The Willows at Christmas (8 page)

The trouble began a year after Toad Senior’s sad demise, which took place at Christmas.

“Didn’t Toad step into his shoes and continue the Hall’s tradition?” inquired the Mole, for this aspect of the matter had not been touched on at all by Mr Baltry or the Parish Clerk.

“Of course he
wanted
to,” said the Badger. “That animal may have many faults but none can deny his generosity of spirit and of pocket, and his willingness to help others, if only he can be persuaded to forget himself for a moment! Yes, I believe that he very much wanted to continue his father’s festive tradition of generosity. But you see, Mole, he was utterly prevented from doing so!”

Up to this moment, Mole’s expression had been simply curious; now, as the truth emerged, it darkened, and his brow furrowed.

After some months of grief and mourning Toad recovered sufficiently to host the Village’s Summer Fete. When autumn came and the nights lengthened, Toad joined in the Village’s Guy Fawke’s celebration in relatively high spirits, and all seemed set fair for Yuletide. None doubted that things would be much as they were before, though perhaps a little subdued that year out of respect for the memory of the late Toad Senior.

Then, in early December, a telegraphic communication arrived at Toad Hall for Toad. The source of the message was that smoke-blackened city in the north of the country to where Toad’s Uncle Groat, his father’s younger brother, had recently retired after a lifetime of fortune-making in the wide world.

“Of
that
wretched scion of the family, I shall say no more than this,” growled the Badger, interrupting himself. “He is Toad Senior’s younger brother and unfortunately he seems never to have recovered from the fact that, being the second-born, he is not heir to Toad Hall and its estates.

“As a consequence, he developed from an early age a grasping habit and a determination to have more, or make more, than his brother.

“As a young toad in residence at the Hall, Groat caused nothing but trouble and heartache to both his parents and older brother alike and finally left the country rather under a cloud. I believe he fled to North America, taking the family silver with him.

“Even then, and from afar, he sought to contest his brother Toad Senior’s claim to the Toad Hall estate, and to wrest from him all his inheritance on wholly specious grounds. A good deal of money was lost by Toad Senior defending himself against this mischievous action.

“When that failed, Groat returned incognito, having learned the arts of agitation and clandestine warfare in America, which is a hotbed of such things, and sought to whip up the weasels and stoats in the Wild Wood to revolution. In fact, he very nearly succeeded in having them advance as a body upon the Town and then on Parliament, bringing scandal and notoriety to the neighbourhood.

“Finally, when the long arm of the law reached out to grasp him — for selling shares in a nonexistent company and persuading many thousands of aged gentlefolk to part with their savings — he was arrested, arraigned and sentenced to twelve years’ hard labour in one of our strictest moorland prisons.

“When he was set free he never darkened the door of Toad Hall again, but with a small handout from his ever generous older brother, who extracted from all who knew about the affair, including myself, the promise never to mention it again, Groat established a business in the north. There, by dint it must be said of a habit of unstinting hard work learned in gaol and wise investment, he became very rich indeed. I believe his wealth increased still further when he set sail back to America, and there invested his money in the railway and steel industry, and latterly, though now very old, in the oil business, as they call it.”

“Would that be cooking oil, such as is used in certain of the bigger culinary establishments?” enquired the Mole.

Badger shook his head.

“We are not talking of frying pans, Mole, but of motor—cars. I have heard it said that Toad’s Uncle Groat became the richest toad in America, till he returned to his home in the north and retired.”

“My!” said the Mole, rather impressed. “But I still don’t see how this affects Toad’s Christmas.”

“You soon will,” said the Badger. “I mentioned that after Toad Senior’s demise, and some two decades after anybody had heard anything directly from Groat, a telegraphic communication came for Toad from a northern city. By then most folk along the River Bank had forgotten all about Groat — though some of the older weasels and stoats still revered his memory, and practised certain arcane rituals before his effigy in the deeper shadows of the Wild Wood. In fact, I have reason to believe they still do — hence our concern for your safety earlier this evening.”

Mole looked anxiously at the windows of the Badger’s parlour, where leafless branches fretted at the panes, and he shuddered at the thought of what terrible tortures and cannibalistic practices he might have been witness to, and victim of, had it really been the Wild Wooders who had taken him that evening.

