Cherry Tree Lane (6 page)

‘Could they have left the station without you seeing them?’ Bart asked.

‘Might have if they went singly. I’m sorry. I’m sure I’d have remembered them if they’d been together.’

Stan leant forward. ‘Could they have crossed to the other platform and taken a train back to Swindon?’

‘I’m sure I’d have seen them if they’d been waiting.’

‘What about buses?’

‘Well, there is one stops outside the station.’

‘Do you know the driver?’

‘No. They come from Swindon or Chippenham, them buses do, not driv’ by a local chap.’

When the coin was pushed towards him, the clerk snatched it up and pocketed it quickly.

‘Thanks for your trouble.’ Stan yanked Bart’s arm and pulled him along to the station entrance. ‘Let’s have a look round.’

‘I think he knew somethin’ else.’

‘He didn’t.’

But though they walked round the outside of the small station carefully, looking for other ways out, Bart couldn’t see how anyone could have left it without being seen.

They went back inside, crossing to the other platform to wait for the next train back. They were the only people there.

Stan stretched out his legs and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘They must have doubled back. Clear as the nose on your face. Only thing they could have done.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘To make sure no one in Swindon knew where they were really going.’

‘But that ticket fellow says he’d have seen them if they’d waited on the other platform.’

‘They could have gone into the Ladies’ till the train came in, couldn’t they? He’d not have noticed them nip out at the last minute.’

Bart clenched his fists and glared round. ‘
She
must have put them up to it, worked out a way for them to escape.’

‘Mattie, you mean?’

‘Yes. Too smart for her own good, that one.’

‘I like a woman who’s got some sense.’

‘You’re mad. They cause trouble if you let them think for themselves.’

Stan threw him a dirty look. ‘It’s you who’s caused this trouble. She doesn’t know why I want to marry her or she’d not have run off. She didn’t get on the train with them. Do you really think she was making for Bath?’

‘How the hell do I know? It was just a thought.’

‘What exactly did she take with her?’

‘Clothes. They all did. Must have worn extra, because we don’t have any suitcases. Why would we? I don’t like going away from home, wasting money on summer holidays. Mattie might have made a bundle up, though, because she left after me.’ Bart thought hard and added, ‘She took an old shawl that used to hang by the back door. We all used it for going down the back when it rained. I got bloody soaked yesterday without it.’

‘Old shawl, eh? Trying to hide what she looked like, do you think? Fine-looking woman, your Mattie. Her hair’s real pretty when the sun shines on it. People would remember her.’

‘She didn’t look pretty on Friday. Had a stinking cold, nose was red, wasn’t at all well.’

Stan continued to think aloud. ‘It was raining on and off, so it’d not look out of place if she wrapped a shawl round her head and kept her face hidden. My cousin’s a tram driver. I’ll get him to ask among the other drivers. Someone must have seen her and I bet there weren’t many people out on a day like that.’

Bart brightened. ‘You’re right. And when we find her she can tell us where the others went. She’s bound to know. She probably put them up to playing tricks and getting on and off trains.’

On the Monday, the weather being pleasant again, Jacob saw Miss Newington walking down the lane from the big house. She stopped by the gate, reaching up one hand to caress the blossoms on the lower branches of the flowering cherry trees. They were just beginning to flower, so the heavy rain hadn’t done much damage. In a week or two they’d be beautiful. They might not produce anything he could sell, but he’d taken a cutting and his own young tree was also in bloom lower down the slope just inside his gate. He was thinking of taking other cuttings and putting more trees along the lane.

His eyes went back to Miss Newington. She wasn’t striding along as she usually did, but walking slowly, and she looked tired. She must be coming to see him, because if she went into the village she usually took the dog cart. What did she want with him again? The rents weren’t due yet.

He walked across to join her as she reached the other side of the perimeter wall and walked along the inside as they headed towards the gate. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Newington. Bit brighter today, isn’t it?’

She glanced up at the sky and nodded agreement, then put her head on one side and studied his house. ‘Your family have lived here for a while, haven’t they, Kemble?’

‘Yes, miss. My father and grandfather leased this smallholding before Dad bought it. I grew up here.’

