Harbinger of Spring (2 page)

Sara did not answer. She had no intention of remaining in the area long enough to study the local weather conditions.

The launch turned a bend in the river and the waterway suddenly became much wider and straight for about half a mile. Stumpy-looking trees edged the banks and there was a thin fringe of reeds. Taller trees with black,
leafless branches were set further back, and above them the white sail arms of a windmill showed.

‘
Fenchurch Mill,
’
the lawyer said.

‘
Is it really? I don
’
t know why, but I had it firmly fixed in my mind that it was a watermill and right on the bank of the river.
’

Mr.
Barker half turned from piloting the craft.
‘
The Mill has its own dyke, Miss Seymour. We
’
ll turn into it in a minute. It used to be for loading wherries with sacks of flour for places up river, Norwich and the like.
’

‘
Wherries
?
What are those
?
’

‘
I suppose the best way of describing them would be to say they were like the old Thames barges. There
’
s only one left, which is being preserved. It
’
s called The Albion. Moored at Homing.
’

Sara thought it unlikely she would ever see the wherry. She watched for the dyke entrance, but she did not see it until the bows of the launch had turned towards a high clump of reeds and brushed past them to cruise very slowly through a channel so narrow she could have reached out and plucked at the dead plant life on one bank or the other. Ahead, quite large trees had spread their branches so that they touched one another, but above the tracery of near-black twigs she could see the head and one of the sails of the mill. It would be like living in a lighthouse, she thought. Impossible circular rooms, midget-sized windows and stairs to climb if she so much as wanted to change her mind. Thirteen weeks would be just as much as she could stand without going raving mad.

A minute later the waterway suddenly opened into what Sara would have called a large pond, and she saw how wrong she had been in her imaginings. The mill itself was a tall, white-painted tower set on a low mound. But it was on the house attached to it that her gaze fixed as the launch went slowly towards a timber staging with
a rock garden behind it.

The roof was crowned with thatch and hugged closely to spirally twisted chimneys. Then there were four tiny dormer windows, peeping like two pairs of bright eyes from beneath the heavy brows of the thatch. Beneath the oak sills, stout timbers were supported by a heavy carved beam and underneath that were the carved lintels of four lead-light windows with diamond-shaped panes. Diagonally-placed timbers braced the upper storey of the house and the in-filling was a herringbone of deep red brick.

Only two windows were on the ground floor, but they were of good proportion and spaced on either side of a massive-looking front door.

Sara said nothing as the lawyer helped her out of the launch, but she walked with him up a path set between lawns and flower beds, her thoughts very mixed. Never before had she seen a house of such charm. Yet the idea of living in it was utterly impracticable. Since she had been eighteen she had made herself financially independent of her father, and now at twenty-one she was well on the way to being a successful businesswoman, but if she was to succeed fully there could be no let-up in effort. Besides, she loved the bustle and clamour of London. She could almost be termed a Cockney sparrow.

Mr.
Carrigon opened the door with a heavy key, then stood aside for her to enter. She drew a deep breath at the sight of a wide oak-floored hall spread with dark red rugs, of decorative plaster panelling and a staircase of good width. Then she pulled herself together. It just would not do to get to like the house too much. She might easily fall in love with it. She turned to the lawyer.

‘
How long will it be before I can actually take up residence?
’

He smiled.
‘
I don
’
t think we need wait for the formality of probate. If your luggage was here you could
m
ove in now.
’

‘
I see
,’
she spoke very slowly, a half formed thought in her mind, which seemed completely mad.
‘
I
’
ll have a look around. I shall lease the house, of course to—to someone who will take great care of it and be very kind to it.
’

She walked into the room at her right and saw it was furnished as a dining room for six persons. The table and chairs were of oak, as was a sideboard. They looked like antiques, but could have been reproductions for all she knew. There was a cave
rn
ous-looking fireplace and antique-styled electric fire which did not seem to detract from its appearance.

Sara crossed the hall and immediately fell in love with the sitting room. No attempt had been made to furnish in any particular style, and a Victorian-looking mahogany sofa stood close to a baby grand piano and did not look out of place with it or with the inlaid display cabinet standing on the other side. The various armchairs looked comfortable and were covered in the same greeny-gold plush as the sofa. Two tapestries and several oil paintings decorated the walls, and what Sara took to be a liqueur cabinet held a television set.

Before leaving the room, Sara glanced through the window and saw
Mr.
Carrigon on the quay in conversation with the owner of the boatyard. She went up the stairs and stood for a moment on the landing. There were four doors and three of them were open. She entered the open rooms and found two furnished as
modern
bedrooms and the third a bathroom. She hesitated for a moment at the fourth door, then gently turned the knob. An oak tester bed with richly carved posts and brocade canopy came into view, white rugs covered most of the floor and Sara did not step on them as she moved into the room to look at a heavy tallboy and a many-drawered dressing table with a swing mirror. The
dressing table was bare except for a silver photograph frame lying face downward. Sara turned it over and looked at the faces of a young couple dressed in the costumes of fifty or sixty years ago. With an upward-curling moustache the young man looked very fierce, but the girl, and Sara felt sure she was looking at the portrait of Aunt Esther, was so demure-looking and had such a sweetly sensitive mouth that Sara found it hard to believe she had been a militant female—a suffragette.

Setting the photograph upright, Sara closed the door and went downstairs. Almost as an afterthought she looked in the kitchen and found it hopelessly modernized with an electric cooker, a stainless steel sink unit and a breakfast alcove where the old fireplace had been. A little shocking, she thought, but supposed you had to use some of the
modern
ways of living. No doubt in its time, the wax candle had been hailed as a great advance on tallow. Anyway, about one thing, her mind was thoroughly made up. Whether her father and Desmond thought her mad or: not she would take up her period of residence right away. Beginning tonight, if at all possible.

