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“No, I can’t,” Meg admitted. “All right, Uncle Andra, I’ll leave you to get into mischief on your own. But I won’t promise to stay with Aunt Ellen indefinitely. Only just while I look round and get a job.”

“Have it your own way,” Uncle Andra said with such a degree of unflattering relief that Meg was both hurt and puzzled. He had been so enthusiastic about her coming to Blytheburn with him and now, clearly, he wanted her out of the way. It didn’t seem to her to make sense, and anyway, it just wasn’t like Uncle Andra to be so indifferent to other people’s feelings. Still, she obviously couldn’t stay on against his wishes, but before she left there was something she had certainly got to tell him.

“Uncle, about the cottage—” she began hesitantly. "You—you are quite sure that Nanny had the right to leave it to you, aren’t you?”

She heard the quick catch of his breath and knew it could only mean one thing. Uncle Andra knew that story—possibly had always known it—but he had no intention of acknowledging that there might be any truth in it. And it had startled him that she had any inkling of it.

“Of course she had!” he declared emphatically. “Do you think I didn’t ask her solicitor that very question?”

"You mean you knew that there might be some doubt about it?” Meg said slowly, wondering if he realised how completely he had given himself away.

“I knew that the Heronshaws had always pretended they hadn’t given the cottage and the land outright to the Sturts,” Uncle Andra told her blandly. “But they haven’t got, and never have had, any proof to that effect! Heavens above, Meg, do you think that young Hector wouldn’t have produced it if it existed?”

“No,” Meg admitted, “I don’t. In fact, Sir Hector—”

“Admitted it himself?” Uncle Andra finished triumphantly. “Tell me just what he said, Meg.”

So very carefully and precisely Meg did just that, and saw relief flood Uncle Andra’s face.

“Well, there you are then, my dear!” he declared. “It’s just a try-on—and if you want to know, it’s the very reason why I’m determined to stay on ! That young man is about as straight as a corkscrew, and I’ve no intention of giving him a chance to get the better of me in some crooked way if I once turn my back! And now, for goodness’ sake, let’s drop the subject. I’ve made up my mind and that’s all there is to it!”

And that, Meg knew, was the truth. Uncle Andra was a dear—kind, considerate and utterly honest. But for that very reason he could be an implacable enemy if he came across what he felt was deceit and double-dealing—particularly if it was directed against himself, as he felt was the case where Hector was concerned. He had taken a misliking for Hector—perhaps understandably enough in the circumstances—and as a result, he regarded the younger man as being quite incapable of decent behaviour.

Meg herself wasn’t quite so sure of that. Certainly she regarded Hector as the most aggressive and arbitrary man she had ever met, but on the other hand, somewhat against her will, she thought that he believed in all sincerity that he had right on his side. The trouble was that Uncle Andra felt the same way about his point of view. Two men, both used to giving orders—it was almost inevitable that they would clash.

Still, it was no use bothering about that since, in a few days, she would be leaving Blytheburn and whatever happened would be none of her business. Which was the very thing she had wished could be the case, since it meant that she need never see Hector Heronshaw again.

She rang Aunt Ellen up that evening and rather diffidently explained the circumstances. In one sense her reply was reassuring, in another, the very reverse.

“Of course you can come, dear," she said without hesitation. “Tom? No, why should he mind? He’s a friendly soul and he genuinely likes you. So come and stay as long as you like.”

Not thinking that it was worth while wasting expensive time arguing over the length of her visit, Meg thanked her warmly and gave details as to the probable day and time of her arrival.

“But as I’m driving alone, I shan’t hurry,” she added. “I shall break the trip over-night somewhere.”

“Very wise, dear,” Aunt Ellen approved, and then, in a totally different manner, asked anxiously: “Meg, what’s Andra up to? And don’t tell me he isn’t, because I
know
! It’s his idea that you shouldn’t stay on, isn’t it?”

‘‘Well—perhaps, but in any case, with the hotel closing—” Meg hedged.

Aunt Ellen gave vent to an extraordinary sound which none the less clearly indicated her contempt for any other explanation of her brother’s behaviour than the one she held.

