Chapter Seventeen
HETTY, TUGGED ONE way by a desire to be with Connor and in another by Phyllis’s strong hand on her wrist, went with Phyllis.
‘Well? Did you manage to say anything?’
‘No. At least, not about the listing.’
Phyllis was obviously disappointed in her but didn’t mention it. ‘Oh. And why does he want to meet you in the car?’
‘I was going to ask you, Phyllis, if you could hold the fort here, while I go to see Samuel with Connor?’
‘Well, of course, dear. A perfect opportunity to bring up difficult subjects, driving along in the countryside.’
Hetty hid her groan under an artificial smile. ‘I’d better ring Caroline.’
She ran upstairs to where she could phone in reasonable privacy, deciding as she did so that a visit to Samuel wasn’t a good idea. If she failed to ask Connor about the listing, Phyllis would give her up as a bad job, and if she spent much more time listening to Connor’s point of view, she might find herself agreeing with him. Either way, she would end up miserable and in everyone’s bad books, except Connor’s.
‘Caroline? Hi! You wanted me?’
‘Just to remind you, darling, that we’re going out tonight.’
‘You are coming tonight? You’re not going to chicken out? I can’t possibly go on my own.’
Hetty was torn. She’d far rather spend the evening with Connor, even if he was likely to spend it biting her head off. But she owed Caroline. ‘No, no. I’d love to come. A Tupperware party is just what I need.’
Hetty went back downstairs having concluded that she wouldn’t back out of visiting Samuel. If she told Connor she couldn’t go to the hospital with him and then went out with Caroline that night he’d think she was avoiding him, and want to know why. Quite how she’d manage to avoid Phyllis after she had failed to sort Connor out was a problem she’d have to solve later.
Connor was drumming his fingers on the steering-wheel in an archetypal gesture of impatience, and was unsympathetic to her insistence that a quick swipe with the hairbrush and a cleaner pair of jeans was necessary for a visit to her aged uncle. ‘I can’t go into a hospital looking so unhygienic,’ she said. ‘They wouldn’t let me in.’
‘OK, OK, enough excuses. Let’s go. And don’t slam the door.’
It would have been difficult. It was incredibly heavy.
‘This is a great car,’ she said, after a few minutes.
‘Are you trying to get into my good books or something?’
‘Good God no! I may tilt at windmills, but I’m not that optimistic. No, it really is great. Leather seats may not be PC, but they smell wonderful.’
The seats were dark blue, scratched and worn, and, at the corner of hers, patched with a piece of sticky tape.
He gave her a look that warned her he was about to be provocative. ‘They recline fully, too. A flick of a switch and we’re in bed together.’
Hetty didn’t rise to the bait. ‘I’m sure it’s not as simple as that.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ He gave her a grin bordering on the rueful. ‘And if it was, the mechanism needs fixing.’
‘That’s all right then,’ she said glibly.
Connor shot her a glance. ‘And while we’re on the subject of cars, where’s yours?’
Hetty gulped.
‘I noticed when I came back it wasn’t where you usually park it. It isn’t in any of the barns. What happened? Have you dinged it?’
‘I’ve sold it.’
‘Good God! Why?’
The time for prevarication was past. ‘I had a threatening letter from the loan company, implying they could make us pay up the whole amount immediately. I wasn’t sure if they could, but rather than risk it, I sent them a double payment. I sold the car to get a little working capital.’
To her surprise, he didn’t explode. ‘Oh, Hetty, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I just did!’
‘I mean, about the letter, before you sold your car. I can give them a fairly hefty chunk of money when I’m paid. You shouldn’t have got rid of your car without telling me. Now we’ll have to buy it back again.’
‘No! No way. We need every penny. We can’t afford luxuries like second cars.’
‘Then I’ll sell mine.’
‘Don’t even think about it! You love your car.’
‘I do, but it drinks petrol and needs a lot of work to get it as it should be. It’s a luxury I can’t afford.’
