The Wilt Inheritance (16 page)

‘Oh, down in the village somewhere. He found it lonely up here when his wife died, and too far from his favourite pub. We get contractors to come in and mow the lawn. It’s far too big for the old fellow. How do you feel about the cottage?’

‘I think it’s a delightful alternative to living in India.’

‘I didn’t know you had been to India?’

‘I haven’t, though I feel as if I have been. I was thinking of the Hall.’

Clarissa laughed.

‘I try not even to look at the front of the place. I always drive in through the back where we park the cars. Sir George says the hideous look of the place keeps burglars away. The moat and drawbridge help too.’

‘So do the guns.’

‘The cannon or the ones in the cabinet?’

‘I was thinking of the cabinet. I’ve never seen so many guns in one place. Although I suppose massed cannon aren’t exactly welcoming either.’

‘George is always showing off his guns, he probably wanted to impress you with them. Although he does have quite a few enemies.’

‘Enemies? What sort of enemies?’

‘Innocent people he’s sentenced to prison terms. He’s rather fond of doing that. He’s very wary of poachers and trespassers, too. In fact, there are a lot of people who would like to see him dead. Seriously, I wouldn’t go wandering about the woods at night while you’re here. Someone could mistake you for George.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

They left the cottage and walked on through the woods, noticing the tyre print of a heavy vehicle
preserved on a dusty unsurfaced track to the right. Lady Clarissa put a finger to her lips and whispered, ‘Stay where you are. I’m going down there by myself. There’s a clearing not far away, I’m pretty sure. I bet that’s where he’s put the hussy.’

She took off her shoes and handed them to Wilt who watched her move off silently down the track. After a while he sat down under a tree, wondering what on earth he’d let himself in for. Even struggling to overcome Edward’s stupidity was preferable to getting embroiled in the Gadsleys’ affairs. And he supposed ‘affairs’ was the right word.

It was twenty minutes before Lady Clarissa returned, put on her shoes and led the way back to the Hall before speaking.

‘Just as I thought: Philly’s down there. What I didn’t know is that there’s a gate in the park wall, allowing access to the grazing fields beyond. She got into the wood that way. Well, she’s bound to want to get out again sometime so I’m going to go and buy a strong lock in the village, to make sure she won’t be able to. You can come with me, if you feel like it.’

‘I think I’d better not. I’ve got some checking up to do on the twentieth-century arms race,’ said Wilt, not having a clue who this Philly was, or wanting to. In fact, the only thing he wanted was to keep right out of whatever was going on. And, after their last encounter, he certainly wasn’t going to be trapped in any enclosed spaces with Lady Clarissa.

‘Do you mind if I head back now? I want to give Eva a ring … let her know how much I’m looking forward to seeing her.’ Wilt knew that if he said any such thing to his wife she’d think he was suffering from a brain storm. Either that or drunk.

‘Make yourself at home.’ Lady Clarissa collected her handbag and went out to her car.

Wilt watched her drive off before heading back to the house. Halfway there he heard a loud bang and for a horrible moment thought Sir George’s enemies were closing in before he concluded it was just the Jaguar backfiring as it made its way up the lane. As he went inside Mrs Bale was coming out of Sir George’s study.

‘Just about to call my wife to see if she’s back from the school in Sussex,’ Wilt explained. ‘She went down there to pick up our daughters.’

‘If you want my advice, I’d get her up here quickly. Her ladyship is in an odd mood. She’s … well, if she were an animal, I’d say she was “on heat”. If you know what that means. I can’t say I blame her. The boss has got someone on the side himself.’

‘Really? It wouldn’t be someone short and fat, would it?’ asked Wilt, who’d rather begun to like Mrs Bale for the light she invariably shone on all of the household mysteries.

‘“No names, no pack drill”, as my late husband used to say.’

She smiled coyly at Wilt and went into the kitchen.
He decided to ring Eva later and followed Mrs Bale instead.

She started preparing lunch, saying, ‘If you’re looking for Edward, he’s in the study. He always makes a beeline for it if Sir George is out.’

‘What on earth is he doing there? He can’t be going through the old man’s papers, surely. What could there be in there to interest him?’

