The Soldier's Daughter (48 page)

‘I’m not surprised,’ the constable said wryly. ‘It seems he had a right little set-up going on. At this point we can only assume that he had people looting abandoned properties in London during the bombing, and also getting hold of black-market goods. He would sell the stuff on, making a nice tidy profit. But of course we will be investigating further.’

‘That would account for all the vans coming and going in the early hours of the morning,’ Mrs Dower said, as everything began to fall into place. ‘And to think that something like that was going on right under our noses – and we didn’t have a clue! It was his mother’s fault. She spoiled that boy from the moment he was born, and she turned him into the monster he became. Just think – he murdered his own mother, after years of extorting money out of her. He was a rotten apple, all right.’

After the constable had gone, the adults all sat trying to digest what had happened.

Mr Dower said sorrowfully, ‘It looks like we might have to retire sooner than we thought, Annik. Howel is going off, aren’t you, my lad, so we’ll have to find somewhere to rent for us and young Talwyn.’

‘I shall have to look for somewhere for us too,’ James put in. He and his family couldn’t impose on the Dowers’ hospitality for too much longer anyway. They had been kindness itself but they were packed into the farmhouse like sardines. Even so, he had a lot to be thankful for. His family had survived the fire, although it might have been a different story altogether had it not been for young Mabel.

‘Well,’ Howel said then, ever the practical one, ‘life has to go on the same for now until we know what’s happening. The animals still need seeing to, so I’m off.’

Throughout the morning, as news of the tragedy spread through the village, neighbours turned up with clothes that their children had grown out of, and miscellaneous gifts for the Valentines. They guessed that they would have lost all their possessions in the fire, and wanted to show their support.

Briony couldn’t believe how thoughtful everybody was, and it struck her then just how much she was going to miss living here. The children were kitted out in no time and were off helping Howel about the place, cheerful as ever, and thankfully no worse for their ordeal.

For the next few days, Briony helped Mrs Dower to run the house and did as much as she could. Then one cold morning, there was a knock on the door and when Mrs Dower opened it she found the woman from the Red Cross standing on the doorstep.

Mrs Dower ushered her inside and after making her a cup of coffee, called Briony to come and join them in the kitchen. The woman had called to give her a message.

‘I’m afraid I’ve come to tell you, Miss Valentine, that despite our best efforts we haven’t been able to contact Mabel’s mother, Mrs Wilkes. We discovered that her house had been bombed during the Blitz and neighbours informed us that she went off one evening with an American GI and hasn’t been seen since.’ She sighed. ‘Given the circumstances we have had to find a place for Mabel in an orphanage in the East End. I thought I might take her with me today and start the journey as soon as possible. There doesn’t seem any point in delaying any further.’

Horrified, Briony looked towards her father with tears in her eyes and instantly he took control of the situation.

‘There will be no need to do that,’ he told the woman firmly. ‘Mabel can stay with us.’

The woman blinked in surprise. ‘Do you mean as a temporary measure?’ she asked.

James shook his head. ‘No, not at all. I am quite prepared to adopt her if need be.’

‘Why, how wonderful!’ The woman beamed. ‘If only all the orphans I am having to deal with could have such a happy ending. I will have to speak to Mabel first, of course, to see how she feels about it.’

Mabel was duly fetched from the farmyard where she had been happily collecting eggs, and she stood in front of the woman looking fearful. Was this it? Was she being made to go home to her mother?

When the woman told her that her mother was missing, the girl showed no reaction whatsoever – but when she then put James’s suggestion to her, the child’s face lit up brighter than a summer’s day.

‘
Yer what?
Yer mean that I can stay wiv Briony and the rest of the family fer always?’

The woman smiled kindly. ‘Yes, dear, if that’s what you want. Of course there will be paperwork to be done and the adoption will take a while to go through, but I see no reason why it shouldn’t. Miss Valentine has clearly done an excellent job of looking after you, so I see no problems at all.’

Mabel let out a whoop of delight and launched herself at Briony, who chuckled as she hugged her.

‘This is just gonna be the
best
Christmas ever,’ Mabel declared, and despite the trauma of the last few days they all smiled with her.

