ON THE COVER Return To Oakhurst Manor

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28

Molly Roberts shrieked in disbelief as the bicycle she’d been freewheeling down the long tree-lined pathway towards Oakhurst Manor shot from beneath her. Before she knew what had happened, she found herself on her back in a pile of sweet-smelling cut grass.

She’d often dreamed of being back at Oakhurst Manor, and wandering amongst the woodland paths but not at such close quarters, gazing up at the early morning sun shining through the branches of a lime tree. She blinked while pulling herself up onto an elbow and gazing around in confusion. Whatever had happened?

“I say, are you all right? You really

“ ll e L RD T E A R on e your RA signs on the D TTED LI E”

should take more care on that thing,” a deep male voice declared as someone leaned over her, cutting out the sun.

Still confused, Molly allowed herself to be helped to her feet, trying hard to work out the rather attractive accent of the stranger hovering over her. After a couple of deep breaths, she decided that apart from a possible bruise she seemed to have survived her ordeal intact.

“Where did you spring from?” she asked the tall sandy-haired man, blinking again as the warm morning sunshine caught her eye.

“Originally Toronto, but lately I’ve been living just down the road at The Dowager’s House,” he said as he helped to put the bike in an upright position. “Are you sure you know how to ride this thing?”

Molly ignored his jibe about her riding ability and gave him a stony stare.

“That’s part of my grandmother’s property. Why would you be staying there?” she demanded.

“So you are the Molly Roberts I’ve heard so much about? Grace never stops enthusing about her only grandchild. It’s such a shame you’ve hardly visited these past years,” he said, giving her a hard look.

“If you didn’t know, Mr… Mr… there happens to have been a war on,” she replied in annoyance. How dare he assume she didn’t give a thought for the woman who had brought her up singlehanded after the early death of both her parents! She’d love to be able to spit back in his face exactly what she’d been doing to help bring the war to an early end, and how working every hour of the day had made it impossible for her to return to her beloved Oakhurst Manor as much as she’d longed to do.

Oh, how she’d like to have wiped the superior smirk from his face and put him right – but sadly she wasn’t able to do so, being sworn to secrecy along with all her colleagues. Instead, she climbed onto her faithful bike preparing to leave the scene.

He held out his hand, which she took pleasure in ignoring.

“The name’s Christopher Thomas, Chris to my friends. You’d best get used to having me around, as very soon I’ll be the new lord of the manor once your grandmother signs on the dotted line.”

He smiled before turning away and walking off through the trees, giving a whistle to a black Labrador which raced to his side.

Molly stared after him in disbelief. Whatever had been going on while she was away? No wonder her grandmother’s last letter had seemed so mysterious when Molly had enquired after plans for the estate now that the war was over.

She placed her foot on the pedal bike

and headed down the hill to the manor house as fast as she dared. Something was terribly wrong – and she needed to find out what it was, and soon.

So you see, my dear, I have no choice but to sell the place. Repairs to the house are so expensive and as soon as we patch up one window or repair a leak in the roof another problem arises.

“The old girl took rather a beating, and that final bomb landing close to the vegetable garden as it did shook her up rather badly,” Grace Roberts explained with a big sigh. “Giving a bed to what seemed to be most of the Canadian army gave the old house a few extra knocks as well.”

She looked around her. “The poor place looks so tired and jaded. I just can’t ignore Captain Thomas’s offer to purchase the estate and for him to bring it back to life.”

“Captain Thomas? Would that be Christopher Thomas who now lives in the Dower house?”

“Yes, he has been here before when we billeted injured Canadian officers. I couldn’t refuse to take them in when the government asked so nicely, dear,” she added, noting Molly’s frown.

Molly placed the delicate porcelain cup and saucer down on a side table and went over to a mullioned window that looked out over the grounds.

The once-pristine gardens that had been her gran’s pride and joy were now in a sorry state. A large part of the walled garden had disappeared and in its place was a deep crater.

She forced herself not to cry at the destruction of her home and silently gave herself a stern talking to. Many people had lost loved ones and everything they had. At least she still had her gran and – for now – they still had Oakhurst Manor.

She surfaced from her thoughts as Grace continued to speak.

“The Dower house is very comfortable and with the proceeds of the sale, we should be able to live well. He even suggested we retain an acre or two so I can create a new rose garden. Although it won’t be quite the same…” she added, her voice starting to break.

Molly knelt by the chair, wrapping her arms around the frail woman. When had her gran grown so old and so thin?

“You are not to worry about a single thing, Gran. I’m home now and I’m going to see if we can’t do something to hold onto our home. Hitler can’t be allowed to bring Oakhurst to its knees after so many centuries of being in our family,” she declared brightly. And no brash Canadian is going to take my home from me, she silently vowed.

“When we finish our tea I’m going to take a tour of the house and grounds and see what can be done. Promise me you won’t sign anything just yet, Gran?”

