Yew Tree Gardens (14 page)

He realised from the man’s educated tone that it was the curate. ‘I’m grateful you could save anything.’

‘We have a village fire team. I got the idea in my last placement and it’s paid off before, so the men take it seriously.’ He wiped his forehead.

‘I’d be happy to make a contribution to your funds, or buy you some equipment. You’ve saved me a lot of money and trouble today.’

‘I hope you’re insured.’

‘Yes, of course. But if it hadn’t been for you and your men, it could have been much worse.’

Madge came out of the kitchen. ‘I’ve made a big pot of tea. Anyone thirsty?’

There were a few cheers at this.

‘Come inside,’ Gil said.

The curate smiled, his teeth shockingly white against his smoke-blackened face. ‘We’re too dirty. If someone could bring it out?’

‘I can help with that,’ Walter said.

Gil found the tea trolley and was able to help get it over the threshold to the outside, then they placed two huge teapots, a monster milk jug and a big bowl of sugar on it. There were some mugs and Walter had another fistful dangling by their handles from his hands.

‘Any biscuits?’ Gil asked Madge.

‘Plenty, if you don’t mind me using them.’

‘Use anything we’ve got.’

So the men stood around outside, eating and drinking, keeping an eye on the smouldering ruins.

‘How did it start?’ the curate asked. ‘Was a lamp left burning?’

‘Never!’ Walter said. ‘I’ve run stables for forty years and worked in them all my life. I’d never, ever leave a naked flame.’

‘Then how could it have started? There was no lightning or anything like that.’

‘Maybe it was that thing.’ One of them pointed to the car.

‘It damned well wasn’t,’ Horry said sharply. ‘Once it’s switched off there’s nothing about it that
could
start a fire.’

The silence seemed to grow heavier, as men exchanged glances.

It was Walter who said it. ‘That fire must have been set deliberately.’

‘Who would do something like that?’ Gil asked. Surely
not even Chapman would go so far as to burn down stables, risk killing innocent animals – or even human beings?

‘We’ve trampled all over the place,’ one man said. ‘If there was anything to show, any footprints or whatever, they’d be gone now.’

‘Um …’ The curate hesitated, then said slowly, ‘I read somewhere that if a fire’s been lit with paraffin or petrol, you can still smell it afterwards.’

‘Can you, now?’ Gil put his mug down. ‘We’d better go and check, then.’

They did find an area that smelt of petrol, and Horry said the square metal petrol cans used to fill the car had been moved.

‘We need to call in the police,’ the curate said.

But Gil had no faith in the village policeman. He felt the fire must have been set by Chapman, so he went to check what the fellow had been doing.

Gil and the curate led the small group of men back into the village. They went straight to Chapman’s house and Gil hammered on the door.

No one answered, so he thumped it again with his clenched fist.

Still no answer.

‘Let’s look round the back.’ He set off round the side of the house without waiting for an answer.

The back door was locked, and banging on it produced no response. No one could be seen through any of the windows.

‘It looks as if he’s out,’ the curate said. ‘Perhaps he didn’t—’

‘He’s the only one in the village who’d have a motive.’ Gil turned to study the garden. ‘Let’s look in that shed.’

There was no need to look for a key because the door was sagging on its hinges. It had to be pulled hard to open it.

He went inside and looked round, but could see no cans of paraffin.

‘It must be someone else,’ one of the villagers said, looking round nervously.

Gil wasn’t giving up without checking everything. ‘We might as well look inside all the outbuildings.’

They went from one ramshackle lean-to and shed to another. Nothing.

‘We can’t accuse a man without proof,’ the curate said quietly.

‘No. But I’m going to keep an eye on him from now on.’

‘How will you do that when half the village are on his side, and will keep an eye on what you do?’

‘I’ll find a way. I have to.’

The next day someone banged on the front door of Oakdene, and when the new maid went to open it, Chapman thrust Mary to one side and stormed in.

‘Where’s your master?’

‘I’ll go and see if he’s free.’

He pushed past her and yelled, ‘Rycroft! Come out and face me like a man, for once.’

Gil had been sitting in the room they called the library, lost in thought, trying to work out what to do next, when he heard someone yelling his name.

Puzzled, he got up and hurried towards the sound, astounded to find Chapman standing in the hall and Mary standing at the back as if ready to take flight.

