Exchange of Love, page 30
Unable to take in the details, at last she cried, “Stop, Margaret, please! I could not stay on here, a dependent in my own home. It is a very generous offer, and I thank you profoundly, but I cannot stay here.” There is no need to heap more guilt on this woman, Penny thought, and continued, “Since my husband’s death, I have already decided to leave Peverell and return to Suffolk where my father still resides. Preserve my memories of a happy home.”
“Please, you must at least accept the monies from the estate income?”
“I will, as a pension for Edward. I will have a child, maybe even twins, to support.” She tried to force a smile. “Margaret, do nothing rash. I will be gone by Michaelmas and have another home with my loving family. Your husband is a good and generous man, do not sour his joy.”
“God bless you for your understanding,” Margaret said. “Shall we pray together?”
Penny bit back a scathing comment on the lack of God’s grace and instead replied, “You must say the prayer. I will fetch my bible and afterwards we can sing a psalm together after we have prayed.” She rose and went to her room. Ironic, she thought bitterly. If little Oliver is Edward’s child, as I truly believe he is, he will inherit Peverell. The Peverell line will hold true, only the name would change. That gave her more comfort than a joint prayer for forgiveness, or their singing.
While Margaret and Penny joined in guilt and the need for forgiveness, Margaret’s very, very distant descendant Judith had decided that it was time to plan her own future with John. She had tentatively raised the subject during one of their long walks across the Mendips from Black Down to Crook Peak. The couple were quite unaware that, in a previous century, Edward and Penny had looked down from Crook Peak to see the Parliamentarian supply wagons heading southward towards Taunton.
It had been a long pleasant walk, not too arduous, but by the time they reached Crook Peak even Judith was happy to sit and gaze out over the Bristol Channel while they ate lunch.
“There’s something about prolonged exercise that rather gets my hormones racing,” murmured Judith after a furtive scan that confirmed there were no other walkers within several miles.
“Oh, it’s the warm sun that affects me,” replied an unsuspecting John as he leaned against the limestone outcrop and bit into an apple.
“Pleased to hear it,” said Judith, peeling off her sweaty bra top. “And luckily for you, the grass isn’t damp.”
“Why?” He looked back from the distant view. “Oh!”
“Because you, dear, slow-witted man, are going to be lying on it while I make love to you.”
Sometime later, they slipped back into discarded, crumpled clothes. John drew Judith to him again and impulsively kissed her. Being together so intimately and unexpectedly, he had experienced an intense sunburst of pleasure; he truly loved her. Holding her hand, they continued walking back down the hill and into the trees of King’s Wood. John had suggested they should start seriously thinking of the future if they were to have children.
Judith said nothing until they crossed the road into more ancient trees and started the slow climb up the track of Callow Drove towards Shipham. She had initially settled back into her old job in Bath, but after France she missed the design side of the work. With plenty of cash rolling in from their Peverell House Innovation Centre, Judith had taken a chance at starting her own design consultancy. So far, a modest start, but with plenty of projects commissioned. Was it a good time to have a baby? Would there ever be a good time?
She looked up at John as they walked. It had to be soon, strike while the iron’s hot, and all that. Somewhat tongue in cheek, she suggested a serious meeting the following Thursday.
“I do mean serious, John,” she added. “You know, clothes on; no booze or trying to carry me off to bed.”
He chuckled at that. “Do I need to take notes?”
“I’ve a few ideas. I’ll send you my presentation.”
Judith arrived at John’s flat promptly at six thirty p.m., a bottle of expensive red wine in one hand, briefcase in the other. To John’s dismay, she wore a formal-looking black skirt and jacket with an office-style white blouse. Her greeting to him was not great.
“John, I did say dressed.”
“I am!”
“I don’t think so. Gym shorts and a gaping vest?” She poked at the holey garment, trying to look stern. “How do you expect me to concentrate with your bits bulging out and pecks showing through?”
“Sorry, ma’am, I had been meaning to change.” He started for the bedroom. “It’s been at least two days since I saw you. How about we clear the air, so to speak?”
“Sod off! Get dressed and I’ll open the wine. It needs time to breathe and settle down, and so do you!”
Her plan was simple: baby Peverell in two years and a joint home for co-parenting.
“Baby Peverell,” laughed John.
“Working title until we know the gender I’ve come off the pill now. Give it a year to clear my system. Conception next August, birth in May ready for the summer.” Judith flashed him a happy smile. “How does that sound, Dad?”
John felt an upsurge of emotion at the thought of having a child at last; a child with Judith. Too overcome to speak, he stood up to glance across his balcony at Henrietta Park. The bright flowers glinting in the late afternoon sun brought a certain peace to his mind.
He shook his head knowingly. “I don’t think it always works quite as easily as that.”
“It will. No one in either of our families has had issues in that department, and we are fit and healthy.” She giggled. “We’re both in training, so I’m sure we’ll have no problem.”
“How do you know about my family?”
“I phoned Ann.”