It was the day before Christmas Eve when Mrs Dower arrived back from the village with her husband driving the trap. Her shopping basket was full, and another box of groceries was stowed on board. There were a lot of people to cook for this year, and although they were all concerned about their futures, the kindly woman was determined to make an effort for the children.

‘I just heard a bit of good news in the village shop,’ she said, looking towards Howel, who had come home for a mid-morning cup of tea.

‘Oh yes, and what would that be then?’ he asked, helping himself to a couple of ginger biscuits to dunk in his mug.

‘I heard that Megan Brown has just got engaged to young Robbie Penhallow. Didn’t you all go to school together?’

‘We did that.’ Howel smiled. He had felt guilty about letting Megan down, but now it seemed that she had found happiness with someone else. He was pleased for her. Megan deserved someone who would love her, and if he remembered rightly, Robbie had always had a soft spot for her even when they were at infant school. He had recently returned from the Army and Howel hoped that they would be happy together.

Briony was watching him closely for his reaction and was surprised to see that he looked relieved. The strange thing was, she was too – although she had no idea why . . .

It was shortly after lunch when a car drew up on the drive in front of the farm and a smart elderly gentleman stepped out, carrying a large leather briefcase.

‘It’s Mr Briggs, Mrs Frasier’s solicitor,’ Mrs Dower said, flying into a panic. ‘Show him into the front parlour, would you, Briony? We can’t receive him in the kitchen.’

Briony couldn’t help but grin as she rushed off to do as she was told. Mrs Dower kept a very tidy house usually, but with so many people there it was difficult to keep it as spick and span as she liked.

‘Ah, you must be Briony Valentine,’ the gentleman said as she opened the door. ‘Miss Valentine, could you spare me a few moments of your time?’ He peered at her over the gold-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose.

‘Of course, would you come this way?’ Briony answered politely as she showed him into the parlour. She introduced him briefly to Mrs Dower, who then tactfully withdrew.

Once Mr Briggs was seated, he took a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and said quietly, ‘I would like to say how sorry I am about the recent terrible fire and the loss of your grandmother and uncle, Miss Valentine.’

When she inclined her head he went on, ‘I am here today to inform you of where you stand.’

Confused, Briony frowned. Whatever could he mean? Where she stood?

‘The thing is,’ he continued, ‘Mr Sebastian Frasier was the heir to The Heights and all the worldly goods of his parents following their demise. But of course, he perished in the fire too. I believe that his sister, your mother, sadly lost her life in the war – which means that legally, you my dear young lady, you are the next blood relative. The inheritance will pass to you.’

Briony stared at him like a simpleton, scarcely able to take in what he was saying.

‘B-but there’s nothing left to inherit,’ she croaked eventually. ‘The house is gone. And I know that grandmother didn’t have a lot of money left. That’s what she and Sebastian were always arguing about and why he burned the house down, so that he could get the insurance money. That is what he told me.’

‘Ah, but that isn’t quite the case,’ the solicitor told her. ‘Yes, the house is gone admittedly, and unfortunately your grandmother had let the insurance lapse so there will be no recompense there. But there is still the undertaking business, as well as the land and two working farms to take into consideration. Should you wish to put another tenant into Chapel Farm and allow the Dowers to continue here at Kynance Farm, I think you would find you would have a very comfortable income. Alternatively, you could sell everything and be a very wealthy young woman indeed. Land is at a premium now that the war is over.’

Briony could only stare at him dumbly as his words sank in.

He then rose and told her, ‘I can see that this has come as a shock to you, my dear. Perhaps you would like some time to think about it, and when you decide what you would like to do, get in touch with me then with your instructions.’

But suddenly everything was blindingly clear and she said eagerly, ‘Actually, Mr Briggs, I think I know
exactly
what I’d like to do – so could you perhaps take some instructions now?’

‘Of course.’ He sat down again and after taking a notepad and pen from his briefcase he began to write down everything that she told him.

‘So what did Mr Briggs have to say?’ Mrs Dower asked when the solicitor had left and Briony had rejoined her in the kitchen.

‘Oh, he just wanted to tell me that Grandmother had let the insurance on the house lapse, so Sebastian did what he did for nothing.’ She kept her fingers crossed behind her back as she was telling the tale. But then she wasn’t really lying, the way she saw it. She just wasn’t telling the whole of the truth. That could wait for Christmas Day.

