Chapter Eight
TO HER RELIEF, Hetty realized that Connor hadn’t overheard her conversation, so she wouldn’t have to explain it. He put the box of bottles on a chair, there being no space left on the table.
‘So, how was Samuel?’ asked Hetty, before he could ask her about the phone call, or tell her about the bank.
‘Ah.’ He paused, pushed back his hair and bit his lip. ‘The jury’s out on Samuel, I’m afraid. As you probably know, he came through his operation all right. But he’s not making the progress they’d like.’
Much as Hetty thought. ‘Was he pleased to see you?’
‘Not particularly.’ He gave a quick grin. ‘But he was glad I was here to keep an eye on the place.’
‘But he knew I was here.’ Hetty was indignant.
‘I know. But he felt it was a bit much, expecting you to live here on your own.’
‘He seemed quite happy for me to live here on my own when there was no choice!’ Hetty furiously muttered, grinding coffee beans in the hand-operated grinder she’d finally unearthed.
‘But now there is a choice . . .’
‘You mean, he wants me to go?’
‘No. He just wants me to stay. With you.’
Hetty poured boiling water into the coffee jug to warm it. ‘But what about the house? Is he going to be well enough to come home or not?’
‘As I said, the jury’s out. But talking of the house, Hetty . . .’ He fixed her with a stare that made her heart sink.
‘What?’
‘I saw the bank managers – both of them. And I found out about a lot you should have told me.’
Hetty felt herself redden. ‘Oh.’
‘The first one told me the extent of Samuel’s overdraft, which was bad enough. He then told me you paid the house insurance with a cheque from another bank.’
‘Oh?’
‘Having discovered which bank it was, I went on to learn that you had the power to sign cheques up to the value of two thousand pounds.’ He emphasized the words. ‘And that you had already used up a large proportion of the money in the account.’
‘Oh’ did not seem an adequate response this time. ‘Well, I don’t know how you got all that information out of them. I could hardly get them to admit Samuel had an account.’
‘What did you spend the money on, Hetty? If I find that you’ve been rewiring the house, decorating, playing about, with Samuel’s money . . .’
Hetty had unconsciously started to huddle in her chair. ‘I used the money to have the phone put back on and for the loan.’
‘What loan?’
‘The loan Samuel took out with a moneylender, presumably to have the roof done.’ She spoke very quietly and kept her eyes shut.
Connor’s voice was hardly any more audible. ‘What?’
Hetty opened her eyes. ‘Didn’t you notice? The roof at the back part of the house has been repaired –’
‘Do you think I’m blind? Of course I knew about the roof being fixed, but I didn’t know about any loan to pay for it. What are the terms and conditions?’
‘I don’t know, I’m waiting for them to tell me.’
Connor turned away abruptly. ‘How did you find out about it?’
‘I opened Samuel’s post. He’d been late with a payment. As I had the chequebook and limited power of attomey, I made it. A few days later I got a letter, addressed to me, not Samuel, warning me about penalties and about the loan having to be paid by the due date. I wrote back asking them to tell me what these were. I haven’t heard yet.’
Connor swore, under his breath at first, but as his anxiety grew, so did his volume.
‘So you didn’t know anything about it?’ Hetty said, when at last he’d stopped.
‘Of course I didn’t. Do you think I’d have let him get involved with loan sharks? Why didn’t he ask me for the money for the roof?’
It was a rhetorical question, but Hetty felt she had the answer. ‘Could it be that he thought you wouldn’t want to lend him money to spend on the house, knowing your feelings about it?’
Connor brought his fists up to his head. ‘Surely he couldn’t have thought I wouldn’t have lent him the money?’
‘Perhaps he thought you wouldn’t have that sort of money to lend?’
Connor uncovered his face. ‘He may well have been right. He knows I’ve been working hard to pay for my damn car. If only I’d known he’d do this, I would never have bought the bloody thing.’
Hetty was starting to feel sorry for Connor. ‘Well, you can’t read people’s minds.’
‘You’ve got a better chance of doing so if you’re there.’
‘And I’m sure he wouldn’t want you not to have a car.’
He gave her a glowering look under his brows. ‘There are cars and cars. Mine was particularly expensive.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Hetty murmured very quietly. ‘It doesn’t show.’
He glared at her but didn’t react. ‘That settles it. The sooner I sell the property the better.’
‘No!’
She got the full force of his piercing gaze. ‘Then what do you suggest?’
Hetty took a breath. ‘Look, I know this has all come as a great shock to you, but I’ve had time to think things over. I reckon – hope – we could keep up the payments on what we earn from the house.’
