Anna Jacobs (4 page)

The elderly mare clopped the two miles into Tinsley and Vic dropped Marcus off at the lower end of Bridge Lane. “I’ll be over there by the river, sir, when you’ve finished. There’s a horse trough and it’s quite sheltered. This old girl won’t mind a bit of a rest. She’s past working really, but there weren’t any other horses available when I was setting up. All the good ones got sent off to war, poor things.”

Marcus made his way slowly up the narrow street and soon found Justin Redway’s rooms. There was an elderly clerk in the front room who became very attentive once he found out who this unexpected customer was, fussing over Marcus, offering him a cup of tea and apologising that he’d have to wait until Mr Redway had finished with his first client.

Accepting the offer of tea, Marcus went across to a hard, upright chair by the window and sank down on it with a sigh of relief. He was stupidly weak still and probably ought to be resting, only there seemed to be too many problems to sort out and no one but him to do that.

Twenty minutes later he was shown in to see Redway, whom he recognised vaguely, a sprightly gentleman with silver hair, probably in his mid-sixties.

Justin gestured to a chair. “I suppose you’ve come about the will.”

“Well, my aunt’s maid suggested I see you, because someone has to sort things out and I seem to be the only one left.”

“Yes. She wrote to you about Lawrence dying, I believe?”

“So she says, but the letter never reached me, I’m afraid. I came home yesterday to find my aunt in bed and the Hall very run down. My aunt went into hysterics at the mere sight of me and when I spoke to Gladys, who now seems to be acting as cook, she said the tradesmen hadn’t been paid for a while. Obviously there are financial problems so I wondered if there was anything I could do to help.”

“Hmm. So you’re not aware of how things have been left?”

Marcus shook his head.

“Well, the fact is your cousin Lawrence left everything to you, with the proviso that you provide a home for your aunt and look after her until she dies.”

“Me?
But—Lawrence and I didn’t get on. He was older than me and used to bully me unmercifully when I was little. I thought he’d have left everything to one of the relatives he does like.”

“There aren’t many others left now, well not close ones, anyway, and most of them are elderly and—disapproving.”

“Of what?”

“His gambling. Lawrence realised he wouldn’t make old bones after being gassed so he made a will. He said—” Justin broke off and shrugged. “Well, that’s not relevant now.”

“You may as well tell me everything.”

The other gave him a wry smile. “Well, Lawrence said it’d serve you right if he died before his mother and you were lumbered with her as well as a pile of debts. She was upset about his gambling, tried to get him to stop.”

Marcus drew a deep breath. This was getting worse by the minute. “Oh. Did he gamble locally?”

“Oh, yes. He could always find himself a game.”

“Who with?”

Justin hesitated. “It’s only hearsay.”

“Tell me.”

“Fellow called Fleming, another called Hammerton. They’re the two ringleaders. They use the private rooms at the Gentlemen’s Club for it, I gather. The war didn’t stop them. The Government couldn’t ration gambling, after all. Your aunt even confronted Fleming in the street once, haranguing him, though what good she thought that would do, I don’t know. He’s not a man to antagonise.”

“I don’t remember much about him.”

“Shrewd fellow, made a lot of money in the war.”

“But you don’t sound as if you like him?”

Justin shrugged. “I don’t have much to do with him, except when I try to get a bit of justice for his tenants.” He waited a moment, then added, “So there you are, proud owner of the Hall.”

“I’m not sure I even want the place. Perhaps there’s someone else it could go to? I was thinking of selling the Lodge and going out to Australia, actually, because I fancy living in a sunnier climate.”

Justin grimaced. “I’m afraid you can’t legally turn down the bequest. The Hall is yours whether you want it or not, and if you don’t look after things, what will happen to your aunt? She needs caring for, hasn’t been well lately, I’m afraid. She’s had a hard time of it over the past decade. Your uncle mismanaged things and they had to sell off most of the land. If your cousin had lived much longer, there’d have been nothing left for you to inherit, but if you’re careful, you may be able to turn things round. There’s still the home farm and a few cottages bringing in rents, plus one or two investments.”