‘I didn’t let him in, sir,’ she said at once. ‘He pushed past me.’

‘Just as you pushed your way into my house,’ Chapman shouted. ‘How dare you search my outbuildings?’

‘An arsonist had set fire to my stables.’

‘What has that to do with me?’

‘You’re the only one in the village with a grudge against me.’

‘You’re even more of a fool than I thought, if that’s what you believe. Most of the village has a grudge against you. They don’t like people who trick old ladies and swindle others out of their inheritance.’

‘You’ve never proved that you’re related to Miss Bennerden, let alone that she intended to leave you her house.’

‘Well, I can prove it now. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer this very week, and even that villain Mortlake won’t be able to deny me justice now. And if you set one foot on my property again, I’ll sue you for trespass as well.’

He stabbed one finger as if intending to poke Gil in the chest, but someone grabbed him from behind.

‘The door’s this way, Chapman,’ Horry said.

‘Let go of me.’

The two men scuffled for a moment, but were evenly matched, and when Chapman pulled back, Horry let him.

‘Standing behind others again, Rycroft,’ Chapman sneered.

Gil opened his mouth to reply, but Horry spoke first.

‘And you’re attacking those who can’t fight back. I’ve heard of you doing that more than once. A right old bully, you are. But you don’t frighten me.’

Chapman gave him a dirty look. ‘I won’t forget those who’ve offended me when I take possession of this house.’

Horry let out a scornful snort and would have answered back if Gil hadn’t spoken.

‘Please leave my house, Chapman, and don’t come here again.’

‘I will be back – to take over my inheritance.’

Chapman strode out of the door, leaving it wide open behind him.

‘He’s a nasty bit of work, that one.’ Horry went to close the door, then asked, ‘Can he really take this house from you, sir?’

‘I doubt it. Even if he did prove a relationship to Miss Bennerden, it’d be a distant one, and she left a will which stated her wishes very clearly. It’s not as if he was a son of hers. Thank you for your help.’

‘You helped me when I was desperate, sir. I’m happy to help you any time.’

Gil nodded and went back into his little library to sit staring into space. Chapman’s visit had left him with a feeling of apprehension. Why had the man spoken so confidently? And though Gil had been touched by Horry’s support, even that had made him feel bitter about being unable to defend himself physically.

Every time he thought he was settling down and getting on with his life, something happened to upset his plans and disturb his peace. He was quite sure he hadn’t heard the last from Chapman. The man must be mad to think he could take Oakdene away from Gil.

After a while he shook off the feelings of self-pity. He had Beth, didn’t he? He was making friends in the area and no one had a better set of servants to help them.

He heard his niece’s voice and hurried outside to find her. She grabbed his good arm and he began to run her to and fro, a game they’d invented together.

Then Lizzie came out of the wash house, pretending to be angry at Beth for hiding, which led to her and Gil both tickling the child till they were all laughing.

He didn’t want Beth to forget her parents, but he did want her to be happy again. He’d never have believed it if anyone had told him how much he would enjoy having her around.

And that made him wish for more children to raise and cherish. So maybe he should look more seriously for a wife. It would certainly please his mother.

Once they’d got the area cleared up, Horry came to hunt him out with a determined expression on his face. ‘If we bought another car, we could still drive to your parents’ house and back in one day. That’d be better for Beth.’

Gil hadn’t thought about a new car. ‘And have you chosen the next one?’ As if he didn’t know which type Horry favoured.

‘Yes, Mr Rycroft, I have. With your approval, of course. A Model T Ford. We both saw some in America and I’ve been reading about them in the newspapers, as I told you. They’re very hardy machines, and reliable. Guess what. On May the thirteenth a man drove a Model T Ford right up to the summit of Ben Nevis.’ He waited expectantly.

Gil didn’t have to feign surprise. ‘Right up to the top of the highest mountain in Britain?’

‘Yes, sir. That shows how good a car it is. Isn’t it amazing? Modern cars can do all sorts of things, sir. They’re getting better every year.’

‘Well, we must certainly have a look at a Model T Ford. Not that I shall want to drive up any mountains.’