‘How are we going to pay off the capital when we don’t even know how much it is?’
‘I think we’re already doing that. Given the size of the payments, if it was only interest we were paying he would have had to borrow enough to have the house completely renovated. And – unless he’s spent it on something else – he hasn’t.’
‘But you don’t know for sure? Why didn’t you try and find out?’
‘I didn’t like to. It seemed like prying.’
Connor tutted at her scruples and together they went through Samuel’s desk, drawer by drawer, until they found a bill for the roof. It was a comparatively small amount. Mystified, they hunted some more until they found the original loan agreement.
Connor whistled. ‘Fucking extortionists.’
‘Why do you think he borrowed so much, when the roof bill isn’t half that?’
‘Look at the rates of interest. He borrowed enough to make most of the payments, but not quite all.’
‘But why?’ Hetty studied the paper again, as if it would tell her. ‘It doesn’t make sense to borrow money you can’t repay in full. Making a few payments won’t help much.’
‘I’m sure he knows that. But I don’t think he thought he’d need to worry about it.’
‘What do you mean?’ Hetty sat on the floor, surrounded by paper. She was developing a headache.
Connor glanced at the letter in his hand. ‘The final payment is due on the third of June. I expect he thought, by then, it would be my problem, not his.’
Hetty massaged her scalp. ‘I still don’t understand.’
‘Poor Samuel. He obviously decided he’d make it through the spring, but die before midsummer.’ Hetty groaned. ‘He knew he was ill,’ Connor went on. ‘Thought he was dying, and wouldn’t go to the doctor until I dragged him.’
‘Oh, poor Samuel.’
‘And now he’s had his operation, he should last for years. If he wasn’t so depressed.’
‘And the reason he’s so depressed is worrying about this loan?’
Connor nodded. ‘Probably.’ Hetty buried her face in her hands so she could think. ‘What a choice,’ said Connor. ‘I could sell the house now and break his heart, or wait until he’s worried himself into an early grave and then sell it.’
Hetty looked up. ‘That’s not the only way out, you know.’
‘No. I can sell that damn car –’
‘Forget the car! Concentrate on the house! It’s beautiful, it’s interesting, it could attract hundreds of visitors. I’ve already got some woman wanting her ruby wedding celebrations here. If we worked hard, we could make up the extra payments. We’ve got until the third of June.’
‘You know what the payments are. Do you really think the house can earn enough to make up the shortfall?’
‘This is no time to think! This is the time to feel, to hope, to work. If we fail, and the house has to go in the end, at least Samuel will know we’ve done our damnedest. And even if we don’t quite make it, we could ask them to reschedule. Hell! If we were a going concern we could get a proper overdraft and pay off the loan that way! You’re so defeatist!’
‘Am I? Well you’re living in cloud-cuckoo-land.’
‘Maybe, but at least I’m not doing the next best thing to giving Samuel a lethal injection! Tell him you know about the loan! Tell him you’ve got it all in hand, and that we can pay it off, at least he won’t die of despondency!’
‘It would be a lie.’
‘No! Not a lie, more . . .’ she searched for the right words, ‘. . . an over-optimistic speculation. You don’t know we can’t do it, any more than I know we can. But we both know we can try. And with the village behind us, we’ve got a good chance of success.’
‘Oh – the village. With Mrs Hempstead on our side, how can we fail?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.
‘How indeed? But even if we do fail, at least we won’t have lain down in the mud to let ourselves be trampled to death by property developers.’
Something like a smile disturbed the severity of Connor’s expression. ‘Count me out. I still think we should cut our losses and sell.’
‘And break Samuel’s heart?’
‘Hearts don’t break that easily.’
‘No, they don’t,’ said Hetty, who was an authority. ‘But they do get dented, and I don’t think he could take much of that at his time of life.’
Connor sighed. ‘Luckily for you, nor do I. But don’t expect any help from me. I intend to tackle the problem a different way.’
‘But you won’t actually obstruct us?’
‘Not unless I have to. But I really don’t want Samuel’s private financial business being the talk of the village. So please don’t tell anyone about the loan.’ Hetty nodded. ‘But you have to promise to tell me everything I might need to know, not to lie to me.’
Hetty nodded. ‘Not unless I have to.’
‘If I find you have,’ he went on in the same, calm voice, ‘I will be extremely annoyed.’
Hetty resolved not to annoy him unless she really couldn’t help it. It wasn’t likely to be a pleasant experience.
