The Edge, Chapter 6. A Rowansford story.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Flora said, brushing cat hairs from her skirt as they were leaving. “It’s not like Jacob and Alice are going to leave the farm to Anita instead of Luke. Not that he’ll want to farm it anyway.” Archibald was taking his leave of Griselda.
“If it hadn’t been for your father, I’d never have got anywhere. He was so good to me, encouraged me so much, gave me such a lot of help.”
Inside, Griselda’s starved heart warmed a little. She’d loved her father dearly – and the sneers of people like Cynthia Harleston had hurt her a lot. Griselda went upstairs after they’d left and stood out on the balcony looking over Rowansford. She could see the new estate, where Cynthia Harleston’s daughter and grandchildren lived, the island that was the original settlement, and over to her right, the new laboratories that were springing up where the old back to back slums had been. She knew the history of the town – and knew what was going on in it now, probably better than anyone. She collected knowledge, information, power. But she didn’t know what was going on with Luke Barden’s girlfriend and this Anita girl. And that bothered her. Griselda woke in the night, two unrelated sentences playing in her head. She slid out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown and slippers, careful not to disturb Towcester, who was peacefully asleep on the other half of her bed. This had been her father’s study and she’d adapted it for her own use. He’d not had computers, obviously, though he would have loved them, but Griselda had seen the ways they could be used from very early on. Now they were her window onto the world – and she wanted to find something out right now. Two sentences: one she’d said, one Flora had said.
“I don’t hold with splitting up estates.”
“Not that Luke’ll want to farm it anyway.” Map first. Griselda pulled out the same map Lucilla had been studying so carefully in the library. Next question: who owned those empty houses? She opened up her laptop, and as the sky lightened towards dawn, she began to see what she could find out. She was going to have to make some phone calls as well, but it was probably a bit too early for that at the moment! “Look down there and what do you see? A town that’s growing, spreading. And where’s it going to spread to next? Not over the river that way – there’s working farms, the Eleigh stables and a lot of residential. Now come and look this way.”
Griselda’s visitors followed her ontot he balcony. “Jacob and Alice’s farm. And then empty houses. If you could get your hands on all that land, as one piece, what would it be worth?”
They could all see it in their mind’s eye as well as in reality.
Jacob and Alice’s farm – but being run by a tenant farmer on a short-term lease. And then the old houses up on the Edge behind the farm. Road access, services, sewage, water – all the infrastructure was there, just waiting for someone to exploit it. Griselda led them from the top floor balcony and into a little-used sitting room. She needed more allies – and for Jacob and Alice’s sake, she was willing to break in upon her self-imposed loneliness and ask others for help. And the only other person in Rowansford who knew as much about the place as she did was Jonathan Saxtead, a historian of some note. Tyne made a beeline for Lorraine, and jumped up onto her lap, purring, which softened Griselda somewhat. Anyone her cats liked much be all right – or at least have some good in them. And Jonathan still had the same warm-hearted charm he’d shown when they were at school together: so many years ago now.
“Tell me the whole story,” he said, and Griselda began. “Is there anything you two want to add?” Jonathan asked, as Lorraine leaned forward and complimented Griselda on Tyne’s evident health, strength and beauty.
“It’s not like Luke to be so aggressive,” Flora said slowly. “I’ve known him all his life, and picking on a woman and her small child isn’t like him. Someone’s wound him up to do it.”
“What do you know about Lucilla? What has Alice said?”
Flora and Griselda both started telling him, piecemeal memories as they came across them. Jonathan stiffened like a bloodhound on the scent when they came to Lucilla’s account of how she’d lost her only child. “But that’s not true. I know it’s not.” “How do you know that?” Griselda was slightly miffed. “I’ll tell you what else isn’t true either. I checked up on the empty properties on the Edge – who owns them and so on. There’s been an offer put in on each of them recently – supposedly by three different concerns. But I can’t find any trace of these three businesses. And in each case, they were represented by a young blonde woman? Coincidence?” “And here’s another one. There’s been two attempts to get Anita out of her house – which she owns. And if she wanted to oppose any development up there on the Edge, then as a homeowner, she’d have the right, and a strong case.”
“Mmm. Rowansford’s planning laws do say that. And one person opposing a big development scheme would soon have followers. I’d be one of them myself.”
