The Lost Years (45 page)

He was never short of someone to talk to, and among those who remained with him for some time was the tenant of the neighbouring farm - which was also owned by Perys.

Unaware that he was talking to his landlord, the farmer was quite ready to discuss the problems currently affecting Cornish farmers. He insisted he was coping better than most, but felt he would need twice the acreage he currently rented if he were to make a real success of farming in the post-war years.

Later that evening, when Martin escorted him to another barn where most of the men seemed to be congregating, Perys asked him whether he would be returning to Heligan as a coachman now the war was over.

‘I probably won’t have very much choice,’ Martin replied. ‘Had I not been taken prisoner I might have put myself up for a commission and considered staying in the RFC or Royal Air Force, as it is now, of course, but there will be no place for non-commissioned aircrew in a peacetime airforce. What I’d really like to do is take up farming. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I was a small boy. Polly and me were able to put a bit of money by while I was flying and she was working, but it isn’t enough to pay rent and stock a farm.’

When Perys suggested Martin might go into partnership with his father at Tregassick and use the money to buy new stock on this farm, Martin shook his head and confirmed what the neighbouring farmer had told Perys earlier.

‘Tregassick isn’t large enough to support two families. Pa’s finding it hard enough to make ends meet with what he and Ma have here. It might be a bit easier for them now they’re not having to help Annie with Jimmy, but it won’t make a great deal of difference in the long run.’

‘Talking of Annie,’ Perys said, ‘I haven’t seen her all evening. Is she all right?’

‘She’s been kept pretty busy in the kitchen,’ Martin explained. ‘I suspect she’s also keeping out of the way so she doesn’t have to field too many questions about Jimmy. Most folk are well-meaning, but one or two are inclined to be a bit spiteful.’

Perys thought Annie might also be trying to avoid him. He decided it was time he returned to Heligan. Telling Martin his leg was beginning to ache, he suggested he should ask Wesley Pencarrow to take him back to the house.

It had been dark for some hours but a number of lanterns had been hung about the farmyard and in the various outhouses. As Martin passed out through the doorway he paused to speak to someone, and in the light of a lantern hung above the door, Perys saw it was Annie.

She looked thinner than when he had last seen her, but he thought she was even more attractive than he remembered and he felt the same thrill he always experienced when he saw her.

When Martin moved on into the farmyard, Annie came inside the barn and looked about her until she saw him.

Perys began struggling to his feet as she approached. Immediately concerned, she said, ‘No, don’t stand up, Perys. Martin said you are going back to Heligan because your leg is hurting you. Were you going without even saying hello to me?’

‘I looked out for you all evening.’

It seemed to Perys that Annie had decided she would forget what had occurred the last time they had met, but he did not find it easy to do the same. ‘I thought you were deliberately avoiding me.’

‘Why should I do that?’ she asked. ‘If you are thinking of what happened the last time you were here . . . I over-reacted. I realised that within minutes of you leaving me - and I certainly shouldn’t have mentioned Grace. I wouldn’t, had I known. I’m sorry.’ Looking at him with an expression he could not read, she said, ‘Shall we agree to say no more about it, Perys? If we don’t we’re going to waste an awful lot of time apologising to each other and it would always stand between us. I wouldn’t want that.’

‘Thank you, Annie . . . I wouldn’t want it, either.’

There was an awkward silence between them before Perys broke it by saying, ‘I’m sorry to hear about you and Jimmy. Life hasn’t been easy for you over the past few years, has it?’

‘There are many far worse off than me,’ Annie said. ‘Besides, I should be the one asking how you are. Polly says Miss Morwenna told her you’d been through a very bad time.’

Smiling at her, Perys said, ‘I’ll give you exactly the same reply you made to me. There are many far worse off.’

The smile seemed to break the ice between them and they chatted about more general matters, including the present state of farming at Tregassick.

Eventually, Perys said, ‘Martin must be having trouble locating Mr Pencarrow.’

‘If he doesn’t come back in the next few minutes I’ll go and find out what’s happening,’ Annie promised.

She did not have to leave Perys. Martin put in an appearance a few minutes later and explained that he had located Wesley Pencarrow. Unfortunately, the farmer had consumed rather more ale than was good for him. As a result, he was in no fit state to drive Perys home.

