soldiers helping guard Greyladies.’

  ‘Four of them, and they have to sleep and eat sometimes. They can’t always be patrolling the gardens. And this is a big house, with all sorts of nooks and crannies to hide in.’

  ‘I know. What worries me is Hatterson. If he can find others like him and bring them here, next time he may come back with a whole crowd of troublemakers. I saw a mob attack the Steins’s shop in Swindon once. It’s terrifying how mindless people seem to become when they go on the rampage like that.’

  The two women waited a few moments, but nothing else happened, so Ethel said, ‘We both need a nice strong cup of tea.’ She moved back inside the kitchen and put the kettle on the hot part of the stove. ‘Did you lock the outside door of the kitchen again, ma’am?’

  ‘No, I—’

  The door began to open and for a moment they froze, then Phoebe threw herself against it and locked it. Someone cursed outside and they saw a man running away.

  ‘Who is he?’ Ethel whispered.

  ‘I don’t recognise him. I don’t think he’s from the village.’

  There was a sound behind them and they both swung round. But it was only Cook.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me using the front entrance, Mrs Latimer. One of the soldiers was there and told me not to come round the back way because they’d had intruders. On Christmas Day, too. I don’t know what the world is coming to.’

  She looked towards the window. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone around now, though.’

  ‘There was a minute ago,’ Ethel said. ‘Bold as brass he was, about to walk in and help himself to our good food, I should think.’

  Phoebe didn’t correct her, but she thought it was more likely the intruder had intended to do as much damage as he could.

  ‘They’ve gone off towards the crypt now,’ Ethel said.

  ‘Well, you keep that back door locked. I need to get on with my cooking and I don’t want any hooligans interrupting me. I’ve planned a lovely meal for you, Mrs Latimer. You’ve not been eating much lately and you need to keep up your strength.’

  She sounded as if she was encouraging a child to cheer up, Phoebe thought. She had a sudden idea. ‘Can’t you two share the meal with me for once? It won’t feel like a celebration if I’m on my own.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be right, ma’am.’ But Ethel sounded uncertain.

  ‘I think it’d be a good thing to do on Christmas Day,’ Phoebe insisted. ‘And I’d feel much safer eating in the kitchen, I must admit.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I never thought of that. Cook and me will set the table properly, though. I like my tables to look nice. You could go and sit by the fire in the great hall till we’re ready for you, ma’am. Don’t go near those windows, though. I’ll come for you when it’s time.’

  Phoebe did as her maid ordered, smiling at their reversal of roles. It was good to see Ethel coming out of her shell. She poked the fire to get it burning more brightly, though the big room was always on the chilly side in winter.

  She sat in an armchair placed temptingly near the fireplace and picked up a book, but couldn’t settle to reading. She didn’t feel like embroidering, either. Her mind kept going round in circles, as she worried how to protect herself and her house.

  When the door opened, she didn’t turn round for a moment, expecting to hear Ethel’s voice. No one spoke and her heart skittered. Had one of the troublemakers managed to sneak inside?

  She snatched up the poker and whirled round, brandishing it.

  But the man staring across at her from the doorway was her husband. She closed her eyes for a moment in utter relief.

  ‘What the hell has been happening here?’ Corin demanded. ‘And put that poker down before you hurt yourself.’

  She let it drop in the hearth with a clatter.

  His eyes were raking her from head to toe. ‘You’re quite sure you’re all right, my darling?’

  ‘I am now.’ As she ran towards him, she burst into tears of sheer relief. ‘Oh, Corin, Corin!’

  They met in the middle of the room, his arms going round her. He pulled her close, murmuring her name, raining kisses on her face.

  Her feeling of apprehension vanished and the world seemed to shift into a happier state, a feeling that all was right now. It always did when they were together.

  In the far corner of the room a light glowed and as they pulled apart, they both noticed it.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Anne Latimer,’ Phoebe said softly.

  The light glowed more brightly for a moment, then faded.

  ‘You’ve got me believing in ghosts now,’ he muttered. ‘These lights can’t come and go from nowhere, but they do.’

  ‘She likes to show us she’s still here, keeping an eye on Greyladies.’

  There was a knock on the door and Ethel came in. ‘I’ll just set the table in here, shall I, Mrs Latimer? Welcome back, Major. You’re just in time for the Christmas meal. Cook’s done us all proud.’

  Phoebe would have moved away from her husband when the maid was there, but his arm tightened around her waist, so she stayed where she was, feeling his love fold round her.

  She saw Ethel’s eyes go to that embrace and her maid smiled briefly, then blinked her eyes furiously. Phoebe suddenly realised it would be the maid’s first Christmas without her husband and she must feel his death even more at such a time.

  ‘Thank you, Ethel,’ she said. ‘For everything you’ve done in the past day or two. I don’t know how I’d have coped without you.’

  The maid straightened up and the sadness was replaced by pride. ‘I always try my best, ma’am. Cook says the meal will only be a few minutes.’

  As she left the hall, Corin turned to Phoebe. ‘What has she been doing?’

  ‘Keeping my spirits up. And her own. She lost her husband earlier this year, but she’s coming through it. I think she�
�s going to make a wonderful maid and it’s good that she feels needed here.’

  By the time Ethel served the food, Corin knew about the happenings at Greyladies and in the village.

  ‘I’ll put a stop to that,’ he said.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’ll find a way, believe me. I’m not having troublemakers upsetting you.’

  Alex had a pleasant drive to Swindon after the various Christmas festivities were over. He went straight to Mildred’s house, but there was no one at home and the curtains were drawn. Damn! He should have telephoned.

  He decided to try Edwin’s office to find out where they were but it was closed, with a neat notice in the window saying ‘Closed until 1st January’.

  Where had Mildred and her husband gone? She hadn’t said anything about them going away when she phoned.

  Alex went back to her house and there was still no one around, so he asked the neighbours if they knew where Mr and Mrs Morton were.

  The neighbour on the right shook her head. The one on the left side said, ‘I think they went to stay with Mr Morton’s cousin in the country. It was very sudden and my maid says they gave the maid extra time off to visit her family. Mr Morton told her they’d be home again tomorrow. He never stays away for more than a day or two.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll come back tomorrow, then.’

  Alex went to sit in his car, thumping the steering wheel with one clenched fist. Why hadn’t he phoned to tell her he was coming a day early?

  Because he’d been a bit unsettled, that’s why, had wanted to get away from his solitary existence. He’d simply assumed Mildred would continue to live a quiet life. But why should she do that now she was married?

  He was tired and it wasn’t worth going back to London, only to drive down here again tomorrow. He didn’t feel like the false Christmas bonhomie of a hotel, so decided to spend the night in his old home. Not a cheerful prospect, but simple enough to do since he had a key.

  But even if he had a bed for the night, what was he going to do with himself for the rest of the day? It was chilly and threatening rain.