‘The guns, of course,’ said Mrs Bale, raising her eyebrows. ‘He’s mad on the horrid things.’

‘But surely Sir George has another lock for the cabinet? It can’t be right for it just to be left open. It’s illegal, isn’t it? Guns …’

‘And who is the law round these parts? His Majesty, that’s who, and if you think he lets the local police into his study to check the security of his weapons, you’re mistaken. Anyway, they always phone him up first, if they want a warrant or something like that.’

‘In that case, I don’t think I’ll go near the study just yet. I don’t care for guns at the best of times.’ Wilt paused and then decided to take the plunge. ‘What do you really think of Edward?’

‘Thick as two short planks. No, more like four very thick ones. I’ll put it another way. If I’d known I was going to have a son like that, I’d have had an abortion. And I’m against that, which ought to tell you something. Fortunately I had just the one daughter. She’s a single mother, but that’s better than being married to an idiotic self-satisfied shit, if you’ll pardon my
language. I got the impression from Her Majesty that you’ve got daughters too?’

‘You can say that again,’ Wilt agreed, and was about to tell her that he would rather have a dozen daughters who were single mothers than the four she-devils it was his misfortune to have fathered, when over her shoulder he saw the back gates opening and the Jaguar driving through. ‘Lady Clarissa has evidently finished her shopping. I think I’ll make myself scarce for a bit.’

He scurried along to the library and pretended to be looking for a book to read. Through the partly open door he would be able to hear anything that was said in the hall when Lady Clarissa found out where her son was. He didn’t have to wait long. After a hasty exchange with Mrs Bale in the kitchen, she came hurrying down the corridor and evidently entered the study.

‘Oh, really, Edward! How many times have I told you never to come in here and play with those dreadful weapons? If George found you, he’d be furious. Why do you continually have to do these things?’ Lady Clarissa was virtually shrieking.

‘Because I like guns and he won’t let me have my own.’

‘Well, you can put that beastly thing back in the cabinet at once. And stop waving it round like that! It may be loaded.’

‘I’m not waving it round, I’m aiming it out of the
window, and of course it’s loaded. No point having a gun if it’s not got a bullet up the spout.’

‘Well, remove the bullet and get out of here.’

As the pair of them passed the library door, Wilt wondered what the hell he was going to do. He now realised that the noise he’d taken for the car backfiring as he’d walked back to the house was almost certainly the sound of Edward taking a shot at him, and he was willing to bet the boy had ignored his mother’s instruction to unload the gun. Wilt certainly didn’t relish the prospect of spending the summer trying to tutor a backward lad who clearly had far more interest in aiming loaded guns through windows. History was definitely out – or at any rate it looked as though he’d have to concentrate purely on battles, just to hold the boy’s attention.

And what about Eva and the quads? He wasn’t worried for their safety – they could more than take care of themselves – but the combination of his girls and the gun-crazy Edward was too dreadful to think about. He’d have to phone Eva and warn her not to drive up. On the other hand, he couldn’t phone from the Hall or he’d be sure to be overheard. Not unless Mrs Bale could get him into Sir George’s private bathroom, and he wasn’t sure that was a risk worth taking. No, he had to get down to the village and use a phone there. He couldn’t go through the gates at the back of the blasted house because they were overlooked by anyone in the Hall. Oh well, he’d just have to find
his way back down that terrible track through the woods that he’d found so alarming in the taxi. There was nothing else for it.

Wilt set off across the drawbridge, turned to his left, and ten minutes later was negotiating the sharp and dangerous corners that had practically scared the pants off him when he had arrived. Twice he heard the sound of distant gunfire, and spent several long minutes in a ditch after a pheasant scuttled across his path, scaring the life out of him. After losing his way down several wrong turnings, it took him three-quarters of an hour to reach the main road on which he was able to trudge to the nearest village.

The first phone booth he tried seemed to have become something that simply sent emails and the second was vandalised. By mid-afternoon Wilt was beginning to wonder whether he was the last man on the planet not to have a mobile but he finally found a booth that worked, even if it only accepted credit cards and not the 10p he had hopefully got out of his pocket in readiness. He spent at least fitteen minutes trying to get through to Eva’s mobile but there was no answer.