‘I’ve got out our trap and harnessed up the pony,’ Martin explained. ‘I’ll drive you to Heligan.’

‘But you’re the guest of honour,’ Perys protested. ‘You can’t go off and leave everybody.’

‘To be quite honest,’ Martin confided, ‘those who haven’t already gone home are getting themselves so drunk I doubt if they can even remember what the party is all about.’

‘What about Wesley Pencarrow? How will he get home?’

‘There’s no problem there,’ Martin declared! ‘We’ll put him in his trap, slap the pony on the rump and it’ll take him home. The publican at Saint Ewe has been doing it for years!’

‘I’ll come with you for the ride,’ Annie said, unexpectedly. ‘I’ve spent all day in the kitchen, I could do with some fresh air.’

On the way to Heligan, much of the talk was of the future, now the war had come to an end. When questioned, Perys told Annie and Martiflf of the reconciliation between himself and his grandfather, saying that he was no longer under pressure to earn a living.

‘What a happy state of affairs,’ said Annie, wistfully. ‘But you deserve it. I hope it will make up for the many unhappy years you had before and during the war.’

‘What would you do if you suddenly came into money, Annie?’ Perys asked.

‘Well. . . first of all I’d give Pa and Ma enough to make sure they wouldn’t lose Tregassick. Then I’d give Martin and Polly the money to buy a farm of their own and raise the family I know Polly dearly wants. Then I’d see that Jimmy never wanted for anything. That might be more difficult because I wouldn’t want Winnie spending it on things she wanted for him.’

‘That’s everybody around you catered for,’ Perys pointed out. ‘How about you? What would you do for yourself?’

After thinking about his question for a while, Annie said, ‘That should be easy enough to answer, Perys - but it isn’t. If everyone around me was happy, I think I would be quite contented.’

She did not disclose that the only thing she would wish for herself would be the power to turn the clock back to 1914. If this was possible she would plan a future for herself that would eliminate the disastrous mistakes she had made during the four years since then.

Annie believed she had replied to Perys’s question without disclosing her very real unhappiness. However, Perys had not missed the fact that she had used the word ‘contented’, and not ‘happy’.

After delivering Perys safely to Heligan, Martin and Annie drove back to Tregassick in a silence which Martin was the first to break. He spoke with a degree of hesitancy, as though unsure what his sister’s reaction would be.

‘Perys was very sweet on you at one time Annie. How do you think things would have turned out had Pa not hidden his letters to you?’

‘Who knows?’ Annie said, unaware of the bitterness in her voice. ‘I would probably have had his baby and he might have lost interest in me. On the other hand, he might not. We’ll never know. One thing is certain, I would never have married Jimmy. That was an awful mistake for both of us. He would have been happier had he gone straight back to the Rowe farm after being wounded, with his ma and Rose to look after him. Marrying me only made things worse for him. It wasn’t only because he couldn’t see or do things for himself, either. Because of his other wounds, he could never be a proper husband to me. No matter how much I said it didn’t matter to me, it mattered to Jimmy. I’ve thought about it lots. I believe it was probably a relief to him when Winnie found Perys’s letters and insisted on taking him back to the Rowe farm.’

Chapter 71

The day after the party at Tregassick Farm, Perys took a slow and painful walk to the office of Roger Barton, steward of the Heligan estates and agent for their landholdings in Cornwall.

The office was attached to the steward’s house, only a short distance from Heligan House itself, but Perys’s leg was stiff this morning as a result of the previous evening’s exertions. It took will-power in order to cover the distance involved.

Perys knew that if he told Morwenna of the discomfort he was in she could give him something to ease the pain - but she would also curtail his activities. He had lain awake for much of the night thinking about certain matters. There were a number of things that required his urgent attention.

Roger Barton was a tall, distinguished-looking man who at first thought Perys was a convalescent officer who had strayed into the grounds of the steward’s house by mistake. Even so, he was extremely polite and, when Perys explained who he was, the estate administrator was apologetic, but happy to meet with Perys.