“And you wouldn’t be the only one,” Archibald added. “The whole of the historical society would be with you, plus all the people with families who like to walk, sledge, play, explore up round that area.” “So,” Lorraine said thoughtfully to the room in general. “We have to sabotage her plans. My mother taught me about sabotage. And about what to do when you are faced with a ruthless enemy…”
Flora looked mildly alarmed. If she’d known what Jonathan knew about Lorraine’s mother, she’d have looked very alarmed. “Jacob! And Alice! Fancy meeting you here. Luke, I haven’t seen you in an age.”
Lorraine had come up with a plan. “Use your enemy’s weakness against him, if you can. We know she lied. What effect will finding that out have on Luke? Can we use that?”
“He’ll hate it,” Flora said thoughtfully. “Alice and Jacob are so honest – and so was Sarah. And Luke’s like them.”
“Well, this might work then. We’ll see…” “We’ve been celebrating,” Alice said happily. “Luke and Lucilla have just got engaged.”
“Congratulations! Have you got a date for the wedding?”
“As soon as possible,” Lucilla said, smiling back at Alice. “As soon as possible.”
“So what brings you here?” Jacob asked, but Jonathan directed his answer at Lucilla. “I’m meeting a sort of adopted grandson of mine. Charlie’s become great friends with him, and we’ve sort of taken him into our family. He…lost…his mother when he was quite young. It hurt him deeply. But,” and Jonathan made a courtly bow to Lucilla, “hopefully you, at least, haven’t had a great loss like that in your life. And I hope you never do.” Would she take the bait or wouldn’t she? But Alice’s eyes met Lucilla’s, full of sympathy, and Lucilla had to speak.
“Actually,” she said, “I lost my only child many years ago. His father took him from me – and I never found out where they went. I’ve had to accept that I probably never will.” Her big eyes were full of sorrow – Jonathan had to hand it to her, she was a brilliant actress. The other part of Lorraine’s plan was waiting outside the Old Mill for a text from Jonathan, to say if he was needed or not. Lorraine had been completely open and honest with him about what was going on.
“But this is up to you Matthew. It is for you to choose. To ask you to face your mother again – I know that is hard, and I do not want to push you into something that will hurt you also. We can find another way if you do not wish to do this.”
Actually though, Matthew thought, he was really doing this for Bryony. Bryony who made his dad happy in a way he hadn’t been since Lucilla left them both. Bryony who had wept, remembering Sarah Barden, her friend from her childhood. His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Oh here he is,” Jonathan said, as Matthew appeared.
“Hello, Matthew,” Jacob said with pleasure, and Luke Barden smiled at him too. Alice was about to introduce him to Lucilla, who’d given him the sort of absent-minded smile you give to a stranger. But Matthew got in first.
“Hello Mum. You haven’t changed , I see – though you obviously don’t recognise me. But then you wouldn’t would you? Let’s face it, after you walked out on us, you didn’t bother keeping in touch.”
Matthew’s original script had just been “Hello, Mum.” And then they were going to take it from there. But Matthew had things he wanted to get off his chest – and finally, he had the chance to do so. “Matthew! Is it really you?” But Lucilla was losing control of the scenario. She stood up tp try and hug him, but Matthew would have none of it.
“You walked out on me. Not a card, not a line, not a message. You dumped Dad because he wasn’t rich enough for you, but why did you dump me? You never got in touch. We stayed at the same address for six years afterwards, and you never even sent me a birthday card.”
That had hurt.
“Why? Why did you leave me?”
And the naked truth of what Matthew was saying was very evident to all round the table. “You lied to me!”
Flora had been right – Luke really didn’t like it. His parents had never lied to him – and Sarah hadn’t either. And now the woman he’d dreamt of spending the rest of his life with had lied to him: big time. He looked at her, and it was as though a kaleidoscope had reformed its pattern before his eyes. Alice and Jacob rose from their seats, Alice heading for Jacob’s arms, deeply distressed, and the sight of his mother’s hurt made Luke angrier still. “That’s it! I’m through with you! I thought you were as lovely as your face, but you’re not. You’re just a lying little cheat. Get out of my life.”
And Lucilla knew she’d lost this chance for some easy money, lost the edge she’d had in the situation. But where had that son of hers gone? And how come he’d appeared just at that moment?
She stormed out after him, intent on giving him a piece of her mind, but found her way blocked by Jonathan.
“If you’re looking for Matthew, he’s gone. And you’re not going to hurt him any more than you already have. And before you try anything else…we showed your photograph to the estate agents selling The Towers, Haslingfield House, Victoria House…Guess what. They all recognised you. That would make a good newspaper story, wouldn’t it?”
