Cherry Tree Lane (12 page)

‘Miss Newington to see you, sir.’

He stood up and quickly checked that his tie was straight, because his wife said he had a habit of fiddling with it when he was thinking, then went out to greet her. For a man who had only opened his own rooms the previous year, every new client was important, but this one was quite a feather in his cap.

‘My dear Miss Newington, please come through.’ He waited till she’d sat down and then asked, ‘How can I help you today?’

‘I want to make a new will – and quickly. A very simple one, just a single legatee will do. I suppose there’s no chance that you could do it for me this afternoon, is there?’

He blinked in shock at this. ‘It usually takes longer than that to write a will. There are things to discuss and—’

‘There’s nothing to discuss this time. I wish to leave everything, unconditionally, to one person.’

‘Well, I suppose I could draw up a simple will like that quite quickly. Is there some reason for the hurry?’

‘Yes. My cousin Arthur is sending men to break into my house, trying to force me to sell it to him. Who knows what lengths he’ll go to? I do want to leave the district now that you’ve told me I can rent out the house without breaking the conditions of my uncle’s will, but I’m doing nothing until I’ve made sure Arthur can’t get hold of the property if something happens to me.’

‘Are you sure he’s behind the break-ins?’

‘Very sure.’

‘But surely you don’t think he’d … do something violent to you?’

‘I intend to make sure he has no reason to.’

Frank didn’t know what to say. She was an intelligent woman, sounded so certain. ‘Tell me who your legatee is, then – another family member perhaps, or a close friend?’

She pulled a wry face. ‘I’ve no relatives now except for Arthur and his family, and most of my friends have died in the last few years, so you can put this person down as legatee.’ She took a piece of paper out of her handbag and gave it to him.

He stared at what she’d written in puzzlement, not recognising the name. ‘Are you sure? Who is this?’

‘Just someone I know and like. It’s only temporary so that I can tell my cousin Arthur that if anything happens to me, he won’t get the house. That should stop him, don’t you think? And since at my age life is precarious, I want to make absolutely certain that he’ll never get the house, whatever happens.’ She held up one hand to stop him speaking. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make a proper, well-thought-out will later. This person doesn’t know what I’m doing, so I’m not being coerced or flattered into it.’

‘I see. Well, in that case, I’ll do as you’ve asked. But I don’t approve, I really don’t.’

‘You don’t need to. Just do what I ask. I’ll leave a letter with you, explaining the reasons for my actions, if you like.’

‘Yes. That might be useful.’

‘And there’s something else. I want to find a tenant for Newington House. You hinted that you might know of someone? Are these people still looking for a house to rent?’

‘I can find out. What rent are you asking?’

They discussed this, then she looked at the clock which was ticking loudly on his mantelpiece. ‘I’ll go and buy myself afternoon tea and return in an hour to sign the will.’

She had left before he could stop her.

He sat lost in thought for a minute or two, trying to work out the implications of what she was doing. Surely Arthur Newington couldn’t be behind the attacks on her house? He was a wellknown figure in the county, not always liked but wealthy men didn’t usually commit crimes to get their way. Only … there was a big estate at stake, and money had tempted people into crime before now.

Besides, you couldn’t argue with clients who’d made their minds up, and though she didn’t have a lot of money to spare, Miss Newington had enough to pay her bills, and always did so promptly. Which was more than some of his other clients did.

Arthur Newington’s lawyer, James Parker, had already made his displeasure about a young lawyer opening rooms in Swindon very clear. It was going to be … interesting working for Miss Newington.

Frank called for his clerk and they set to work on the will.

She would not find him lacking.

Embarrassed by what Miss Newington had done, Jacob avoided going into the house for a cup of tea and biscuit mid-morning. He slaked his thirst at the well and ignored his hunger. But though he continued working, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Miss Newington had said. It did make sense for him to remarry, he admitted that, but to live intimately with someone who was little more than a stranger … to commit yourself to that person for the rest of your life … the thought of that worried him.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, he couldn’t postpone going into the house any longer. He was ravenous, needed his midday meal and had to make sure Mattie got hers too, or she’d not recover properly.

He took off his working boots at the door to save tramping dirt into the house. As he stepped inside in his stockinged feet, he stopped to stare round in surprise. The room was tidier and the table already set. And Mattie was sitting in the rocking chair, waiting for him as if she was meant to be there. He thrust his feet into his slippers, which always stood ready, noticing for the first time how stained and worn they looked. He needed new ones.

As he turned, he tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

Mattie glanced at him quickly, then looked away before their eyes could connect. She seemed as embarrassed as he was, which eased his nervousness a little. He didn’t like bold women.

She cleared her throat. ‘I saw you had some eggs in the pantry. I boiled some for sandwiches with our soup. Is that all right?’

‘Yes. I hope you did plenty.’

‘I did two for you, one for me.’

He remembered what Miss Newington had said. ‘If you’re trying to cost me as little money as possible, remember that I produce my own eggs and always have plenty. Since Alice died, I’ve not known what to do with them all, because I don’t know how to bake cakes, even if I had time for it, which I don’t.’

‘Oh. Right, then.’ She went across to put a pan on the hob, pouring water into it from the big blackened kettle that always stood to one side of the stove top to provide warm water when needed.

He let her work. She seemed very capable, her movements sure and graceful, a pleasure to watch.

Within ten minutes he was sitting down to a bowl of ham-flavoured soup and neatly cut sandwiches. He thanked her, then ate in silence, enjoying the simple meal but unable to think of anything to say except, ‘This is good.’

As he pushed his plate away, Mattie said, ‘Do you have any more of those wizened apples? I could make us stewed apple and custard for tea. And what do you want for the main course tonight?’

‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’

‘I’m taking things slowly. I cleared up this morning, then had a little nap, then … um … talked to Miss Newington. I shall do the same this afternoon – have a rest, I mean.’

He liked the way she got flustered when she mentioned Miss Newington. She looked pretty today with her hair tied back and her face showing more colour. ‘Better open a tin of corned beef. Could you make us a hash?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve not had time to get any fresh meat. I’ll send to the village shop for something. They put orders in with a butcher in Wootton Bassett.’

‘I make a good meat pie. If you get some stewing steak, I can do enough for two days.’

‘That’d be good.’

Their eyes met and he could feel himself flushing, then got angry with himself for being such a coward and sat down again. He always told the children to face up to problems and should follow his own advice.

She looked at him warily. ‘Is something wrong?’

He took a deep breath and said it quickly before he could lose his nerve. ‘Miss Newington spoke to you, I believe? She made a … a suggestion.’ He couldn’t force out the words ‘get married’, just couldn’t do it.

‘Yes. It was … a surprise.’

‘She shocked me too.’

‘I’ll perfectly understand if you don’t want to …’ Her voice trailed away and she flushed scarlet.

‘I don’t know what I want, and that’s the truth.’

She let out her breath in a gasp that was almost a laugh. ‘I don’t, either.’

‘You haven’t refused, though?’

‘No. You’re still considering it, then, are you?’

‘Yes. It … the idea does have some advantages, I must admit.’

Silence. She looked up just as he did and their eyes met. She seemed so anxious, he gave her a reassuring smile.

It was her answering smile that did it, shy and nervous. And how thin she was, how close she’d been to death. He felt responsible for her and he liked her. So did the children. He took a deep breath. ‘All in all, I don’t mind getting married, if you don’t. But I don’t want you feeling forced into it.’

She didn’t look away, seemed a bit sad behind everything, but before he could ask her why, she spread her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘All right.’

‘You mean … you’ll do it?’

She nodded. ‘If you’re sure.’

And suddenly he was sure, so he gave in to the temptation of taking her hand. ‘I’ll try to be a good husband to you, Mattie, provide for you as well as I can, treat you properly.’

Her hand turned to grasp his more firmly. ‘I’ll be a good wife to you, Jacob. I’ll look after your children and work alongside you. I’m a hard worker.’

He gave her hand a little squeeze. ‘And I wanted to say, in case you were worried: I won’t ever hurt you. I don’t believe in beating women or children. I never laid a finger on Alice.’

Jacob didn’t know what to say next, so he let go of her hand and stood up. ‘That’s settled, then. I’ll go and tell Miss Newington tonight.’

‘I’ll iron you a shirt. Do you have a better one than your working shirts?’

‘Yes. I’ll fetch my best one down.’

When he’d done that, he walked back out to the field wondering what had got into him. He’d more than half-decided not to remarry, even for the sake of the job. But Miss Newington was right. In many ways, it was a sensible solution to all his problems, and to Mattie’s.

And she was pretty. He really liked her hair. And her smile.

If he hadn’t offered to marry her, Mattie would have nowhere to go. He couldn’t bear to think of her turned loose in the world with only just over a pound in her purse. Surely there was enough warmth between them, enough goodwill, for them to make a fair go of marriage?

He found himself smiling at the thought of her as he carried on working. Thinking how good it would be to come back to the house at dinner time and find her waiting, how good to see Sarah with a woman to guide her, how good to have Mattie in his bed.

Before she left the lawyer’s rooms after signing her new will and writing a brief letter stating why she’d not left anything to her cousin, Emily borrowed a piece of paper and wrote a brief letter to that same cousin. She made a copy and gave that to Mr Longley, on the principle of not trusting her cousin an inch.

She signed the letter with a flourish, refused an offer to allow Mr Longley’s clerk to post it for her and went to buy a penny stamp at the post office. She licked it, admired the King’s head in shades of her favourite colour, green, then placed the stamp carefully in the corner of the envelope. She smiled as she slid the letter into the postbox, feeling as if a burden had been removed from her shoulders.

 She was still smiling as she sat in the train. Arthur wasn’t getting his hands on her land at some ridiculously low price. If he made her a better offer as a result of this, she’d consider it, but she wasn’t giving the house away, to him or to anyone. She was still trying to decide what price would be fair as the train pulled into Wootton Bassett.

She let the horse go at its own pace, which was slow, as she drove out to the village. It’d been an eventful few days. Her cousin was a bully and always had been. She’d been glad when her mother persuaded her father to take up employment he’d been offered in Newcastle because Arthur had made the family gatherings of her childhood miserable. He’d pinched her when no one was looking, punching her in the stomach sometimes or pulling her hair hard enough to make her eyes water. He’d treated his male cousin the same way. Poor Jeremy was dead now. She still didn’t approve of the Boer War. Why should Englishmen die so far away in South Africa? What good did such wars do?

Once her family moved away, she’d felt reasonably certain she would never see Arthur again. Only, after her uncle died, she’d had to come back and face him.

This train of thought led her to wonder once more why her uncle had left things so strangely. It could only be to create mischief. His son had been killed, something he’d never come to terms with, so out of resentment he’d made sure the niece and nephew who were still alive inherited problems, having either land or money, but not both.

Well, she intended to prove herself a match for Arthur this time.

Jacob was delighted to find tea cooked and ready to serve when he came in from his day’s work. He sniffed appreciatively. ‘Something smells good.’

Sarah rushed across to help him with his slippers, words pouring out of her. ‘Mattie’s made corned beef hash and she let me help with the apple crumble. There’s custard to go with it and there are no lumps in it, none at all. Luke set the table, but he didn’t want to, said it was girls’ work.’