Saving Willowbrook (3 page)

When Ella got back to Willowbrook there was no sign of Porgy and she noticed the broken kitchen window straight away. Instantly on the alert, she told Amy to stay in the car and locked it after she got out.

From the barn came the sound of hysterical barking. Porgy. She ran over there first. As she opened the door, he came out growling and sniffing the ground, but he didn't run round as usual. In fact, he was walking gingerly as if it hurt him to move. When he stopped beside her she saw that he had a cut over one eye. The blood was matted, so it must have happened some time ago.

Picking up a piece of wood for protection, she gestured to Amy to stay where she was and went inside the house, with Porgy limping along behind her. She stood listening carefully but even without the dog she could sense that whoever had broken in had left. She'd always been able to sense whether a building was empty or not, had been surprised as a child to find that others didn't have the same ability.

She went out to fetch her daughter, keeping watch for anyone coming out of the outbuildings, but again, she could sense no human presence, only feel the wind blowing her hair gently across her face and making the flowers bow their heads to her as she passed.

Together she and Amy inspected the house.

The intruder had trashed the sitting room, but hadn't stolen anything that she could see – well, her TV, sound system and computer were elderly, worth nothing. He'd smashed them, though. Perhaps he'd been disappointed by the lack of valuables.

‘Some bad people have been here,' Ella told her daughter by way of explanation.

‘Why did they break our things?'

‘I don't know. Some people are like that.' She led the way up the stairs, waiting for Amy's slower pace. Porgy didn't even try to come with them, just stood at the bottom, whining in his throat.

‘Ooh, mummy! Look at that! The bad people have been in here too.'

Amy's drawers and toy cupboard had been emptied out, but a quick glance showed the toys hadn't been damaged.

Ella gave her a quick cuddle. ‘I'm sorry about all this, darling, but I don't think anything's broken. Don't put them away until the police have seen the mess.'

‘Can I pick up teddy?'

‘Yes.'

Amy picked up the elderly teddy which had once been her mother's and was her favourite toy, cradling it against her. ‘It's all right now, Teddy. I've got you safe.'

Ella looked towards the chalets from the bedroom window. Thank goodness the electricians were working there today. The chalets should be untouched, at least. ‘Let's look in my bedroom now,' she said, speaking as cheerfully as she could manage.

The burglar had clearly concentrated his upstairs efforts on this room, trashing it thoroughly. It was as if he'd been searching for something. What?

‘Don't cry. Mummy. I'll help you to put your things away afterwards.' Amy took hold of her hand.

Ella hadn't realized tears were running down her face until than, tears of relief as well as pain. Thank goodness she'd hidden her jewel box!

‘Let's go downstairs and call the police.' She settled Amy and the dog in the kitchen, then slipped back upstairs to check the hiding place, which her daughter was too young yet to be told about.

Her heart was thudding in her chest as she opened the panel, but the box was safe, its contents untouched. She leaned against the wall for a moment, shuddering in relief, then closed the panel again. The old house had indeed kept its secrets.

Why had the intruder concentrated on her bedroom, though? He couldn't have known about the jewellery, surely? In fact, why had anyone come to Willowbrook at all? Everyone in the neighbourhood knew she wasn't rich. All her spare money had been sunk into the tourist chalets and she couldn't even afford to finish all of them.

But perhaps someone passing by had seen the size of the house and assumed rich people lived there. Who knew what made people break into others' homes and steal their possessions?

Picking up the phone she called the police, hesitated afterwards, then rang her cousin Rose. ‘The farm's been broken into. Can you come round?' Her voice broke on the last word, try as she would to stay calm.

‘Of course I can. Poor you. Did they take much?'

‘There's not much of value to take, but they certainly made a mess.'

‘I'll be there as soon as I can.'