Lucilla stood still, furious. She’d met her match – but how come this old man had worked out what she was up to? The old were supposed to be stupid and gullible. She hissed at him, and left the building, intent on getting out of Rowansford as soon as possible. “What would you like me to do today?”
It was some three weeks since Alice had discovered that the young woman she’d been ready to welcome as a daughter had in fact been trying to make a fast buck out of them. Flora and the others had been worried that the shock would knock her back, but surprisingly it hadn’t. Instead, she and Jacob were busy carrying on with their plans to spruce up the farmhouse – thanks in no small part to Anita’s help. They hadn’t seen or heard from Luke since that disastrous tea party. “If you could carry on sanding down these cupboards, that would be lovely. Let me put all my sewing things away first though.”
“What are you planning to make?”
“I’m going to re-cover that settee – I bought the fabric to do it a couple of years before Sarah died, and first I didn’t have the time, and then I didn’t have the heart. But it’s in a terrible state now.”
“Have you chosen a colour for the rest of the wall yet?”
“We’re still thinking about it! Probably green, though.” It was a month since Lucilla had gone, and Luke was coming back to the farmhouse for the first time since Sarah had died. He approached the front door cautiously: it wasn’t that he was unsure of his welcome, just unsure of himself, if he could cope. Some more of the windows had been painted, he noticed, and they were open just a crack top and bottom – the paint wasn’t quite dry yet, he guessed. Voices came through the window to him. “Anita, thank you again for all you’ve done. Jacob can paint those cupboards no problem, but bending down that far and sanding at the same time takes its toll on him now.”
“You know I love helping you. And you’ve been so good to me – without your help, Amy and I probably would have been turned out of our house.”
“Well, if it hadn’t been for that, I think Luke would have married Lucilla – and I can’t believe he would have been happy. Jonathan told Jacob and me about her plans to buy up the rest of the property up on the Edge…”
Luke had asked Matthew first why he’d done what he did – though with some sympathy, as it couldn’t have been easy for Matthew when Lucilla walked out on him. He could understand the boy’s desire to confront her. But Matthew’s answer had disarmed him.
“I did it for Bryony as much as for me. Because Sarah was her friend, and she loves Jacob and Alice. And Mum wasn’t out to do them any good.”
Anita, though, was fair game. Flora and Archibald had impressed upon him how good Anita was for his parents, and he could see that, having been round to the house, having heard about the help that she was to them. (“And the help that you weren’t,” said the voice in his head.) But nothing was going to make him like her.
“Nothing at all. Nothing you could do or say will ever make me like you. If it hadn’t been for you…”
“You wouldn’t have found out that your girlfriend was trying to make herself a small fortune in property deals.”
Anita’s voice was as calm as his: this was no huge row this time. But she was giving as good as she got.
“Mum and Dad really like you – I can tell that. And, okay, I admit you’re not in it for what you can get out of it for yourself. Flora and Archibald told me that. So, see them as much as you like. It makes them happy, and that matters to me. And I’ll be polite to you, or I’ll hurt their feelings. Just don’t ever think that we’ll be friends.”

The Edge, Chapter 5 A Rowansford story

Had Luke stuck to Lucilla’s original plan, he would definitely have succeeded in driving Anita away from Jacob and Alice. She was far too independent, and too proud, to cope with the slur of being thought to be a sponger, a gold-digger. Anita would simply have stopped visiting them – and hurt them desperately in the process. But Luke’s anger, his demand that they quit Rownasford, threatened Amy’s well-being. Anita wasn’t going to let him force Amy out of her home. A fierce and protective anger of her own rose within her. And with the anger came clarity.
“How dare you! How dare you accuse me of sponging off your parents? Go and ask them yourself what we’ve taken from them. And then go and ask them what we’ve given to them. Go and ask them who was up a ladder yesterday, painting windows with them. Because it wasn’t you, was it? Go and ask them who helps them with the garden. Not you! Who helped Alice with all the preserving? Go and ask them if seeing Amy play with them makes them happy.”
She actually had to stop to draw breath. “And when you’ve asked them all those questions, tell them you want Amy and I to leave our home and go and wander the streets somewhere.”
Anita was like a tigress, defending her young.
“Well, you’re not putting my child out of her home. And I don’t know who’s filled you up with all these lies, but I suggest you check your facts before you start making wild accusations. Now get out of my garden!” Anita’s fury almost blasted Luke out of her garden, through the woods and up over the ridge, his feet taking him along paths he’d known so well as a child. He came out by the burnt-out house that stood above the farm and looked down at his childhood home.