Half expecting to be told that such a speedy move was out of the question, Sara marched towards the front door, but to her surprise the lawyer made only a qualified objection.

‘
I didn
’
t see you bring a travelling bag with you, Miss Seymour, and of course you
’
ll need to stock up with food. You can, of course, get everything you need in Wroxham, but I have an appointment in Norwich in a little over an hour
’
s time, so I won
’
t be able to drive you there and back again.
’

‘
A bus?
’
Sara suggested.

‘
There isn
’
t one without your walking miles to the main road, and even then the service is very limited.
’

‘
If you can drive I can lend you a car,
’
Mr.
Barker
said.

‘
Thank you very much,
Mr.
Barker. It
’
s kind of you. Shall we go? I don
’
t want to take up too much of
Mr.
Carrigon
’
s time.
’

The house locked again, they stepped into the launch. Back at the boatyard, Sara was shown the car she could borrow. She familiarized herself with the controls, then followed the lawyer
’
s car into Wroxham, turning off as she had been instructed into an almost-empty car park at the back of a surprisingly large store. A minute
’
s walk took her to a bank where she arranged to cash cheques, then she had an excellent lunch in an hotel overlooking the river.

Shopping for food and personal necessities she found
‘
remarkably easy, everything she needed being within a minute of the crossroads of the village.

The boot of the car loaded, Sara sat in the driving seat and paused before starting the engine. Wroxham had really surprised her, not only by the size of its stores and shops, many under the one ownership, but by the signs of great river activity she had seen from the upstairs dining room of the hotel where she had lunched. Viewed from there she had seen numerous inlets that widened into docks where scores of spruce-looking cruisers and tall-masted yachts were as close together as cars in a city car park. On the banks of the river, and on the land between the inlets, there was a rash of wooden sheds of a considerable size. But the rash did seem to be confined to one area, and beyond it the river banks were heavily wooded.

Wroxham was more like an inland port than a large village and she could assume that it would be very congested during the summer months.

She started the engine and drove slowly out of the car park. On the main road she set a modest pace of fifty miles an hour and saw only two other cars by the time
she reached the boatyard.

Mr.
Barker came out of his office as she stepped out of the car.
‘
Everything all right, Miss Seymour?
’

‘
Perfectly. I do envy you your quiet roads and easy shopping facilities.
’

‘
The road can hum a bit in the summer, especially at weekends.
’

‘
I suppose so. I
’
ve got rather a load of parcels. I
’
m afraid I
’
m going to be something of a trouble to you.
’

‘
No trouble at all. Most of my lay-up work is done and if I go home too early I
’
ll only be mooning about the house and getting in the way of the wife.
’

He opened the boot of the car and carried shopping bags to the launch. Sara brought an armful herself and attempted to step on board with them, but the launch bobbed under her foot and she almost fell into the river. She laughed.

‘
You must think me an awful fool.
’

‘
Hardly. You
’
re just not used to the ways of boats yet. In a day or so you
’
ll behave as if you were
born
to them.
’

‘
Shall I? I doubt it.
’
She paused.
‘
Would you mind very much calling me Sara? In London we use first names almost right away. Not that I
’
m saying you should do as we do, but—
’

‘
That
’
s all right, Sara. We
’
re free enough with people who like us that way. My name
’
s Ted. Now, do you get aboard the launch and I
’
ll pass the rest of the parcels to you.
’

In a few minutes the remainder of the packages were on board and Sara suddenly developed nervous qualms. In about a quarter of an hour she was going to be alone in Fenchurch Mill, cut off except for a road she had yet to see and which was apparently not fit for motor-cars. Marooned was almost the word for it. In a sort of panic she stepped back on to the quay and walked to Ted
Barker who was locking up the car.

‘
Mr.
Barker—Ted, I think I
’
ve changed my mind about staying at the Mill tonight. I ought at least to talk it over with my father. I know I
’
m causing you a lot of trouble, but could you possibly drive me into Norwich to catch a train home?
’

He gave her a critical look.
‘
If that
’
s what you want it
’
s no trouble to me. I don
’
t blame you for not wanting to stay in the Mill all by yourself. You should have a friend to stay with you. Television and the telephone aren
’
t bad company, but a human being is much better.
’

‘
I
’
m not really afraid of being alone. It
’
s just that
—
when you take the launch away I shall be completely cut off.
’

He laughed.
‘
I wasn
’
t for a moment thinking of leaving you marooned. I was going to tow one of our two-seater launches with us and leave it with you after I
’
ve shown you the controls.
’

‘
But—but I
’
m a town bird! I can hardly be persuaded into getting into a row-boat on the Serpentine.
’

‘
Town birds come here in their hundreds in the summertime,
’
he told her.
‘
And after a few minutes
’
instruction they
’
re off on their own for the whole day. We give them lifejackets, but they mostly won
’
t wear them. Still, don
’
t let me persuade you to stay. We
’
ve time to take your parcels to the Mill and get you to Norwich for the five-thirty train.
’

Sara hesitated for a moment, then came to a decision.
‘
Yes—I
’
m just being a coward. I
’
ve got to get used to boats some time,
and
living in the Mill alone. Since you
’
re so kind about helping me over the first hurdle I might just as well plunge in at the deep end.
’

He nodded.
‘
Or take the bull by the horns. And by this time tomorrow you
’
ll find it a mighty tame animal. Just a minute while I hitch another launch astern of us, then we
’
ll be off.
’’