Finally Wilt gave up and looked for a pub. It was a hot day and he was desperately in need of a drink … several drinks … and something to eat. He ordered a pint of beer, finished it and asked for another and some ham sandwiches. The barmaid went off and presently came back with some thick white sandwiches on a plate.

‘You’re not one of our regulars,’ she said when she’d brought the second pint over. ‘Are you passing through?’

‘Not exactly. I’m staying up at the Hall. It’s a weird place.’

‘You can say that again! My old man used to deliver brandy up there but he wouldn’t go near the place now. You’d best take care … I daren’t say any more.’

‘Why not?’ asked Wilt, but two men had entered the pub by then and the barmaid went to serve them and, having poured their beer, stayed on chatting. Wilt finished his sandwiches and went through the door marked
TOILET
where he relieved his bladder of the beer, estimating that it had taken all of twenty minutes to make its way through his body. When he came out there were half a dozen drinkers in the bar, keeping the barmaid busy. Wilt took out a £5 note and signalled that he wanted to pay.

‘You had sandwiches too,’ she said as she worked the till. ‘That means seven pounds ninety in total.’

Wilt gave her three more pounds and told her to keep the change. She looked at him with some disdain before handing back the 10p, saying that from the look of him he needed it more than she did.

‘So why wouldn’t you go to Sandystones Hall?’ he asked, pocketing the coin.

‘They give me the creeps, that lot. They’re all … Well, I don’t like to say really. What with you working for them an’ all.’

‘Loony?’ suggested Wilt, glancing round the bar cautiously as if he didn’t want to be overheard.

‘You could put it like that,’ said the woman. ‘Why do you ask?’

Wilt lapsed into Cockney without quite knowing why. ‘It’s just something I heard. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll apply for a permanent job there.’

‘I don’t blame you. I’d get out as soon as I could, if I were you. That’s my advice. And it’s free an’ all.’ She glared at Wilt who had the grace to blush.

The barmaid went down the counter to serve a customer who had just come in and undoubtedly looked a more promising prospect. Wilt took a last swig of his beer. When he had finished it he went back to the phone booth and tried to call Eva again. She still didn’t answer. He looked at his watch and saw it was earlier than he’d thought but decided enough was enough. He would have to give up. It had been something of a wasted day. But that was a minor problem compared with his real concern, which was the potentially lethal combination of Eva, the quads and a gun-toting Edward. What on earth was he going to do about it? Eva had got them into this mess, of course, just to keep the girls at that damned expensive school and satisfy her own inherent snobbery. Why couldn’t he sit back and let her sort it out?

By this time Wilt was back on the winding, overgrown drive to the Hall. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. A moment later he was crouching down behind
the trunk of an enormous oak tree. Round a bend in the road ahead he had caught sight of Edward. The vicious lout was carrying a gun but, fortunately, looking away from Wilt, into the wood on the other side of the drive. A moment later he heard a shot and something thudding to the ground. He peered cautiously round the tree trunk and saw Edward trudging towards whatever poor creature he’d evidently brought down. Wilt fervently hoped it wasn’t the Philly woman, although of course Lady Clarissa might feel differently.

He waited no longer but walked diagonally away from Edward in the direction of the Hall, trusting to the pine needles to muffle his retreating footsteps. He came out of the woods after twenty minutes on to what was evidently the back lane. As he stood and watched, the large metal gates slowly began to open outward. Wilt got down on all fours and crawled across to the one on the far side, hiding himself behind it.

As Sir George’s Bentley passed him and the gates were shutting, Wilt whipped across the yard behind it and into the garage where he lurked for a while. Now all he had to do was reach the back door and he’d be safely inside the Hall. The old devil would almost certainly be in a filthy rage on finding one of his guns was missing, though, and he must have heard the shots from it as he drove in. Wilt dusted down his trousers as best he could, climbed the exterior steps to the kitchen and went into the corridor leading into the main part of the house. All he wanted to do was get up to his room and make himself respectable, but this meant first passing the study door. Oh, well, there was nothing else for it. He walked on, only to find
Sir George standing in the doorway with glass in hand, looking positively genial.