It had changed. The garden was weedier than he remembered, and the farmhouse was beginning to look shabby. There was fresh paint on a couple of the windows – and a ladder leaning against the wall. They hadn’t had hens for a while now, but there was a henhouse again by the hitching post. Faintly, in the summer air, he could hear the sound of them clucking, and the noise carried him back to his childhood. The years rolled back like the morning mist on the river, and he was eight again, playing in the garden with Sarah in the last of the fading daylight, before it was time to come in and go to bed. He remembered: himself and Sarah feeding the hens and collecting the eggs, before getting changed to go to school, the dew still wet on the grass. The memories rose sharp and clear, cutting into his heart like a knife. Sarah was gone. And their parents, watering the garden while the day was still cool, hanging out the washing so that the sun could be on it all day. Life was simpler then – simpler and happier.
But Anita’s words niggled away at him. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
No, it hadn’t been him helping them – but how could he bear to go back, knowing that Sarah would never be there again. No Sarah, sitting in the orchard making daisy chains with Bryony Eleigh. No Sarah, chasing him, teasing him, sharing her last bit of chocolate with him.
“And what’s it like for your mum and dad?” said a little voice in his heart. “No Sarah and no Luke either?” “Bryony said to tell you she was sorry she couldn’t come herself. The truck’s at the garage, the horse box is too heavy for her to handle now – and of course she’s too pregnant to ride! But she sends her love to you – and these flowers as well.”
“That’s so kind of her. How’s she doing?”
“The heat’s getting to her! This has been a hot summer. But the baby’s doing fine – and so’s she, actually.”
Matthew, Bryony’s stepson, was happy to see the Bardons again. He’d got to know them over the Easter holidays when he and a couple of friends had been doing a local history project, and Jacob and Alice had steered them towards a small but fascinating slice of the town’s story. “Bryony and Sarah were such good friends.” Alice’s eyes were on the roses Bryony had sent, but she was seeing the past.
(“I go over, and we talk about Sarah together, remember her,” Bryony had said to Matthew. “Will you at least take the flowers for me? I don’t want Alice thinking I’ve forgotten Sarah.”)
“Sometimes, I almost think I can see them again, fishing in the pond or playing in the orchard, or raking leave in the autumn, and all three of them, Luke too, diving into the leaf piles.”
Matthew didn’t know what to say in reply to this, and wisely said nothing. Alice gave herself a little shake. “So when’s Bryony’s due date? I was talking to a young friend of mine the other day, and she couldn’t believe how many pregnant women there were in Rowansford at the moment! Poor girl – she was married once, but ended up divorced, and her husband took her child.”
Alice didn’t want to name names – that was too close to gossiping. But she needed to talk about something to take her mind off Sarah, and this anniversary of her death.
“He didn’t even let her know where he’d moved to: she doesn’t know where her only child is. I think it really hurts her.” “I’ve got the opposite problem,” Matthew said wryly. Like Alice, he wouldn’t normally have said so much, but he had to say something, he couldn’t just sit there in silence.
“My mother walked out on me and my dad – just left me behind. Dad didn’t earn enough to suit her. I don’t know where she is now – she didn’t keep in touch, didn’t even send me a birthday card, although we were at the same address for ages afterwards.”
Alice’s eyes were full of sympathy for him.
“And Bryony can’t take her place, can she?”
“No,” Matthew admitted. “But Dad’s happy now – and I like that. And I think having a little brother or sister could be a lot of fun. Even if I won’t be around for all of their growing up.” “Do you know what you want to do when you leave school then?” Alice asked, interested.
“Yes. I’m going to train to be a vet, and eventually come back and work at the stables with Bryony.” Amy was nearly asleep on her shoulder. Anita rocked gently, her voice growing ever lower and softer.
“And so your Daddy helped all those girls get safely off the boat. He was a hero, my darling. He didn’t manage to get out himself. But he was a brave, brave man, and you can be very proud of him.”
It was three years now since Dav had died, and the ache wasn’t as fierce as it had been at the start. She had Amy to draw her onwards. And a home. Hector Alexander had net her at the memorial service for the victims of the St Mark disaster, and had discovered why she was there. And his professional eye had spotted her pregnancy. A few gentle questions, and he’d found out the sort of pressure her aunt and uncle would put on her to either have an abortion or put the child up for adoption, once they learnt she was pregnant.
