Bulbury Knap Read online

  The van rattled into the yard as Kathryn was washing up at the sink. She wiped her hands and rushed out to greet it.

  The driver’s door opened and he leapt out, gazing round him with a bemused expression on his young face. ‘This it?’

  Zillah had more difficulty extricating herself. Her smock caught on the hinge as she tried to jump down. She pulled it loose with a ripping sound and gave a snort of impatience. ‘This is Bob,’ she said. ‘No room for Iain. He was miffed, I can tell you.’ Her hearty laugh rang out across the courtyard.

  ‘One moment and I’ll get some extra help organised,’ Kathryn said. A quick phone call and Michael would be here.

  ‘Where d’you want it put, Kathryn?’ Zillah nodded at the open door of the cottage. ‘In here? This is a great place. You’ve done me proud.’

  ‘We aim to please,’ said Kathryn, smiling.

  The van drove off at last, Zillah leaning out of the passenger window and waving enthusiastically. She seemed to take something with her out of the turbulent atmosphere that had consumed the place while the two men man-handled the larger pieces inside the cottage.

  Now, in the sudden calm, Kathryn turned to thank Michael.

  He was smiling as he wiped one hand down the side of his jeans. ‘Quite a character, your friend,’ he said.

  Kathryn nodded. He sounded approving and she was glad of that. Not everyone could cope with Zillah’s exuberant personality.

  He glanced across at the cottage. ‘All locked up?’

  ‘Is there a key?’

  He frowned. ‘Sir Edwin’s not mentioned one?’

  ‘No, never.’

  ‘Then there probably isn’t one. It’s too late now to do anything about it but I’ll get into town for a new lock and key first thing. Should be OK anyway for tonight.’

  Kathryn nodded. ‘Thanks.’ Andrew had left Bulbury Knap and certainly wouldn’t be back before morning.

  * * *

  Kathryn shivered at the chilliness in the air as she came down to the kitchen the following morning. The stone flooring in the passage made it seem colder than it was.

  To her surprise she heard voices. Sir Edwin and Zillah were seated at the kitchen table drinking tea. The electric kettle was steaming quietly to itself and on the draining board the brown liquid from a couple of tea bags oozed around them in a gluggy mess. Something was wrong here surely? She had seen Zillah off in the van late yesterday evening on its return journey to Lyme. Her smock was a clean one today and she had combed her hair.

  ‘What are you doing here, Zillah?’ Kathryn switched the kettle off and then put the tea bags into the pedal bin and wiped the draining board clean. Zillah really was the limit. She couldn’t have got here this early from Lyme so she must have returned late last night and stayed somewhere on the estate. No prizes for guessing where.

  ‘This tea is excellent,’ Sir Edward said. ‘How glad I am I rose early and discovered you out in the yard, my dear. I trust you had a good night?’

  Zillah let out a relieved-sounding sigh. ‘I slept like the dead,’ she said.

  ‘But where exactly?’ asked Kathryn.

  ‘Sit down, Kathryn,’ Zillah invited, waving her hand at a vacant chair as if she were the hostess here. ‘It’s OK, honestly. This kind man invited me to stay when I returned by taxi late last night.’

  ‘You woke Sir Edwin?’

  ‘I came downstairs in search of a drink of water,’ Sir Edwin said gently.

  Kathryn was silent, imagining the scene … Sir Edwin in this thick dressing gown unbolting the back door on hearing a vehicle draw up outside with not a thought of the break-in that had occurred so recently or of any danger he might be in.

  ‘I couldn’t bear to be apart from my things a moment longer, not after what they’d been through,’ said Zillah with a shudder.

  ‘Quite right, my dear,’ Sir Edward said approvingly.

  Kathryn looked at him questioningly. ‘You mean you don’t mind Zillah staying in the cottage until her studio is sorted out, Sir Edwin?’

  ‘I think it’s a splendid idea. I shall get Michael on to it immediately. We’ll need to get some furniture down from the attics to make the place habitable.’

  ‘I’ll pay rent,’ Zillah said, running her hands through her hair and turning it into an unkempt mess.