‘Do you have any money saved?’

He shook his head, puzzled by the question. ‘Not much. I save every summer to see me and the kids through the winter, when there’s less money coming in. But last year’s money’s nearly used up now.’

‘But you do at least have the sense to save for the winter.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘How else would we manage if I didn’t?’

‘Not all the villagers are as thrifty. I wonder, would you offer me a cup of tea, Mr Kemble? I wish to discuss something with you.’

He thought of the stranger, still feverish, the kitchen in a proper old mess. ‘The place isn’t fit to entertain a lady in. Not having a wife, and Mr Grey being ill, I’ve had no help and … Well, I’ve not had time to clear up today. I had to come out and get these seedlings in, you see. Perhaps I could come up to your house later?’

Miss Newington gave him one of her piercing glances. ‘I need to talk to you and I wish to do so now. If the house is untidy, it won’t worry me.’

Somehow he couldn’t argue with her. She had such an upright spine, such a piercing gaze – and anyway, she was his employer now. He didn’t want to upset her and lose the extra money.

As he opened the back door for his visitor, he heard the stranger moaning and talking in disjointed snatches. His heart sank. No hiding the presence of the sick woman now.

His companion stopped to listen. ‘Who’s that? It’s not a child’s voice.’

Sarah came to the hall door. ‘She’s worse, Dad.’

Miss Newington didn’t wait for an invitation to enter, but moved forward, following the sound of the voice. She stood by the sofa in the front room, staring down at the sick woman. ‘Who is this?’

‘A stranger. Luke found her lying unconscious in the lane on Friday night. She’s feverish, not making sense, so I don’t know who she is.’

‘Why haven’t you sent for the doctor?’

‘He can’t do much for pneumonia. No one can.’

‘You should have sent for Mrs Henty, then. It’s not fitting for a man to care for a sick woman, especially one who’s a stranger.’

‘Mrs Henty would have sent her to the poorhouse. They wouldn’t look after her as well as I do.’

‘I’m helping Dad,’ Sarah volunteered. ‘That’s why I’ve not gone to school today.’

‘You’re a good lass,’ Jacob said. ‘Go and get the best cups out, then make sure the kettle’s on the boil. We’ll offer our visitor a cup of tea when she and I have finished talking.’

When Sarah had gone, he shut the door and looked at his landlady, trying to gauge her feelings. But the stranger moaned and tossed off the covers, so he went over to sponge the burning brow yet again. ‘She’s running away from someone and … she’s been badly beaten in the past, bears the scars from it.’

‘Show me.’

Flushing slightly, trying not to show more of the woman’s body than needed, he undid the neck of the nightgown, and pulled it away at the back to reveal the scars. ‘She was half-conscious when we found her and I … well, I promised her I’d keep her safe, not let whoever it is catch her. She was upset but my promise calmed her down straight away. If I called in Mrs Henty …’ He didn’t know how to say it delicately.

Miss Newington surprised him by grinning and finishing his sentence. ‘The whole village would soon know about it, if not the whole county.’

‘Yes.’

‘I nursed my father when he came down with pneumonia and he survived. We need to prop her in an even more upright position and that fire is too hot. Let it die down a little. Do you have another pillow?’

‘Yes. Shall I fetch it?’

‘Indeed.’

When he came downstairs with the pillow, which he’d put into a clean if unironed pillowcase, his visitor was sponging the stranger again. After that, they made her more comfortable and she fell into a doze.

‘She’s not wearing a wedding ring,’ Miss Newington said thoughtfully. ‘And apart from that shawl and those ragged things, the rest of her clothes are those of a respectable young woman, well cared for – darned and mended, though. She’s decent, I’m sure. I wonder why she’s running away. Or from whom?’

He’d wondered that quite a few times over the past two days. ‘She calls out sometimes, words like “Don’t let him catch me” and tries to get up.’

‘Well, she’ll be able to tell us her troubles when she recovers.’ Miss Newington pointed to the two armchairs. ‘The cup of tea can wait. Sit down. I still need to talk to you. We can do it here as well as anywhere.’

