Moorcroft - the Possession: Book One of the Moorcroft Trilogy (15 page)

John raised his glass. “Would you like a drink Henry? How’s my boy?”

“Richard is fine, tough as old boots. But how are you, drinking already, isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“It’s never too early for a good malt whisky, go on have one.”

“No thanks, I have other patients to see. How long has this drinking been going on John, you know it’s not good for you with your heart condition, and it doesn’t look like you’re eating properly. Is something troubling you?”

John put his finger to his lips. “Shush, don’t let Emily hear you. As for troubles, I have them in abundance.”

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

“You’re a good friend, Henry, but even you can’t solve this one.”

Henry moved forward in his chair and looked into John’s eyes. “Try me.”

John lent back in his chair and closed his eyes. “I have a daughter I dote on who I would give my last penny to, and a wife I love dearly and who worries about us all constantly and a son who hates me.”

“John things can’t be that bad. Firstly, Richard doesn’t hate you, he’s a bit head strong that’s all and Emily is worried because you won’t confide in her. She sees you drinking at ten o’clock in the morning, you’re not eating, what is she to think? You must talk to her.”

The old man looked up into Henry’s face. “How can I tell her that I’ve been such a fool? Richard and Charles have been right all along, I’ve been too soft with the tenants and I’m no good with money.”

“Is that the problem, money?”

John threw back is head and laughed. “Problem, it’s a catastrophe. I’m almost bankrupt, Henry.” Tears ran down his face. “Even the bank manager won’t give me any more money. We’re going to lose the house, I’m going to have to sell up. How can I face Emily with that, and Richard will be furious, for months he’s been telling me to watch my cash flow. Ha, cash flow, well this well has run dry.”

“John you must talk to them all. You have farms and land, horses, they can all be sold off to repay your debts, and this isn’t the end.”

John wiped his hand across his face. “Do you think so?”

Henry could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Do you really think so?”

Henry patted his hand. “Yes, but you must talk to them and sort this out, promise me.”

John nodded.

Henry took a pad from his case. “Are you taking your heart tablets?”

John nodded.

“Good. Now John, this drinking has to stop, right now, no more, understand.”

Again John nodded.

“Right, I’m going to prescribe some tablets for you, they will help to calm you down, but you must not have alcohol with them and John you must start eating again, you need some meat on those bones of yours. Will you do that for me?”

Again John nodded.

“Good man. I’m at the end of the phone if you need to talk, okay?”

“Thank you Henry.”

The doctor closed his bag, stood and crossed the room. At the door he stopped and looked back. “Remember John, no more drinking and talk to the family.”

Outside the study Emily waited. She rushed to his side. “Well?”

“I’ve told him to stop drinking and to eat more. I’ve also got this prescription for him.”

Emily looked alarmed. “How ill is he?”

“He’s not a well man, Emily. These tablets will help with his depression.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

He held her hand. “You know I can’t tell you without his permission. Have patience and talk to him. Try and keep Richard off his back for a few days. He’ll come round.” At the door Henry turned. “We’ve been friends a long time, John will get through this. If you need to talk, you know where I am.”

Emily stood for a while in the hall, not knowing what to do. Should she go and see John now or leave it for a while? The house was quiet now that the girls had left for work and Charles was out on the farm somewhere. She left the great hall and took her wellington boots from under the stairs and grabbed her coat. She would prune the roses; she always did her best thinking when she was out in the garden. She crossed the drive and climbed the small wall onto the roundabout. She pulled on her thick gloves and took the secateurs from her pocket and began to snip.

Upstairs in Richard’s room Charlotte watched from the window. Emily saw the outline of someone at the bedroom window and put her hand up to shield her eyes against the light. She waved instinctively. Charlotte stepped back into the room. “Your mother is in the garden pruning the roses. She’s a nice woman, I like her.” She turned and looked at Richard asleep in the chair. If only he could talk to her. She stood by his chair and stroked the wisps of hair from his forehead. “Sleep my love and get well.”

