The Fabric of Sin

‘So are they claiming to be descended from the Templars or what?’

‘I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was their house and they were pretty pissed off about losing it to us. But I thought it was just about money and land. But then I’ve never had anything to do with them — I was being told not to from a very early age. And then I learned the sort of things they did and what a shit Sycharth was. I mean, there’s got to be something, hasn’t there, but he’s clever. When he learned about Paul, he was like, “Look, I know the fix you’re in and why don’t I take it off your hands?” Oh yeah, like I want my dad and my grandad turning in their graves.’

‘You weren’t ever tempted?’

‘No … and he blew it anyway, didn’t he? I mean, yeah, the Master House was falling into ruins and nobody in their right mind was going to want to rent it now. So the only option was to get rid of it. And, like, when we had another approach, six or seven months later, from a chap in Abergavenny, we did start negotiations … until we found out he was a proxy bidder for Sycharth.’

‘Devious.’

‘No more than you’d expect. Then Paul was reading about Harewood Park and all the property the Duchy of Cornwall was buying in Herefordshire and we thought, what’s to lose? So we took a lot of photos and printed up stuff on the history and posted it off. Couldn’t really believe it when they went for it, but … well, good things happen sometimes. And it meant the Gwilyms were stuffed. So maybe old Jacques was on our side.’

‘Getting de Molay on your side.’ Merrily nodded at the plaque. ‘That’s what this is about? I mean, the caring for customs bit … you — the Newtons — clearly went out of your way to observe local traditions. The Watch Night?’

‘Not in my time.’ Roxanne put on a shudder. ‘Thank God. But there was always a feeling — and I do feel that way myself sometimes — that either a place is working for you or it’s working against you. It’s very much a thing you get with farms.’

‘And the Master?’

‘I wouldn’t go that far, but then we’re not in the house. That’s Prince Charles’s problem now. Did … did Mrs Morningwood tell you about Naomi Newton?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Thought not. That’s the one she doesn’t tell. The lovely Naomi … she was the youngest sister of my great- grandmother — and of Aunt Fliss. All daughters of John Newton, who bought the farm off Mrs Gwilym. Naomi … she was the beauty. Well, this was during World War One, and there weren’t many men around — all off getting killed in France. Except for Madog Gwilym — can’t remember how he avoided it. Running the farm or a club-foot … something.’

‘They all had very distinguished-sounding Welsh names, didn’t they?’

‘Pretentious gits. Anyway, Madog Gwilym didn’t go to war and he fancied his chances with Naomi. This was before the feud set in — all the anger was on the Gwilym side until this happened. Maybe Madog suggested Naomi owed him one for the way the Newtons got the farm, I don’t know. But he had a go and she wasn’t having any, and she actually called him a coward. In public. In church, actually.’

‘Garway Church?’

‘Before a congregation of mainly women praying for the boys at the front. Naomi Newton publicly telling Madog Gwilym he wasn’t a man. Imagine.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He’s supposed to’ve walked out of the church in this absolute dead silence. Following day, Naomi’s out collecting the eggs and he’s waiting for her, and he’s like I’ll show you whether I’m a man or not. Drags her into the trees and forces himself on her.’

‘She was raped?’

‘He denied it, of course, he said she was up for it, well, don’t they always— Well, no— Let me get this right, neither of them said anything at the time. Naomi didn’t tell anybody at first. Her brothers were at the war, the only man around was her father, John, well over sixty by then and working day and night to hold the farm together, and she knew what he’d do if he found out and she was afraid for his health. But then the worst happens. Finds out she’s pregnant … and she goes along, on the quiet, to … the local woman who deals with eventualities like this.’

‘Would that have been … Mrs Morningwood?’

‘Oh, you know. That’s all right, then. Her gran, this would be. She goes to Mrs Morningwood’s grandmother for an abortion. Mrs Morningwood obliges … but it all went horribly wrong. I don’t know what happened, but she got home and there was nobody in at the time, and she began to, you know, haemorrhage?’

‘Oh God. It wasn’t like you could pick up a phone and call for an ambulance.’

‘No. Whether she tried to … you know … sort it herself, nobody quite knows, but when my great- grandmother came in with Fliss, they found Naomi on the floor in the big room, in a big pool of blood, her life just … ebbing away. They hadn’t even known she was pregnant. They’re desperately trying to stop the bleeding and make her comfortable … got a big fire going, and somebody sent for Mrs Morningwood but, of course, it was too late. Mrs Morningwood was stricken with remorse, and my grandmother and Fliss, well …’

‘Must’ve been shattered and … furious.’

‘They say Mrs Morningwood could never show her face at the Master House again.’

Something clicked.

‘Aunt Fliss,’ Merrily said. ‘Felicity Newton?’

‘That’s right.’

First time I’d seen a dead ’un … Face like the skin on a cold egg-custard.

‘She was ninety-eight when she died,’ Roxanne said. ‘Whole village came to pay tribute. They say she was a lovely old girl. They laid her out where Naomi had died, in front of the inglenook, and everybody came.’

‘Even the Morningwoods.’

‘I’d guess. Likely the first time any of them’d been through that door since Naomi died. Wasn’t her fault, mind, she only tried to help. But they say my great-grandmother and Aunt Fliss could never sit in that room again without seeing Naomi trying to raise herself up on an elbow … you really want to know this? Gives me the creeps even now.’

‘Well, I probably don’t,’ Merrily said. ‘But on the other hand …’

She simply wouldn’t tamper with a foetus conceived at the Master House. Call it superstition.

Something else explained.

Roxanne leaned on the shoulders of a dining chair.

‘Yeah, I know what you’re saying. Something else to remember, when you go in there with your Bible and your holy water. I was eighteen before my mother told me about it. Wish she hadn’t bothered, sometimes.’

Roxanne sat down and poured herself some more of the powerful coffee from the pot and told it quickly.

‘Seems Naomi sits up in the blankets, blood all over her legs and the fire roaring behind her, and she curses Madog Gwilym — curses him in the name of the Grand Master, Jacques de Molay. Kind of … you know, last breath, before she lies down and dies.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

Ironically, the sun slid out in the south-east and filled the bay.

Merrily said, ‘Madog?’

‘Didn’t last the year out,’ Roxanne said. ‘Came out of one of the pubs one night — The Sun or The Globe, one or the other — saying he didn’t feel too well, and collapsed, stone dead at the side of the lane.’ Roxanne drank some coffee, winced. ‘What a place this is.’

47 A Rough Saw