‘But you haven’t got a wife or a mistress to keep, have you?’
He half laughed. ‘No.’
‘If you had, you’d have to spend money on them, and I bet the car isn’t half as expensive.’
‘Well, no, but it’s still a luxury.’
‘No it isn’t. We need a car. It might as well be yours.’
‘How will you manage without one?’
‘Oh, I’ve been managing very well. Phyllis lent me her bicycle.’
‘And you don’t mind being demoted to a bicycle?’
‘Not “demoted”, Connor. I regard it as a sideways promotion.’
Connor gave her a very searching look. ‘You’re an extraordinary girl, Hetty.’ But from the way he said it she couldn’t tell whether he’d paid her a compliment or made a sad statement of fact.
She should, of course, hope it was the former, and follow up on his quasi-approval and tell him about the house not being listed. It was what Phyllis had allowed her furlough for, after all. But having got over one hurdle, Hetty felt she needed time to recuperate before approaching another.
They found Samuel sitting in the day room, looking very small and defenceless in his dressing-gown and slippers. A television, ignored by all the residents, was showing an ancient black-and-white film. Vases of flowers drooped in sympathy with the general tone of the room. The odour of disinfectant and whatever it was supposed to disguise penetrated the smell of institutional cooking.
The moment he saw Connor and Hetty, Samuel brightened up. ‘Connor, dear boy. How lovely to see you. And you’ve brought Hetty! What a treat.’
Hetty kissed him. ‘I hope you’re feeling a bit better than you were last time,’ she said, thinking he looked it. Perhaps it was seeing Connor.
‘There’s nothing wrong with me that getting out of this place won’t cure. But until I manage to pass all their damn tests they won’t let me out.’
‘You should revise harder,’ said Connor. ‘That was what you always told me.’
‘And did you ever take any notice?’
Connor shrugged. ‘Not much.’ He collected a couple of chairs from a stack by the wall and he and Hetty sat down.
Samuel turned to Hetty. ‘So, I hope having Connor cluttering up the place isn’t interfering with doing up the house?’ He glared at his nephew under his eyebrows. ‘I know he’s not its biggest fan.’
‘Oh, no. He’s very biddable.’
Samuel gave a crack of laughter. ‘I doubt that!’
‘Yes he is. He’s terrified of Phyllis.’
‘Now that I do believe. Damned determined woman, Phyllis.’ Connor made a face, which his uncle ignored. ‘But salt of the earth, and devoted to the house. And if Connor gives you any bother, just say the word, and I’ll disinherit him on the instant.’
‘I wish you would,’ said Connor.
‘Not on my account,’ said Hetty primly. ‘He’s quite a good cook.’
Connor looked affronted at this faint praise. Samuel laughed. ‘He is. But not too good at showing groups of women round the old place, eh?’
‘We all shine in our different ways,’ murmured Connor, trying to sound hurt.
‘And yours is sorting out the Aral Sea.’
‘Not quite,’ murmured Connor.
‘Well, what do you do, exactly?’ Hetty asked. ‘I know you’re a civil engineer, but –’
‘I wouldn’t want to bore you, my dear.’ Connor would have found himself hit on the head with a bedpan had there been one to hand. Sensing this he added quickly, ‘Or Samuel. At his time of life, he’d find the details hard to grasp.’
Samuel’s shout of laughter caused several old ladies to wake up and look at him. Seeing Connor’s manly form, most of them stayed awake. ‘I hope he’s not as rude to you as he is to me, Hetty.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Hetty, ‘he’s always the model of politeness. Aren’t you, Connor?’
‘Well, let me know if he gets out of hand, won’t you?’
‘Oh, yes. If he does anything dreadful,’ she said, thinking about his plans to demolish the house, ‘I’ll tell you.’ Even though this would probably involve a medium and a crystal ball, she added silently.
