Moorcroft - the Possession: Book One of the Moorcroft Trilogy (27 page)

Back at the house Richard glared at the phone wishing it would ring, it was weeks now and he still had not heard anything from the detective and began to think he had wasted his money. Mary still came in to cook his meals and clean the rooms still in use and they often talked about the village and Moorcroft. Mary’s mother had retired, but she still visited the house from time to time and sat in the kitchen keeping Mary company. Richard started to tidy the rose garden to the front of the house. He looked down on the tangle of weeds and the dead heads of the roses. This had been his mother’s pride and joy and he was determined to make it beautiful again. Mary laughed at the number of times he came into the kitchen for plasters and antiseptic to put on his scratches and insect bites. He had dismissed the gardener months ago and the lawns were now knee high. He looked in the barn and found the ride on lawn mower, how hard could it be. Mary and her mother would watch from the dining room window, in stitches with laughter watching him manoeuvre across the rough grass.

It was several weeks before Mr Parker, the detective contacted him; he had found Sarah and had her address and some photographs. Richard arranged to meet at his office the next day. Steven Parker shook hands with Richard and pointed to the seat opposite. He still had cold clammy hands and Richard was tempted to wipe his own down his trousers but resisted. “What have you got for me Mr Parker?”

The little man pushed a large manila envelope towards him. Richard opened it and found inside several photographs of Sarah, some in her garden, some out shopping and some with Charles and his mother. She seemed happy enough but he could see how thin she had become and felt responsible. He opened the folded piece of paper and read her address. In the envelope was a report of hours spent, travel and so forth and a copy of Sarah’s marriage certificate. Richard put everything back into the envelope and took out his cheque book and settled the bill. As he approached the door Mr Parker spoke.

“I don’t know if it’s of any consequence but one day I took the liberty of sitting at a table close to your sister and an older woman and listened to their conversation. They talked a lot about babies and prams, although you can’t see much proof from the photographs, I think your sister may be pregnant, but I couldn’t be sure.”

Richard smiled and nodded as he opened the door. “Thank you for that Mr Parker; I may need your services again in the future.”

Back at Moorcroft Richard laid the pictures of Sarah across his desk and looked closely at them. She was very thin and her clothes hung on her but he could see no evidence of a pregnancy, she must have been speaking about someone else. Although she was smiling her eyes were sad and he felt a lump in his throat, they used to be so close. Charlotte stood looking over his shoulder at the photographs and could feel Richard’s sadness. Why oh why was he interested in that woman, surely she had caused him enough distress; he was on the road to recovery and just look at him now. He slumped in his chair and his shoulders shook as he cried. He missed his parents and his sister and good friend Charles, but most of all he missed his sweet Victoria. He swept the pictures to the floor and collapsed over the desk. Charlotte wanted to comfort him but knew this was not the time; first she must gain his trust.

He poured himself a whisky and looked at the amber fluid in the bottom of the glass. He rocked his hand from side to side and watched as it swirled around the sides. Should he drink this or would it be the start of another binge. He put the glass to his lips and drank it down in one large gulp. He picked up the bottle and poured another, his hand was shaking. He sat back at his desk and put the glass down and took a pen and paper from the drawer and began to write.

Dear Sarah,

I hope this letter finds you in better health, Charles’s mother told me of your illness after mother’s funeral, but refused to give me your address, I had to use other means to find you. I have stopped my heavy drinking and I am trying to bring my life back to normal. I am sorry for all the ill feeling between us and I am trying to put the pieces together so that I can understand what happened that fateful morning. I know the drinking and the affects of losing Victoria blurred my thinking but I know what I saw and I still cannot understand your explanation.

Moorcroft is a lonely place and I miss you and Charles. I have tried to resurrect mothers rose gardens but I think it needs a woman’s touch. I have even ventured out on the lawn mower but I can’t understand why all the dull brown patches appear. Brandy is getting old now but he still plods after me when I take a turn round the garden, he’ll be the next to go.