Helping him into his office and seating him on a chair, the administrator said, ‘My dear chap, you should have sent for me. I would have come to the house to speak with you. I am not at all certain you should be walking any distance on that leg.’

‘I am beginning to wonder about it myself.’ Perys grimaced. ‘But I needed to speak to you and to look at the map showing the farms I own in Cornwall.’

‘I am entirely at your disposal,’ Barton said. ‘But first allow me to order a drink for you . . . tea?’

Tea was brought to them by a young woman who Roger Barton introduced as Amy.

‘Amy is from the village,’ he explained, when the girl had left the room. ‘She has taken a course in secretarial work and typing. She has only been with me for a couple of months, but is already proving indispensable. I don’t know how I managed before she came to work here - but, tell me, why are you so anxious to speak to me? I trust you are not unhappy with the manner in which I am managing the farms on your behalf?’

‘You are doing a splendid job,’ Perys assured him. ‘My grandfather’s solicitor is convinced they could not be in better hands. However, I have some ideas with which I fear you will not agree. They are philanthropic rather than business-like.’

‘I see,’ Barton said, noncommittally. ‘Perhaps I may hear about them before I comment?’

‘Of course,’ Perys agreed. ‘First of all, my grandfather’s solicitor said that one of the farms is vacant at present. Is this still so?’

‘Yes,’ said the land agent. ‘A farm not far from here, at Gorran. It was occupied by William Johns. He had two sons, both of whom were killed in France. William was a broken man. He lost heart in the farm, saying he had been keeping it on only in order to hand it over to them. I have rented out some of the fields - purely on a seasonal basis - to some of his neighbours, but have yet to find a new tenant.’

‘This war has ruined so many lives,’ Perys commented, sympathetically. ‘How large is this farm?’

‘Almost five hundred acres,’ was the reply. ‘It was in very good heart until the last year or so.’

‘So it’s more than twice the size of Peruppa?’ Perys placed a finger on the map Roger Barton had produced and named the farm adjacent to that occupied by Walter Bray.

‘Yes,’ agreed the land agent. ‘Does that have some significance?’

‘Yes,’ Perys said. ‘I was talking to the Peruppa tenant yesterday. Without knowing I was his landlord, he told me he needed twice as much land if he is to continue in profit. Without telling him you have spoken to me, I would like you to offer him the larger farm. Tell him he can have it for two years at the rate he is currently paying for Peruppa, in order to cover the expenses of the move.’

Roger Barton opened his mouth to make a comment, but he closed it again without saying anything, aware that Perys had more to say.

Perys continued, ‘When he has accepted - and I want you to ensure that he does - you will offer Peruppa to Martin Bray. Suggest that he and his father work their two farms as one, with a view to Martin taking over both in due course. If they agree, as I feel they will, you will tell them they may have both farms rent-free for two years, in order that Martin’s capital can be put to use to stock the farms. If they query your generosity, tell them it is the Estate’s way of saying thank you to Martin for his heroism and sacrifice during the late war.’

Roger Barton was silent for some time after Perys had outlined his plans for the various farms. When he eventually spoke, he said, ‘You realise your proposals will have a considerable impact upon the profitability of the lands I administer for you?’

‘Of course - and in your annual account you may explain the reason for any drop in profit.’

‘Thank you.’ The land agent was silent for a few moments, then he said, ‘May I ask why you are making these extremely generous gestures?’

‘Certainly. Martin Bray was my observer and gunner for a long time when I was flying in a reconnaissance squadron. His skill saved my life on more than one occasion, but his pride would not allow him to accept Peruppa Farm from me on such terms as I have suggested. I rely on you to persuade him to take the farm and so repay the debt I owe to him.’

Perys’s reply seemed to satisfy the Heligan land agent. ‘I understand and applaud such generosity, Mr Tremayne. I have no doubt that all the parties concerned will fall in with your wishes. Now, would you like me to tell you what is happening with your other properties?’

‘I have not told anyone where I am,’ Perys said. ‘I should get back before they send out a search party for me. Perhaps you will write a report and send it to the big house with farm books and anything you feel I should see. I have time on my hands in which to study and get an idea of how things are with the lands here. I would be particularly interested with your views on the problems the farmers tell me they have been experiencing in recent years . . .’