Page 108 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

‘Very well,’ he said, and there was no fun in his face, no charm, no softness.

He seemed to her stripped back to the essential Milo, and there was nothing there for her.

The end of their relationship had been that easy.

Like a shallow-rooted tree, the first strong wind had blown it over.

‘Stay if you want,’ he went on, ‘but I’m still selling this house, so you’ll have to find somewhere else to live.

If you want to divorce me, have your lawyer talk to my lawyer in Switzerland.

I’ll leave you his address. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do. ’

She left him, without another word. She went to her bedroom and sat on the bed, staring at nothing. She was shaking, but no tears came. Oddly, the only thought that came to her was Basil never trusted him .

Her maid, Tasker, came in at last, hesitantly, and said, ‘Did you want me to pack, my lady? And Cook says, will you be dining in?’

Charlotte stood up, resolve hardening. ‘No, I won’t be dining in,’ she said. ‘Pack me an overnight case. The yellow linen for tomorrow will do, with the two-tone shoes. I shan’t need you with me. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll talk about the rest of the packing then.’

Polly and Lennie were coming back from a ride, talking about the harvest. The wonderful dry, clear weather had resulted in an excellent wheat yield, which they had been able to get in early. Now in August the oats were about ready, and there would be a good second cut of hay.

‘Second cut always smells so much sweeter,’ Polly said.

‘It’s more nourishing, too,’ said Lennie.

She looked at him. ‘How would you know that?’

‘John Burton told me,’ he admitted. ‘Don’t laugh at me. I have to learn these things. Are you going to put the sheep onto the stubble fields?’

‘Yes, Farmer Giles! They help to manure it. At Moon’s Rush they put pigs on the stubble – they’re as good as ploughing for turning over the soil.’

They had reached the Monument and Morland Place appeared at the bottom of the slope before them. Polly halted automatically. ‘I love seeing it from this viewpoint,’ she said. ‘It looks so welcoming. Does it look like home to you now?’

‘I think it always did,’ Lennie said. ‘Remember I lived here during the war. And back in the States it was always only an apartment. I don’t think you can get attached to an apartment in the same way. Look at it! Dreaming in the sun the way it has for five hundred years. It looks so unchangeable.’

Polly laughed. ‘Cross your fingers when you say that.’

They started down the slope. They heard the sound of an aeroplane’s engine, but paid no attention. There were so many of them now, it had become something you didn’t bother to notice.

‘It’s just a trainer,’ Polly said, when it came into sight, heading across her view from right to left.

‘An Avro 621,’ Lennie said.

She was amused. ‘Do you know everything?’

‘Very nearly,’ he said. ‘Probably some lad’s first solo flight.’

She frowned. ‘But he’s much too low. He needs to pull up!’

It happened so quickly. Even as her voice rose in alarm at the end of the short sentence, there was a tremendous bang as the fixed undercarriage hit the chapel roof.

The plane ricocheted up, missed the top of the gatehouse by a whisker, rocked wildly as the pilot fought to regain control, skimmed across the track and the rails on the far side, hit the grass, stuck its nose down and flipped over onto its back.

Polly and Lennie were already cantering down the slope.

People came running out of Morland Place, across the drawbridge, vaulting or climbing over the rails.

Thanking heaven she was on Zephyr, Polly popped him neatly over into the field, and shouted to Hodgson, one of her grooms, to come and take him.

Lennie could not get his mount to jump into the field, scared of the alien thing in it, and had to grab someone to hold it while he climbed over.

The first-comers had reached the plane. It looked so pathetic and helpless on its back, with one wheel still spinning, the other missing, presumably torn off.

The pilot was, thank God, already crawling out, and willing hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.

She shouted to everyone to get clear, in case it caught fire, but he said, ‘It’s all right, I’ve switched off. ’

He pulled off his flying helmet as she reached him.

He was as tall as her, and skinny, He looked, to her eyes, about fourteen.

They were so young! He had straight dark hair, flattened by the helmet, and blue eyes.

There was a big red mark on his forehead, already swelling into a lump, but he didn’t appear to have any other injuries, except for seeming, understandably, shaken.

Behind her, she heard Lennie tell someone to go back to the house and telephone the base. ‘They’ll have to send a lorry to fetch the machine.’

