Authors: Marcia Willett
The Courtyard (5 page)
âHe certainly does. He's nodding madly. If you could then. We'll have some coffee somewhere on the way. See you soon.'
The line went dead and Gussie replaced the receiver. Her lips
trembled a little and she swallowed once or twice. Nell and Jack made her feel needed, important to their well-being. Loved even? She shook her head fiercely.
trembled a little and she swallowed once or twice. Nell and Jack made her feel needed, important to their well-being. Loved even? She shook her head fiercely.
âWhat a fool I am, Lord,' she muttered. âBut thank you. Now. Where did I put that piece of paper?'
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GILLIAN TORE OPEN THE envelope containing her Barclaycard statement, stared with dismay at the amount required for the minimum payment and opened her eyes even wider in disbelief at the balance owing. Surely there must be some mistake? It had been rather exciting to find that, when she received her new card in her married name, the credit limit had been raised quite substantially but surely she couldn't have used it all up and even exceeded it? She checked the list of names: Dingles, Russell and Bromley, Laura Ashley. Gillian groaned and, picking up the rest of her post, hurried out of the breakfast room and up the stairs.
Mrs Ridley, coming through from the kitchen with a tray, watched her go. Gillian made no effort to help with the running of the house and it was only Mrs Ridley's affection for Henry and her loyalty to him that prevented her from making Gillian's life at Nethercombe a great deal more uncomfortable than she found it already. In her opinion, Henry had been taken in. Of course, Mr Ridley was all for making allowances, thought that his wife's judgements were a bit harsh, but then he was hardly ever in the front of the house and Gillian was young and pretty. Mrs Ridley sniffed contemptuously, waddled across the hall and went into the breakfast room. Her stout short figure was wrapped in an overall which was tied firmly round her middle, giving her the appearance of an untidily packed parcel. She put the tray on the table and started to clear away the breakfast things.
Upstairs Gillian gazed out of her bedroom window, across the
roofs of the Courtyard to the woods beyond, where the first tender haze of green was beginning to show. The early spring sunshine, the thin, pale, washed-out blue of the sky, heralded a break at last from the long wet winter months but Gillian barely saw the glory of the day. Hands clenched into fists, arms folded beneath her breasts, her view was inward. How on earth was she to pay? Henry had made it quite clear that he couldn't afford any more at present. She had completely done over their bedroom and the paying of the bills had left him rather quiet. When they got married he'd opened a joint bank account and given her a cheque book along with a clear idea of the sum usually at their disposal. Gillian also kept her own account, unknown to Henry, into which she siphoned small amounts of money against a personal emergency. Well, this was a personal emergency but she knew very well that her own account was overdrawn and she'd been politely but firmly warned that no further cheques would be honoured until funds had been paid in. If she paid her Barclaycard out of the joint account, Henry would know. He always checked the statements when they arrived and Gillian was only too aware that Henry didn't approve of credit cards. He was quite gullible enough to believe that her new clothes and shoes were merely ones he hadn't seen before but he would certainly want to know what such a large cheque had been spent on and then he would probably want to see the Barclaycard account.
roofs of the Courtyard to the woods beyond, where the first tender haze of green was beginning to show. The early spring sunshine, the thin, pale, washed-out blue of the sky, heralded a break at last from the long wet winter months but Gillian barely saw the glory of the day. Hands clenched into fists, arms folded beneath her breasts, her view was inward. How on earth was she to pay? Henry had made it quite clear that he couldn't afford any more at present. She had completely done over their bedroom and the paying of the bills had left him rather quiet. When they got married he'd opened a joint bank account and given her a cheque book along with a clear idea of the sum usually at their disposal. Gillian also kept her own account, unknown to Henry, into which she siphoned small amounts of money against a personal emergency. Well, this was a personal emergency but she knew very well that her own account was overdrawn and she'd been politely but firmly warned that no further cheques would be honoured until funds had been paid in. If she paid her Barclaycard out of the joint account, Henry would know. He always checked the statements when they arrived and Gillian was only too aware that Henry didn't approve of credit cards. He was quite gullible enough to believe that her new clothes and shoes were merely ones he hadn't seen before but he would certainly want to know what such a large cheque had been spent on and then he would probably want to see the Barclaycard account.
Gillian's heart gave a little tock of fear. There was nothing menacing or chauvinistic about Henry. He simply had a strong sense of right and wrong. She knew very well that he couldn't afford the amount she'd spent on the bedroom but he gave it generously, was delighted with the result â Gillian had a remarkably sensitive eye for period and quality â and made it fairly clear that this must be all for the time being. She'd agreed quite willingly whilst taken up by the excitement of the choosing and buying and rearranging but the novelty had quickly worn off and other temptations presented themselves. And it was so easy with credit cards; not like using real money at all. Not
until it came to paying the bill. That was real money all right! And where on earth was she going to get it? She considered and rejected several possibilities and then, tucking the statement into her shoulder bag, ran downstairs and into the study. She dialled quickly and then spoke.
until it came to paying the bill. That was real money all right! And where on earth was she going to get it? She considered and rejected several possibilities and then, tucking the statement into her shoulder bag, ran downstairs and into the study. She dialled quickly and then spoke.