Grace Roberts nodded and gave her granddaughter a watery smile.

“I hope you can, my dear, but I fear it is too big a job even for my clever girl. No amount of number crunching will save Oakhurst. To be honest I’m not sure I wish to leave this crumbling pile to you. The Dowager House and money in the bank would give you a good future without the worry of a leaking roof and all these draughty, shabby rooms.”

Molly wiped her eyes quickly. Her gran’s words had hit home. Grace was the only person who knew of her secret war work – although she had no idea it was at a place called Bletchley Park, or exactly what had been involved.

With the small farm attached to Oakhurst Manor, it would have been easy to declare herself in a reserved occupation but the lure of working on a top-secret project and using her clever brain had appealed to her vanity from the first time she was approached. In hindsight, had it been at the cost of her beautiful home? Molly pinned a bright smile to her face. “Let’s see what can be done before we make any decisions, shall we? Are you up to giving me the tour and pointing out the worst of the problems?”

“Without a doubt. There’s plenty of life left in these old bones yet. Now, drink your tea before it gets too cold,” Grace instructed, doing her best to look positive. “If only Oakhurst could do something to pay for its keep,” she added wistfully.

Molly scribbled in her notebook and chewed the end of her pencil as she moved from room to room.

She’d already covered page after page of notes, from six cracked windowpanes, plaster that had fallen from ceilings and walls to more serious problems of cracks in walls and damp. She would need to climb into the attic areas to check the roof, but would leave that until later.

“I’m sure a builder will notice things I’ve missed,” she muttered as she closed the notebook and returned to the morning room to report to her gran, who had quickly grown distressed and given up accompanying her.

“You look worn out,” Grace observed as Molly threw herself into an armchair and sighed. “Are you surprised by the amount of damage?”

“I certainly am. Do you know of a local builder who can cast a professional eye over my list and advise us on anything else that needs repairing? Isn’t there money we can apply for from the Government for this?”

Grace shook her head. “Oakhurst Manor has been crumbling around us for years. I don’t feel the powers that be will hand over money because Hitler shook us up a little. As for a local builder, Alf Grover retired after his son was lost at Dunkirk. Bert Weeks up at the farm may know of someone.

“Now, would you like some lunch, dear? It’s getting a little late in the afternoon but I’m sure Mrs Travers could rustle something up.”

Molly could see that Grace was distancing herself from any talk of money matters. She wondered if her gran had already decided that her life at the manor was coming to an end and she’d resigned herself to selling the family estate.

“I’ll cycle up to the farm and have a word with Bert. I do want to ask him a favour. My suitcase is still at the station – it was too much to try and balance on my bike. I thought I could borrow the cart if he wasn’t using it.”

She also wished to catch up with the two Land Girls, Fliss and Becca. They were a jolly pair and during her few days’ leave she’d enjoyed their company while helping out in the hop field or on the farm. She could easily have worked on the farm full-time if her skills had not been required at Bletchley Park.

“Don’t worry about feeding me. I’ll grab something up at the farm. Mrs Weeks is bound to be baking.”

Do you think Chris Thomas is out to cheat your grandmother out of Oakhurst Manor? From what you’ve just told us, that could be what he’s up to,” Fliss said, as she placed cutlery and large white plates on the pine table.

“I have no idea, Fliss. The manor house is in a bad way and it’ll need so much money to put right. He seems to have Gran eating out of his hand.”

“Can he do that? I mean, is it legal, forcing her to sell up? Perhaps we should inform the police. Your grandmother must be worried sick,” Mrs Weeks said with a worried expression on her lined face.

“Blow the police. I’d like a word with him myself,” Bert Weeks said rolling up the sleeves of his work shirt. “I thought he was a decent sort.”

“You’ll do no such thing, old man. You’re no spring chicken any more – not that you were much use with your fists even in your youth.” She grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “Now, get yourself washed. Your food’ll be on the table in a few minutes. You will stay, Molly?”

Molly grinned at Bert Weeks as he obeyed his wife. She’d known them both since she was a young child and the old couple doted on her.

“Did you have any idea before this that Gran was thinking of selling up and moving to The Dowager House? It came as a complete shock to me,” she said as she helped herself to a slice of homebaked bread. “Mmm, I’ve missed this while I’ve been away.”

Brenda Weeks passed a dish containing a pat of freshly churned butter and smiled as Molly tucked in. “There’s more where that came from. Now tell us what this could mean. We are as shocked as you. Are we going to lose the farm?”

“I truly hope not, but I have no idea how we can repair the damage to the house and bring in an income to pay staff wages. Perhaps Gran is right to want to sell to the Canadian.”

“We can’t have the estate moving out of the family. By rights it should go to you, Molly. I know the farm’s just about breaking even but we have some ideas that might help improve things now the war’s at an end and we can look to the future,” Bert said as he sat down opposite her.