The boy turned his attention to Lennie, instinctively recognising authority. ‘I’m awfully sorry, sir,’ he said. ‘Is it your house?’

‘It’s my wife’s,’ Lennie said, reaching Polly’s side just as she answered, ‘Yes,’ to the question. ‘Are you all right?’ Lennie went on.

‘Yes, sir, I think so. Oh, Lord! I’m frightfully sorry about … I hope I haven’t done too much damage. Oh, God, Wing’s going to slaughter me.’

‘Very likely,’ Lennie said. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know. I misjudged it. I tried to pull up, but …’ He looked round at the Avro and registered the missing wheel, the other damage to the undercarriage. ‘Wing’s going to kill me,’ he whimpered.

‘You’d better come back to the house, and we’ll put something on that bump,’ Polly said.

He put a vague hand to his forehead, but said, ‘Oh, no, thanks awfully, ma’am, but I must stay with my ’bus, make sure nobody touches her.

Oh, Lord, I’ve busted your house! They’re absolutely going to kill me.

’ He looked as though he was about to cry.

‘My first solo, and I’ve made such a mucker of it. ’

Polly and Lennie exchanged a look. ‘I’ll go back and see what’s happened,’ Lennie said. ‘You stay here until they send someone. They won’t be long.’ He patted the boy’s shoulder. ‘Take it easy, son. It doesn’t look as though you’ve done too much damage, and the government will pay.’

The words didn’t seem to comfort him much. He looked so miserable that he plucked at Polly’s motherly instincts. She suggested he sat down, and said a cigarette might calm him. ‘I don’t smoke,’ he said. But he sat on the grass, rather suddenly.

Inside Morland Place it was rather like a kicked ant’s nest, with people dashing about, apparently trying to save precious things and carry them out of the house or down to the cellars, while one or two of the maids were huddling, wide-eyed with fear, unable to do anything useful.

Oxton, the under-butler, rushed at Lennie with evident relief, saying that it was Barlow’s afternoon off and he had gone into York.

Lennie took charge and was able to bring order quite quickly by assuring everyone that it wasn’t a bomb, that the war hadn’t started, and that the Germans weren’t coming.

He told everyone to stop moving things until he’d seen the damage, compelled Oxton to accompany him, and walked calmly through the staircase hall and to the chapel.

As soon as he opened the door, a cloud of dust billowed out, and it was a few moments before it had settled enough to see anything.

Then he could see a patch of daylight above where there shouldn’t have been one – a hole in the roof.

At first it seemed shocking: the air was full of dust, there was a litter of wood splinters and split panels, broken slates, twisted bits of lead and lumps of plaster and stone.

The impression was of devastation. But as he looked more carefully, he could see that most of the damage was to the Lady Chapel, where a substantial beam had come down right on the Lady altar, and was lying across it with the far end resting on the marble memorial to Eleanor and Robert Morland.

There were no windows on the moat side of the chapel, so fortunately none of the glass had been broken.

They had got off pretty lightly, he thought.

He backed out, closing the door. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘No-one is to go in for the time being. Can this door be locked? Very well, do it, and bring me the key. And let’s get someone here right away to put a tarpaulin over that hole in the roof, in case it rains.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And fetch the estate carpenter as soon as possible to look at the damage.’

He left Oxton to find the key to the chapel door and went back to the Great Hall, to reassure everyone that the damage was repairable. ‘These old places were built to stand up to cannon-fire,’ he reminded them. ‘There’s no danger it’s going to fall down, so you can get back to your work.’

As the door to Molly’s flat was opened by the maid, Clara, Charlotte saw trunks and cases in the hall, and had an attack of déjà vu that made her feel slightly sick.

Molly appeared behind Clara, and beamed a welcome. ‘Hel- lo ! What an unexpected surprise!’ She spotted the bag. ‘Have you come to stay?’

‘What’s happening?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Are you going away?’

‘The children are. They’re going on a lovely, lovely holiday in the country!

’ Charlotte blinked in surprise, and Molly said, ‘I’m practising my jolly-and-bright tones for tomorrow because we don’t want any tears.

Emma and Kit are taking their two down to Walcote and they’re calling here tomorrow to take my two with them.

Vivian’s pretty sure the war’s going to start within weeks, and it’s as well to get them settled before the balloon goes up. ’

‘You’re leaving London for the duration?’