After lunch, which Connor made, scorning Hetty’s offer of help, he disappeared upstairs with his laptop. Hetty cleared up and then set off with the dogs to see Peter. She would feel reasonably confident about seeing Alistair again with Peter at her side. As the songs all went, she was no longer the frightened little girl she had been when they’d parted. It may not have been long since that terrible moming but, in terms of experience, she was years older.
Peter was, as usual, pleased to see her. ‘Come in. Have you come for sanctuary from that oaf?’
Hetty felt instantly defensive of Connor. ‘He’s not that bad. And he’s said I can do whatever I need to to get the house open.’
‘Big of him. To whose advantage is that, I wonder?’
‘Well, not his. When Samuel dies, he’s planning to have the house knocked down.’
Peter dropped the kettle he had just filled. ‘What!’
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ she asked in a small voice, realizing she hadn’t meant to.
‘No you didn’t! Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Like that you and he are having an affair? Any little detail like that?’
‘There’s no need to be angry, really. I only didn’t tell you – immediately – because I hoped I might be able to talk him out of it.’
‘That’s asking rather a lot, even of your powers of persuasion, isn’t it?’
‘Not really. I mean – yes – you don’t understand.’ And, as she didn’t plan to tell him about the loan, understanding would be difficult. She took a deep breath and prepared to be economical with the truth. ‘He went to see Samuel today. Connor’s plans for the house depend on how well Samuel’s recovering.’
‘Oh – and how is he recovering?’
‘Not as well as they’d hoped. But he’s not dying either, so we’ve got a bit of time.’
‘So, what did the Barbarian agree to?’
‘That I can carry on with my plans until we know. If Samuel’s going to recover, everything will be all right, at least until he dies, then God knows. But if he isn’t going to come home, well, Connor says there’s no point in doing anything to the house.’
‘I see. Calling him a Barbarian doesn’t even begin to sum him up, does it?’
‘I really don’t want this getting out, Peter – about pulling down the house. I told Caroline –’
‘You told Caroline when you don’t want it getting out! Put your secret in the local paper, why don’t you?’
‘I didn’t mean to tell her. I was upset at the time. I swore her to secrecy.’ Peter snorted. ‘But I don’t want the village knowing. Not when it’s only a vague plan.’
‘They’ll lynch him. Or resurrect the stocks.’
‘Can’t have that,’ said Hetty primly. ‘Think of the scandal.’
Peter regarded her ruefully, his head slightly on one side, his anger dissipating. He mopped up the spilled water and refilled the kettle. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you. I was upset.’
‘Of course you were. So was I. I’m still hoping – I mean, he’s not totally unreasonable – that I may make him see what a horrible idea selling the site is.’
‘Well, don’t feel obliged to sleep with him to make your point.’ He held up a soothing hand. ‘Only joking. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that.’
Hetty was just about to complain about Peter being possessive when she realized that she needed him on her side. He handed her a cup of tea she didn’t want, and she smiled, gratefully.
‘Changing the subject, Peter, well sort of, we might have a booking for a ruby wedding sometime soon. I gather it would be a very plush affair; could earn us thousands. Well, one thousand, possibly more.’
‘That’s good. Biscuit?’
She shook her head. ‘The thing is, I’ve got to be briefed about it. At a dinner party.’
‘That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes, but the woman’s some connection of my mother’s and she feels obliged to entertain me. She knows I’m on my own here . . . and things. It’s what my mother’s told her.’
‘I see.’
‘The thing is, and it’s really the most ghastly coincidence, she let it slip just as we were ringing off that Alistair is going to be there.’
‘Alistair?’
‘Yes, you know, the one who – behaved so badly. You must have known . . .’
‘Yes, vaguely. You mentioned having a broken heart when we first met.’
‘So I did. When I so didn’t want people to know, too. But anyway, Alistair’s him. And he’s going to be at this dinner party.’ She closed her eyes. ‘And I wondered whether you would possibly come with me to it.’
‘When is it?’
‘A week next Thursday.’
‘Hetty, I’m terribly sorry, but I’m away all that week. I’m putting in a kitchen in Shropshire.’
This was awful – awful and totally unexpected. ‘Couldn’t you come back for the evening?’
‘It’s an awfully long way.’ He regarded her sadly, his brown eyes compassionate but unrelenting. It flashed into Hetty’s mind that it was the way dentists look when they tell you that you need a little filling, and that it won’t hurt, much.
Hetty frantically tried to think of ways of persuading him to undertake a round trip of a hundred miles or so to take her to a dinner party. Ripping off three layers of clothing to reveal a greying bra probably wouldn’t do it. And Peter fancied her. If she couldn’t make Peter do a little thing like that for her, how did she even dare to hope that she might be capable of changing Connor’s mind about the house?