“My dear Meg, if Andra can rent a caravan for himself, he could have done the same over another one for you!” she insisted. “No, he wants to have an entirely free hand because he’s planning some mischief or other. I know the signs too well! Isn’t it extraordinary,” she added pensively, “the way the most brilliant and successful men still have something of the schoolboy in them?” And she sighed gustily.

“I don’t think it’s a case of Uncle Andra planning any mischief,” Meg told her, considering. “I think it’s that he’s afraid Sir Hector might be up to trickery of some sort—”

“Hector?” Aunt Ellen sniffed disdainfully. “Rubbish! No Heronshaw ever got up to anything underhanded! They’re a pig-headed lot and they like their own way, but trickery—no! They simply wouldn’t stoop to it.”

And for some inexplicable reason Meg found her aunt’s opinion extremely satisfying.

 

With only a few days to go before she left Blytheburn, Meg didn’t bother to attempt to find out more about the Heronshaws or the Sturts. It just didn’t seem worth while, but oddly enough, in that short space of time, information came her way without any effort on her part.

Jeremy, already involved in the arrangements for redecorating some of the rooms, unconsciously supplied some of it. He contrived to find time to tell Meg how sorry he was that she was leaving Blytheburn.

“We could easily have made it two caravans,” he told her. “In fact, I suggested that to your uncle, but he seemed to feel that you weren’t keen on staying.”

“Well, in some ways, I’m not,” Meg conceded. “I’m used to being busy, you know, and once the weather gets too bad for gardening, there won’t really be anything for me to do.”

“Not at the cottage, perhaps,” Jeremy agreed. “But I could have offered you a job—even as soon as this, I have quite a lot of correspondence dealing with bookings for next year. I’d have been glad of your help.” But, Meg noticed, he spoke in a way which made it clear that he was so sure she would refuse that he didn’t think it was worth while making a definite offer. Uncle Andra must have been very anxious for her to leave! “I’m sorry—” she said rather uncomfortably.

“Not to worry,” Jeremy said cheerfully. “It is rather a dead-and-alive place here in winter. There are times when I wonder if, though we’re making quite a good thing of the venture, life wouldn’t have been more pleasant in some rather more interesting a place.”

“But it is your home,” Meg reminded him.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

“It is—and it isn’t,” he pointed out. “It can’t be the same with visitors here as when we had it to ourselves. And oddly enough, even in the winter, when we’re on our own, it still isn’t the same—” He gave her a rueful grin. “Oh well, there it is. What can’t be cured must be endured, I suppose. And now, never mind my moans! I wondered if you’d like to see the caravan your uncle is going to have. It will reassure you that he really is going to be quite comfortable. For one thing, it’s actually meant for two people, so he’ll have plenty of room.” He glanced at his watch. “I can show you now, if you haven’t anything better to do?”

From the hotel, the way to the caravan encampment was by a well kept stone path which led to the far end of the garden. Between that and the encampment was a screen of trees so that, until they went through the small gate, there was nothing to see of the caravans. But once through, Meg gave a little exclamation.

“But there are masses of them!” she exclaimed.

“Fifty,” Jeremy said precisely. “We could have
squeezed in a few more, but it would have made for congestion. Besides, we’re already a bit short of car park space until we enlarge it next spring. And it would have been something of a strain on our other amenities as well—and I might say, we’re rather proud of them!”

And, Meg had to admit, with cause. Both outside and inside the caravans were spotlessly clean and all were extremely well fitted up. Each had a refrigerator in addition to the other kitchen fitments, the utmost use was made of every available inch of space and the bunks were the last word in springy comfort. The only difference between any of the caravans was that some were larger than others and sported showers.

Meg was warm in her praise and Jeremy looked pleased at her enthusiasm. He explained that the big old bam at the back of the caravans had been turned into a community room which came in useful on wet days and that the smaller, newer building housed the most up-to-date sanitary fitments available. In fact, there was absolutely nothing to which one could take exception, and yet, at the back of her mind, Meg knew that she wasn’t quite satisfied.

“Jeremy, what do people do when it isn’t wet?” she asked. “I mean, there’s no sea for miles or even a lake, so it doesn’t leave very much to do, does it?”