Horry wasn’t going to be diverted by even the mildest joke. ‘There’s a fellow selling them in Swindon.’ He waited again and, when Gil didn’t say anything, volunteered more information. ‘He’s Skurray. The man who told me thinks he’s at Skurray’s Mill, somewhere near Whale Bridge in Queen’s Park.’

‘We could go this afternoon.’ Gil’s mother had written again to say he was to bring Beth to her. He couldn’t put off the confrontation much longer.

They drove into Bassett by trap, leaving it at the livery stables, then went into Swindon by train. From there they took a cab to Queen’s Park. This was very tiring and made Gil miss the convenience of having his own motor car.

As the cab slowed down, Horry pointed excitedly. ‘There! Look! He’s got one standing outside.’

Gil studied it. ‘It’s smaller than I’d expected.’

‘It seats four comfortably and has a hood that pulls up. And it would be better for the narrow country roads round Oakdene. After all, you don’t have a big family to squeeze into it.’

Silence fell and Gil watched Horry stare avidly at the car. It was the sort of look other men reserved for a beautiful woman. ‘Can you wait for us?’ he asked the cab driver. ‘I’ll pay extra.’

‘Happy to, sir.’ He shot a disapproving glance at the car. ‘Nasty, smelly things, they are. You’d be better off with a good horse.’

Gil didn’t agree.

Mr Skurray himself came out and starting chatting to Horry, who was already examining the car.

‘You seem to know your stuff,’ he said at last.

Gil didn’t even try to join in the technical discussion. Where cars were concerned, Horry was in charge and they both knew it.

‘We shall need to try it out,’ Horry said after a while. ‘Can’t buy a car without seeing how it goes.’

‘This one runs well, but the previous owner wasn’t a careful driver and there are a few dents, so I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for the next shipment to arrive from America before I can supply you with a new vehicle.’

‘Oh, dear! I really need one now. Still, we can try this one. It won’t be much different, will it?’ Gil looked down at his arm with a sigh, wishing yet again that he could have a go at driving.

Horry drove them round the streets for a few minutes. ‘How do you like it, sir?’

‘I love it. Don’t people stare, though?’

‘She’s worth staring at.’ Horry patted the car as if it was alive. ‘We wouldn’t have to wait if we bought this one and it’d cost less.’ He left the thought hanging between them, concentrating on driving.

‘You’ll be happy to drive it?’

Horry beamed at him. ‘Oh, yes. And maintain it, too.’

‘Then let’s see if we can buy it.’

Mr Skurray was less sure. ‘We-ell. You could have that one, I suppose. It hasn’t been used much. What about the dents?’

Gil went back to walk round the vehicle. The dents were quite small. ‘What do you think, Horry?’

‘I think we should consider it, sir. But only if the price is right.’ He nudged his employer as he spoke.

Gil wouldn’t have thought of bargaining, had just been going to ask the price and pay it, so he closed his mouth and left it to Horry. He found himself paying a hundred and fifty pounds for a near new four-seater Touring car, instead of a hundred and ninety pounds, plus twenty-five shillings for a battery, to make starting easier, and fifty shillings each for three spare tyre tubes in case of punctures.

‘It’s a really modern car, better than the other,’ Horry enthused. ‘Look, it’s got oil sidelights and acetylene headlamps. You’ll be all right in this, even on a dark night.’

‘Be careful going up steep hills, though,’ the dealer warned. ‘If your petrol is low, it’ll all run to the back of the tank and your engine will stop firing.’ He chuckled. ‘You could get up the hill backwards, though.’

Gil didn’t intend to wait until the fire insurance paid up. His need was too urgent. ‘Very well, then. We’ll take it. We shall need to go into Swindon to get the money out of the bank.’ He took out his pocket watch. ‘I think we just have time before the bank closes.’

It wasn’t until they’d returned and paid for the car that he realised someone would have to drive the trap back to Oakdene from Bassett. Since he couldn’t drive a motor car, it ought to be him, only he hadn’t ridden or driven since his accident. Could he manage to drive the trap? Did he even want to try?

Horry seemed to read his mind. ‘We could leave the horse and trap at the livery stables and I could take Walter into Bassett tomorrow to drive it home.’

Gil hesitated, then said, ‘No. I’ll have a go at driving it. If I think I can manage, you can follow me slowly in the car, in case anything goes wrong.’