“Your child’s father saved my daughter’s life. Let me give something back in return. I have a house – I’ve just inherited it from my grandmother. It’s tiny, and not very pretty at the moment, but it’s sound, and I can get it decorated for you.”
She’d been reluctant to take the gift, her pride getting in the way, but the thought of having somewhere to live, somewhere to bring up Amy, had persuaded her. She wouldn’t let him do it up for her though.
“All right. If things get to the stage where our baby’s life is in danger, then I’ll ask you for more help. But I want to do this on my own. I have to. I have to prove that I can, otherwise my aunt and uncle will just pile on the pressure. They want me to get a well-paid job, be respectable…a baby at twenty-one just doesn’t fit into that.”
“Promise me you won’t risk his child, the child of the man who saved my child. I owe him a debt I can never repay – this is so little.”
She’d promised. Once a month, she wrote to Hector Alexander and his wife – and she accepted the allowance they sent her for Amy’s food, and had been grateful too for the ante-natal and post-natal care he’d sorted out for her. Amy had had a good start in life, thanks to the Alexanders. The more Anita thought about Luke Barden’s visit, the less happy she was about it. In the end, she decided to ask Flora and Archiblad Pettistree’s advice. They’d known the Bardens all their lives, they (presumably) knew Luke well – and they really cared about Alice and Jacob. She told Flora the whole story – Luke’s threat, her response – and then sat back and waited to hear what Flora thought. Flora’s first words surprised her.
“Do you think this is connected to that Social Services visit?”
“You think that was Luke who tipped them off? But nothing he said suggested that”
“No. That’s not his style – the anonymous tip-off. Face-to-face confrontation, yes, but he’s not the type to go behind your back – never was. Hmmm.” Flora thought deeply. Amy climbed right inside the toy chest to get something out, and Flora laughed.
“I remember our Naomi doing that! And her daughter, Poppy, she did exactly the same. Your Amy’s made a big difference to Jacob and Alice; and so have you. Don’t let them lose you – not now. They’re beginning to be able to move on a bit from their Sarah’s death. Don’t knock them back. They value you two.” “You really think so?” Anita went slightly pink with pleasure. Flora looked at her measuringly.
“Yes, of course I do. Who’s given you such a poor opinion of yourself?”
“My aunt and uncle,” Anita said, the answer pulled out of her almost unwittingly.
“Tell me about them.”
And Anita did. “You know whose help we need?” Archibald said, once he’d been called in from his workshop and told the story. “You know who could find out about that tip-off? Griselda Tostead.”
“Griselda? But would she be willing to help?” Flora was unsure.
“If it’s for Jacob and Alice, yes. And she hasn’t fallen out with us – not really. She just won’t visit.”
“Well, we are next door to Cynthia. You know Griselda hates her.”
“I’ll give her a ring.” Surprisingly enough, Griselda looked with some fondness upon Amy.
“Alice told me she’d made a dress for Amy – with the left-over bits from Sarah’s butterfly dress. It meant a lot to her, doing that. So – tell me what’s up.” Flora told the story – coherently and well – and Griselda listened intently.
“So why do you need me?”
“Because you know things,” Flora said. “You collect information – about everything. If anyone can find out anything about this tip-off, it’s you.”
“All right: but I want something in return from you, young lady.”
“I don’t have anything,” Anita said, alarmed.
“I want you to answer me a question, that’s all. Let me see what I can find out.” Griselda left the room, and the rest of them watched Amy trying to make friends with one of the many cats that prowled around the house. “Well, I’ll say this for her; she’s not afraid of cats. Right: I’ve found out something – someone owed me a big favour – but I want something from you. I want to know why Hector Alexander gave you some of his grandmother’s property. I don’t hold with breaking up estates. And I don’t like not knowing the reason for things. She’s obviously not his child. So why?”
“I’ll only tell you if you promise to keep it secret.” The old woman liked secrets though, Anita could tell. They gave her power and influence. But she couldn’t use this secret against anyone, and Anita would give it away to help Jacob and Alice.
“Agreed.”
She told the story quite simply, and Griselda’s face softened as she heard it.
“Hmmm. That fits. And I admire your independence, young woman. You’ve been kind to Jacob and Alice as well. I’ll do what I can – and see if I can find anything else out. The tip-off came by phone, from a young woman judging by the voice. Not local, judging by the accent. And then Luke turns up, breathing fire at you and stuffed full of lies. I know who that suggests to me: that girlfriend of his.”
“But why? Anita asked. “Why has she got it in for me? How am I a threat to her? Or in her way?”