A Place of Hope (12 page)

‘Oh, no! Most of our clothes are inside. And our other things, including your computer. Do you think she’s here?’

‘No. We’ll have to break a window and— Look at that!’ He pointed to the new security system, silver lines edging all the windows. ‘She
has
been busy!’

Marcia walked along the front of the house. ‘There’s a note for you stuck to the inside of this window, George. Didn’t you see it?’

‘No, I damned well didn’t.’ He went to stare at the piece of paper, which said in large letters:

To George Pilby

Information about your possessions has been left at Number Five.

O. Tapton, lawyer
.

He cursed and hurled the useless front door key into the flower bed, red rage filling him.

‘George, calm down.
George!
’

It took him a few minutes to do that. It always did on the rare occasions when he got into one of his rages.

‘What do you think your aunt’s going to do now?’ Marcia asked once he was breathing steadily again.

‘I don’t know. But I intend to find out. Damnation! Of all the times for us to be away on a stupid holiday. And now they’ve locked up my computer somewhere! I told you I should have taken it with me.’

‘You’d never have stopped playing with it, if you had. I wanted a real holiday for once.’

He didn’t answer, was staring in through the front window.

After a while, Marcia ventured, ‘We should go across to see Phil Teddington, George. The note says information has been left with him. We need to find out what they’ve done with our things.’

‘I’ll do that. You wait for me in the car.’ He marched across the street and came back a few minutes later brandishing an envelope.

After getting into the car, he opened it with his usual meticulous care, unpeeling the stick-down flap bit by bit and easing the letter out carefully. After reading the single page, he passed it to his wife, then sat scowling into space.

She read it quickly and waited for him to speak. But he didn’t. After a few minutes, she said, ‘George?’ She had to repeat it before he turned to look at her.

‘What?’

‘We need to find somewhere to stay tonight before we do anything else. I don’t want to go back to your mother’s. Her spare room is far too small.’

‘We’re definitely not going there. I don’t want her involved in this. We’ll find a hotel for tonight and think about what to do.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s too late to get our things out of storage today.’

‘Where shall we go?’

‘What does it matter? We just need to find somewhere nearby for tonight.’

She knew then that he was seriously upset. He was usually very attentive to his own comfort when staying in a hotel. And to hers.

She continued to wait. There were times when it was best just to let George get things out of his system.

He didn’t drive away immediately. ‘I’m not letting this go, Marcia. It’s got too much . . . potential.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m bloody sure.’

He still didn’t start the car and sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘What I don’t understand is why she’s got herself a lawyer from Lancashire, of all places. I know she’s inherited that old house, but why not get a lawyer from near where she lives to look after things for her? Or perhaps this guy has taken over and is telling her what to do. Yes, that’ll be it. He intends to feather his own nest. Him and that bitch next door.’

Marcia looked across at the house. ‘It’s such a waste. It doesn’t look as if Emily’s going to be staying here at all.’

‘No. I bet she’s gone up north with him.’

He glared at the house next door. ‘If that bitch’s car is still there tonight, I’ll make her sorry.’

‘What for?’

‘She’s the only one who could have arranged all this. That’s why she went to see my aunt in hospital.’

As they pulled up at a hotel, he said grimly, ‘At least we know where my aunt’s lawyer is. And where that place she’s inherited is. We’ll find him easily enough. And her, too.’

She looked at him in alarm. ‘You’re not going after her? George, no. Leave her in peace now.’

‘I shall leave her in peace after I’ve taken charge of the land she’s inherited. That’s the important thing, to maximize the profit from selling it.’

‘It’s not our land!’

He gave one of his sneering smiles. ‘No. But I’m going to look after her business matters, as I do for my mother. Wait and see. I’ll pull Emily into line.’

‘George, please don’t.’

He gave her one of his scornful looks. ‘Do you realize how valuable that land is? Several million at least. What’s she going to do with that much money at her age? She’s never been a spender.’

‘Nor have you.’

‘Only because I have nothing to spend. One day I will have. One day you and I will live in style, Marcia. And my aunt is the key. Her inheritance makes my mother’s money look like small change.’