  Zillah still looked shocked, Kathryn thought. But that was nothing to what poor Andrew would look when he found out that one of the cottages was to be occupied against his wishes. Her idea of turning the cottages into a moneymaking proposition for the Hewsons seemed to be coming to pass without any help from her.

  Smiling, Kathryn glanced at the clock. ‘Lady Hewson will be down soon,’ she said. ‘I must make a start on breakfast.’

  Zillah sprang up, knocking a teaspoon to the floor with the edge of her bright smock. She bent down to scrabble for it. ‘Let me help,’ she said, her voice muffled.

  The telephone rang as Sir Edwin was finishing a second breakfast with Lady Hewson.

  ‘Andrew wishes to speak to you,’ Kathryn said as she returned to the kitchen from answering it. The insurance quote had come through and Andrew, on the phone from Harrogate where he was about to attend a conference, wished to pass on the good news. What he was likely to hear in exchange from his uncle about Zillah’s presence here at Bulbury Knap might well ruin the day for him.

  When Sir Edward came back Kathryn could see that all was not well.

  ‘Andrew is changing his plans and will be here tomorrow instead of next week,’ Sir Edwin said as he sat down heavily. His stick slid to the ground. He said no more but his expression was anxious as he finished his meal.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Later, as dusk turned to night, Kathryn slipped out of a side door of the house and walked across the drive. She had worked hard all day, helping Zillah settle in to the cottage. Michael had not only done as Sir Edwin asked and found suitable pieces of furniture from the attics but he had also found time to purchase a new lock and fix it to the cottage door.

  Once in place the old rather dusty table and chairs, chest of drawers and the narrow single bed looked as if they had always been there. Kathryn had done a good job on sprucing them up and Zillah was delighted.

  She was also pleased with the box of goodies Lady Hewson had thoughtfully sent across to keep her going until she could shop for herself and also with some spare kitchen utensils Kathryn had found for her.

  Zillah’s exuberance was beginning to return now that she had somewhere of her own to work while she awaited the outcome of the fire to her studio. Kathryn was pleased, too. Now she craved a breath of pure air before falling into bed.

  There was much to think about because events had moved fast. And one of these was worry about Andrew’s likely reaction. He had always been against any suggestion that the cottages could be a viable way of raising money for the estate so why should he change his opinion now? Seeing Zillah in occupation, although only temporarily, wouldn’t exactly fill him with delight.

  Sighing, she moved aside a branch from a weeping willow to reach the path to the lake. The moonlight on the water was magical.

  The figure, standing motionless on the other side might have startled her if she hadn’t known at once that it was Michael. His tall frame was leaning against the solid trunk of an oak tree. She gazed across at him, thinking he hadn’t seen her. Somehow the light on the water and the scented dusk seemed a fitting background for the person who shared her deep concerns about the place and who understood exactly how things were.

  Oh yes, he had seen her. He raised his hand in greeting and called across the water to her in his deep voice. ‘Hi there, Kathryn. I thought you were a wood nymph appearing so suddenly.’

  She watched as he walked round to join her, bending low every now and again to avoid overhanging branches. In the distance a dog barked.

  ‘I needed to come out,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It’s so beautiful here. I had to think.’

  He regarded her in silence f
or a moment. ‘When does he come?’ he asked at last.

  ‘He’s in Harrogate,’ she said. ‘He’ll leave tomorrow morning, as soon as he can.’

  ‘Early evening then?’

  She nodded, imagining Andrew’s arrival. She saw him drive into the yard, ram on the handbrake as he caught sight of the open door of the cottage with Zillah leaning against the door frame so obviously at home. ‘There’s bound to be a fuss,’ she said.

  She was aware of a slight movement from Michael and knew that he frowned. ‘Sir Edwin will stand firm about your friend,’ he said. ‘He’s stronger than you think.’

  ‘Mentally perhaps,’ she agreed. ‘But not physically. And Andrew in a temper is not a pretty sight.’

  Michael gave a deep-throated laugh and to her surprise she found herself joining in. ‘It’s not funny,’ she gasped.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do about it, you and I,’ he pointed out, the amusement still in his voice. ‘Except prevent them coming face to face until the first flush of anger is past. And we’re not even sure that it will come to that.’