“Hell and damnation!” Marcus couldn’t bear to sit still for a minute longer and went across to stare out of the window, grateful when Justin left him in peace for a few moments. He felt helpless as well as angry because you couldn’t abandon an elderly relative to her fate or walk away from the family inheritance, and Lawrence had damned well known it. After taking a minute or two longer to calm down, he turned round and limped back to his chair. “You’d better give me all the details.”

“I don’t know everything yet. But I’ll tell you what I’ve found out so far . . . ”

When he left the lawyer’s rooms, Marcus carried a box crammed with papers and his head was spinning with figures. He’d authorised Redway to obtain statements from the various tradesmen of bills unpaid and until he knew the total, he couldn’t do much.

As he walked slowly down the lane to the river, he felt as if he’d had a heavy burden placed on his shoulders, not an inheritance.

Vic looked up as he limped across to the cab, gave him one of those shrewd, intelligent looks that seemed to be so much a part of the man. “Bad news, sir?”

Marcus nodded and stood clutching the box. He couldn’t think of this man as an inferior, not after playing with him as a lad. And certainly not after fighting with chaps like him, seeing their bravery, listening to their hopes and fears, holding their hands when they were dying. “Not good news, well,
I
don’t think so, anyway. I’ve been left the Hall, together with the responsibility of providing for my aunt, but there are debts so things aren’t going to be easy. I may even have to sell up to pay off the creditors. I’m coming back to see Mr Redway after I’ve thought things over and we’ll do some proper planning then.”

His companion gave him a twisted smile. “I wouldn’t mind your problems, nonetheless. You’ll have a fine house to live in, so you’ve at least got somewhere to bring a bride.”

“I’ve no intention of marrying until I’ve cleared up the mess at the Hall. I haven’t had much chance to meet eligible young women in the past year or two, and anyway, this will probably put many of them off.” Marcus indicated his scarred cheek.

“Shouldn’t think so. Decent women don’t care about things like that.”

“What do they care about? Money? I shan’t be rich, either.” He smiled and turned up his face to the winter sun for a moment. “Ah, I suppose you’re right. I’m lucky really. It’s just—I was going to sell up and go out to Australia, so I’m feeling a bit disappointed.”

“Too hot for me out there, I reckon, from what I’ve heard. Besides ...”  Vic looked across the river towards the blue-green outlines of the moors in the distance, “ . .. this is home.”

“Where did you serve?”

“Mostly in France.”

“Rank?”

Vic hesitated, then said, “Sergeant. They were going to send me to officer school last year, but this happened and I got discharged instead.” He gestured towards his leg.

“You must have done well.”

The other shrugged. “I did my duty, we all did. What choice did we have?”

“They didn’t promote just anyone. My cousin Lawrence remained a lieutenant for years, right until he was invalided out. And look, I’d prefer it if you stopped calling me sir from now on. After what we’ve both been through, such distinctions seem stupid to me. We were always Vic and Marcus when we were lads, let’s keep it that way?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” At the other’s nod of agreement, he added, “I’ve a proposition to make you, Vic, and a job offer of sorts. It’d bring in more than driving a cab and there’d be living quarters with it.”

“I’m very interested in that, sir—I mean, Marcus.”

“Good. Let’s find some tea rooms and get something to eat and drink. I’m ravenous this morning.”

They left the horse and cab in the charge of an old man, whose eyes brightened at the offer of a shilling for minding them, and went up to Yorkshire Road to Tinsley’s only tea room.

Marcus leaned back in his chair. “I’m ravenous. Haven’t been so hungry for weeks, actually.”

“Well, they’ll only be small scones,” Vic warned him. “Rationing, you know. There’s a fixed size to what this place can serve with morning tea, one and a half ounces of bread or cake, not both. I found out when I got back that they feed the troops much better than they do the civilians.”

“Then how the hell do I get a decent meal?”

“We’ll go and register you with the grocer and butcher—they did give you a ration book when you left the convalescent home, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll buy some food and take it back to Pearl’s mother. Mrs Diggle will cook it for you and make it spin out. It’s not a meatless day today—Wednesday and Fridays, those are outside London—so you may be able to get something at the butcher’s.”

