Heirs And Descendants Collection

6. Home-Made Plum Wine-1

Saturday morning broke with all the conventionality of an English spring weekend morning; it was thundering with rain. I had risen early as I had neglected the farm business for three days now. My travelling to and from London, and my day and a half there, plus the day in the library meant that there was work to catch up on. I was in the estate office, and had briefly been able to consign Judith to the back of my mind. I had managed about two hours of work, when I caught sight of a figure at the open door.

“I"m sorry, did I disturb you? I"ve been here for a couple of minutes just standing and watching. Nothing else to do in this monsoon. I was hoping to saddle up one of your horses and trot off for a canter, build up an appetite before breakfast, but no can do, worse luck. Were you busy?” In the professional matters we had touched upon she had been direct and to the point, but not so her standard discourse, which encompassed many things before she got to the point.

My perception of her so far had been mixed, which the relationship to the figure in the photograph had only helped to complicate. With Maudlin knowing her family, I wondered how much she knew of the Patersons. Her appeal to me was twofold. Firstly, I found her challenging in an intellectual sense. The way she had introduced herself to me at Dukes was clever, something I would have been proud of myself. Her approach had completely disarmed me, and taken me by surprise. She was quick-witted, sharp and seemed intuitive and shrewd in her deliberations. Her second appeal lay entirely with her physicality; again, it was the challenge that attracted me. In physical law opposites attract, and my positive s****l chromosomes were being drawn inexorable towards everything that was once negative to me.

“Yes, I was.” I was going to leave my answer at that, but I was regretting some of the ridicule I had aimed at her. I continued in my reply, “The milk count is down, and we"re waiting on the vets" report. It"s a worry. We"ve had problems with an influx of badgers this winter, and it could be TB in the herd. There"s conjecture as to if badgers do spread the disease, but if there weren"t so many liberal tree-huggers about in this neck-of-the-woods, then I"d trap them all. The badgers I mean no; come to think of it…I"d shoot the huggers as well!”

She pulled up a chair beside me and stared at the chart on the computer screen.

“My, you are radical. Hope that doesn"t reflect your own political views. I marked you down as being more of a liberal than an intolerable right-wing fascist. Don"t worry, it"s only rhetorical, no need to divulge your leanings. I"m not here to find any sleepers hidden in any of the panelling.”

areI wondered about that throwaway remark all through breakfast, and barely said a word apart from polite answers to Judith"s sincere questions regarding the estate and its management. Mixed with the memories of Elliot"s first declaration of suspicion of Maudlin, my emotions were ragged and my thoughts confused. The eight months I"d had to examine those files, the ones that had caused the anxiety in father"s life, were unfinished and inconclusive. The photographs I"d retrieved from my mother"s memorabilia had unearthed some surprises, but nothing overtly connected to the unaccountable missing monies. In total there was £300 million that could not be found amongst the ledgers from 1935 to 1970; in today"s money, that equates to roughly £2 billion.

I was following her along the corridor from the dining room to the library, it was as if she was in a hurry to continue from where we had left off the previous evening; or was it, I speculated from her tactical remark, only minutes ago?

“Do you think you could have some sort of portable heater brought in this morning, Harry? It was freezing enough in there yesterday. This wind and rain chills my bones.”

I considered the obvious reply, “They"re on show, that"s why,” but my change of nature prohibited me. I liked me being understanding and humane, so I decided to continue to like myself.

“Of course I can, I don"t suppose it will harm the books for a day or two. My apologies…I don"t feel the cold as much as you must.” I just could not help it, but it was not as blatant as before.

She had the same cardigan on, but had replaced the black leggings she wore under her skirt on Friday for thick beige corduroy riding trousers.

“We"ll be here longer than a day or two, H. A week at least…maybe more.”

“I had better send out for more cigarettes then,” I offered, courteously. She stopped and turned to face me, smiling like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.

“In that case, could you order Rothmans for me I find your Dunhill too strong and too big. I seem to be wasting more than I"m enjoying.” She most certainly was not a diffident girl!

“Nothing too much for Madam, nothing at all!” I was quickly becoming annoyed at liking myself.

We entered, and as she was about to load the recording equipment with new tapes, I touched her hand. She did not recoil; instead, she looked dispassionately and detached from me, as if to emphasis her Wednesday evening warning of no touching. Or, was it simply shock?

no touching.“Before we begin this morning"s session, I"d like to ask you something off the record, and I"d like an answer to it, Judith; again, just between the two of us.”