She looked at him doubtfully.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll be careful what I do. I won’t rush into anything.’

Emily woke with a start as the car stopped. She realized she was holding Chad’s hand – again. He was still asleep, so she squeezed his fingers gently to wake him.

When he began to stir, she let go reluctantly and stretched her stiff body. She wasn’t even sure he knew they’d been holding hands.

He smiled at her. ‘You held my hand even in your sleep.’

So he had known. She was glad and blurted out without thinking, ‘I find it comforting.’

He reached out to stroke her cheek with the tip of one finger. ‘Ditto. You and I have been through some difficult times together, haven’t we?’

‘Yes. But we’re starting to put our lives to rights now.’

‘I hope so. There’s a lot still to sort out. And we can get to know one another better as we do it. I’m sure I’ll remember some more about myself.’

She wished she could find a way to help him with that; knew how it galled him not to know who he really was. But what he remembered was in the lap of the gods. What the two of them did from now on was in their own hands. ‘Where are we?’

Oliver spoke from the front seat. ‘I’ve stopped at the motorway services. I thought we could all do with a comfort break and something to eat. We might be able to buy some food here as well, enough to manage on till you can do some proper shopping.’

‘If I know Rachel, she’ll be bringing plenty of food. She got into the habit of that when her son and his family were still living in England. She’s brilliant. She can put a meal together at the drop of a hat. But you’re right, Oliver, we ought to buy a few necessities, in case she’s delayed.’

They didn’t linger long, grabbing sandwiches and a drink each, then stocking up on tea, coffee, milk, bread, butter, cheese, apples and jam, before setting off again.

Emily was feeling wide awake now and was looking forward to seeing her inheritance. ‘How long will it take us to get to Minkybridge from here, Oliver? And what’s it like? It’s such a strange name.’

‘No one knows where the first part of the name comes from, but there is a small bridge over a stream called Minky Brook. The place isn’t even a village, it’s barely a hamlet – there are a few scattered farms nearby, two rows of small labourers’ houses, and a small group of brash newer residences. One of which I live in.’

‘You don’t sound as if you like the newer houses.’

‘I don’t. But my wife said old houses were inconvenient and pokey, so we bought a new one. Minkybridge is outside Littleborough on the edge of the moors, just off the road to Todmorden. The older houses are mostly former handloom weavers’ cottages.
I
think they’re pretty, built of stone with a row of mullioned windows in the third floor to give light to the weavers in the old handloom days before the mills were built.’

‘You sound as if you love your history.’

‘I love the whole area, and yes, I’m fascinated by our local history. I’m just down the road from your aunt’s house and I often stroll along Minky Brook on fine summer evenings. You get some lovely views of Littleborough with Rochdale in the distance from there.’

‘Does the house I’ve been left have a weaver’s top floor?’

‘No. I’d have brought a photo of it, if things hadn’t happened so quickly. No one’s quite sure when the pub was first built, though perhaps we ought to call the earlier one an inn. It was for drovers bringing cattle and sheep to market and in the early days, they had a few small fields where customers could put their animals overnight. The land’s still there, which is why you have a developer interested in buying it.’

‘We do?’

‘Didn’t you get the letter about that? It’s Barton and Halling, a national company.’

‘No. George probably has it, and that’ll be why he’s so interested in taking over my business affairs.’ Emily sat fuming for a minute or two, then said, ‘Tell me more about the inn.’

He slowed down as traffic began to build up. ‘People crossing the moors to Todmorden often stopped there, not just drovers. When hiking became popular in the latter part of the nineteenth century, hikers used it, too, even more so in the 1920s and 30s. The old place continued to operate as a pub offering some basic accommodation right until a couple of decades ago.’

He sighed. ‘Not a lot of demand for it, though, and custom tailed off. Motor cars brought new people who were just out for the day, so they didn’t need to stay overnight. The locals used to patronize the bar. Some of the older men still complain about it closing. Actually, I agree with them there. I’d love to stroll up the hill for a pint in the evening.’