“You phoned my sister without telling me?”
“Sure, it’s called a due diligence check. You don’t think I’m going to risk hitching my perfectly toned body to some creaky old cart, do you?”
He sat down again, stunned, not sure if he was angry or amused at her effrontery.
“Come on, John, let’s have a drink to celebrate!”
John walked over to the kitchen and took down two large wine goblets, sniffing the red wine in appreciation. He put the glasses carefully between them.
Smiling up at him, Judith took a large sip. “Mm, delicious! Now, next topic,” she said. “How do we live?”
“We did say different homes, didn’t we?”
“With me doing all the feeding, nappy changes, and the like? Not a chance! I know I said separate homes but I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting since then and I’ve had a better idea.” She pulled out some sheets of paper from the briefcase. “How about this?” Judith showed him some clinically precise drawings. “Big neutral space in the middle here, we each have a separate bedroom, toilet, study either end. Kitchen could be a common area.”
John groaned inwardly at the thought of sharing a kitchen with Judith. He supposed she could have her own microwave oven. “What’s this?”
“Along the side we have a nursery and the children’s bedrooms.”
“Two?”
“Just two.”
He nodded in agreement, drinking his wine. “How do you find a house like this, all on one level?”
“Wake up, John!”
Realisation dawned. “This is the second floor of Peverell House!”
“My, you’re sharp.”
“This bedroom?” he pointed.
“Is my old room. Penny Peverell’s old room.”
“Are you serious? You said you’d never live there again, and after—”
“I know. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not being driven out of my house by a ghost. If she comes back again, she can just be jealous. We can compare notes!”
John swallowed hard. “It will cost a fortune.”
“We’ve got a fortune. Stella Rigby, our art historian, estimates the Billy Dobson portrait of Edward and Penny is worth a million, at least!”
“There’s a time factor as well. Can we do all this work before the baby arrives?”
“Two years? Easy!”
“It’s a lot to take in.” John gulped some more wine, his hand unsteady.
“There is one thing.”
“Only one?” he muttered.
“I’m going to need a long-term contract.”
“A contract?”
“You know,” Judith said, enjoying herself, “marriage, civil partnership, or even a legal agreement to contribute.”
“You couldn’t enforce that!” he said, grinning in delight.
“Don’t you believe it. My family can enforce any contract. Ask Mark!”
“Point taken. As long as it’s not Charlie’s idea of a contract.” John got up from his chair, overcome with happiness, walked around the table, and dropped onto one knee. “Judith Ransom will you—”
“Don’t you bloody dare!” She darted out of her seat and across the room. “You’re not going soppy on me.”
“OK,” he stood up. “We need a legal agreement before children – guarantee of father’s access, and all that. So why not do the full thing and get married? Is that business-like enough?”
“Oh, John,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I’m honoured, I really am. Just a bit nervous.” And then, “Good idea. Six months’ time?”
With that she brought her arms around him and they kissed passionately, finally content.
CHAPTER 42
John rarely got to do anything approaching original sculpture, and so was delighted to have a commission for a memorial in the form of a contemporary angel. After several attempts at producing his own design he had, with the sculptor’s consent, taken inspiration from a bronze statue he admired. John’s copy in stone would be outside and so could not have any water traps or very thin, fragile sections. Even with these changes, he believed he had been able to imitate the dynamic spirit of the bronze original.
He was quite proud of the finished version and hoped to attract more commissions. In this happy frame of mind, he had set aside a day to do the final smoothing and finishing. Now he was spraying on a coat of silicone sealant that would soak into the limestone for protection. It was the same stuff that was used on restored buildings. Engrossed in his work, John didn’t respond to a flurry of calls on his mobile and workshop phone in the late afternoon. He stopped, spray gun in hand, and stood back admiring his work.
“Don’t you ever pick up your bloody phone?” shouted Judith, rushing across the workshop toward him.
He hadn’t heard her drive through the gates or come in, and his curt reply of, “I’m supposed to be working,” was lost in the protective spray mask.
“What did you say, John?”
He turned in frustration, but that quickly drained away when he saw the anguished look on her face. “What on earth’s happened?” He was gripped by sudden fear, remembering the last time she had burst in on him.
“It’s Charlie,” she gulped as if close to tears.
“An accident?” He ripped off his mucky rubber gloves so he could hold her.
“No, John. He’s been kidnapped by bloody Mark Davis, coming out of school.”
“What! Come and sit down. Tell me—”
“I don’t need to sit down, I need you to come with me. Now!”
“OK, OK. At least tell me what—”
“Nancy was walking with Charlie – from school back to the car.” Judith tried to order her thoughts. “Mark must have been hiding and watching. As Nancy unlocked, he leapt out from somewhere, grabbed the car key and punched her in the face. Had some sort of Velcro straps for Charlie, bundled him into the car and drove off.”
“Didn’t Mark say anything?”
