‘I wanted a chat with you first,’ said Nick, sitting on the step at her side. ‘I was surprised you sold it, I thought you’d never do that.’ ‘It wasn’t mine, not really,’ she said softly. ‘How do you mean? I thought it belonged to you and Charlie?’

  ‘It did, it took Charlie a lifetime’s work to buy it, but after he died, well, I got a bit low and I think I went a bit funny in the head, and when Eric suggested I should sign it over to him and Jennifer, I did.’ ‘You mean it’s theirs?’ ‘They said I could stay here as long as I wanted, they’d never ask me to leave, they said, not ever. But then that man Walker began to make new offers. He’d asked Charlie to sell the house years ago and Charlie said no. Anyway, when Charlie died he started again with more offers, first to me, but when I said it wasn’t mine, he went to see Eric a few times with bigger offers. You see, I began to realise that Eric wanted me to go and live with him and Jennifer so he could sell the house to Walker.’

  ‘So Eric’s been trying to force you to leave?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what Charlie just told me, when I went to put the flowers on his grave.’

  Realisation dawned on Nick. ‘Jennifer must have told him I was having your telephone calls monitored, so he cut the wires … and when he came back from the pub at night, he had time to come here and do his dirty work without anyone suspecting him. Once he got you to leave, he could sell the place and pocket a nice sum of money - your money!’

  ‘I know, I can’t see what our Jennifer sees in him, Mr Rowan, but it’s too late now.’

  ‘It might not be too late,’ said Nick quietly. ‘Look, when you signed the house over to him and Jennifer, you were not fully fit, were you?’

  ‘No, I was getting treatment for my depression or whatever they called it. Mental stress or something.’

  ‘And you asked for the house to be signed back over to you when you were fit again?’

  ‘Well, I did have a word with Eric, but he said it wasn’t worth the trouble. The house would come to him and Jennifer one day anyway, he said, so why bother to have it signed back to me? He said I could live there as long as I wanted. Well, it seemed sensible then, but now they’ve got me out they’re selling it over my head. I don’t want to live with them, so I booked myself into the old folks’ home.’

  ‘Jane, how awful.’

  ‘I’ve nothing left, Mr Rowan, nowhere to live that I can call my own except a tiny room among a lot of poor old folks that I can’t communicate with. And no plants to keep …’

  ‘It’s not too late,’ Nick told her. ‘I’ve come across double-dealings like this before.’ ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes, and if you were not mentally fit when you first signed the cottage over, then that signing-over has no validity before the law. I know the records in Kate’s surgery would support any sickness claim from you. In other words, I believe the house is still yours. You could take court action if necessary to recover it.’

  ‘Court action? Oh, I couldn’t, not to our Jennifer.’

  ‘But it’s not her that’s the trouble, is it? It’s that son-in-law of yours, he’s behind all this, and he’s sold it to Walker. But the deal has no basis in law, I’m sure. Quite simply, the house isn’t Eric’s to sell!’

  ‘Oh, Mr Rowan, if only you are right!’

  ‘Let’s go out now and have words with Mr Walker, shall we? You come with me.’

  Jane Thompson followed Nick outside, but remained in the background as Walker came over to the policeman. He was smiling, a smile of triumph.

  ‘Well done, Constable. I see you’ve done the trick, persuaded her to leave.’

  ‘No I haven’t,’ said Nick. ‘I’m about to persuade you to leave, Mr Walker. You’re trespassing. This property belongs to Jane Thompson, not to Eric Bradshaw.’

  ‘But I’ve seen the deed - it was passed to Eric Bradshaw, it’s his property, Mrs Thompson had transferred it to him. The sale’s going ahead, I’m buying the premises and in the meantime I’ve got written permission to enter and begin demolition.’

  ‘Well, the Contract appears to be defective, Mr Walker, unlawful even, so if you want my advice you’ll get yourself off this land before we sue you for damage to the house. If you persist in staying here, I shall consider a fraud investigation against Eric Bradshaw; just think of the publicity that would create if you were seen to be dealing with a convicted con man. Not a very good image for the chairman of the local NFU, eh? And I’ll ensure that Jane gets the very best of legal advice. Think of it this way; I have saved you a lot of money today. I hope you’ll bear that in mind when you and I have future dealings.’

  ‘Future dealings? Like what?’

  ‘Blocking up a public footpath for starters,’ said Nick pointedly.

  Walker looked at Jane, who never flinched before his gaze, then shouted to his workmen, ‘Back off, lads. Take the gear away. There’s been a mistake. And get down to that wood and shift that fence you put up. It’s blocking a footpath.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Walker,’ smiled Nick.