  This was more than Kathryn dared hope even though Michael sounded almost as if he believed it. ‘I’ll explain the situation to Zillah first thing tomorrow and ask her to lie low,’ she said. In normal circumstances her friend would relish a fight. No way would Zillah skulk away indoors hiding from anyone. But, more subdued because of what had happened to her studio, she might just listen to her. It was worth a try.

  ‘There’s not much that Andrew can do, you know,’ Michael said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment as if he wished to say more. The silence was disturbing.

  ‘He can make life very uncomfortable for his uncle and aunt,’ she murmured, conscious of the man at her side as she had never been before.

  ‘As long as he doesn’t try to stop the next Garden Club visit,’ Michael said.

  ‘Three days’ time,’ she murmured. ‘Sir Edwin is buoyed up about it already.’

  ‘A club from Somerset,’ Michael said. ‘They come every year.’

  There was nothing more to be said about it really. They would have to wait and see what happened. She raised her face, aware of the silence around them and trying to gain some comfort from it.

  Michael took a step towards her and then she was in his arms, his lips pressing so hard on hers she could hardly breathe.

  For a stunning moment she relaxed against him. Then, realising what was happening she broke free with a gasp. ‘No, no, please. I can’t … ’ She saw Nick’s face in front of her, saw his features harden. Thinking of him had broken the moment.

  She looked at her hands and found they were trembling.

  Michael was her friend, her confidante, the only person here at Bulbury Knap who understood how important it was to her to make things possible for her mother to take up her place here. She cared for Sir Edwin and Lady Hewson as she knew he did. He was like a loving older brother. Or so she had thought.

  Ashamed of her reaction, she turned away and wiped her hand across her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.

  They began to walk alongside the lake, their feet rustling in the fallen leaves on the path. The moon had gone behind some clouds now and a chill wind blew. She shivered.

  ‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk you back to the house.’

  She could think of nothing more to say and was grateful that he seemed to understand her need for silence. As he bid her goodnight his voice sounded as it always had, deep and reassuring. She hurried upstairs to bed thinking that she must have dreamt the feel of Michael’s lips pressing down hard on hers. But in her heart she knew she hadn’t.

  * * *

  Kathryn finished polishing the bureau in the den the following afternoon and then checked her watch. Her employers were lunching late today and she was making the most of the extra time to give the room a good clean before they needed to use it. She had resisted the temptation to check on Zillah after seeing her this morning setting up her easel in the yard and laying out her paints on a box by her side.

  ‘What a great place to work,’ Zillah had said, waving her arms about in her enthusiasm. ‘Plenty of space, you see. I’ve got a big commission I haven’t started yet. Abstracts, large ones.’

  Kathryn was pleased that she felt settled enough to start work straight away but suppose Andrew arrived early and found her working there? Zillah had promised, though, that later she would make herself scarce so that she’d be out of the way when he came.

  She spent the afternoon discussing the menus for the following week with Lady Hewson and then driving her to the committee meeting of the Ladies’ Guild in the next village. On her return the sound of young voices coming from the yard alerted her to the fact that school was out and Michael’s sons had discovered Zillah at work at her easel.

  She heard her loud laugh and went to investigate. Obviously enjoying herself, her friend was splashing colour on the canvas in front of her, watched intently by Tom and Neville. It was a happy scene in the sunshine, the faces of the two young boys alight with enthusiasm. Tom, tall for his age and so like his father, stood slightly behind his brother.

  ‘Hi there, Kathryn,’ Zillah called.

  ‘I want to be a painter when I grow up,’ Neville informed her as she approached. His dark hair was standing up in peaks as if he had kept running his hand through it and his freckles seemed to stand out on his face in his enthusiasm.

  ‘I’ve said he can have a go soon,’ said Zillah. She dipped her brush in a pile of cadmium red and dashed it on the canvas. ‘This is how I’m feeling right this minute, itching to take on the whole world.’

  ‘It looks like fire,’ said Tom solemnly.