âHello, Elizabeth. It's Gillian ⦠Yes, it is isn't it? I seem to keep missing you ⦠Oh, are you? Just bad timing then. I was wondering if I were to pop in later this morning you'd be around? ⦠Great ⦠Yes. Lunch would be super ⦠OK then. About half an hour.'
She replaced the receiver, went to get her things together and presently put her head round the kitchen door.
âI'm off out, Mrs Ridley. I'm having lunch with my godmother. Could you tell Mr Morley?'
âDare say I c'n manage that.'
Mrs Ridley didn't look round from the washing up and, after a moment, Gillian pulled a face at the unresponsive back and went out. A little later, her small car was turning into the drive of her godmother's grounds. The delightful Georgian house, a miniature gentleman's residence, looked well cared for and welcoming and Gillian, switching off the engine, wondered if Elizabeth was going to leave it to her in her will. After all, she had no other living relative. As she gazed, her godmother opened the front door and stood looking at her.
âHello there!' Gillian had the horrid feeling that Elizabeth knew exactly what she was thinking. She scrambled out of the car, seizing the bunch of early daffodils that she had bought in Ashburton en route. âHow are you? Looking glamorous as ever. How on earth do you do it?'
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows as she bent to receive the kiss and the flowers.
âThe best butter,' she murmured and drew back.
âNot a bit,' protested Gillian. âSimply the truth. You look younger all the time. Drives Mum mad.'
âWell, it'll certainly get you a drink. Let me just put these into
some water. I'll arrange them later. How pretty they are.' In the spotless kitchen she filled a bowl and put the daffodils' feet in it. âThere. That will do for now.' Elizabeth led the way into her small, perfect drawing room. She disliked spending time in the kitchen unless it was in the preparation of food. âWhat would you like? Gin and tonic? Some wine?'
some water. I'll arrange them later. How pretty they are.' In the spotless kitchen she filled a bowl and put the daffodils' feet in it. âThere. That will do for now.' Elizabeth led the way into her small, perfect drawing room. She disliked spending time in the kitchen unless it was in the preparation of food. âWhat would you like? Gin and tonic? Some wine?'
âI'll stick with wine since I'm driving.' Gillian sat down in a deep, squashy armchair and stretched her legs to the bright log fire. âHow lovely this room is. It seems so, well, so organised, after Nethercombe. '
Elizabeth frowned a little as she poured the cold dry wine. âOrganised? '
âYes. You know. The paint's all sparkling instead of peeling and the chair covers don't look as if they've been dogs' beds for centuries.'
Elizabeth chuckled a little. âNethercombe's not that bad. Just needs a bit of a face-lift. I must admit I wish I could get my hands on it.'
âI wish you could, too,' said Gillian feelingly. âIt's just so sad. It's such a wonderful old place. Actually â¦' She paused, staring into the flames.
Elizabeth stood quite still, looking down at her goddaughter's blonde head. Her eyes were narrowed a little, as if she waited for something. Gillian gave a quick sigh and glanced round and Elizabeth gave her the glass and sat down opposite. She crossed her long elegant legs and laced her fingers round the bowl of her own glass.
âActually what?'
Gillian gave her a little look of well-simulated surprise. What? Oh. Yes. Well, it's got me into a bit of trouble actually.' She gave a little grimace, hoping that Elizabeth would help her along, ask her what she meant. But Elizabeth sat quite still, watching her, her face thoughtful. Gillian gave a self-deprecating little laugh. âI felt I simply must do one or two things. Not much. The poor old place needs so much attention. I know you'll sympathise. But the thing is, you see, although Henry gave me some idea as to what to spend I think we got our wires
crossed a bit. Anyway,' she made another face, âI put some of it on my credit card and I haven't got enough to pay the bill.' She glanced quickly at Elizabeth and took a sip of her wine.
crossed a bit. Anyway,' she made another face, âI put some of it on my credit card and I haven't got enough to pay the bill.' She glanced quickly at Elizabeth and took a sip of her wine.
âWhat does Henry say?'
âWell.' Gillian swallowed and smiled. âI haven't told him. You see, he simply hasn't any idea what these things cost and when I realised the sum he had in mind â¦' Gillian shook her head. âHonestly. It's ridiculous really.' She shrugged. âIt's on my mind a bit, that's all. Sorry. Didn't mean to bore you with it.'
Gillian gave Elizabeth another quick glance and saw that she was smiling a little. It wasn't a very comforting smile.
âHow much?'
Gillian wondered whether to pretend not to understand but abruptly abandoned subterfuge. âSixty-three pounds.'
âThat's the total amount owing?'
Gillian hesitated.
âOh, come on,' said Elizabeth impatiently. âNo lies. What is the amount outstanding?'
Gillian told her. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment and Gillian took another hasty gulp at her wine.