“‘Don’t call the law or I’ll blow his head off’. Oh, John, he pointed a sawn-off shotgun at Nancy, then hit her with it and drove away. Nancy’s shocked and concussed. A teacher wanted her to go to A&E but she refused until Simon arrived.”
John couldn’t believe it; it was all too sudden. Mark was history, and he’d never been violent.
“What have the police done? Can they trace the—”
“No, no!” Judith was becoming frantic, and tears were leaking down her cheek as she said, “They haven’t told the police, or anyone. Simon’s had a message: half a million in cash, or else.”
“Mark must be mad! He’ll never pull this off.”
“Mark’s been sleeping rough, we think. Simon stitched him up big time – job, money, everything. I grassed him up to the new girlfriend.” Her voice tailed off. “Mark must be deranged. Now he’s got Charlie. He could do anything.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked John helplessly, unable to think clearly. Instinctively, he tried to put his arm around Judith, hoping to calm her, but she shrugged him off.
“Come to Peverell House with me. Mark’s destitute, he couldn’t buy a shooter on the street, and if he did it would be an East European army gun or something – not an old-fashioned sawn-off.”
“So, where would he—”
“Peverell House. Dad’s shotguns are still there in one of the secure cabinets.”
John remembered the three robust steel cabinets with their double padlocks and security bars over the doors. As well as the antique weapons they had found from Penny’s era, there were guns belonging to her father, Simon and Judith.
“I ought to have got rid of them when Dad died,” Judith was saying quietly. “Neither Simon nor Nancy are keen on shooting.”
“Would Mark have known all this?”
“Dad did try to get him interested at one time.”
“Bloody dangerous leaving things like that in an unoccupied house,” snapped John.
“Well, the storages are in that locked cellar. It’s all been approved by the county firearms officer.”
“Where are the bullets?”
“Cartridges – in a separate locked container. I think the only way Mark could get a gun is from Peverell – break into the cellar, force open the cabinets.”
“Does this help us find Charlie?” asked John.
Judith wanted action; to do something. John was more wary.
“Mark must be at Peverell. Where else could he hold Charlie? He’s got to get Nancy’s car off the street and he has no home of his own.”
“I’ll ring the police,” said John.
“No, John. I’ve given Simon my word.”
“I haven’t.” He started moving towards the office.
Judith barred his way. “No, John. Please. Let’s at least drive out to Peverell and see if Nancy’s car is there.”
“He’s a maniac with a gun, Judith, we can’t tackle that.” He went to restrain her, but she shook him off impatiently.
“I’m driving out to the house – my house. Either come with me or stay out of this altogether.”
“OK, but I’m not happy—”
“None of us are bloody happy, John, especially Charlie.”
John started to rip off his painting overalls.
“Could be useful to have some of your safety visors,” said Judith.
“Against gunfire?”
“Anything over twenty yards and the shot would probably be stopped.”
John also picked up a long-handled hammer and crowbar before following Judith quickly out to her Range Rover. Then almost as an afterthought, he stopped. “No, Judith, let’s take my van – he’ll recognise yours. Hard hat, overalls and high-vis jackets could make us look like contractors.” John rapidly grabbed the gear for them both.
“Apprentice of the year, I don’t think,” she said, clambering up into the van’s passenger seat enveloped in a pair of John’s over large overalls. “I really appreciate this,” Judith continued as he steered out of the yard.
“I just hope we don’t regret it,” John replied grimly.
Friday was a half day for the tenants of Peverell House, although some of the converted outbuildings were still occupied. First Judith and John toured the area in the van and spotted Nancy’s car partially concealed under some dark foliaged trees. The registration plate number had been taped over and crude numbers drawn on with a broad felt-tip marker.
“As if that would fool anyone,” said Judith bitterly.
“He’s really lost it,” warned John. “I suppose he thought the car would be hidden from the air.”
“Right, let’s check the cellar first,” said Judith, a shake in her voice. She pulled the tinted safety visor down to check that it covered her eyes and neck.
“Stop it, Judith,” John said seriously, “we’re not Batman and Wonder Woman. The police are professionals; they’ve got the guns and body armour.”
“No! That’s just it: quick firing Heckler & Koch in a confined space. Charlie could easily be hit, like any innocent bystander. Come on, let’s check the cellar.”
John raced after Judith as she found a side door that had been levered open. Inside it was a short distance to the cellar door – wide open with the mortice lock gouged out. Down the cellar steps it was easy to see that one gun cabinet had been beaten open. Her father’s pair of 12-bore guns and Judith’s small weapon were still there, locked up by their trigger guards.
“Simon’s ‘up and over’ is gone,” whispered Judith in a scared voice, pointing to a hook at the back of the cabinet. “He never bothers to lock up properly.”
John noticed a sledgehammer flung against the wall. “Not very subtle. Mark’s smashed the padlocks to pieces. The din would have been terrific, someone would have heard.”
“Must have been done last night.” Judith was already studying the battered, smaller storage cupboard. “He couldn’t get into the ammunition locker. He’s got a gun but nothing to shoot out of it.”