Ella walked slowly down the stairs, as always getting a sense of something – or someone – on the half landing. Today, she paused at the turn of the stairs, feeling comforted by that shadowy presence. It might sound foolish and certainly Miles had always laughed at her, saying the family ghosts were figments of her imagination. But she'd seen them since she was a tiny child, too young to know what ghosts were.

Her father had sensed them too. He'd told her the apparitions were real but nothing to be scared of, since they were members of the family who were still keeping an eye on their old home. Her mother had downplayed this side of life at Willowbrook, saying
she
had never seen anything. But then, Mum was more into practical stuff – and she wasn't a Turner by birth.

Recently Amy had started talking about the lady in the long dress who came to say goodnight to her and sometimes about the man in funny clothes she'd seen on the stairs. Ella had had to try and explain what ghosts were. Not easy with a four-year-old. Since then Amy had taken to calling the main ghost
the Lady
, using a special tone of voice to say the words.

Ella looked round before she moved on down the stairs. The house was shabby, full of awkwardly shaped rooms, but she loved it, most especially this crooked set of stairs with a cupboard on the landing.

Miles had always said it was no wonder the heritage people weren't interested in listing the farm, it was such a shambles. She'd been surprised that they didn't want it, but Miles was right. The place was very run down and was indeed a mish-mash of styles.

At first he'd made a joke of its condition, but even those remarks had been enough to make her keep quiet about the secret places in both the house and outbuildings. Some of them were accidents, nooks and crannies created during the various waves of rebuilding and modernizing that had taken place over the centuries. Others had definitely been put there on purpose, perhaps to hide people in the early days, as well as treasured possessions. The rooms and floors were so uneven you'd not notice that walls didn't match exactly unless you were shown or took extremely careful measurements.

To her, Willowbrook was beautiful, a rambling place perfect for raising a family. She'd always intended to have several children, but after producing one child with SMA3, Miles had been adamant about not having any others, even though they could have got tested to make sure it didn't happen again.

A vehicle drew up outside, an old van with a loud exhaust. She didn't have to see it to know who it was and ran out to her cousin. Rose, taller than her by three inches, swept her into a big hug, as if she understood Ella needed the comfort.

‘Auntie Rose! Auntie Rose!'

Ella stepped aside to give Amy a turn at being hugged by the woman she called auntie, for lack of any actual aunts or uncles, then the two women went inside, slowing down automatically to keep pace with the slower-moving child.

‘Porgy's very quiet today, not like himself at all,' Rose said. ‘He didn't come running to meet me.'

‘He's been hurt. I think they hit him with something. I'll have to take him to the vet's as soon as I can get away.'

‘Once the police arrive, I'll do that for you. But I'll wait with you till then. There you are, you old scamp.' As they entered the kitchen Rose bent to caress the dog, who sighed and leaned against her.

‘Thanks. I really need your support after this.' Ella gestured to the mess.

The police arrived half an hour later and soon afterwards Rose left with the dog.

The two officers examined the house carefully, but once it had been established that nothing had been taken, they put it all down to vandalism and asked if she'd upset anyone lately.

‘Only my husband,' she said, intending it as a joke. ‘We've just split up.'

‘Could you give me his name and address, please, Ms Turner?'

‘You're not taking that remark seriously? Miles would never—'

‘People can do nasty things when marriages end. It won't hurt to check where he was when this happened.'

When they'd gone, she brewed a pot of tea and sat in the kitchen, trying to seem cheerful for Amy's sake, but jumping at sudden noises, nerves on edge.

It couldn't be Miles. He wouldn't steal Amy's inheritance. He'd trick it out of them but not take it in a way that made him liable for imprisonment if caught. She was sure of that.

The police were probably right and it had been casual vandals looking for something to smash. It was just bad luck that they'd picked on her.

After she left Willowbrook, Rose drove carefully along the narrow lane, worrying about her cousin, who had been looking strained for a while now, and no wonder. Ella was working inhumanly long hours to get Willowbrook's chalets up and running.