‘Perhaps we should reopen it.’

‘You’d not make much of a living and you’d have to work hard. Penelope closed the pub completely after her husband died. She said that sort of life was too hard for a woman on her own. Be warned, though. Hikers still knock on the door asking for refreshments. Penelope used to give them cups of tea, said she enjoyed the company. She was a feisty old dame. I was very fond of her.’

‘I liked her the few times I met her,’ Emily agreed. ‘Did she live there on her own?’

‘Yes. People worried about her safety, but she always used to say nothing bad would happen to her at The Drover’s Hope. And it didn’t. She died peacefully in bed of old age. Ninety-two, she was, and still looking after herself, apart from help with the shopping.’

‘Why did she leave the house to me? Do you know?’

‘I do, because I drew up the will. She said you were the only relative of your generation who didn’t suck up to her to get hold of the property and . . .’

‘And what?’

‘Well, this puzzled me, but she wouldn’t explain. She said you were the right person to have The Drover’s Hope. She said you’d bring the old place back to life again, that it’d give you hope and then you’d give hope to others. And I was to tell you that.’

‘I wonder what she meant.’

Chad was listening with great interest. ‘Sounds a fascinating inheritance. Was the old lady psychic?’

‘She had a way of foretelling what would happen sometimes, I must admit. I don’t really believe in the supernatural, but sometimes there are things which are hard to explain by logic.’

‘I believe there’s something beyond this life,’ Chad said quietly. ‘And I’ve sensed the presence of ghosts many times, particularly in very old buildings.’

Emily waited, but he didn’t go on, only sat frowning, so she asked casually, ‘Do you live in an older house, Chad?’

‘I have a flat, for convenience, but one day I’m going to live in the country.’ He stopped in shock. ‘Why couldn’t I remember that before?’

‘I should think when you stop trying too hard and relax, things will be more likely to come back to you,’ Emily said. ‘And perhaps your mind will work better now you’re away from that horrible geriatric unit. I know it used to make me feel terrible, as if the place was smothering me.’

‘I only remember the flat hazily, what my bedroom was like, for instance. I can’t remember the address or any useful details. Someone did such a thorough job of beating me up and removing all forms of identification, I have to wonder if they didn’t intend me to survive.’

‘You were beaten up that badly?’ Oliver sounded shocked.

‘Yes, I keep getting flashbacks about it.’ Chad grimaced. ‘Very painful flashbacks. Two men. I can remember some of my bank details as well – at least, I think I can remember which bank it is – but until I remember my name and so on, I won’t be able to access my money, will I?’

‘It can be arranged once you do remember your name. That’s the key.’

Chad shook his head sadly.

Oliver looked at him sympathetically. ‘This is an unusual situation. I really want to help you two, and I will, but at present, I think we should concentrate on getting you settled into The Drover’s Hope tonight. Tomorrow I’ll pick you up and take you to the bank to take over the accounts, Emily, then we’ll go shopping.’

‘Thank you. Is all this part of the legal service?’ Emily saw his grin in the driving mirror. The expression made him appear almost boyish, in spite of him having very little hair left.

‘Heavens, no. It’d cost you a fortune, the way law firms charge for their services by the quarter-hour. No, it’ll be my pleasure to help you as a private individual . . . if you want me to, that is.’

‘I do want your help. I not only need to get hold of some money, I need to buy a new car.’

‘You’ve got plenty of money coming to you once probate is settled, so there won’t be much of a problem with that.’

‘I’ve got enough in my own account to buy a car straight away.’

She turned to Chad, who was looking wistful. ‘You’ve remembered some more things today and I’m sure other information will come back to you.’

‘For the first time, I’m beginning to hope. If I can stay with you in the meantime, Emily, I shall be eternally grateful.’

It was strange, Emily mused as they continued driving. Chad had talked about hope just now. Penelope had spoken to her lawyer of Emily finding hope at The Drover’s Hope and giving it to others.

Was it happening already? She really liked the idea of doing something as worthwhile as that.

And perhaps, if she were very lucky, George wouldn’t pursue her any longer.