A Village in Jeopardy (Turnham Malpas 16) (18 page)

‘The whole building is historic.’

‘Of course yes, but the best bits, if you know what I mean.’

‘My name’s Anne.’

He offered his hand. ‘Call me Johnny, everyone else does. I haven’t got used to the Sir bit yet.’

‘You will, given time.’

The next ten minutes he spent filled with awe at the wonderful Tudor stairs, the splendid panelling, the lovely, gracious sitting room, kept just as it had been for hundreds of years with some of the original chairs and sofas still in situ.

‘These of course are priceless, literally. Mr Fitch had the upholstery renewed using the same design as the original, specially woven for the job. No expense spared.’

‘A house like this deserves that level of care.’ Johnny was overwhelmed with the beauty of the house and if anything he was even more determined to own it. A door opened somewhere. He heard quick footsteps and then a woman appeared. She had a kind of sparky determination about her and he knew she’d be straightforward, that there’d be no pretence with her.

‘Anne! Will you introduce me to your visitor, please?’ She must have been in her fifties, but you never would have thought it.

Johnny stepped in to explain. ‘It’s Johnny Templeton, we’ve met before, at the youth club. I’ve been to see Mr Fitch on business, and before I left asked if I could look round and Anne agreed. Sorry if we’re intruding.’

Anne began to apologise but was interrupted by Mrs Fitch.

‘How do you do!’ Her handshake was strong. ‘I remember you, of course.’

‘I’ve just been speaking to your husband. He—’

‘What do you think of the house?’

‘It’s truly magnificent.’

‘It is, isn’t it? We shall be very sorry to leave it. Architecturally the one we are moving to is a horror, but beggars can’t be choosers.’

‘You appear more philosophical about the move than your husband.’

‘Anne, could you organise a tray of tea for Sir Johnny and me? Would that suit? We’ll have it in the flat.’

So Johnny saw the private sitting room and listened quietly to Kate Fitch’s explanation of the situation they found themselves in, while he sipped his tea.

‘Frankly not a single buyer in the whole world will please him. He pulled himself up by his shoe laces from nothing, literally nothing, every penny hard earned, and this house is his reward. He adores it. Who wouldn’t? Having to leave it is killing him. Eating him away from the inside, but it has to be done. It has to be sold to whoever. If it’s not to be ours then I don’t care what kind of Philistine buys it; at least they can’t pull it down or change it too much because it’s a Grade II listed house and there are rules.’ Every fibre of Kate Fitch’s body pleaded with him to answer ‘Yes’ when she asked after a pause, ‘Do you really like it?’

Johnny couldn’t frame the words to tell her how much he wanted it, couldn’t describe the deep yearning in his heart. All he could do was nod his head in agreement.

Kate Fitch said, ‘I can see your passion for it in your face. Don’t give up hope. He’ll fight you, but it’ll be so very right for you to own it; the house coming back to its rightful owner would be wonderful. I’m sure it would sigh with relief.’ She reached across and patted his hand. ‘Not a word to anyone about this. It’ll be our secret. Got to go, I’m needed elsewhere. What this house needs is children, then it really would come alive and be a real home, and it hasn’t seen one since Sir Ralph was born here, something like eighty or ninety years ago.’

Johnny stood up to say goodbye. ‘Thank you for finding time to talk to me. I love this house and there’s nothing I’d like better than to live here. I have the money to buy it; you have my word on that. If he’ll let me.’

‘Good, I’m glad. I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime.’ Kate Fitch saw him down the stairs and out of the door. Johnny loved that big front door; he loved it all. Every brick, every room, everything about the house and in his heart he made a vow that no matter how long he had to wait it would one day be his and Alice’s.

Johnny strode off down the drive, his head full of what he’d seen, imagining his brothers coming to visit, thinking about swimming in the lake, owning a dog or two, but most importantly about how Alice would feel living up at the big house.

She’d just got in from teaching when he got back. She looked strained and weary.