How she could have fallen for that . . . that
con man
, Rose had never understood. Oh, Miles Parnell was quite good-looking, but he'd never fooled her and he knew it. After he moved in, he'd not encouraged her to visit them at the farm.

She grinned. He'd never known how often she and Ella met in the village or at her house for a quick cup of coffee or just a chat. He hadn't realized how strong the bond was between them. They were more like sisters than cousins.

The van jolted in and out of a particularly bad rut and there was a whimper from the back.

‘Soon be there, Porgy!' she called

The vet was new in town, young, giving her the glad eye until he started examining the dog, then becoming serious and forgetting her completely.

‘I'd like to X-ray him. I think he's been kicked. He's probably got broken ribs.'

‘Will it cost much?' She winced at the amount. ‘Is it absolutely necessary to X-ray him? Much as we love the dog, neither my cousin nor I are exactly overflowing with money.'

He pursed his lips. ‘Well, I'm pretty certain that's what's wrong. How did it happen?'

She explained about the break-in. ‘What's the treatment for broken ribs?'

‘Just rest, really, if they're not too badly damaged. He'll heal on his own.' He sighed. ‘Look, I'll let you have the X-rays at cost. We really ought to check that there are no chips of bone, or other internal damage.'

‘I'll pay for it then and we won't say anything to my cousin unless we have to.' She knew how short of money Ella was now. Paying would max out Rose's credit card and mean holding off buying a new exhaust system for a little longer, but she was getting good at wrapping that special tape round the hole in the tail pipe.

To her relief, Porgy only had a couple of fractures and the cut, which needed four stitches.

She hesitated, then seized the moment and told the new vet about one of her moneymaking ventures, taking him to see the small poster she'd put up, which was now partly obscured by other notices in the waiting room.

He grinned at the little sketches of the dog and cat on the notice. ‘Do you get many clients?'

‘Some. Enough to help keep the wolf from the door.'

‘I must come and look at your paintings one day.'

She looked at his hopeful expression. She didn't want to upset him, but she didn't fancy him in the slightest. ‘I'll bring some in to show you next time I'm passing. I do wildlife paintings as well. They're my favourite, really. Thanks.'

She took the dog back to Willowbrook and helped clear up the worst of the damage. She and Ella hugged wordlessly before she left. They didn't see as much of one another as they'd like because they were both working every minute they could manage, but they were always there for one another.

Back at her own cottage Rose worked for a while on her latest commission, a portrait of a fat and wheezy boxer dog, who looked particularly dopey to her in the photos. But you didn't say no to a cash offer. She'd done enough pet paintings to know she needed to make the poor old fellow prettier than he was, because that was how the owner saw him.

She'd tried realism the first time she did one of these paintings and smiled at the memory of the elderly corgi, whose owner had thrown a huff and refused to accept the painting until she'd ‘shown the twinkle in Fluffy's eye'. The final result had been more like a cartoon, but it'd earned Rose some much-needed money.

She signed paintings like that
R. Marr
, shortening her surname, keeping her full name, Rose Marwood, for work she was proud of.

What she was really passionate about was painting the smaller wild animals and plants of her native county, Wiltshire. Passionate! It was an obsession. She'd be the first to admit that. She made only the occasional sale from by-products of that, paintings that didn't quite meet her rigorous standards but were good enough to hang on walls. She left them on commission in two or three nearby galleries. She didn't even try to offer her other nature paintings for sale because she was working up a collection which she hoped to see published as an art/nature book. It had been a passion of hers for years and a few months ago had come between her and a guy she'd loved, because she wouldn't move away from Wiltshire and he had to. The thought of him still hurt and she'd not dated since.

Last year she'd spent what was to her a fortune on a special metal security box to keep the finished products in. The need for that was non-negotiable, like Ella's fire extinguishers at Willowbrook, which had cost her cousin a lot of money she could ill afford. Bottom line was: you didn't leave your most precious things vulnerable to fire and theft.