Page 29 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

He was innocent, but the problem was that if the background were known about, he would not look innocent.

He had asked the washerwoman the way to Hog Lane – but the police wouldn’t know about her, unless she volunteered the information, and why would she do that?

He had asked the boys about Jack Hubert, but he believed children could not be witnesses.

As to his asking Hubert about his wife, if they brought that up he must say the witness was mistaken and keep saying it.

To lie was bad, to lie in court was awful, but he had no choice.

When it came down to it, he had done nothing wrong, had he?

A gull just above him screamed, making him jump.

He stopped and leaned on the railings, staring out at the restless sea, billowing like a grey counterpane being vigorously shaken by a diligent maid.

His shadow stopped too, and lit a cigarette.

He realised he was hungry. He could go back to the hotel, but why make it easy for them?

There was a café on the other side of the road.

It would amuse him, just a little, to see how the shadow dealt with that.

Would he follow him in and order a cup of tea, or lurk about outside?

What if there was only one free table? Would he sit down with him and pretend he hadn’t been following him?

It was not much of an amusement but, then, he hadn’t much to be amused about.

When Rose turned in at the gate of Hundon’s, she heard Jess bark from the barn.

She would have expected Fly to come running out, warning Woodrow she had arrived: the dog’s absence suggested he was not at home.

She frowned. It was the right day and the right time.

If he had forgotten, he’d get the sharp edge of her tongue.

She would not tolerate being messed around.

She crossed the yard and rapped at the kitchen door, and it was opened by Martha, clutching a rolling-pin, letting out a gust of baking smell, and a glimpse of steam from the nose of a kettle on the range. But Martha herself was not welcoming. She scowled at Rose, and said, ‘What do you want?’

‘I’ve come to tea,’ Rose said stiffly. ‘He invited me.’

‘He’s not here. So you can go away.’

‘What d’you mean, he’s not here? He said Thursday at four, and it’s Thursday, and it’s four o’clock.’

‘He’s out with the cows. And he doesn’t want to see you.’

Rose’s eyes narrowed. ‘He does too. You mean you don’t want to see me.’

‘I know your sort!’ Martha said, glaring at her, folding her arms across her front. ‘You and your wiles!’

‘Wiles?’ Rose was genuinely surprised. ‘I haven’t got wiles.’

‘Luring men to the bad with your wanton ways! You want to take him away from me. Well, you can’t have him!

Clear off out of it, and don’t come here again!

He’s not interested in you. He’s a good man, and you’re a bad sort, and I won’t let you take him.

’ She unfolded her arms to wave the rolling-pin.

‘Go on, clear off! Or I’ll fetch you one upsides the head, you hussy! ’

There was a bark from the gate, and Rose glanced round to see Fly running towards her, and Michael Woodrow coming in the gate behind him. ‘Martha!’ he said sharply.

Martha looked at him for a moment with her jaw jutting, then seemed to wilt. ‘She’s – she come here—’

‘I know. I invited her,’ he said, reaching them and gently removing the rolling-pin from Martha’s hand.

Rose looked at him, uncertain and angry, a blush of chagrin warming her face. ‘Your sister’s threatening me. She’s been saying shocking things about me,’ she began.

He lifted a hand to stop her, but with a pleading look, and turned to Martha. ‘Go in, Martha dear, and mash the tea. Everything’s all right. Rose is a friend. Go on, now, all’s well.’

Martha gave him an uncertain look, then went meekly in. Woodrow waited, then turned to Rose. ‘I’m so sorry. I meant to be here when you arrived but one of the cows got her head stuck through a fence and I couldn’t leave her. Please forgive me.’

Rose was not ready to let go of her anger yet. ‘But what your sister said—’

‘She doesn’t mean those things. I told you she was a bit strange, ever since her mother died. Strangers unsettle her.’

‘She should be locked up, threatening folks.’

‘Oh, no,’ he pleaded gently. ‘She’d never do anything. It’s just that she’s frightened I’ll go away and leave her. When a new person comes along, she thinks they’ll take me away from her. Once she gets used to you, she’ll be all right. She would never hurt you.’

Rose sniffed and tossed her head. ‘I don’t have to put up with that sort of thing.’

‘Please,’ he coaxed, ‘won’t you come in and have tea? You’ve come all this way. I promise she won’t be difficult now.’

