Yew Tree Gardens (17 page)

Even Mrs Tolson had seen the way he looked at her.

Renie was so lost in thought she almost bumped into someone till that person stopped her with inches to spare by putting a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I was— Oh, it’s you, Mr Rycroft!’

He smiled at her. ‘It’s been nearly a year, but I’ve remembered you too.’

‘I saw the lists in the newspapers after the
Titanic.
I’m sorry about your brother and his family.’

‘Thank you. But at least my niece was rescued. I’ve adopted her.’

‘It’s good that she has family left still. I used to have a niece …’ She stopped. ‘Sorry. You can’t possibly be interested in that.’

He offered his arm. ‘I am. Why don’t we walk a little and you can tell me about it?’

She was so desperate to tell someone about Nell that it all poured out.

He was quiet, then said, ‘I don’t think you can do anything at the moment. Your sister knows you’re here. If she gets desperate she’ll turn to you for help. She knows she’s not alone in the world.’

As they walked on, she smiled at him. ‘I’m sorry. Fancy unloading my troubles on a stranger. You’re a very good listener.’

‘You don’t feel like a stranger. I’ve remembered you all year.’

‘Oh.’

‘Look, I hope you don’t think this is cheeky of me, but you sound so alone in the world. If you ever need help, let me know.’ He fished in his pocket and pulled out his card. ‘This is my address.’

‘Why would you help me?’

‘Because a kindly old lady helped me when I was at the worst point of my whole life, after the accident that left me … crippled.’

‘You’re not crippled, just a bit … dot and carry one when you walk.’

He couldn’t help laughing. ‘Dot and carry one. That is how I walk. And it sounds much better than “crippled”. Anyway, as I started out to tell you, the old lady left me a comfortable amount of money on condition that I help people in need. So if you ever feel you can’t manage on your own, write to me.’

She looked down at his card. ‘I remembered your name correctly: Gilbert Rycroft.’

‘Gil to my friends.’

‘I come from Wiltshire, too, but Swindon, not the country. Oh!’ She caught sight of the clock on the corner shop. ‘Oh, dear! I’m late back. Thank you for listening to me. I have to go.’

‘Wait! I don’t know your name.’

She called over her shoulder, ‘Irene Fuller, but my friends call me Renie.’

She ran back to the hotel, but was ten minutes late.

No sooner had she settled into the tiny room they called her office than the pageboy popped his head round the door, which was always left partly open unless she had someone with her.

‘Mr Judson wants to see you.’

He must have noticed her coming back late. He seemed always to be watching her.

She knocked and was told to come in, then kept standing while he continued to write. That was a trick he used to make people feel uncomfortable, but it had the opposite effect on her. She folded her arms and began tapping her foot.

He looked up and put down his fancy fountain pen. ‘You were late returning to work this lunchtime.’

‘Yes.’

‘And it was because you were talking to a man.’

‘Yes.’

‘You admit it.’

‘Of course I do. His family lives at the other side of the gardens. He was telling me about his niece. We met when the news about the
Titanic
came out. He lost several other members of his family then.’

‘He looked like a gentleman.’

‘He is.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘I don’t think that’s your concern … sir.’

‘A gentleman wouldn’t be talking to a girl like you unless he had ulterior motives.’

She laughed aloud at that. ‘Because he
is
a true gentleman, he wouldn’t think of treating me like that.
He
doesn’t stare at me like … some men do.’

‘You are impudent, Irene.’

‘No, sir. Only truthful.’

‘If you value your job, you’ll be careful how you behave.’

‘I do value my job … sir. But I won’t tell lies to keep it, or do anything else wrong.’ She could see by his expression that he knew what she was telling him.

‘See you make up the time.’

‘I work far longer than my stated hours, and am happy to do so.’

‘You will stay on for twice ten minutes longer after work tonight to make up for being late.’

She didn’t dare refuse, though this was unfair. ‘Very well … sir.’ She hated to call him sir. He didn’t deserve that sort of respect.

When Mrs Tolson came in to see her about something, Renie confided what had happened. ‘I don’t like to think of being alone here with
him
after everyone else has gone home tonight. The night staff don’t use this area.’

‘I’ll make sure I stay in my office for longer tonight, too. I’ll be within call.’

‘Thank you.’

Renie got on with her accounts, but three times she pulled out the business card and studied it. She memorised the address and told herself not to be stupid. As if she’d ever dare use it!

But still, a kind gesture like that had brightened the day. She knew instinctively that Gilbert Rycroft would never harm her, just as she knew that Judson would if he got the chance.

She should start looking for another job at once. And she should be very careful not to be alone where
he
could catch her. 

Renie was lost in thought, thinking about her sister Nell, wondering where she was. She jumped in shock as she suddenly realised Judson was standing right next to her. How could she have failed to sense him coming in?

He took a step closer, so that his thigh was touching her body.

She tried to move her chair away from him, but he followed and her office was so small there wasn’t enough space to move again.

He smiled, a slow, gloating smile, as if he understood exactly how trapped he’d made her feel.

‘Excuse me, but I need to get something out of the cupboard,’ she said.