‘Sit down. What would you like, a cup of tea or proper coffee?’ Johnny asked.

‘Tea, please.’ She sat on the sofa in front of her log-burning stove and welcomed the warmth of it. They still hadn’t settled on which house they would live in. Johnny favoured his own that had once belonged to his uncle, but Alice preferred living in her own house, so Johnny was playing it cool and leaving her to make the final decision.

Johnny handed her a cup of tea, and sat down opposite her on the old chair that had been left in the house by the previous owners. ‘About where we live. I know you find it hard to believe, but I have pots of money. A disgraceful amount of money, which when we marry will be jointly yours and mine.’

‘Johnny! I’ve said before I don’t want loads of money; it’s too much responsibility. You keep it. You’ve earned it and—’

Johnny placed a finger on her lips to silence her. ‘Hush just for a moment and let me finish. Turnham House. I want to own what is rightly mine and I intend to live there.’ He was interrupted by a howl of displeasure from Alice. ‘Hush! Hush! I’ve spoken to Craddock Fitch this morning and he refuses to sell to me, turned me out in fact.’

‘Oh! Good, I’m glad he did. I’m a cottage person, not a lady of the manor person. I love my cottage!’

‘But that house is where I belong; I need to be there. I’m the rightful owner and he’s just an interloper.’

‘He paid for it and as far as I’m concerned he can keep it.’

‘We shan’t move there until after the baby has arrived. Alice, when the baby is here . . .

‘Just a minute! He’s refused to sell it to you, so that’s that.’

‘Yes, I know he has, but . . .’

‘But what?’

‘Someway or another I am buying it back.’

‘You can’t just snatch it back; he has to agree.’

‘Which he will in a while, when things get even more desperate than they are now.’

‘You don’t know Mr Fitch if you can say that. He’s a very determined man.’

Johnny laughed. Alice pouted, which made him laugh even louder. ‘Not nearly as determined as I am. I have the money; he hasn’t. His whole world has collapsed and whilst I’m not willing to take advantage of that and pay much less than the market price, I am prepared to put pressure on him to sell.’

Alice drank the last drop of her tea and as she placed her cup on the kitchen table she said, ‘Well, you’ll move in there by yourself then, because I’m most definitely not.’ She laid her head against the back of the sofa. ‘I’m so tired; please don’t mention it again. In any case, you can’t possibly have enough money to buy the estate. He’ll want millions.’

‘Actually I have enough and more.’

Alice’s eyes sprang wide open. ‘You haven’t! Have you really?’

Johnny nodded.

‘I knew you were wealthy, but I had no idea. Not that it matters to me, just so long as I have enough to feel secure . . . have you really got enough to buy the estate? Actually buy it?’

‘Yes, and to pull down that dreadful eyesore of a swimming pool extension. That has to go; it’s an abomination.’

Alice sat silently for a moment and then said with a smile on her face, ‘That big room with a fireplace at each end . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘That would be lovely with a grand piano in it.’

‘Yes, it would,’ Johnny answered, thinking she was warming to his idea.

‘But I still don’t want to live there. I’ve imagined feeding our baby sitting here,’ she patted the sofa cushion next to her, ‘on a cold winter’s night. Right here, with the warmth of the fire wrapping round us. Wouldn’t that be lovely? With you sitting where you are now, watching me and talking about your day.’

‘Considering Craddock Fitch’s hatred of me and my uncle Ralph, you probably will be, because it could take that long to get the finance sorted with him, even when he’s agreed to it. He’s a hard nut to crack is Craddock Fitch, but one plus is that his wife is on my side.’

Alice went on the alert. ‘His wife? Kate?’

Johnny was amused by her interest. ‘We had a cup of tea in their flat.’

‘In their flat? No one gets invited up there.’

‘I did. She wants me to buy it. The whole house, that is.’

‘She does? Has she said so?’

