Yew Tree Gardens Read online

  But still, a kind gesture like that had brightened the day. She knew instinctively that Gilbert Rycroft would never harm her, just as she knew that Judson would if he got the chance.

  She should start looking for another job at once. And she should be very careful not to be alone where he could catch her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Renie was lost in thought, thinking about her sister Nell, wondering where she was. She jumped in shock as she suddenly realised Judson was standing right next to her. How could she have failed to sense him coming in?

  He took a step closer, so that his thigh was touching her body.

  She tried to move her chair away from him, but he followed and her office was so small there wasn’t enough space to move again.

  He smiled, a slow, gloating smile, as if he understood exactly how trapped he’d made her feel.

  ‘Excuse me, but I need to get something out of the cupboard,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t let me stop you.’ But he made no attempt to move back.

  She glared at him. ‘You’re in my way.’

  ‘Oh, I think there’s room to brush past.’

  ‘I don’t care to do that.’

  He didn’t answer, just reached out and grasped her breast, giving it a slow twist that hurt so much it made her yelp in pain and shock. For a moment he kept hold of her breast, his fingers digging in, deliberately hurting her further. Then footsteps came towards them along the corridor and he let go.

  She was so shocked she couldn’t think straight for a moment or two. No man had ever touched her in this way before, and why should he want to hurt her? She was sure that wasn’t normal, even though people didn’t discuss such things.

  As he stepped quickly backwards, he said in a low voice, ‘I shan’t wait much longer, Irene. If you wish to stay here at the Rathleigh, doing your imaginary job, it’ll be on my terms.’ Then he turned and walked away without waiting for an answer.

  She sat rigid in her chair, wanting to scream, to rush out and accuse him, to let the world know what he’d just done to her. But she’d seen how he’d got away with similar behaviour at the Rochdale Rathleigh, and knew she had no proof. Her word wouldn’t be nearly enough against his, because he was the manager.

  Even though it was raining lightly, she went out to walk round and round the gardens at lunchtime, walking fast, turning up her face to the cleansing rain. Anger was still burning through her and she felt dirtied by his touch.

  Most of all, she was afraid of what he would try next.

  More than afraid, terrified.

  She couldn’t stay here much longer.

  That evening Renie wrote a letter to Gilbert Rycroft, asking him if she could see him next time he was in London. She needed some advice about setting up a little business, a shop perhaps.

  The pen seemed to continue writing of its own accord. He had been so easy to speak to.

  I don’t like to trouble you, but I’d appreciate it if you could advise me soon. I can’t stay on at the hotel much longer, because a man is making life difficult for me.

  She stared at the paper, amazed she’d dared to mention this. She’d have to write another letter now, because it wasn’t the sort of thing you should confide in a stranger. And yet … she felt instinctively that Gilbert would understand. She’d never met anyone, apart from her sisters, with whom she felt so much at ease, as if she was able to say anything to him, anything at all.

  Oh, she was being silly, letting her imagination run wild. She’d only met him twice.

  But she did feel comfortable with him. She wished … oh, the old saying was so right: if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Don’t be so silly, Renie!

  After writing the address on the envelope, she hesitated yet again, going back to re-read those final words.

  What had she to lose?

  She folded the letter, put it inside the envelope and licked the strip of glue round the pointed edge, sealing it carefully with no wrinkles. She stuck a stamp on it because it wasn’t a letter to her family.

  Then it occurred to her that if the Carlings encouraged female members of staff to write to their families, they must care about their employees. How much did they care? What if she wrote to them, told them about Judson?

  For a moment hope flared, then it faded again. It all came back to the same thing: her word against his.

  When she put the envelope on the table with the other women’s letters, something made her pick it up again. Those envelopes went through the general office. Judson must know her handwriting by now. She wouldn’t put it past him to remove her letter.

  It might be foolish, she might be seeing dragons where there were none, but better safe than sorry. She’d nip out in the morning after breakfast and post the letter herself at the corner of the square. It’d only take a couple of minutes.

  As she was making her way to bed, Miss Pilkins stopped her. ‘Are you all right, Irene? I couldn’t help noticing that you weren’t yourself tonight. You haven’t heard from your sister, have you?’

  ‘No. I wish I had.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I’m sure you’ll hear something soon. And don’t forget, if I can help in any way …’

  ‘Thank you.’ The thought of how caring Miss Pilkins and Mrs Tolson were made Renie feel a bit better, but she didn’t want to involve them, because they too would be powerless against Judson and they had a lot more to lose than she did if he sacked them.

  As she was getting into bed she had a sudden urge to pack her bags and leave that very minute. She even sat up in bed and flung the covers back.

  She could find a cheap hotel and …

  No! With a sigh, she pushed that thought aside, tempting as it was, and lay down again. She couldn’t leave yet. Not till she heard from Nell. She’d already lost touch with Mattie, didn’t want to lose her other sister as well.

  After breakfast the next day, Renie slipped out to post her letter at the corner of the square, but when she got back she nearly bumped into Judson, who was standing in the shadows at the end of the little corridor which the staff used to go into and out of the hotel.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.

  ‘Out for a breath of fresh air … sir.’