I had let go of her hand, but she had not sought to distance herself from me. We remained close and we were looking directly into each others" eyes.

“Yesterday in your preamble, before these machines were on, you stated that your mission was to find out who murdered my father, and how. You never mentioned why. I don"t believe you make any oversights. I believe there is a purpose behind all that you say, and all you don"t.”

why“I believe the same could be said of you, Harry. Neither of us are fools. Your father was a very important chap, perhaps more than you realise. I have no reason to ask why. I know why…it was to cover up something he had found out. But here"s the thing H, did he know what he had found, and did he tell you? Want me to turn them on now, or do you want to cry on my shoulder and confess all the sins of your family in private?”

They were whirring, and Judith was into her stirrups. I was confused again. Was I being suspected in some way in a cover up, or the actual murder? Sometimes, honesty can be too much. Her acerbic little diatribe had found a mark. How did that anodyne remark of "out of sight, out of mind" come into existence? Certainly not from our trade. Keep both eyes fixed on that round object, catching rather than dropping it otherwise you could end up dead!

“We grow plums in those huge poly-tunnels of ours, over where the racing stables were once. We sell the wine made from them all over the world. Our biggest market is in Japan, would you believe? Top restaurants in your own town of London stock it. It"s becoming very fashionable, I"m told. They even had a bottle at Dukes, if you noticed. Before its full fermentation it"s quite acidic. Remind me to offer you some of that immature, sour, variety before you depart.”

“I"ll take it then that you don"t want to shed your tears all over me, Harry?”

“Haven"t got anything to cry about, Judith. Unless you"re going to tell me that your leaving today then I"d cry a bucket but, knowing that you"re not, I won"t bother. Incidentally, have you heard anything from the police about the CCTV at Eton Square? Have they got any pictures?”

“Yes, they have, from the outside cameras. The hood was black, the trousers black, the shoes were black, the face might have been black, but whoever it was never smiled for the photographic session. Went in through the front door, though. You can see them drilling out the lock. You can buy little, almost silent ones nowadays at any DIY store. Slow speed varieties, the same sort used in some departments of ours. No deadlock. I understand from George, the valet chap, that Elliot had a habit of entertaining late at night, and one particular lady visitor had a key. There were no cameras on inside the house. This, apparently, was Elliot"s last job on retiring to his bedroom.”

Without further comment or hesitation, and without waiting for any reply of mine, she threw the first ball. “I"m going back to last night, I got how you came to us. I"m clear on that. What I want to know now is how your skills suited our purpose, what use did we put you to, and what was it that you expected.”

“Trimble said he wanted me for my degrees, but mostly I think it was for my name. Together they suited his purpose admirably, as he put it. I was to be seconded under the Defence Intelligence Staff banner, and apply for a position in a private English company who would be favoured in a forthcoming takeover of certain petrochemical assets owned at present by BP in Antwerp. “With your qualifications they"ll snap you up. You will be in there at the start, and you will open doors for them. You"ll be making history, my boy!” That"s how he sold it to me.”

“Were you expected to make that history for him directly, or through a handler?” her eyes narrowed as she asked.

“He told me, “Only ever to report to me Harry. No dirty hands on you before you step through my door…I should say not! We don"t want you corrupted and shown the other side of life too soon. Only pure unadulterated chemicals for you to work with. Refreshing bubbles bubbling away above your Bunsen burner. We"ll strip them clean, the two of us together, with you carrying the cross of Saint George and me sweeping up behind.”

“Were those the exact words he used, Harry? It"s seven years ago, now.”

“Perhaps not verbatim, but the essentials and the references are his, plus the terminology. He was so excited about it all. I might as well have not been there. He reminded me of a dog with a toy almost jumping through rings. I"m sure that, had there been burning ones and I"d asked him, he would have jumped without questioning it.”

“He never showed any exuberance or jauntiness towards you when here, on that shooting weekend. No high spirits whilst banging away at all those grouse?” She asked.

“No. If anything, I"d say he looked downcast and gloomy. He never said much at meals or on the drive…he was a bit subdued, as though he had a heavy load on his mind.”

“You said that he spent time alone with Elliot. Did your father reflect Peter"s mood, do you think?”

“I honestly don"t remember. He was never a "hail fellow well met" sort of person…a serious man, my dad. And I suppose it"s true that familiarity does breed contempt. You stop looking for signs, after a while.”

“Hmm. I"m surprised, Harry. You have struck me as a very deliberate and observant man. Why wouldn"t you notice if your father was either nonplussed or excited, I wonder?”