Charles had taken the Land Rover out early; he wanted to check the fencing in the bottom meadows. Mr Phillips from the adjoining land had complained that sheep had been in his fields. He had seen many places where the fences were down, he must have a word with the tenant who used this land. As he entered the farm gates he was appalled at how unkempt everything looked. He shouted. “Mr Fletcher, anybody here?” He left the Land Rover and headed for the barn. He was greeted by the same mess; bales of hay stacked precariously, some of them showing mould. He moved further inside and looked around. A horse was tethered in a stall; he could see its ribs. He went outside and filled a water bucket and took it to the horse. He released the rope from around its neck and it drank eagerly. He pulled it back, he didn’t know much about horses but he didn’t think it was good for a horse to drink so fast. He looked around for some oats, but found none. This was shameful to treat an animal this way. If Richard had seen this he would have killed the man. He went into the yard and shouted again. No response. As he approached the house he saw the dirty curtains move. He banged on the door. “Fletcher, open this door.” He could hear movement inside but the door stayed shut. He turned the handle and pushed. His hand went to his mouth, the stench was sickening. He waited until his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he went further inside. He heard a noise to his side. He moved a chair and saw a small boy cowering in the corner. The lad covered his head with his arms.

“Don’t hit me mister.”

Charles crouched down in front of him, he reached out and the boy flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you. Where are your mother and father?”

“Ma’s gone, left ages ago, took our Pat with her, said she didn’t want me, I was to stay and help dad on the farm.”

Charles stood up and looked around the room, dirty dishes and pans covered the table, scraps of food going mouldy on the plates. The floor was filthy and the room was icy cold. He looked down at the quivering boy. “Where’s your father?”

The boy looked towards a door. “He’s upstairs, but he won’t talk to you, hasn’t talked to me for days. Hurt his leg see and took to his bed and the bottle.”

“Has he seen a doctor?”

“We ain’t got a phone for a doctor. I did my best mister, but he just kept shouting at me, so I stayed down here.”

Charles opened the door, the smell catching in his throat, he took a hanky and put it over his mouth and climbed the narrow stairs. The upstairs was just as dirty as the downstairs, but the smell was worse up here. The back room was empty but for a small iron bed in the corner covered with rags. He turned to the closed door and took a deep breath and went inside. Fletcher was sprawled across the bed. “Mr Fletcher?” He approached the bed. The man’s leg was covered in rags, dry blood covering most of it, flies everywhere. He didn’t go any further into the room; he knew the man was dead.

Back downstairs the boy was standing by the table scraping bits off a dish and putting it in his mouth.

Charles rushed forward. “Stop that.”

The boy moved away quickly.

“How long is it since you’ve eaten?”

The boy put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a half eaten apple and looked down at it in his grubby hand. “I found some apples in the barn yesterday, but they don’t half give me belly ache.”

“Right, you’re coming with me. Do you have a coat?”

“I’m wearing it.”

Charles looked at the flimsy garment. “You’re coming home with me and we’ll get a decent meal inside you.”

The boy looked towards the stairs. “What about my dad?”

Charles sighed, what could he tell the boy? “We’ll go to my house and I’ll send for the doctor, he’ll take care of him.”

The boy nodded.

Outside Charles pulled the door shut. “Go and get in the Land Rover, but don’t touch anything.” Charles walked into the barn and found the horse munching scraps of straw from the floor. He collected the rope and led the horse outside and tied it to the back of the car. He got inside and slowly made his way back to Moorcroft.

Emily was just walking back through the yard when Charles drove slowly through the gates. Her first thought was that the Land Rover had failed in some way and then she noticed the boy and then the horse. Charles shouted for Eddie as he got out of the jeep. He appeared from the stables and looked at the horse and shook his head. He walked over to Charles as he was releasing the horse, the rope still round its neck.

“What on earth has happened here?”

Charles looked into the outraged face of Eddie. “I’ll explain later, can you save him?”

Eddie looked the horse up and down. “I’ll have a damn good try.”

Charles patted him on the shoulder. “Good, I’ll leave him in your capable hands.”

Emily was crouched by the jeep talking to the boy; she stood as Charles appeared at her side.

The boy looked into Charles’s face. “The lady says I have to go with her, is that right mister?”

