Thirty-five
At the other end of winter, when millions of daffodils were brightening all the approaches to Bath, a visitor came to Harmer House and called on Ada Shaftsbury.
‘Bless your little cotton socks,’ said Ada, with a bear-hug. ‘If it isn’t my mate Rose!’
‘Christine, actually.’
‘I know, petal. I saw it in the papers. You’re looking well, Rose. Did you get your memory back?’
‘In time for Christmas.’ She laughed, so much more relaxed now. ‘I was in Oxford Street looking at the lights, and suddenly I knew I’d been there years ago with my mother. It was amazing, just like the clouds parting. And now I know why I came to Bath. It was to see my father. After Mother’s death I had a difficult time, but I felt closer to my dad than I ever had. I really wanted to see him. Then finding him dead like that, with the shotgun at his side, I blamed myself for neglecting him so long. I just blanked everything out. Anyway, I’ve picked up my life as it was, living in my flat in Fulham and working again.’
‘What are you doing here, then?’
‘Two things. I’ve just been to see that policeman who pulled me out of the crash. I wanted to thank him.’
‘Old gutso? What did he suggest as a thank-you – a jumbo burger and chips?’
‘Oh, Ada.’
‘Say it, blossom. Next to me, he’s a sparrow. What’s the other thing you came for?’
‘To sort out the farmhouse. It’s officially my property now.’
‘Are you selling the farm?’
‘Definitely. I’m having the house demolished first. The solicitor advised it after what happened there.’
‘And all the furniture?’
‘I’ve arranged for one of those house clearance firms to take it all away. I’m meeting them there this afternoon.’ Christine nervously touched her hair, twisting a length of it between her finger and thumb. Her new, confident look softened into something like the diffidence Ada remembered. ‘I’m a bit uncomfortable about going there alone. Would you have the time to come with me?’
Invited to choose a present from the farmhouse, Ada picked an old milking stool, which she said she would rest her feet on while thinking of all the years of honest work it represented.
‘It isn’t much. Don’t you want anything else?’
‘You know me, love. I only ever take what I can carry away. I’d have the kitchen range if I could. I was born in a cottage. Spent the first ten years of my life in a place like this.’
‘You’re welcome to take the range if you want. The clearance people won’t have any use for it.’
‘Can you see Imogen’s face if I had it sent up to Harmer House?’
They decided to light a last fire while waiting for the van. Soon the flames were giving an orange glow to the dark room.
‘Have I got it right?’ Ada asked. ‘Allardyce brought you here to look for some old treasure your dad was supposed to have salted away?’
‘That was only delaying tactics on my part. I made it up, telling him there were hiding places in old cottages.’
‘There wasn’t anything?’
‘Only the Seax, and that was dug up half a century ago.’
‘Two innocent people died for bugger all?’
‘I’m afraid that’s true.’
They watched the flames for a while. Finally Ada said, ‘All this was an open hearth once. In the old days they used to roast on a spit, over an open fire. You can see where they bricked in the space they didn’t need any more.’ She picked up her milking stool by one leg and tapped it firmly against the wall to the right of the range. ‘Hear it? Hollow.
I’ll tell you for nothing, blossom, it’s a perfect place to hide anything. If I had some hot stuff I wanted to salt away – not that I ever do, mind – I’d chip out a couple of bricks and put it in there.’
They both looked at the wall. Each of them spotted the loose bricks at floor level on the left of the range.
‘Well, if you’re not going to look, I am.’
Ada planted her stool by the bricks and lowered herself onto it. She withdrew the bricks with ease and put her hand into the space behind. ‘Wouldn’t it take the cake if there really was…’ Her voice trailed off and she stared at Rose with saucer eyes. She took out her hand and showed something that glinted gold in the fire’s glow.
Peter Lovesey