“Oh, Bert, none of this is your fault. You’ve all worked your socks off during the war,” Molly exclaimed, smiling gratefully not just at Bert and his wife but also at Fliss and Becca, who’d sat down at the table. “Goodness knows what we’d have done without you. If I could just find the way to raise enough money to get Oakhurst Manor back on its feet, perhaps then I could prove to Gran that we wouldn’t need to sell up. I’d like to see that man’s face when we tell him what to do with his offer.”

Fliss gave a polite cough and nudged Becca who had sat down next to her and was busy biting into a thickly buttered slice of bread. “Go on, tell them all what you told me,” she hissed.

Becca wiped her buttery lips and swallowed hastily.

“My Andy’s just been demobbed and wants to set up as a builder…”

“I don’t think we can afford to employ a builder, Becca. It is lovely of you to suggest it, though,” Molly added with a sigh. The few times she’d been home over the past years, she had grown to love the two girls. They were like a breath of fresh air on the farm.

“Let her finish,” Fliss said, grinning.

“Andy can’t set up a business without recommendations. We, that is me and Fliss, thought that if he could work for his board and you supplied the materials, you would be able to give him a reference for future work?”

She held out her left hand and ga ed lovingly at the small diamond ring.

“It would mean we could live locally and I’d be able to help out too. That’s if you want me to, and you don’t think I’m speaking out of turn?” she added, looking hopefully between Molly and the Weeks.

“That’s not all,” Fliss butted in. “It won’t be that long before we are demobbed from the Land Army. I did wonder, if we offered afternoon tea at the farmhouse, it might bring in a few shillings. So many people pass by on the main road to the coast. It would only need a sign or two and they would flock in…” she said looking hopefully at Molly.

“What a wonderful idea – though I’m not sure it would cover two wages.” Seeing the girls’ sad faces, she said quickly, “I’ll most certainly add it to my list of ideas though.”

Bert coughed politely to get the attention of the chattering women.

“My idea is to sort out the hop field and see if we can get the hop growing up and running again, now we aren’t growing so many spuds and cabbages. I’ve had a chat with Featherways brewers and they said they’d be interested in buying from us.” He beamed.

Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was being handed a lifeline. With the little savings in her post office account, it would be a start while she thought about what to do next.

It also meant stopping that infuriating Christopher Thomas from getting his hands on Oakhurst Manor.

Pedalling furiously to reach home before the darkening clouds overhead turned to rain, Molly felt happier than she had since hearing that her grandmother intended to sell Oakhurst Manor. Thank goodness they had a plan.

She was deep in thought as she and the bicycle hurtled down the hill as the first large drops of rain started to fall. Should she stop and put on her mackintosh that was rolled up in the basket?

Deciding to make a dash for it, she put her head down and pedalled even faster, pulling up so suddenly at a bend that she skidded to a halt, sending shingle on the path flying up around her and hitting the wooden door to the clock tower.

It was then that Molly noticed the door was swinging on its rusty hinges. Somebody must be in there.

Propping up her bike, she pushed the door and peered into the darkness. “Hello, is there anybody there?” Molly hadn’t taken two steps before she was struck hard from behind…

Do I have to spend my life helping you to your feet?” a familiar voice said as Molly felt someone grabbing her arm and helping her into an upright position. “You are surely the most accident-prone person I’ve ever met.”

Molly did her best to gather her thoughts before giving Chris Thomas a hard stare.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” she asked, rubbing the back of her head that now felt rather tender. “For whatever reason you tried to kill me, I’d have thought you would have had the sense to run away. What were you doing in the clock tower?” Chris Thomas frowned. “I was taking a walk when the rain started and I spotted you in a heap on the ground. I assumed you’d fallen from that old boneshaker again. Are you saying someone hurt you? What has the clock tower to do with it?”

They both turned to watch as the usually locked and bolted door to the tower swung in the wind that was building up in the heavy downpour.

“I saw someone at the door just before I… I fainted,” she replied as she realised that if he’d been the one to injure her it was not wise to confront him while alone and no-one within shouting distance.

Going by the look on his face, it was too late. She felt her face flood with colour as he gave her a hard stare.

Chris run his hands through his hair and silently swore. “Good grief, woman. You spot the door is open to the tower, you fall into a maidenly faint and then have the audacity to imagine that I am to blame. I may want to purchase the estate, but I’ll not go about it by bumping off Grace’s heir. Whoever do you think I am?”

Molly raised her chin and gave him a stubborn look.

“I have no idea who you are, Mr Thomas, or what you are up to but I intend to find out,” she declared before collecting her bike and wheeling it towards the kitchen entrance to the manor house. She looked back to see him heading into the clock tower.

As lightning forked overhead and the sky rumbled with thunder Molly ran her arm across her face in defiance of the rain.

“I will save Oakhurst Manor and keep it in the family. Nothing you do will stop me,” she muttered defiantly.