‘Don’t let me stop you.’ But he made no attempt to move back.

She glared at him. ‘You’re in my way.’

‘Oh, I think there’s room to brush past.’

‘I don’t care to do that.’

He didn’t answer, just reached out and grasped her breast,
giving it a slow twist that hurt so much it made her yelp in pain and shock. For a moment he kept hold of her breast, his fingers digging in, deliberately hurting her further. Then footsteps came towards them along the corridor and he let go.

She was so shocked she couldn’t think straight for a moment or two. No man had ever touched her in this way before, and why should he want to hurt her? She was sure that wasn’t normal, even though people didn’t discuss such things.

As he stepped quickly backwards, he said in a low voice, ‘I shan’t wait much longer, Irene. If you wish to stay here at the Rathleigh, doing your imaginary job, it’ll be on my terms.’ Then he turned and walked away without waiting for an answer.

She sat rigid in her chair, wanting to scream, to rush out and accuse him, to let the world know what he’d just done to her. But she’d seen how he’d got away with similar behaviour at the Rochdale Rathleigh, and knew she had no proof. Her word wouldn’t be nearly enough against his, because
he
was the manager.

Even though it was raining lightly, she went out to walk round and round the gardens at lunchtime, walking fast, turning up her face to the cleansing rain. Anger was still burning through her and she felt dirtied by his touch.

Most of all, she was afraid of what he would try next.

More than afraid, terrified.

She couldn’t stay here much longer.

That evening Renie wrote a letter to Gilbert Rycroft, asking him if she could see him next time he was in London. She
needed some advice about setting up a little business, a shop perhaps.

The pen seemed to continue writing of its own accord. He had been so easy to speak to. 

She stared at the paper, amazed she’d dared to mention this. She’d have to write another letter now, because it wasn’t the sort of thing you should confide in a stranger. And yet … she felt instinctively that Gilbert would understand. She’d never met anyone, apart from her sisters, with whom she felt so much at ease, as if she was able to say anything to him, anything at all.

Oh, she was being silly, letting her imagination run wild. She’d only met him twice.

But she did feel comfortable with him. She wished … oh, the old saying was so right: if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
Don’t be so silly, Renie!

After writing the address on the envelope, she hesitated yet again, going back to re-read those final words.

What had she to lose?

She folded the letter, put it inside the envelope and licked the strip of glue round the pointed edge, sealing it carefully with no wrinkles. She stuck a stamp on it because it wasn’t a letter to her family.

Then it occurred to her that if the Carlings encouraged female members of staff to write to their families, they must
care about their employees. How much did they care? What if she wrote to them, told them about Judson?

For a moment hope flared, then it faded again. It all came back to the same thing: her word against his.

When she put the envelope on the table with the other women’s letters, something made her pick it up again. Those envelopes went through the general office. Judson must know her handwriting by now. She wouldn’t put it past him to remove her letter.

It might be foolish, she might be seeing dragons where there were none, but better safe than sorry. She’d nip out in the morning after breakfast and post the letter herself at the corner of the square. It’d only take a couple of minutes.

As she was making her way to bed, Miss Pilkins stopped her. ‘Are you all right, Irene? I couldn’t help noticing that you weren’t yourself tonight. You haven’t heard from your sister, have you?’

‘No. I wish I had.’

‘Oh. Well, I’m sure you’ll hear something soon. And don’t forget, if I can help in any way …’

‘Thank you.’ The thought of how caring Miss Pilkins and Mrs Tolson were made Renie feel a bit better, but she didn’t want to involve them, because they too would be powerless against Judson and they had a lot more to lose than she did if he sacked them.

As she was getting into bed she had a sudden urge to pack her bags and leave that very minute. She even sat up in bed and flung the covers back.

She could find a cheap hotel and …

No! With a sigh, she pushed that thought aside, tempting
as it was, and lay down again. She couldn’t leave yet. Not till she heard from Nell. She’d already lost touch with Mattie, didn’t want to lose her other sister as well.

After breakfast the next day, Renie slipped out to post her letter at the corner of the square, but when she got back she nearly bumped into Judson, who was standing in the shadows at the end of the little corridor which the staff used to go into and out of the hotel.

‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.

‘Out for a breath of fresh air … sir.’

‘Not much fresh air to be found on the way to the postbox.’

She shivered. He must have been watching her out of his office window.

‘Why didn’t you put your letter with the others?’

‘It was important, so I wanted to post it myself.’

‘Writing to a lover, eh?’

She drew herself up. ‘Certainly not.’

He gave her one of his sneering smiles. ‘Never had a lover, have you? But you will. That’s what women like you were made for and I—’

‘Is something wrong, Meestair Judson?’

He jerked round in shock.

Monsieur Leduc was standing behind him.

‘I was just speaking to Miss Fuller about something.’ He nodded to Renie. ‘You can get on with your work now. I’ll see you later.’

She hurried away, hoping Monsieur wouldn’t think she’d been encouraging the manager to chat to her.

Judson always seemed to be lurking nearby. She couldn’t turn round lately without bumping into him.

Well, at least she could be sure of her letter reaching Gilbert Rycroft.