‘And what will you do about it, Samuel, if she does tell on me?’
‘Leave the whole lot to Phyllis.’
‘Promises, promises,’ said Connor.
Samuel laughed again, and Hetty began to wonder if this sudden burst of high spirits was good for his health. ‘She’d certainly look after it,’ she said encouragingly. In fact, it would mean Connor would have to spend years sorting out the Aral Sea to pay off the loan, but the house would be safe.
Samuel turned to Connor. ‘You couldn’t rustle up a cup of coffee or something for us? Those girls’ll do anything for you.’
With Connor out of the way, Samuel turned to Hetty. ‘Now listen, m’dear. I know Connor doesn’t appreciate the old place like we do, but he’s a good lad at heart. When the time comes, he’ll do all right by it.’
Even if he wanted to, it may not be possible, she thought. But although Samuel seemed so much better, she still didn’t want to remind him of the pressure he had put on the house when he’d taken out the loan. ‘You know he may pull it down, after you’ve gone?’
‘Well, so he says, but I know him. He protests to the last minute, but he always does the right thing in the end.’
‘Do you know the house isn’t listed? He could pull it down, if he wanted.’
‘Of course I know the house isn’t listed!’ He laughed merrily at her naïvety. ‘How do you think it got left off the damn list? A bit of jiggery-pokery at the crossroads, no names, no pack-drill.’
‘But that’s awful!’
‘It may seem awful. But I don’t want to land the lad with a minor stately home if he really doesn’t want it.’
‘You could leave it to Phyllis?’
Samuel shook his head. ‘No I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave it outside the family. I’ve nothing else to leave, and he’s my heir. He’s got to have it. But I don’t want his hands tied. I’d rather he came round to our way of thinking voluntarily, not because some fellows in some office force him to.’
Or some loan shark? ‘But, surely, it’s terribly risky,’ she said aloud. ‘The nation could lose a part of its heritage just because Connor didn’t want it.’
‘I know it seems like that. And I suppose it is. But it’s a hell of a thing, inheriting a house like Courtbridge, and it has . . .’ he paused for a significant moment, ‘. . . a few problems, if that doesn’t seem too much of an understatement. If you didn’t love it, it could ruin your life. I don’t want Connor’s life ruined.’ Hetty saw the burden that inheriting Courtbridge had placed on Samuel – one which still remained. ‘He hasn’t had an easy life,’ Samuel went on. ‘His parents died when he was very small, and he was brought up by his mother’s sisters. They were good to him, probably spoiled him to death, but they were too old to be parents. They lived in a mausoleum too, refused to sell it in exchange for a little comfort in their old age so that they’d have something to leave him.’
‘Oh?’ If he’d inherited a fortune, he’d kept it very quiet.
‘Yes, but in the end, all the money went on nursing-home fees. He never told them that their savings weren’t enough and that he had had to top up what they paid. You see, he’s a good lad.’
‘But not hooked on old houses?’
‘No. But he’s canny. He’ll get my bit of local difficulty sorted –’
Just at this moment Connor came back with three cups of coffee, the contents of which were mostly in the saucers. He set one down on the table, within Samuel’s reach, and handed one to Hetty. ‘What have you two been plotting?’ He gave her a warning look.
‘Nothing,’ said Hetty.
‘How disappointing. I was sure you’d’ve had me disinherited by now.’
‘Don’t think I didn’t try.’
‘If I could guarantee she wouldn’t marry some bounder, I’d leave it to Hetty. But by all accounts her taste in men is unreliable.’
‘Very,’ said Hetty and Connor, in perfect unison.
They took their leave of Samuel soon after they’d drunk their coffee, seeing his initial good spirits wilt a little with tiredness.
‘He seemed jolly well, considering. Didn’t you think?’ Hetty asked Connor, on their way back to the car.
‘Better than I expected. But I had a word with the sister, and he does need to get a bit stronger before he can come home.’ Connor tossed his car keys up and down. ‘And peace and quiet when he gets there.’