  ‘Not much fresh air to be found on the way to the postbox.’

  She shivered. He must have been watching her out of his office window.

  ‘Why didn’t you put your letter with the others?’

  ‘It was important, so I wanted to post it myself.’

  ‘Writing to a lover, eh?’

  She drew herself up. ‘Certainly not.’

  He gave her one of his sneering smiles. ‘Never had a lover, have you? But you will. That’s what women like you were made for and I—’

  ‘Is something wrong, Meestair Judson?’

  He jerked round in shock.

  Monsieur Leduc was standing behind him.

  ‘I was just speaking to Miss Fuller about something.’ He nodded to Renie. ‘You can get on with your work now. I’ll see you later.’

  She hurried away, hoping Monsieur wouldn’t think she’d been encouraging the manager to chat to her.

  Judson always seemed to be lurking nearby. She couldn’t turn round lately without bumping into him.

  Well, at least she could be sure of her letter reaching Gilbert Rycroft.

  How long could she keep Judson at bay, though? In such a large building there were places he could catch her where few people were within hearing. Surely he wouldn’t … force himself on her?

  Revulsion at this thought made her feel physically sick. She hated him to touch her, and had a huge bruise on her left breast from their encounter in her office. She hoped none of the girls had seen it as she got dressed and undressed. What would they have thought?

  There was a roar of anger from the stable area at Oakdene and Horry came storming into the house.

  ‘That does it! I’m sleeping near the car from now on. They’re not getting the chance to set fire to this one.’<
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  ‘What’s the matter?’ Gil asked.

  ‘Come and look at the car. See what someone’s done to it.’

  Horry led the way outside, across the backyard and into the part of the stable block where the car was kept until a proper building could be provided for it. The area was open to the elements on one side, but at least the car was under cover here and intruders would have to go past Horry’s quarters to get there. Or climb over the back wall.

  The area had been used as an extra hay store in the days when several horses were kept, and had a tack room leading off it at one side and a storage room next to that for everything from drenches to saddle soap.

  ‘Look at that!’ Horry stabbed his finger towards the side of the car’s bonnet. There were several scratch marks all along it, as if someone had used a screwdriver or similar metal tool.

  ‘Damn! Those are deep gouges. Is it Chapman’s work, do you think?’

  ‘Who else would have done something like that?’

  ‘We’ll have to get some doors fitted to this area to keep the car safe till we can build you a proper workshop.’

  ‘We shouldn’t need to.’ Horry’s face was red with fury. ‘Don’t you waste your money on that! I’m going to sleep out here from now on. He’s not getting near our car again.’

  ‘Have you checked for footprints?’

  ‘Yes. Whoever it was got over the wall, but he must have dragged a leafy branch along the ground behind them to brush the footprints out. We used to do that as children when we were playing at stalking in the woods. Come and look.’

  They stood together staring down at the thin, whisk-like marks in the dusty ground.

  ‘Cunning, isn’t he?’ Gil sighed.

  ‘So can I sleep out here?’

  ‘Of course you can. But I hate to think of how uncomfortable you’ll be.’

  ‘The weather’s not all that cold now, sir, and I’ve slept in far worse places. I’ll put my mattress on the hay, but out of sight, like. And I’ll get the lad to sleep nearby as well, though we ought to pay him a bob or two extra for that. It’s always good to have two people around when there’s villainy going on.’

  ‘Do as you think best, and if you need to buy anything to help you protect the car and stables, not to mention yourself, don’t hesitate to ask for it.’

  Gil turned to leave, then swung back. ‘It occurred to me that the branch marks might lead you somewhere just as footprints would. Why don’t you follow them and see where they go?’

  But Horry came back half an hour later, scowling. ‘The marks only lead into the village, sir, then there are so many footprints and wheel ruts, it’s hard to tell which person was going where.’

  ‘He’ll make a mistake one day.’

  ‘Well, he can’t make it fast enough for me. Fancy doing that to our car, or to any car! He wants taking out and whipping, that one does.’

  The day got steadily worse. A letter arrived from Gil’s lawyer by the first post.

  Dear Mr Rycroft,

  I’ve received a communication from someone who claims to be a lawyer. He has rooms in London but the address isn’t in a respectable area, and what’s more, the names of his colleagues mean nothing to me.

  Chapman apparently has proof that he’s related to Miss Bennerden and is claiming that he’s entitled to a share of her estate.

  Standish, the lawyer chappie, says Chapman has a letter from her promising to leave him everything.

  They say they are willing to settle out of court, otherwise they’ll sue you and claim it all. I doubt they’d get anywhere, but it’d cost a great deal of money to defend you. I think they’re counting on that to get something out of us.

  Could you possibly come and see me today? We need to discuss this.

  Howard Mortlake

  There was another envelope underneath it, addressed to him in round, childish handwriting. Thinking it to be part of the hoax, Gil opened it reluctantly.

  He found it to be a letter from the nice young woman who worked at the Rathleigh, asking for his help. Renie briefly outlined what she was thinking of doing and asked for his advice. He wanted very much to help her, but had to deal with his own situation first, so he stuffed her letter into his pocket and arranged for Horry to drive him into Swindon.