Give my regards to Charles and his parents and please consider coming home, I miss you.

Your brother Richard.

He put down his pen and read the letter, folded it and put it in the envelope; tomorrow he would post it and wait for her reply. Charlotte had watched him write the letter and after reading it had found a way to introduce herself to Richard and a plan was forming in her mind.

Mary came every morning bar Sundays to make Richard a cooked lunch and would spend the rest of the day tidying and cleaning, she had started taking his washing home so Richard had bought her a new washing machine which was housed under the stairs. When he was out for the day she would just cook him an evening meal and leave it for him to warm up. Now that she only worked part time she and her mother could spend more time together. She had noticed a change for the better in his life style but wished he could put the death of Victoria behind him once and for all and start enjoying life again. The only visitors to the house now were the trade’s people and the occasional visit from the doctor, Henry Davenport.

It was on a clear Sunday morning that Charlotte put her plan in motion. The sky was blue and the birds were singing and she had heard Richard in the kitchen making himself breakfast. She knew that he always took his coffee into the drawing room to drink and he would stand at the window and look across the grounds and down the drive. Today would be different, today he would notice her.

In the kitchen Richard was eating his breakfast, cereals and toast and marmalade, the coffee was slowly percolating on the stove. His Sundays were, more or less, the same each week. He would have a leisurely breakfast, take Dancing Lady for her exercise then go down to the village for his Sunday papers and sit and read the news for the rest of the day. Mary always left him some cold meat for his dinner and he would have a baked potato and salad plus there were always some of Mary’s delicious cakes in the pantry. The day was what he made it. He put the dirty dishes in the sink to wash later and filled his mug with his second coffee and sauntered across the hall, his foot falls echoing on the wooden floor. In the drawing room he put his coffee cup down on the side table and pulled back the curtains; the sun flooded the room and made him squint. Another sunny day, perhaps he should sit outside in the fresh air. It was then he saw her, a young woman bent over tending to his mother’s roses.

He went to the front door and stood in the porch watching her. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her, either she hadn’t heard him opening the door or she was deliberately ignoring him, he couldn’t decide which. He watched her move from one rose bush to another a pair of secateurs snipping off foliage and dead heads. Her skirt caught on a thorny stem and she swore as she tried to free herself.

“Stand still or you’ll tear your skirt.”

She swung round and smiled. He bent down and released the fabric and looked into the smiling face. “No harm done, just a little pull on the hem, I’m sure it can be fixed.”

“Thank you, these thorns can be lethal.” She bent and held up her skirt for a better look and Richard admired her shapely legs and glossy black hair draped across her face. When she stood up and faced him he had the feeling they had met before but couldn’t think where. He was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry but have we met before and what are you doing here?”

She looked embarrassed. “Oh yes, my name is Charlotte, you must be Richard Gardener the owner of Moorcroft.”

He took her arm and steered her towards the bench by the drawing room window. They sat down looking at each other; she played with the secateurs nervously.

“Charlotte, I’ve heard that name before.”

“You will have, I used to sit with your mother at night, and we talked a lot.”

“Ah, that’s right my mother mentioned your name several times, I thought you were a figment of her imagination, now here you are in the flesh, but why are you here now?”

“I was speaking to someone in the village and they mentioned how your garden had become neglected and I knew how much your mother had loved her roses so I thought I would come and tend to them. I’m sorry I should have asked your permission first, I’ll go now.”

“No, please don’t go, come into the kitchen and have a coffee, I don’t get many visitors.”

Charlotte followed him into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table and watched as Richard made a fresh pot of coffee. Brandy sat in his basket staring at her a low growl escaping his lips. She was happy to see the strain had gone from Richard’s features and a smile was always ready on his face. Her plan was working, now she must take care not to ruin it.

“Do you take milk and sugar?”

