them, of course, but I couldn’t afford their fees.” He frowned at me, seemingly puzzled by my unexpected visit. “If I were you I wouldn’t be here when Elizabeth gets back. She had a telephone call from her lawyer chappie yesterday. The one in London? You must know who I mean. He lunched here last week and scoffed the best part of a brisket. Anyway, Elizabeth’s not exactly happy with you. Livid, in fact. Shouldn’t be talking to you myself, but…” He could not think quite why he was talking to me, so his voice tailed away.
“You don’t have Elizabeth’s capacity to hate?” I suggested.
“Yours is a ghastly family,” he said. “Always squabbling.”
“And yours isn’t?”
“They’re pretty ghastly too,” he admitted. Peter Tredgarth is big and heavy, with a permanently worried expression. He had not always been like that. When I first introduced him to Elizabeth he had been a trim Guards officer, lively and quick, who used to sail the Channel with me. He had long since given up sailing and was now weighed down with the world’s griefs. “I thought you’d gone back to sea?” he said irritably.
“I did. I came back.”
“Bloody silly of you. If I was you, I’d stay out there. That’s what I should have done. Gone off and stayed away.” He fell silent and, for a moment, neither of us could find anything to say.
“I hear you were up at the camp?” I said to fill the silence.
He gave me a fierce look. “Did you drive here?”
“I caught a bus from the station, then walked.”
“I don’t think I’ve been on a bus since I was at prep school.” He grimaced, either at the memory, or as he tried to decide what to do with my unwelcome presence. “Tell you what I’ll do,” he said at last, “I’ll drive you to the station. That way she won’t find you on the premises, and I won’t tell her you’ve visited. We can stop for a bite of lunch on the way. I know a decent little pub which does a good midday meal. Wait here!”
He didn’t let me respond, but just turned away and began walking towards the tree-fringed hill where the camp lay. I started after him. “I’ll come with you.”
“Wait!” He turned on me angrily, then, as if to explain his rudeness, tossed me the gun and its two cartridges. “Keep an eye out for the heron, there’s a good chap.”
I waited. The two heron flew past me. I ignored them. Instead I watched Peter plod up the hill and disappear into the undergrowth beyond the trees. There was a pause, then his mud-stained Land Rover appeared and bounced down the slope towards me.
“See the heron?” he asked as he braked beside me.
“Not a sign, Peter.” I climbed into the passenger seat and pushed the gun into the back.
“Steak and kidney pie and a decent pint, eh?” Peter was suddenly very jocular.
I put my hand over the gear lever to stop him driving away. “I don’t want to go to the pub yet, Peter. I’ve come here to see what preparations you’re making for Georgina. If I approve of them, then I won’t oppose Elizabeth and she can get her claws on Georgina’s money. So why don’t I just go up to the house and wait for Elizabeth?”
He stared at me, biting a strand of his moustache. “Georgina?” he finally said.
“Georgina,” I confirmed.
“You’re worried about her?” He seemed astonished at the thought.
“Of course I’m worried about her.”
“And you think Elizabeth’s going to cheat on the trust fund?”
“It occurred to me, yes,” I said bluntly.
For a few seconds I thought he was going to throw me out of the vehicle for insulting his wife, but instead he just pushed my hand away from the gear lever and crashed it into first. “Right!” He spoke angrily and decisively. “You’ve asked for it, so you’ll damn well get it. Operation Georgina.” We lurched forward, turned on to the rutted track, and accelerated up towards the farm. “Elizabeth won’t take kindly to you poking about the place, but Georgina’s your sister, so why the hell shouldn’t you see where she’s going to live?” He laughed, but at what I could not tell. He drove furiously. We went past the house, past the farmyard, and up a track edged with blackberry bushes. At the end of the track, and facing on to a quiet country lane, was a pretty stone cottage. Building work was evident from the scaffolding which reached up to the chimney and from the pile of plumber’s junk that lay outside the door, but no builders were actually visible.
“Primrose Cottage,” Peter Tredgarth announced as he stamped on the Land Rover’s brakes. “A horrible name, but it has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, living room, walled garden at the rear, and one garage. Central heating is being installed. A perfect residence, you will agree, for one loony sister and her live-in nurse?”
“Perfect,” I agreed. I was astonished and pleased. I might have persuaded myself that Elizabeth was going to do the decent thing, but I had not really believed it. Yet Primrose Cottage was indeed perfect. It offered privacy and comfort, as well as restfulness. I felt my worries dropping away. I would be free again.
“The live-in nurse” – Peter had left the motor running – “will be hired from an agency in Cheltenham. The agency specialises in cases like Georgina’s. Naturally the woman will have to be given time off, so the agency will supply weekend cover and supplementary nursing care for two nights a week as part of the contract price.” His voice became heavy with sarcasm. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“I think it sounds marvellous, Peter,” I said warmly.
He sneered at the humility in my voice. “Elizabeth has already shown the cottage to the trustees, and they agree with you. They’ve also interviewed the agency and found them entirely satisfactory.”
“Elizabeth’s been wonderful,” I ate more humble pie, “and I apologise for doubting her.”
He laughed, his victory over me complete. “You’ve got a nerve, John.” He took a silver flask from a pocket of his tweed jacket, unscrewed its cap, and took a long pull. He suddenly looked very morose. “And why the hell would you care about Georgina?”
“I just do.”
“You care about her money,” he said savagely, “but you won’t get it, John. You abdicated, you gave up, you bottled out, you pissed off to sea, and you probably screwed the family by nicking their bloody picture as well.” He began to laugh. I’d never realised before this moment that he was an alcoholic. He’d probably been drinking before I met him, and he would probably be drinking for the rest of the day. “Did you steal that picture?” he asked me suddenly.
“No.”
“She says you did. She says she’s met someone who helped you do it. You’re a fool, John. I suppose you threw the money away?”
“I didn’t steal the picture, Peter.”
He ignored that. “It was left to Elizabeth in your mother’s will.”
“I know.”
“And it ought to go to her,” he said heavily as though making a point I might not have considered before. “She’s got plans for the money, you see.”
“Plans?”
“Buy Stowey back. Run a proper equestrian centre.” He took a pull on the flask, then chuckled. “I think she imagines the Queen coming down to admire the horses, but the point of it is, John, that Elizabeth wants to use the money. She wants to restore the family’s position in society! You don’t, do you? All you want to do is arse around in a boat! If you had any decency at all you’d tell her where the picture is, then disappear.”
“I don’t know where it is, Peter.” I paused. “Who told her I’d stolen it?”
“Buggered if I know.” Nor did he care; it was enough that he shared Elizabeth’s belief in my guilt. He peered at his watch. “She might come home for lunch, so you’d best leave.” He leaned across me to open the door. “Go to the end of the lane and you can catch a bus at the crossroads.”
“No pub lunch?” I asked him.
“Out,” he ordered me. It was hard to believe we had once been friends. Now, whatever his unhappiness, he was on his wife’s side in our family’s civil war.
I climbed out and slammed the Land Rover’s door.
“And don’t tell her I’ve spoken to you!” Lord Tredgarth shouted at me.
“I won’t.”
He took another pull at his flask, then viciously wrenched the steering wheel to slew the Land Rover back