  He wasn’t kept waiting long at Mr Mortlake’s rooms.

  ‘Do come in, my dear fellow. I hope you’re well.’

  Gil didn’t answer that, couldn’t be bothered with meaningless chit-chat. ‘Can I see the letter, please?’

  Mr Mortlake handed it over. It was brief and to the point.

  On behalf of my client, Duncan Chapman, I wish to inform you that he has proof of his relationship to Alice Bennerden, and also a letter from her stating her intention of leaving her property to him.

  I would like to arrange a meeting at your earliest convenience to discuss with you and your client a settlement of this claim.

  Given that expectations have been raised for Mr Rycroft, my client has kindly agreed to settle for half the estate.

  If this generous offer is refused, we shall take the matter to court and claim the whole.

  Yours etc.

  Peter Standish

  Corson, Standish and Levensworth, Lawyers

  ‘Standish doesn’t say what proof he can offer of his client’s relationship to Miss Bennerden,’ Mr Mortlake said. ‘Chapman certainly had no proof to offer when he came to see me, only a tale of being related through a second cousin. Miss Bennerden wasn’t even sure about the second cousin’s existence. As to the claim for a share in the estate, I’m quite certain she didn’t intend to leave him anything.’

  He frowned, taking back the letter and holding it between his fingertips as if it were filthy. ‘It worries me that I don’t recognise this fellow’s colleagues. You’d think out of three names, I’d have heard of one of them. I’m pretty well connected in legal circles, for all I live in Wiltshire.’

  ‘What sort of proof could they have?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He hesitated, then said in a low voice, ‘I shall deny saying this, but I think any proof produced by Chapman is likely to be forged. He once wrote a letter and forged Miss Bennerden’s name on it.’

  ‘Did he, now!’

  ‘Yes. I wish I’d kept it. Even she, who always believed the best about people, had to admit in the end that he was a bad ’un.’

  ‘She was right. I can’t stand the fellow. I still believe he set fire to my outbuildings, or arranged for it to be done.’

  Mr Mortlake shook his head sadly. ‘I think I’d better send someone up to London to check the firm out before I proceed any further, just to make sure it actually exists. We also have to verify that Standish really is a lawyer and not merely a crony of Chapman’s. I hate to waste your money on this taradiddle, but it’s best to be certain before we act so—’

  ‘Why don’t I go myself? I have another matter to attend to in London, so I can kill two birds with one stone.’

  Mr Mortlake frowned at him. ‘Well … as long as you don’t approach anyone from this firm or do anything rash. Just check out that there is a firm with this name and that they are doing business.’

  ‘Give me the details. I’ll leave tomorrow.’

  ‘While you’re doing that, I’ll write to a friend of mine who has rooms at Lincoln’s Inn and ask him to check Standish’s legal credentials, not to mention those of his partners.’

  ‘Good.’ Gil was glad to be able to do something for himself, instead of relying on others. He was also eager to help Renie. She’d sounded anxious in her letter. Who was making her life at the Rathleigh a misery? His friend Julia had made him realise how vulnerable young women could be in a world ruled by men. He hoped no one ever attacked that bright-faced young woman in the way they had those poor females in the home for women in distress.

  When he got back to Oakdene, Gil explained everything to Walter, including Renie’s plea for help.

  The old man smiled at him. ‘There’s my lad.
I’m proud of you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re starting to come into your own, not just thinking about yourself. We’ll have you a Member of Parliament one day, or at least on the local council.’

  Gil gaped at him. ‘Me? There’s no way I’d go in for that sort of thing. What do I know about running this country? And just think how Punch would have a field day about this stupid thing.’ He flapped his left arm at Walter.

  ‘And think how many people you could help.’

  ‘I need to help myself first and get rid of Chapman. He’s a blight on this village as well as a nuisance to me. Did you know the two Dyson brothers have fallen out because of him?’

  ‘You’ll settle his hash eventually, then things will settle down.’

  Gil wished he was half as confident as his friend and mentor. Member of Parliament, indeed! What an idea! As if he was capable of something like that! ‘I’d better go and pack. Do you feel up to a trip to London?’

  ‘No, lad. I tire too easily these days.’

  ‘Perhaps we should fetch in the doctor again?’

  ‘No doctor can cure old age.’ He patted Gil’s hand gently. ‘I’ve had a good life and I’m not in any pain. If I’m lucky, one night I’ll just slip away, but not quite yet, I hope.’

  Gil swallowed hard. Old people did die, but oh, he needed Walter still.

  ‘It’s Horry who should go with you this time. He can drive you to London in the car. Though you’d better get him some decent clothes while you’re up there. He could borrow one of your suits till then. Were you thinking of staying with your parents?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Walter chuckled. ‘Why don’t you stay at that hotel, instead? You’ll have far more freedom and you’ll be able to have a look round it, to see if you can get any idea of who’s causing trouble for that nice lass.’

  ‘As long as my parents don’t find out I’m so close.’

  ‘Does it matter if they do? You’re not answerable to them any longer.’

  The words made Gil pause, seemed to mark an important change in his life. ‘No. I suppose not. I’d better tell Horry, then.’