He could only obey, but he felt anxious. What did she want of him? Had she changed her mind about him collecting the rents? Or … she wasn’t going to sell the big house, was she? He’d heard that Arthur Newington wanted it and knew the village would be in bad hands if that man came here.

And although Jacob owned his own land, a rich man had ways of making life difficult if he took against you.

Bart got ready for work on the Monday, angry that he’d not bought enough bread for his sandwiches, or anything to put in them, either. He’d had to get up earlier than usual to get his own breakfast and he was furious that he’d not really found out anything about where his daughters had gone. The anger made his chest feel as if it was about to burst, it was so hot and strong inside him.

He was amazed that Stan still wanted to marry Mattie. He wouldn’t. There were plenty of single women or widows who’d snap up a husband earning a decent wage, without a man marrying one who’d taken the bit between her teeth and run off like that, the ungrateful bitch.

That thought made him stop, butter knife in hand. Should he find himself another wife? He could do it easily enough and it’d solve one problem, at least – looking after the house. Then he shook his head. He’d had two wives and buried them both. The second one hadn’t even given him a son. He didn’t want any more daughters, or worse, a house full of brats, which might happen if he married someone younger than himself.

And wives were harder to manage than daughters, always wanting money for this and that, complaining if you went out for a drink. He’d vowed when Mattie’s mother died that he’d not go through that again. After all, you could get your pleasures elsewhere for the cost of a few drinks.

He got on with his work. He was a good worker, took a pride in what he did and in his strength too. But he was getting on, nearly fifty now, starting to weaken just a little, though he hoped he’d hidden that. It only showed that he’d done the right thing, saving hard for his old age, and it meant it was even more important that he got his daughters back to look after him as he got older.

The foreman came round but didn’t say anything, just letting them know he was there. Bart spat as he watched the sod walk away. They both knew where they stood. The foreman didn’t pick on him and he did his work well.

Emily studied Jacob as she spoke, hoping she’d not mistaken her man. ‘I have some plans which you may be able to help me with and I’d be grateful if you’d not mention what I’m going to tell you to anyone.’

‘I can keep my mouth closed.’

‘Yes, I’ve noticed. The fact is, I’m not getting any younger and wish to move back to Northumberland. It’s home to me, as Wiltshire never will be, and I love living by the sea. I had a job there, an easy one as companion to a wealthy lady, but someone else has taken that now.’ She paused, staring into the fire. ‘However, though I was left the big house and some land and cottages, I wasn’t left any money, that went to my cousin. And the rents aren’t enough to pay for the upkeep of such a large house as well as the rent of another place in the north.’

As she paused for breath, Jacob made a noise to show he was listening, then she continued without looking at him, almost talking to herself.

‘I think my uncle wanted to cause trouble, the way he left things. He was a bitter man after his son died. Cook tells me his wife simply faded away, died a couple of years later, because she’d lost heart. I hadn’t expected to inherit anything. The cousin who lives near here seemed the likely choice, but he only inherited the money and I doubt there was as much of it as people thought, anyway.’

‘Mr Arthur Newington, that’d be.’

‘Yes. He’d set my housemaid to spy on me and report to the lawyer who handled the estate. I’ve dismissed them both and found myself a new lawyer.’ She saw Jacob’s look of surprise. ‘You’re wondering why I’m bothering to tell you all this?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Because you’re honest and intelligent. I trust you, as I do not trust my cousin, and I think we can help one another. Anyway, let me finish my tale. To further complicate matters, I’m only allowed to sell the house to my cousin, not to anyone else, for ten years after I inherit. I can sell off some of the smaller pieces of land and one or two cottages, the ones that weren’t in the original estate. I’ve done that now, sold all I can, and had to use most of the money to repair the roof. So there still isn’t enough money to support me in any comfort if I move back to Northumberland.’

She sighed and stared into the fire for a few moments, then continued. ‘My new lawyer says there’s nothing to prevent me from letting Newington House, however. It’s large enough to bring in a decent rent. The money from that and from the other rents would be enough to manage on and to maintain the big house till the ten years are past, which is only another three years to go. But I’ll have to be careful with my money, very careful indeed.’