She allowed him to urge her through the door. ‘Why d’you put up with it?’ She gave a last retort.

‘She’s my sister.’ He followed her in. ‘Did you never have a sister?’

‘Two brothers,’ Rose said shortly. She looked warily at Martha, who was pouring boiling water into the teapot. The kitchen table was spread with a cloth with three places laid, and there was a plate of bread and butter, a dish of jam, and a cake stand at present unoccupied. All as nice as could be.

Woodrow pulled out a chair for her. ‘Please sit. Guest of honour.’

Martha brought the teapot to the table and put it down gently, raised uncertain eyes to her brother’s face, and seemed to be reassured by his smile. She didn’t smile herself, but the fearsome scowl was gone.

‘Is that your scones I can smell?’ he asked her. ‘Lovely! Martha makes the best scones in the whole of England,’ he told Rose. ‘So light you’d think they’d float off the plate.’

‘Silly nonsense,’ Martha snorted, but it was clear she was pleased. She went back to the range and brought out from the cool oven a plate of scones that were keeping warm there, and put it down with almost exaggerated care on the cake stand, then looked at her brother.

‘Sit down, Martha dear,’ he said, ‘and pour the tea. How do you like it, Miss Hawkins?’

‘Strong,’ said Rose, still feeling uncertain.

But the scones smelt delicious, and looked perfect, neat and round with shiny brown tops, and she felt a growl of hunger – it was a long time since dinner.

Martha seemed as meek as a sheep now, and you wouldn’t know from looking at her that she’d ever been otherwise.

But if she could turn that quickly she could turn the other way as well, and Rose was wary.

Michael Woodrow seemed to know that, picked up the plate and offered it to her. ‘Have a scone. You must be hungry. It’s so nice of you to come and see us. A little tea party makes a nice change to routine, don’t you think? Jam with your scone? Martha’s own bramble jam.’

‘Picked ’em myself last back end,’ Martha said, her eyes on her plate. ‘It were a good crop.’

Rose tried the scone, and it was delicious. She risked looking at Martha. ‘Very nice,’ she said. ‘Nice scone, nice jam.’

The atmosphere seemed to relax. Martha didn’t smile, but her shoulders went down.

‘Tell me about your brothers,’ Michael said. ‘Older or younger?’

‘Both younger,’ Rose said. ‘I had to be mother to ’em when I was a girl. Till they went out in the world.’

‘Where are they now?’

‘One’s in the navy and one’s in the army. That way they get their food and lodging. My dad always said—’ She stopped, wary of being the only one to talk.

‘Yes?’ he encouraged.

‘Get a job where your feet are under the table,’ she concluded. ‘That’s why I went into service.’

‘Yes, that’s wise,’ he said. ‘When I went to work for Lord Denham, a cottage came with the job. And now there’s this house.’

‘D’you like it here?’ Rose asked, finishing the scone.

Michael offered the plate again with admirable promptness. ‘The house, or the job? I like both. Martha loves the house – don’t you? – and the job is everything I’ve been working towards. To be dairyman in charge of my own herd!’

Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘Cows! They’re stupid, aren’t they?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ he said. ‘They’re capable of learning and remembering. And they can be affectionate.’

‘I wouldn’t fancy one licking me, like a dog.’

He laughed. ‘Well, they do that! And at Lord Denham’s once, when I sat down in the cow field against a tree to have my lunch, one of them came and couched down beside me, and I thought she was going to try to get on my lap!’

‘Lord and Lady Denham are coming to the Castle for Easter,’ Rose said.

‘I’ve to get the Queen’s Bedroom ready for them.

That’s the one his old lordship used to sleep in, but his present lordship didn’t like it.

Not one for being grand, Lord Stainton. He’d have taken one of the bachelor rooms when he came into the title, only his mother wouldn’t let him. ’

‘Lord and Lady Denham are pretty grand,’ said Michael, ‘but I always had a good relationship with his lordship, because of the cows. I think they were the thing he loved most in the world.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Not Lady Denham?’

‘Well, you know what titled people are like. They don’t generally marry for love.’

He happened to meet Rose’s eyes as he said that, and there was a moment in which the world seemed to pause, its attention caught just for a second, before it rolled on. Martha lifted the teapot lid noisily and inserted a spoon to stir the contents.

‘More tea?’ Michael offered prosaically.