‘She has. Now look, you’ve not to get upset about it right now; you’ve enough on your mind without worrying about moving house. That’ll all come in time, when you’re ready for it.’

‘Johnny, what have I just said?’

‘Yes, I know, darling, but it won’t be for months yet, possibly even years, so there’s no need to worry about it right now.’

‘You are not listening to me. I don’t want to be the lady at the manor.’

‘Fine, fine. I shan’t mention it again. Honestly.’ Johnny, deep inside, was bitterly disappointed.

‘I’m all right as I am.’

‘More tea, Alice?’ he asked, as though he’d put the whole idea out of his mind. Which he hadn’t and didn’t intend doing. Somehow or other when the baby had arrived and she was more like her usual self he would bring her round to his way of thinking, because Turnham House was going to be his and his children’s. All he had to do was play the waiting game. He glanced across at Alice and saw she was almost asleep. He studied the beauty of her face in repose, loved her delicate, sensitive hands locked together over her bump and thought about the splendid music they created when she played the piano. His eyes lingered on her throat while he recollected her sweet singing voice. What a lucky man he was – lucky because all that rare passionate beauty belonged with him for the rest of his life.

Well, it would once the divorce had gone through. That damned Marcus with his overbearing ego, convinced the publishing world should be grateful that he had decided to grace their corridors. Johnny had looked up the publisher who’d taken him on and found it a very minor player and he’d laughed. He’d said nothing to anyone of what he’d discovered; he couldn’t be so cruel but . . . he smiled again at the thought.

Alice stirred and shuffled about on the sofa and then slipped into a heavier sleep. She slept for a whole hour, leaving Johnny to sit thinking about his beloved house and how he could persuade Mr Fitch to sell it to him. The man had all his sympathy, losing everything like he had. He knew how he’d feel if it was the hotel business about to sink into oblivion, everything he and his two brothers had worked for all their adult lives.

He became aware that Alice was waking up. ‘Feel better?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ Alice stretched elegantly. ‘You’re still thinking about Turnham House, aren’t you? I can see it in your face.’

‘I was thinking about Craddock Fitch and how I would be feeling if everything I’d worked for was swirling down the pan at this very moment. For a proud man like him that’s hard.’

‘You’re proud too, aren’t you?’

‘Regrettably, that’s something I suffer from just like him.’ Johnny smiled at her, knowing as he did so he hadn’t yet won her round to his way of thinking. And there was still Craddock Fitch to persuade.

But he would win. Eventually.

Craddock Fitch returned home at the same time Alice had woken up. He hadn’t the heart for the office today. He needed to talk to Kate, but she was out so he went into his office and sat in his leather chair that in happier days had always fitted him beautifully. But now it felt like there were lumps and bumps in it right where there never had been before. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt worse than this, not since he was sixteen and had just left home to escape his father’s brutality.

Craddock Fitch rested his head back and closed his eyes. Those had been the worst days: lonely, penniless, homeless. Well, that was until he stole that wheelbarrow and shovel and offered his services on a building site and since that event had never looked back. Out of the blue he thought about his two sons. They’d been three and five when Faye left him and he’d never seen them since. Never heard their laughter again and they’d been a happy pair of boys. He wished as never before that he’d been able to keep in touch; they’d have helped him out of this mess. He opened his eyes and, staring out of the window at his favourite view, he reflected on which would have been the more precious: being the owner of that view or watching his two boys growing up. They’d be in their forties by now. God! That made him old. He wished they would be coming to see him. Right now. He glanced at the clock. They’d be just in time for a cup of tea.

He heard his secretary tap on the door, saw her come in with a tray of tea just as he liked it. Silver teapot, silver sugar bowl and milk jug,
three
china cups and saucers . . . three! Were his boys actually coming for tea then, just as he’d wished?

Anne put down the tray. ‘Mrs Fitch and the reverend are taking tea with you, Mr Fitch.’

‘The reverend? Coming to tea?’

‘Yes, Mrs Fitch found him walking up the drive to visit you.’