How long could she keep Judson at bay, though? In such a large building there were places he could catch her where few people were within hearing. Surely he wouldn’t … force himself on her?

Revulsion at this thought made her feel physically sick. She hated him to touch her, and had a huge bruise on her left breast from their encounter in her office. She hoped none of the girls had seen it as she got dressed and undressed. What would they have thought?

There was a roar of anger from the stable area at Oakdene and Horry came storming into the house.

‘That does it! I’m sleeping near the car from now on. They’re not getting the chance to set fire to this one.’

‘What’s the matter?’ Gil asked.

‘Come and look at the car. See what someone’s done to it.’

Horry led the way outside, across the backyard and into the part of the stable block where the car was kept until a proper building could be provided for it. The area was open to the elements on one side, but at least the car was under cover here and intruders would have to go past Horry’s quarters to get there. Or climb over the back wall.

The area had been used as an extra hay store in the days when several horses were kept, and had a tack room leading off it at one side and a storage room next to that for everything from drenches to saddle soap.

‘Look at that!’ Horry stabbed his finger towards the side of the car’s bonnet. There were several scratch marks all along it, as if someone had used a screwdriver or similar metal tool.

‘Damn! Those are deep gouges. Is it Chapman’s work, do you think?’

‘Who else would have done something like that?’

‘We’ll have to get some doors fitted to this area to keep the car safe till we can build you a proper workshop.’

‘We shouldn’t need to.’ Horry’s face was red with fury. ‘Don’t you waste your money on that! I’m going to sleep out here from now on. He’s not getting near our car again.’

‘Have you checked for footprints?’

‘Yes. Whoever it was got over the wall, but he must have dragged a leafy branch along the ground behind them to brush the footprints out. We used to do that as children when we were playing at stalking in the woods. Come and look.’

They stood together staring down at the thin, whisk-like marks in the dusty ground.

‘Cunning, isn’t he?’ Gil sighed.

‘So can I sleep out here?’

‘Of course you can. But I hate to think of how uncomfortable you’ll be.’

‘The weather’s not all that cold now, sir, and I’ve slept in far worse places. I’ll put my mattress on the hay, but out of sight, like. And I’ll get the lad to sleep nearby as well, though we ought to pay him a bob or two extra for that. It’s always good to have two people around when there’s villainy going on.’

‘Do as you think best, and if you need to buy anything to help you protect the car and stables, not to mention yourself, don’t hesitate to ask for it.’

Gil turned to leave, then swung back. ‘It occurred to me that the branch marks might lead you somewhere just as footprints would. Why don’t you follow them and see where they go?’

But Horry came back half an hour later, scowling. ‘The marks only lead into the village, sir, then there are so many footprints and wheel ruts, it’s hard to tell which person was going where.’

‘He’ll make a mistake one day.’

‘Well, he can’t make it fast enough for me. Fancy doing that to our car, or to any car! He wants taking out and whipping, that one does.’

The day got steadily worse. A letter arrived from Gil’s lawyer by the first post.

There was another envelope underneath it, addressed to him in round, childish handwriting. Thinking it to be part of the hoax, Gil opened it reluctantly.

He found it to be a letter from the nice young woman who worked at the Rathleigh, asking for his help. Renie briefly outlined what she was thinking of doing and asked for his advice. He wanted very much to help her, but had to deal with his own situation first, so he stuffed her letter into his pocket and arranged for Horry to drive him into Swindon.

He wasn’t kept waiting long at Mr Mortlake’s rooms.

‘Do come in, my dear fellow. I hope you’re well.’

Gil didn’t answer that, couldn’t be bothered with meaningless chit-chat. ‘Can I see the letter, please?’

Mr Mortlake handed it over. It was brief and to the point.

‘Standish doesn’t say what proof he can offer of his client’s relationship to Miss Bennerden,’ Mr Mortlake said. ‘Chapman certainly had no proof to offer when he came to see me, only a tale of being related through a second cousin. Miss Bennerden wasn’t even sure about the second cousin’s existence. As to the claim for a share in the estate, I’m quite certain she didn’t intend to leave him anything.’

He frowned, taking back the letter and holding it between his fingertips as if it were filthy. ‘It worries me that I don’t recognise this fellow’s colleagues. You’d think out of three names, I’d have heard of one of them. I’m pretty well connected in legal circles, for all I live in Wiltshire.’

‘What sort of proof could they have?’

‘I don’t know.’ He hesitated, then said in a low voice, ‘I shall deny saying this, but I think any proof produced by Chapman is likely to be forged. He once wrote a letter and forged Miss Bennerden’s name on it.’

‘Did he, now!’

‘Yes. I wish I’d kept it. Even she, who always believed the best about people, had to admit in the end that he was a bad ’un.’

‘She was right. I can’t stand the fellow. I still believe he set fire to my outbuildings, or arranged for it to be done.’

Mr Mortlake shook his head sadly. ‘I think I’d better send someone up to London to check the firm out before I proceed any further, just to make sure it actually exists. We also have to verify that Standish really is a lawyer and not merely a crony of Chapman’s. I hate to waste your money on this taradiddle, but it’s best to be certain before we act so—’