There was an edge to his voice that stabbed Hetty with guilt. Thanks to her interference, peace and quiet was not a commodity in liberal supply at Courtbridge House. And what Samuel had told her about Connor’s aunts made his attitude a lot easier to understand. ‘It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let people bully me into doing all that to the house.’
He put a hand on her shoulder briefly. ‘Don’t worry. It may be a bloody nuisance, but it’s what Samuel wanted. I may curse you up hill and down dale, but Samuel won’t.’ This unexpected support was quite unsettling.
‘And she said he’ll really need somewhere on the level, at least to begin with,’ he went on.
Hetty gave the matter some thought. There were no downstairs bathrooms at Courtbridge, and none of the rooms that might possibly be converted were at all pleasant. ‘Perhaps he could convalesce with Phyllis? She’s devoted to Samuel, I’m sure she’d be happy to have him.’
He shook his head. ‘Over my dead body.’
‘She really is a very intelligent, kind and knowledgeable person. If you’d only give her a chance, you’d see that.’
‘I might give her a chance, but she’ll never give me one, not while she sees me as a despoiler of England’s green and pleasant land.’
‘You can hardly blame her, given that you are exactly that.’
He unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her, leaning on the car roof while she swung herself in.
‘What we ought to do is convert those barns you showed me. We could make a big sitting room, a bedroom, an en suite bathroom and a little kitchen, all on the ground floor. And the trippers needn’t bother him over there.’
Hetty stared up at him. ‘But that would cost thousands. How would we pay for it?’
Connor walked round the car and got in. ‘Get a loan.’
‘What? Another one? I don’t think I could cope.’
‘Not that sort of loan; a proper one, from a reputable company.’
‘But Connor – if you borrow thousands of pounds converting a barn for Samuel, you’ll lose every penny when he dies and you knock it all down.’
He regarded her blandly. ‘That’s all right. I’ve been offered enough for the site. Spending a few thou on a barn conversion shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘But the waste!’
He shrugged. ‘Making Samuel’s last months happy is not a matter to be penny-pinching about.’
‘Months! You think he’s only got months?’
‘What do you think? You’ve seen him. I had a word with the nurse – he’s still not picking up as they’d like.’
Hetty felt her throat thicken with tears. ‘Oh dear.’
‘But you knew he was old and ill. We’ve talked about what’ll happen when he dies,’ he said gently.
‘I know. But his dying was always something vague that might happen in the future. It wasn’t only a few months away.’
‘I know.’ His voice was still surprisingly gentle. ‘But see it from my point of view. If he hangs on too long, my buyers might pull out and find some other property to develop.’
For a moment, she thought he meant it. She thought he wanted Samuel to die so he could make a fortune. She looked at him in horror – and, then, she did see it from his point of view. She saw a man who for the second time in his life was witnessing elderly and deeply loved relations get themselves into a financial muddle. And the only way he could see out of Samuel’s predicament was to sell the house.
‘If,’ she said after a long time, ‘I – the house – manages to pay off the debt, without you having to make any huge personal sacrifice – like selling your car – will you promise that you won’t sell the house to developers?’
He was silent for a long time. ‘I won’t make promises I may not be able to keep, Hetty.’
Hate replaced understanding like a tidal river rushing up a creek. ‘With luck he’ll live long enough to foul up your deal.’
‘He could live ten years and it’d still be a valuable site. However much you’d like it not to be.’
Not so valuable if it’s got a listed building on it, she thought, but wisely kept the thought to herself. While there was still a chance, however faint, of changing Connor’s mind, she had to avoid making any threats that might just push him into doing something they’d all regret for ever.
Also, silently, she vowed the house would pay off the rest of its loan on its own, with no help from him and his pretentious car. So although he may one day destroy the house, he’d never be able to do it with a clear conscience.