  ‘Wait till I get my hands on that Bradshaw!’ snarled Walker. ‘I’ll sue him for everything it’s cost me - and more!’

  As the workmen were packing their gear and removing their equipment, Nick went over to Jane. ‘We’ll have to get you fixed up with some furniture, won’t we?’

  ‘I’ll go back to the old folks’ home for tonight; that’ll give Jennifer time to recover my old furniture. She took it to the salerooms in Ashfordly. I hope it’s still there.’

  Nick’s next job was to inform Jennifer of what had happened. She wept when she realised the deception and cruelty that her husband had practised.

  ‘I suspected him myself, Mr Rowan, especially when Mum’s phone was cut off. The poor soul … she trusted me, and look what we’ve done for her … how could we?’

  ‘She still trusts you,’ Nick said.

  ‘I can’t live with Eric now, not after what he’s done. And all for money … The house would have come to us anyway, in the normal course of time! Why couldn’t he wait?’

  ‘Greed, I suspect. So what will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll move out, this is only a rented house anyway, it goes with Eric’s job. But I’ve no idea where I shall go.’

  ‘You could always go and live with your mum at her cottage,’ smiled Nick. ‘She does need some furniture, and some comfort.’

  ‘If I do, I wonder if she’ll stop talking to Dad?’ smiled Jennifer through her tears.

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said Nick. ‘But look after her, make sure she’s got a greenhouse, and from time to time fetch her down to Kate’s classes.’

  ‘I will,’ said Jennifer.

  page 359

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘Nick,’ said Kate over breakfast one morning, ‘we’ll have to start looking for somewhere suitable for a surgery. With Alex soon to retire, we’ll not be able to continue using his house, you know.’

  Nick shifted in his chair. ‘Funny you should mention that. It’s been on my mind too. I thought I’d found a place that might suit you but it’s just been sold as tearooms. It was along the village, on the corner opposite the war memorial. I’ve been keeping my ears and eyes open while I’ve been out and about, hoping I might come across something. Does it have to be in Aidensfield?’

  ‘Well, yes, if possible. This is where Alex has practised all these years and it is very central for the surrounding villages, where most of my patients are. It’s accessible by bus and train, and ideal in lots of ways.’

  ‘OK. But there’s no rush, is there? There’s plenty of time before Alex packs his bags, isn’t there?’

  Kate tried not to sound impatient. ‘Time passes so quickly, Nick, the months fly past without us realising and I do need somewhere of my own once he leaves us. He’s given us plenty of warning. Once he’s retired, he’ll sell his house and that means I’ll lose the surgery. I don’t mind renting somewhere to begin with, but I’d like to buy my own place eventually.’

  Nick raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Can we afford to buy somewhere?’

  ‘Maybe not now, but I hope so, in time.’

  ‘Is this urgent, Kate? I’m sure Alex wouldn’t kick you out of the present surgery!’

  “That’s not the point, Nick. Once he’s retired and sold the house, I’ll have no choice. I can’t expect the new owners to let me keep a surgery there. No one’s going to want all that equipment and drugs in their house, are they?’

  ‘All right. Point taken. I’m off out on patrol in about an hour and there’s some office work I want to catch up with first, but then I’ll definitely have a look around,’ Nick promised, standing up from the table.

  ‘Thank you, and I’m searching as well, you know. I have my own contacts, but two heads are better than one!’ Kate reminded him.

  ‘I suppose we could always build one. You know, a custom-built place with a proper waiting room, consulting rooms, modern equipment, a secure drugs store and so on.’

  ‘That takes time, Nick, and we don’t have all that much time. It could take months to find land, get planning permission and erect a new building. We need to find somewhere very quickly, somewhere that’s already built but that we can easily adapt.’

  ‘OK. As I said, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. What’s Alex doing now? I haven’t seen him lately?’

  ‘He’s winding down. He’s looking after some of his long-term patients, uncomplicated cases who’ve been with him for years and who are happy with repeat prescriptions. I’m taking on more work, some of it from him, and from now on, I’m also taking on all the new patients.’

  ‘I thought he was going on a fishing trip? Didn’t he say something about being offered a cottage at Kelby?’

  ‘Yes, he’s going later today. The cottage sounds lovely, it’s beside the River Esk, not far from Kelby’s stepping stones. Remember, we went there for a picnic once? It’s a beautiful river, and is renowned for its trout and salmon. I know he’s been looking forward to it.’