He held out his hand and the boy jumped down. “What’s your name?”

“My names Edward, but dad calls me Ned.”

“Right Ned, this is Mrs Gardener, she owns this big house and she is going to take care of you.”

“Hell misses, is all of this yours?”

Emily a little taken aback had to smile. “Yes Ned it is, would you like to come inside and have something to eat?”

“Not half lead the way.”

Charles roared with laughter and followed them into the kitchen. Mrs Shaw was shocked when she looked up from her pie making to see Emily and Charles standing in the doorway with a dirty little boy between them. Emily was the first to speak.

“Mrs Shaw do you think you could find something to eat for this poor mite?”

She wiped her hands on a cloth. “Of course, Mrs Gardener, I’m sure I can find a nice piece of pork pie in the pantry.”

“Good then I can leave him in your hands.”

“Don’t you worry none I’ll look after the wee lad.”

Emily turned to Charles. “I need to know what happened; I’ll see you in the drawing room.”

Charles watched the boy, he looked scared. “Now Ned Mrs Shaw will get you something to eat, I have to go and talk to Mrs Gardener now, is that okay?”

“Sure, I’m okay.”

Charles left the room with a smile on his face after seeing the boy lick his lips as Mrs Shaw produced a plate with a large piece of pie on it, the jelly oozing from its side. The cook put her hands on her hips and looked down at the dirty face. “Now, Ned is it?”

He nodded his eyes still on the pie.

“First thing you go and wash your hands and face.”

His head swung round. “What?”

“No wash, no pie, what is it to be?”

He screwed his face into a frown. “Okay, where do I go, outside?”

“No you don’t. Mary come here a minute will you.”

Mary came out of the scullery wiping her hands on her apron. “What’s up Mum?” Her mouth dropped when she saw the scruffy boy standing in her mother’s clean kitchen.

“I want you to take this young man into the scullery and give him a good wash, especially those hands; he has enough dirt under those nails to grow potatoes.”

Mary smiled down at the boy and took his hand and led him into the back room. Mrs Shaw cut a piece of pie and placed it on a plate and a knife and fork alongside it, she laughed as she heard shouts and screams coming from the scullery.

Charles entered the drawing room to find Emily looking out of the window. She crossed to the fire and sat down, Charles sat opposite. When he had finished the horrible tale he looked at the concern in Emily’s face. “I’m sorry to bring the boy here, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No you did the right thing Charles. I take it the boy doesn’t know about his father?”

Charles shook his head.

“The poor mite, we’ll get him fed and cleaned up and ask Eddie if he can bunk down with him above the stables for the time being. I’ll have a look in the attic see if I can find some of Richard’s old clothes up there, although he’s so skinny they will probably drown him. Meanwhile, I think you had better call the doctor and explain the situation.”

In the hall Charles picked up the phone and dialled the number. Henry Davenport answered almost immediately. Charles explained what he had found at the farm.

“Leave it with me Charles, I’ll get over there and sort out the arrangements. The police will have to be informed; they’ll want a word with you.”

“Yes, I know. What of the boy, what will happen with him?”

“He will have to go into care until they can find his mother or a relative willing to take him.”

“Okay thanks Henry, speak to you later.” Charles heard a movement behind him and turned to see John emerging from the study.

“Was that Henry Davenport you were talking to? Richard’s not any worse is he?”

Charles shook his head. “No. No one in this house needs his services. It’s one of the farmers, Sid Fletcher. Can I talk to you in your study, walls have ears?”

John shook his head as he listened to Charles tell his story of how he had found Sid Fletcher. “I was talking to him only a few weeks ago, he was hitting the bottle then. His wife up and left him you say, left the boy too, how’s he doing?”

Charles looked worried. “He doesn’t know about his father yet, I haven’t told him.”

John nodded. “That kind of news is best coming from a woman; I’ll have a word with Emily. I don’t want to sound mercenary but what do we do with the farm now?”

Charles shrugged. “After the police have finished with the place we will have to find a new tenant I suppose, we can’t have it losing money. I’ll discuss it with Richard tomorrow.”