‘Well, bless me!’ Mrs Dower was shocked. ‘So the old lady died all for no good reason. But then she was going senile, so let’s hope she wouldn’t have known anything about it.’ She reached for the bottled plums and the subject was dropped.

Christmas Day dawned bright and clear, and despite the cloud they were living under everyone seemed to enjoy it. The gifts that Briony had so carefully chosen and wrapped had perished in the fire, but no one minded, not even the children. They were just glad to be alive.

Mrs Dower did them proud with the Christmas dinner. There was a turkey as well as a leg of roast pork with crispy crackling and all the trimmings, followed by a Christmas pudding that she had made with a secret hoard of raisins and had had soaking in brandy for weeks.

When it was over, James and Mr and Mrs Dower all settled beside the fire to listen to the wireless, and doze, and Briony asked Howel, ‘Do you fancy a walk? There’s something I want to talk to you about.’ The children and Talwyn were all happily engrossed in a game of Ludo, so she doubted they would even be missed.

He looked at her curiously for a moment wondering what she had in mind, but then he nodded and went to fetch his coat.

Once outside, she slipped her arm through his and steered him in the direction of Chapel Farm.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked, but she just grinned and carried on walking.

When the farm came into view she paused to look down on it in the hollow and said quietly, ‘It’s in a lovely spot here, isn’t it?’

‘It certainly is,’ he agreed and they walked on. Once they’d passed beneath the rowan tree and crossed the farmyard, Howel took the kitchen door key from beneath an upturned flower pot and let them in.

‘So what are we doing here then?’ he enquired as he looked about at the cobwebs and the dusty furniture.

‘I thought we could talk here without any interruptions,’ Briony explained. Then, brushing off two of the kitchen chairs with her mitten, she motioned him to sit down and placed herself opposite him. ‘The thing is,’ she said softly, ‘this farm is mine.’

‘
What?
’ He stared at her incredulously, wondering if she had finally taken leave of her senses after all she had been through.

‘It’s true,’ she assured him with a nervous giggle. ‘That’s what Grandmother’s solicitor Mr Briggs came to tell me. Now that Sebastian is dead, I am the nearest blood relative left to Grandmother so I get to have his inheritance. The farms, the land, the undertaking business and the house – for what’s it worth – are all mine now.’

She watched a muscle in his cheek begin to work then as she rose and looked around.

‘I’ve decided that I’m going to live here,’ she told him then. ‘Dad can have the rooms above the stables to give him some privacy and I know he’ll love working here. He always did want to work outside in the fresh air. I shall have to make a few alterations, of course; this sink will have to be replaced for a start-off.’ She screwed her nose up as she stared at the cracked butler’s sink beneath the window. ‘But then we could fill this one with fresh herbs and stand it just outside the kitchen door so that the smell of them wafts into the kitchen in the summer. And oh . . . the other thing that I need to tell you is that I’ve had Mr Briggs sign Kynance Farm and the land with all the livestock on it over to your parents. I think they deserve to be able to call it their own after working so hard on it for all these years, don’t you?’

She saw the shock register in his eyes but she wasn’t finished yet. ‘I’ve also instructed Mr Briggs to have the undertaker’s business valued and then to sell it to Mr Page’s son Johnny at a reduced price. Mr Page told me some time ago that he wished to retire so that he could spend more time in his garden, and after all his years of devoted service to my grandparents, I felt that was the least I could do. The money from the sale of that business will then give me the funds to purchase some livestock for this farm. What do you think?’

When he was capable of speech he choked, ‘Well, it doesn’t really matter what I think, does it? You seem to have everything worked out.’

‘Oh, but it
does
matter,’ she said sweetly. ‘Surely you’ll want to choose your own animals? I don’t know anything about it or what to look for, do I? One sheep or one cow is just like any other to me.’ She had come to realise how much Howel meant to her, and why she had been able to accept Ernie marrying Ruth so well, when Howel had told them all that he was going away and she had been forced to try and picture her life without him in it. She knew now beyond a doubt that what she had felt for Ernie had been no more than a childhood infatuation. But what she felt for Howel was an enduring love, one that would last forever.