‘Listen, it is terribly, terribly important that I don’t go alone.’
‘Caroline would go with you.’
‘Yes, but when I asked if I could bring a friend Mrs Makepiece said it had to be a man. She’s spent long enough getting her numbers even.’
‘How ridiculous. Who is this woman?’
‘One with a lot of money to spend on a party, at Courtbridge House.’
‘There’s no need to prostitute yourself, Hetty. The money’s not that important.’
Hetty wanted to throw her mug at him. ‘It’s very important now. Even more important than it was before.’ Hetty wished she could tell Peter exactly why. ‘If we can show Connor that money’s coming in, fairly regularly, that the place is a going concern –’
‘But it’s not, is it?’
‘Not yet, no! But we could make it one.’ If only I wasn’t surrounded by negative, nit-picking, no-I-can’t-take-you-to-a-dinner-party sort of people.
‘I’m sure we could.’ Now he was being soothing. Hetty wanted to throw something even more. ‘But you going with someone to this dinner party isn’t going to make a difference either way.’
Hetty licked her lips, sipped her tea. ‘It’ll make a difference to me.’
Peter shook his head. ‘I’m very sorry. I wish I could help. But I’m afraid this time I can’t. You know I’d do anything for you, within reason.’ He didn’t need to add that this request didn’t qualify.
It was hopeless. If she’d had to go to hospital he would have found a way of taking her. The trouble was, he was a man, so he didn’t see the occasion as important. She debated having one more go, but decided against it. It was very bad for her confidence, failing to get someone who was very fond of her, if not actually in love with her, to drive a few hundred miles and spend a boring evening, just for her.
She smiled stiffly. ‘That’s OK, Peter. I know you’d help if you could. I’ll ask Caroline. She’s bound to know any number of presentable men who would go with me. I would just rather it was you, that’s all.’ She looked sadly down into her mug and hoped he felt a pang of guilt.
Conveniently, Caroline was at Courtbridge House when Hetty got home. She was charming away at Connor in the kitchen as if he wasn’t the man who planned to sell his birthright, desecrate his heritage, and offend every conservation group in the country.
Connor was doing his share of charming, his crooked smile revealing his crooked teeth, under his crooked nose. You could write a nursery rhyme about him, thought Hetty, and then remembered that somebody already had. But it was amazing how much good humour improved people. Connor would never be handsome, but he was almost attractive when he smiled.
‘Hi!’ said Hetty brightly, hiding her resentment at their obvious pleasure in each other’s company, highlighted by her recent failure with Peter. ‘What are you two gassing about?’
‘This and that,’ said Caroline.
‘Samuel,’ said Connor.
‘No more news, is there? You haven’t had a phone call?’ Hetty felt her heart dip, and a second later felt remorse as she realized it wasn’t only Samuel’s health she was worried about – she had selfish reasons of her own for wishing him better.
Connor shook his head. ‘No. No need to get worked up. Is there a decent-sized saucepan to be found anywhere? I want to make some stock.’
Hetty was fairly sure she’d sold the only really big saucepan. ‘Have a look in that cupboard at the end,’ she suggested, merely because that cupboard was furthest away and she wanted him out of earshot. ‘Caroline, you wouldn’t be an angel and come up and look at the bedroom with me? The one with the four-poster I want to open to the public?’ She jerked her head towards the door as people do when they want to speak to someone privately, but don’t want to tell the whole room.
‘Oh!’ Caroline was not slow on the uptake. ‘Having trouble with your SNAG?’ She spoke very quietly, but not quietly enough.
‘Her what?’ demanded Connor, straightening up.
There was a moment’s pause while both women independently wondered if there was a lie they could get away with, and then Caroline decided that there wasn’t. ‘Sensitive New Age Guy.’
‘Actually, it’s just the sheets that are bothering me,’ said Hetty. ‘Should we have antique linen, or won’t they show under the quilt?’
‘It depends who’s going to wash them, Hetty,’ said Connor. ‘If Peter’s going to do it, I’d stick to polycotton. They’ll need changing fairly often, I imagine. You don’t want the poor chap up all night ironing.’
Hetty closed her eyes for a moment. ‘As usual, Connor, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m talking about the bedroom upstairs. Peter’s sheets are no concern of mine.’
‘Oh, a lovers’ tiff? I’m so sorry.’
Hetty stalked out of the room, trusting that Caroline would follow. How could he get it so wrong and so right, both at the same time?
‘Well,’ said Caroline, when they reached the bedroom, ‘is it sheets, or is it Peter?’