âYou spent all that on furnishings?'
âYes.' Gillian stared her godmother straight in the eye, praying that she wouldn't ask to see the account. âYou of all people must know that it goes nowhere.'
âI shall look forward to seeing the results,' said Elizabeth drily. âI hope you got your money's worth.'
Gillian shrugged. âSo do I. I got a bit carried away, I suppose. And in a house the size of Nethercombe it's just a drop in the ocean.' She crossed her fingers under her thigh. âYou must come and give me your opinion.'
Elizabeth got up and went to her bureau. She took her cheque book out of a pigeonhole and unscrewed her fountain pen.
âTo whom shall I make it payable? Which credit card do you have?'
she asked, and when Gillian â who had hoped to use some of it to clear her overdraft â told her, Elizabeth sat down and began to write.
she asked, and when Gillian â who had hoped to use some of it to clear her overdraft â told her, Elizabeth sat down and began to write.
Gillian took a deep, deep breath and relaxed back into the cushiony chair. The room seemed to gather itself round her as though, in the last few minutes, it had withdrawn, holding its breath, waiting. Now, time moved on again, life flowed back. The tick of the clock was suddenly loud as the fountain pen whispered over the paper, the flames burned and crackled merrily in the shining grate and the strident voices of the rooks, quarrelling vociferously in the tall trees beyond the long sash windows, impinged upon her consciousness. She realised that she had been tense, watchful, waiting for opportunities, calculating her replies, and she drank deeply from her glass.
Elizabeth tore the cheque from the book and stood up.
âThis is the last, the very last time, Gillian, that I intend to bail you out. Do you understand? I'd decided that your wedding was to be my last contribution, as I told you at the time, but I'll give you one last chance to grow up and start taking responsibility seriously. You can look on it as your Christmas and birthday presents for the next ten years.' She dangled the cheque in her fingers, inches from her goddaughter's head and, after a moment, Gillian took it. Her face was sulky and she muttered her thanks with a very bad grace. She glanced at the figure and her eyes widened. When she looked up at Elizabeth, her expression was genuinely grateful.
âThat's ⦠that's really good of you, Elizabeth. Thanks. Honestly.'
âLast time, Gillian. Believe it. Now. Let's have another drink to take the taste away and you can tell me how Lydia is. I haven't seen her for months.'
Â
NELL SAW JOHN'S BARCLAYCARD Statement quite by mistake. In a rare moment of zeal, she decided to turn out the spare bedroom which he used as a small study. She tidied the top of his desk, trying to leave things as undisturbed as possible and, as she carefully lifted the pile of papers to dust beneath them, the statement fell out from
between the pages. Nell, bending to pick it up, was arrested in the act, staring in disbelief at the amount owing. She straightened slowly, still staring at the sheet, noting that things for which she assumed they were paying cash were being put on the account. It seemed that very little had been paid for by cash for a long time. Nell's heartbeat seemed to hurry a little. Only the minimum payment had been paid last time and John was over his credit limit. Nell put the paper back and went out, down the passage and into the kitchen. She filled a tumbler from the wine box that John had brought home from the supermarket â and paid for on his credit card, no doubt â and sipped thoughtfully.
between the pages. Nell, bending to pick it up, was arrested in the act, staring in disbelief at the amount owing. She straightened slowly, still staring at the sheet, noting that things for which she assumed they were paying cash were being put on the account. It seemed that very little had been paid for by cash for a long time. Nell's heartbeat seemed to hurry a little. Only the minimum payment had been paid last time and John was over his credit limit. Nell put the paper back and went out, down the passage and into the kitchen. She filled a tumbler from the wine box that John had brought home from the supermarket â and paid for on his credit card, no doubt â and sipped thoughtfully.
Knowing John's sense of inadequacy, his readiness to believe himself a failure, Nell was always careful how she approached him with anything that might resemble a problem for which he could be held in any way responsible. His reactions tended to be defensive and she tried to avoid aggressive confrontations. She knew that things were not going so well now but Martin had assured her that, if they didn't lose their heads, there shouldn't be any difficulty. Nell guessed that John had asked Martin to talk to her, hoping to fend off any questions.
Well, she'd believed him. She took another sip and set down her glass. Raising her arms, she deftly twisted up the long hair into a more secure knot and, dropping her head back, tried to relax her neck muscles. What was going on? A thought struck her and she went back to the study. It didn't take her long to find the bank statement and when she looked at it she drew in her breath in horror. It simply couldn't be that bad! Nothing had been paid into the account for weeks and it was well overdrawn. When they'd moved to Bristol, John had taken over the financial side of life and Nell, anxious to show that she trusted and supported him, had let him do it. Now she was really worried. Years of large mess bills and unrealistic budgeting had shown her that John was useless with money but she'd taken charge of it whilst he was at sea and kept their financial dealings more or less under control. With him at home full time there was no longer
any excuse for her to hold the reins and she'd passed them over and hoped for the best.
any excuse for her to hold the reins and she'd passed them over and hoped for the best.
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