“You’d be surprised,” Jeremy replied carelessly. “There are golf links within reasonable distance. And riding stables. Then, of course, some people simply explore. It’s an area that’s noted for its scenic beauty and there’s a small Roman camp that’s been excavated within a mile or so. That means that even on foot there’s quite a lot to see—good heavens, I sound like one of our own brochures! ” he ended with a smile which changed abruptly into a scowl. “I’ll have to bring that up to date—about the walking facilities, I mean. Heronshaw’s properly put paid to all that with his rules and regulations, confound him! ”

Meg made no comment, but she looked round the caravan site and did some quick mental arithmetic. Fifty vans, not less than two people to each. Over a hundred people at any one time and probably changing every two weeks or so. Yes, this was where the ‘hundreds’ to which Sir Hector had referred probably hailed from.

“I suppose people walking through fields and woods could do quite a lot of damage even if they didn’t mean to," she suggested tentatively. “Just because of the number of them, I mean.”

“Oh, so you’ve met Heronshaw and he’s talked you round, has he?” Jeremy said, giving her a hostile look. “He hasn’t wasted much time!”

“There was no question of him talking me round,” Meg told him rather sharply. “It was simply—”

“Well, whether he did or not, I’ll be glad if in future you’ll refrain from discussing my affairs with outsiders behind my back,” Jeremy told her with considerable asperity. “I find it offensive and—” He stopped because his little pocket walkie-talkie began to bleep. He listened to the message which came from his office. “As you heard, the mail is in and I must go and attend to it,” he said frigidly. “I shall have to ask you to excuse me—”

“The mail will have to wait for a few minutes,” Meg told him inexorably, “because there’s something I’m going to tell you—and you’re going to listen! And the less fuss you make, the quicker I’ll be!”

“Oh, very well,” Jeremy said impatiently. “But please hurry—”

“I intend to,” Meg replied, keeping a tight hold of her temper with some difficulty. What on earth had happened to Jeremy? He had been such a nice, friendly person to start with. Now he was totally different, and she didn’t like the alteration. “I met Sir Hector because he caught me trespassing.”

“And he turned you off?” Jeremy interrupted incredulously. “Well, I’m damned! Of all the nerve! What harm could you possibly have done to his precious land?”

“None at all,” Meg replied, “as Sir Hector himself admitted. But he pointed out that while one person probably wouldn’t do any damage worth worrying about, a lot of people could just because of their very number. And then he said that the only way to make sure that doesn’t happen is to make no exceptions whatever. No mention was made of your name or of the hotel, and as for being talked round, that’s sheer nonsense. Anyone with ordinary common sense ought to be able to understand that he was right.”

“You may see it. I don’t,” Jeremy retorted obstinately. “In my opinion, Heronshaw has gone out of his way to be obstructive because he’s hoping to make things so difficult for us that we’ll have to close down. I told you he tried to stop us from opening as a hotel—”

“Yes, I know. But why?” Meg asked, puckering her forehead. “I mean, the hotel is so far away from his house that it couldn’t possibly have been a nuisance to him, particularly as you haven’t got the accommodation for so many visitors—”

“I told you—the caravans—” Jeremy said shortly.

“But you said that he objected to the hotel before there was any idea of the caravans,” Meg reminded him. “So why—?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

“Because he’s that sort of chap,” he explained impatiently. “He just won’t tolerate any changes in what he’s pleased to regard as his territory.”

“But Malvern House has never belonged to the Heronshaws, has it?” Meg persisted.

“No,” Jeremy acknowledged shortly.

“Well, then—oh, I admit he’s something of a martinet where his own property is concerned. But this isn’t his. And though I admit he annoyed me, I’m quite sure he isn’t a fool. He must know he’s got no authority over you.”

“Well, if you must know, it’s a personal matter,” Jeremy told her impatiently. “He’s quite a few years older than I am, you know, and when I was a youngster he always had a down on me and he’s never got over it. In his eyes I can’t do anything right, and consequently he grudges me the success I’ve made of this place. And now, I really can’t waste any more time, Meg. I must get back to my office.”

He strode off without suggesting that she should go with him, and she wasn’t sorry. Jeremy in this mood wasn’t a very pleasant companion. Besides, she had something to think about.

It might be perfectly true that Hector held a grudge against Jeremy, but she was quite certain that Jeremy reciprocated the grudge with interest.

BOOK: Unknown
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