‘Well, it’s both, really. But Peter is the more urgent.’
‘Why? What’s he done?’
‘It’s what he’s not going to do. I’ve been invited to a dinner party, and I absolutely have to take a man with me.’
‘Oh, why?’
‘Because Alistair is going to be there.’
‘Holy Shit!’ said Caroline, forgetting her alter ego as Brown Owl.
‘I asked Peter and he’s working and won’t come. Do you know anyone I could take?’
‘You mean, anyone single, trustworthy and half decent-looking?’
‘If possible.’
‘Well, yes, I do. But you’re not going to like it.’
‘Why not? Who do you know like that, who I know too?’
Caroline turned round. ‘Conan the Barbarian.’
Hetty closed her eyes. ‘You have got to be kidding. Lying too. He is not half decent-looking.’
‘He’s not handsome, but he doesn’t need to be. He’s gorgeous being ugly.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Well, don’t you? I mean, I know his nose is crooked, and he’s got that little scar on his upper lip, and his hair wants cutting. Stuff like that. But he’s got bags of sex appeal. Surely even a broken-hearted woman can see that?’
‘Caroline, I would rather die than go with him, even if he’d take me. You know how he’s always making embarrassing remarks, he’d have an absolute field-day.’
Caroline shrugged. ‘If Jack were home, I’d lend him to you. But if Peter won’t go with you, I don’t see you’ve got a choice. Unless you’d like me to ring round the Brownie dads and ask them?’
Hetty began to smile in spite of herself. ‘You could offer a badge for it. A little picture of a man in a dinner-jacket with a woman in a long dress on his arm. The Escort badge.’
Caroline nodded. ‘It could fit right in between Hostess and House Orderly. But seriously, I’d do that if you wanted me to, but I can’t think of anyone remotely suitable. There’s Alan Brewster at the shop, I suppose. But as he gets up at five in the morning, it hardly seems fair to ask him.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it!’ Hetty was horrified. ‘But are you sure there’s no one else? You must have loads of suitable friends.’
‘No one who lives remotely locally. And their wives are my friends too. Some of them might not be too keen on lending their husbands to an attractive young woman.’
‘Oh, come off it!’
‘You come off it, darling. You just come downstairs now and ask Connor. If he says no, we’ll think again.’ She hesitated. ‘You couldn’t possibly not go yourself?’
‘I wish. But no. The hostess is planning to have her fortieth wedding anniversary here. She wants to tell me about it and, as she’s a sort of friend of my mother’s, wants to offer me hospitality. Besides . . .’ She paused. ‘If I don’t go, Alistair is bound to find out I was invited, and he’s bound to think I couldn’t face him.’
‘And can you?’
‘Yes, but not alone.’
‘Right,’ said Caroline. ‘What about Connor? Do you want to face him alone, or shall I stay?’
‘No. He’s bound to be embarrassing, and it’ll be better without an audience.’
She waited until that evening when they had eaten the lamb chops, new potatoes and green beans, which he cooked perfectly, followed by the chocolate souffle, ditto. Hetty was beginning to understand how some women felt disenfranchised by men who cooked.
‘You go and sit down in front of the fire. I’ll make coffee,’ she suggested.
He gave her a strange look. ‘Why, what is it you want to ask me?’
‘Just because I offered to make coffee . . .’
‘Well?’
‘I’ve got to go to a dinner party, and I really need someone to go with me.’
‘Why? Don’t you like driving at night?’
She didn’t, particularly. ‘It’s not that, it’s just . . . someone is going to be there –’
‘Ah. The ex-boyfriend.’
‘Just what do you know about him?’
‘Only what you’ve told me.’
‘But I haven’t said a word about him!’
‘That’s how I knew he’d hurt you very badly.’
‘Yes, well, he did. And for various reasons, I can’t face seeing him on my own.’
‘Pride?’
‘That, and other things.’ She didn’t want to go into what had happened to Alistair’s car, or explain why he might present her with a huge bill.
‘Presumably you’ve asked Peter?’
‘He’s fitting a kitchen somewhere.’ Hetty’s tone made it clear where she’d like to fit his kitchen.
‘And there’s no one else you can possibly ask?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I really wish I could help. But I don’t want to.’ Hetty closed her eyes. Why did she ever think he would put himself out for her? He didn’t need her – probably found her a nuisance – why should he drive thirty miles there and back to be bored out of his skull for an evening? ‘On the other hand, I can’t let you face this bastard on your own, so I’ll come.’
‘How do you know he was a bastard?’
‘He let you down, didn’t he?’