A surly waitress brought their food and slopped away again in shoes that seemed too loose. They were the only customers at the moment, so could talk freely.

“About this offer of yours . . . ” Vic prompted.

“I’m not sure of the details yet, but I’m definitely going to need help. You can tell me what you’d consider a suitable wage—I have some money of my own saved so you needn’t be afraid I won’t be able to pay you—and I can offer you and Pearl accommodation at the Hall. God knows, there are enough rooms there gathering dust. It’s one thing I have plenty of—space. If I move into the Hall, I can rent out the Lodge and that’ll bring in something. If Pearl could help out in the house as well and I’d pay her the going wage.”

“What would I be doing exactly?”

Marcus spread his hands wide in an admission of uncertainty. “Anything and everything. And so will I, once I’ve recovered. Part of the time you could ply your trade with the cab. There’s be some physical work, even digging in the garden if necessary, though not as much of that at this time of year. Then you could drive me around. Who knows what else? It won’t be like the old days of being in service, I promise you, we’d be working as a team. I couldn’t treat a fellow soldier as an inferior, or a woman who’s worked in munitions either.”

Vic’s face creased into a grin and he held out his hand. “I accept your offer, Marcus.”

As the two men solemnly shook hands, he added, “Sounds more interesting than driving a cab, which means a lot of hanging around, and to be frank I get bored. It was all I could think of to do, though, because Pearl won’t move away from Horton. Fond of her family, she is. And well, I’d do anything to keep her.”

“Which reminds me, there’s plenty of room in the stables for your horse and the cab too, if you’ve bought it.”

“Good. I won’t have to pay for stabling then. If there’s a vehicle in the stables for getting around in, I could maybe sell the cab.” His expression grew thoughtful. “Or even I’ll let someone else pay me to use it. There won’t be a lot of petrol available for a while yet, so we can’t get a motor car, which would be the best form of transport.” When Marcus said nothing, Vic looked sideways, wondering if he’d taken too much on himself. But his companion was smiling at him.

“I can see I picked the right man to work with me. Any ideas you get, trot them out, Vic lad. Any profits they lead to, we’ll share. Nothing like a team for getting things done.”

For the first time since his return, Marcus experienced a feeling of hope and a sense that he wasn’t alone, that he could make a decent future for himself. “Right then, let’s go and buy some food and on the way back, we can visit your young woman’s mother.”

They both stood up and without another word being needed, turned and left the tea room, Marcus paying. He stood for a minute or two in Yorkshire Road, looking along it at the shops, the small, square three-storey Town Hall, with the major bank next to it, and beyond them the comfortable villas of the better-off folk. He was glad this place hadn’t changed too much.

* * * *

The day after her birthday Serena put on her new black mourning clothes, pulling the felt hat down to an unflattering angle and fastening the belt loosely around her waist instead of fashionably above it. Since she had deliberately had the skirt made too long, the outfit was unflattering, even worse with the full-skirted top coat she’d chosen, which was very bulky and came down to six inches above the skirt. She nodded approval of her reflection and went down to tell Cook she was going shopping. In reality she intended to look for a lawyer of her own.

It was only now she’d turned thirty that her godmother’s will allowed her to have full control over her inheritance, and she was nervous about what she was doing, terrified of word getting back to her father before she’d moved out
.
No, she had to stop calling him that—he wasn’t her father, thank goodness! Fleming, that’s what she’d call him, though not to his face.

In such a small Lancashire town, there weren’t many lawyers to choose from. She couldn’t use the family lawyer, so intended to consult a man whose premises were just off the main street. She’d met him socially and he’d seemed quite friendly.

He greeted her with a smile. “What can I do for you, Miss Fleming?”

“I need a lawyer.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “But surely you already have a family lawyer—Pearson?”

“I need my own lawyer to help me deal with my inheritance.”

“Does your father know you’re here?”

“No. This has nothing to do with him.”

“Then it ought to. I suggest you go home and ask
him
to help you with your inheritance. It’s most unsuitable for you to be going to strangers about this when your own father is a respected businessman in this town.”

“But—”

“And anyway, I’m rather busy at present, can’t take on any new clients. Let me show you out.”