“Oh yes, both please.” She had never liked coffee but she mustn’t spoil things now. He brought the cups to the table and sat opposite her.

“Now tell me, how come you sat with my mother most nights and I never met you?”

“It was probably because you were always cooped up in your study. Anyway, I sat with your mother when most people were asleep. She talked a lot about you.”

Richard scowled. “Oh no, that leaves me at a disadvantage. Tell me how come I knew nothing about you?”

“Well the old lady that sat with your mother was asleep for most of the night and your mother needed someone to watch over her. I enjoyed talking to her, I miss her.”

“I wish you had met her when she was in good health, ran this house like a military operation, kept me and my sister in order I can tell you.” He looked down at her cup. “You haven’t touched your coffee is it not to your taste?”

She smiled. “I’m not too keen on coffee to be honest, I’m sorry.”

He picked up the cups and took them to the sink. “You should have said. Would you like a cold drink or tea perhaps?”

She shook her head. “No really, I don’t want anything. I think I should be getting back now, you don’t mind me taking care of the roses?”

“Not at all, but how did you get here, I didn’t see a car?”

“I like to walk, especially on a nice day like today.”

“Perhaps next time you come I can ask Mary to make us both some lunch. There will be a next time?”

She turned her head away and frowned. “Oh yes I’ll call again now I know that you don’t mind, but I would rather you didn’t mention my visit, I wouldn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.”

At the door Richard watched as she strolled down the drive, one minute she was there the next she had vanished.

Over the next few days he found himself standing at the windows looking out for Charlotte but she didn’t appear. Perhaps he had scared her off. Little did he know that she was always close by watching him. She was glad that Eddie was leaving; now she would have him all to herself, if only she could get rid of the gossiping women in the kitchen, Richard was often found in there listening to their stupid prattle. On several occasions she had followed Mary around the house as she dusted and tidied, she had left windows open and knocked things over but the silly woman took no notice, perhaps she was losing her touch, she must think of something more drastic.

Mary had given him a list of things she needed in the house, she had offered to get them for him but he enjoyed going into the village and talking to the locals. Mary would go into the butchers and choose the cuts of meat and Richard would go in to collect and pay for them later, it was a good system. He would pick up his morning paper and collect his mail. Outside the small post office he looked at the four envelopes and his excitement mounted three bills and an envelope written in Sarah’s hand. He pushed them in his pocket eager to get home and to read his sister’s letter.

He rushed into the kitchen and looked around for Mary; she must be upstairs cleaning somewhere. He put the shopping on the table and put the meat into the fridge for her to sort out later. He got himself a glass of water and stood at the kitchen sink looking at the envelope. Would it tell him all was well that Sarah and Charles were coming home, there was only one way to find out. He emptied his glass and walked into the study and sat at his desk. He looked at the white envelope and Sarah’s writing, he turned it over and over in his hand. Taking the letter opener he slit it across the top and took out a single sheet of paper and began to read.

Dear Richard,

I am glad that you are at last getting your life back in order and that you have stopped drinking. Charles’s mother was only trying to protect me when she refused to give you our address but you found us anyway. Charles is happy working for his father although he does miss the countryside and the old house, as I do. Victoria’s death was such a loss to me that I withdrew from reality, it was as if a part of me had died with her and losing the family and my home only made matters worse. I found it hard to come to terms that I was never going to see her again. Then the shock of father’s death and mother’s illness just as I was feeling more myself knocked me back, it was only Charles’s love and understanding that pulled me through. I know that you must have been going through the same feelings and I’m sorry that I couldn’t be by your side but the burden of blame that you put at my hand was too much to bear and I blamed you for the time I lost with our parents before they died.

I have spoken to many doctors and I have had to deny many things in order to get my health back on track. One thing I am sure of, something that no one will believe, and that is that you are not alone at Moorcroft, someone threatened both Victoria and myself, of that I am certain and it was that same someone who pushed her to her death and I am sorry that I couldn’t prevent it.