He looked to the Badger to continue the tale, glad of the comfort of the fireside. To tell the truth, the Mole was more thrilled than anything else by what he had heard. He had no idea that Toad had such a colourful relative, and could now better understand why the Badger had always kept such a close eye on Toad’s behaviour. It was plain that in that troublesome animal there was as much of his uncle’s criminal and revolutionary tendencies as his father’s natural goodness.

Badger went on to explain that the telegraph from Uncle Groat announced that Nanny Fowle, formerly nanny to Groat and Toad Senior, and her daughter had fallen on hard times. Groat felt he had a duty of care towards them, and they would therefore be spending Christmas at Toad Hall, and Toad was to see to it
“that every courtesy was extended to them, and no trouble or expense spared.”

Groat added,
“It will do you good to think of others before yourself, which I understand is not a virtue your father ever taught you.”

“That’s rich, coming from
him,”
murmured Mole.

“By that time, Nanny Fowle was very old, and her daughter was no longer a girl but a woman, and no longer a married woman but a widow. She goes by the name of Mrs Ffleshe.”

“With two ‘ff’s’ and an ‘e’,” murmured the Mole almost without realising it.

“Be that as it may, Mole, Groat’s telegraph concluded with these ominous words in reference to Mrs Ffleshe:

‘You will not find her in any way difficult or unpleasant provided you accede to her occasional whim and agree at once to opinions she may from time to time feel inclined to express with regard to your domestic arrangements, and upon three subjects in which she believes herself to be something of an expert: religion, politics and members of any sex other than her own, namely those who are of the male gender. On such issues I advise that silence is golden, and the virtue of turning the other cheek is to be practised. I suggest it is not much to ask of you these few days each year, and I know you will find it in your heart to accommodate her in the manner to which she likes to be accustomed.’

“Toad had never heard of Mrs Ffleshe, but he knew a little of Nanny Fowle, for his father, Toad Senior, used to wake up of a night in a cold sweat crying out her name in terror. Toad was told that she used to lock up his father in the coal cellar without a light as punishment, and steal his nursery food and eat it for herself. On another occasion she took him and Groat into the Village and showed them certain instruments of medieval trial and torture in the Court House there and threatened to use them if they did not behave better and do what she said. Such was Nanny Fowle.”

“And this lady and her daughter were those imposed on Toad by Groat?” said the Mole.

“Quite so’ said Badger. “People often feel they owe a debt to those who have taken advantage of them. Be that as it may, so many years had passed that Toad, who is by nature generous of heart if often foolish of mind, said he would accept the guests into the Hall and even invited Groat for that same Christmas. He began to grow suspicious, however, when Groat excused himself on rather dubious grounds. Toad then tried to withdraw his offer of hospitality, but swiftly received another communication, which read like a command. It reminded Toad that he, Groat, was still Lord of the Manor and might if he wished arrest any who did not show him fealty.

“You are probably not aware, Mole, that there is in the Village not only a Court House but a penal institution. Toad was left in no doubt by his uncle where he would be incarcerated if he continued to resist his uncle’s request. It was at this point that Toad realised that things were not quite as he had thought and the terrible possibility dawned on him that Groat might dispossess him if he wished.

“In his panic, he hurried here and sought my counsel. We took legal advice and the lawyer unexpectedly suggested that Toad
should
agree to the visit, and for a very disturbing reason.

“‘Having reviewed the papers in this case,”‘
said he in a lengthy letter to Toad,
“and studied your Uncle’s latest communication, I fear that it appears that with your father’s demise he inherits a vestigial, residual and pejorative right of access to Toad Hall, and that as Lord of the Manor and Chairman of the Trustees of his brother’s will, he has the casting vote in any determination of its domestic arrangements, offices and income. Since he appears at this stage not to have any wish to exercise that right our advice is not to provoke him, but to accede to his wishes with regard to visitors.”

This was alarming indeed. It was news to Toad that a trust controlled Toad Hall and that Groat was chairman of it. Further enquiry established that this matter, and the question of Groat’s jurisdiction over Toad Hall as Lord of the Manor and its estate and income, was not quite as certain as his lawyer implied, but clarification would require a lengthy and expensive action through the Court of Protection, probably followed by an appeal before the Judges Inquisitorial — a prospect that naturally terrified the cowardly Toad.

“Such, Mole, were the unhappy circumstances leading up to that fateful first visit of Groat’s former nanny to Toad Hall. I will not go into details of how appalling this imposition has been, except to say that if Nanny Fowle was bad, Mrs Fleshe was far worse, being every host’s idea of an interfering, imposing guest.