  Zillah paused, her brush held in the air. Then she lay it down on her palette. ‘You’re right, Tom. Fire … yes, flames that are hot and cleansing and clearing all before them.’

  Kathryn glanced at her watch. ‘Andrew could be here at any time.’

  ‘Will he mind you painting out here?’ asked Tom.

  Zillah grimaced and looked at Kathryn apologetically. ‘I’ll pack away.’

  ‘It’s not his yard,’ said Neville.

  ‘Listen,’ said Tom. Lines furrowed his brow as he glanced towards the archway.

  Kathryn paused. Definitely a car. The engine cut out. Thank goodness it wasn’t coming through the archway to where they were. Dare she hope it was a visitor for the Hewsons or Lady Hewson being given a lift home from her meeting because it finished early?

  ‘I’ll pack up,’ said Zillah, leaping to her feet and scattering tubes of acrylic paint in an untidy heap at her feet.

  ‘No,’ said Kathryn, surprising herself at her sudden feeling of calm determination. ‘Why should you, Zillah? You’re here at Sir Edwin’s invitation. Stay right where you are.’

  The four of them froze, listening. Except for a blackbird’s warning call and some twittering in the trees behind the cottage no sound disturbed the cold air. Zillah let out a long breath. ‘Phew,’ she said. ‘Fighting talk, Kathryn.’

  ‘And why not?’ Kathryn said with spirit. Too long had she been afraid of Andrew’s reactions to anything that happened at Bulbury Knap. Instead of this jittery feeling she should be confident that Sir Edwin would deal with his nephew as he thought best.

  Both boys scrabbled to pick up the scattered tubes of paint and then thrust them at Zillah who held out an empty box for them. As the tubes clattered into it Neville grinned at his brother. Tom gave him a look of such sternness that Zillah laughed. ‘Peace before the storm,’ she said. ‘You two boys had better clear off home before anything happens.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Neville in disappointment.

  ‘Come on,’ said Tom, taking charge. ‘We’re supposed to be at home anyway.’

  Kathryn brushed her loose hair away from her face, wondering what to do next … rush to see if any visitor needed welcoming or stay here to support Zillah? The sound of the arrival of a second vehicle made her mind up for her. ‘I’ll have to go, Zillah,�
�� she said.

  The car had stopped now, somewhere out of sight.

  ‘Best of luck,’ Zillah called after her. Kathryn walked through the archway to see if she was needed and found Lady Hewson being helped from a Honda Civic that had drawn alongside Andrew’s red Ferrari.

  ‘Ah there you are, dear,’ her employer said when she saw Kathryn. ‘I’ve been given a lift home. So kind.’

  Kathryn smiled at the grey-haired woman in the driving seat. Lady Hewson waved as the car moved off and then turned to Kathryn. ‘I see Andrew is already here,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘I’ll just go and tidy up.

  Kathryn took her employer’s heavy-looking bag from her and together they went indoors. A murmur of voices came from the den and Kathryn felt a stir of anxiety.

  ‘I’ll make tea and bring it through,’ she said.

  In the kitchen she started the preparations automatically, her mind on Zillah making herself at home in the cottage, helped by Michael’s two boys. Tom and Neville seemed to have attached themselves to her in the short time her friend had been here. She wondered if Michael knew where they were.

  She carried the tray through to the den, pushing the half-open door fully open with her shoulder. Andrew took the tray from her in silence and placed it on the table. He had removed the jacket of his dark suit and placed it on the back of a chair as if he had some Herculean task ahead and meant soon to get down to business. She glanced at Sir Edwin standing with his back to the window and saw that his expression was thoughtful.

  ‘Perhaps you’d pour for us, Kathryn my dear,’ Sir Edwin said.

  ‘One minute,’ said Andrew, looking hard at her. ‘I believe you have a lot to do with this?’

  Kathryn was not to be ruffled by his aggressive tone. ‘With what?’

  Sir Edwin cleared his throat. ‘I have been telling Andrew about the unfortunate fire, my dear, and our offer to your friend to store her belongings in one of the old cottages.’

  ‘And not only her belongings it seems.’ Andrew threw back his dark head and glared at his uncle.