  ‘What’s his state of health now?’

  ‘Poor enough to keep me worrying about him,’ she said. ‘He’s certainly not himself, Nick, he does keep having those spells of dizziness and forgetfulness. He needs to retire, but fortunately he knows it.’

  ‘Good, well if I don’t see him before he goes on his fishing holiday, wish him all the best from me. I hope the weather’s good to him and tell him I’m looking forward to a nice supper of fresh trout or salmon when he gets back!’

  And Nick went into his office before setting out upon a motorcycle patrol of Aidensfield and district.

  After-morning surgery, Alex came to see Kate.

  ‘Well,’ he said, looking smart in his plus fours and tweed jacket. ‘That’s it. My last surgery for a week. You can cope with my rounds today, can you?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Alex. You take your time getting ready!’

  ‘I’ve made a list of the patients I was due to see this week, with their treatments and my recommendations. Now, old Mrs Sanderson at Briar House, she needs …’

  ‘Alex, it’s all in the records. I can cope, honestly!’

  ‘Yes, of course you can. Silly of me … I keep thinking you’re as forgetful as me! But you’re not. Now, I’d better leave my address, just in case.’

  He wrote on a piece of paper the words, ‘Mallard Cottage, Kelby’, and a telephone number.

  ‘I’ll try not to disturb you when you’re on holiday, Alex, but it’s nice to know you’re on hand if I need advice. You’re not far away, anyway, so I could always drive over to see you!’

  ‘I’m having my meals in the Horseshoe Inn,’ he said. ‘I’ll have breakfast in the cottage, lunch will be a pint and a sandwich in the pub if I can drag myself away from the riverbank, and my dinner each evening will be in the restaurant of the pub - after a nice warm bath to relax in, there’ll be wine and good food to complete every day. I consider that real bliss, a real touch of heaven!’

  ‘It sounds like it! I’m envious,’ smiled Kate. ‘So what time are you leaving?’

  ‘Well, actually,’ and he looked rather coy, ‘I can go now. A lady patient of mine, along the road between here and Kelby, has offered me lunch and so, well, I thought I might as well accept and then keep going.’

  ‘Do I detect a hint of romance?’ smiled Kate.

  ‘Oh, good heavens no!’ He shook his head. ‘My goodness, she’s older than me.’

  ‘A spot of good old-fashioned romance would do you a world of good, Alex,’ Kate laughed. ‘And age is no barrier! But, yes, you go. You are all packed?’

  ‘Yes, last night. I’ve just a few bits and pieces to tidy up, then I can put my suitcase in the car, along with my tackle and waders, and I’m ready for the off!’

  ‘Well, an early start will be nice. So it’s goodbye, then?’

  ‘Yes, for a few days. Goodbye, Kate, and thanks for being so understanding during these recent weeks. I must have been a bit of a trial, falling over my own feet, mixing up my appointments and coming down to surgery in my pyjamas and so on!’

  “Think nothing of it.’ She went over to him and gave him a fierce hug. ‘Just you concentrate on making some fine catches and we’ll see you in a week’s time.’

  ‘Yes, and then you’ll soon be on your own, eh? Doctor in charge, the General Practitioner of Aidensfield practice … you, not me, Kate. I’m proud to hand it all over to you!’

  ‘We’ll talk about that when you get back,’ she said. ‘Now, it’s time to concentrate on your romantic invitation to lunch, and then there’s a relaxed week of fishing to set you on the road to blissful retirement!’

  He kissed her on the cheek and she responded with another hug. ‘Nick sends his best wishes for a successful holiday,’ she called after him as he left, but he merely waved in acknowledgement.

  Less than an hour later, she watched his beautiful old car leave Aidensfield with the contented doctor at the wheel. Now it was time for her to go out and see some patients.

  Mallard Cottage, which was owned by the landlord of the Horseshoe Inn, was ideal for Alex Ferrenby. It was regularly let to fisherman, being handy for both the river and the inn, while the village shop was a mere hundred yards away. All Alex’s holiday needs were here. He reserved a table in the restaurant of the inn for each evening at 7.30 p.m. and told Andrew Bridgeton, the landlord, that he’d pop in for a bar snack every lunchtime.

  Each day fell into a routine. Alex would rise and listen to the radio while he had his breakfast, then would potter down to the riverbank for two or three hours’ fishing. He liked a break for lunch even if it meant dragging himself away from the riverside, although he did leave his tackle on the bank with the rod primed. One never knew, one might just catch something even in one’s absence!

  Then followed a further session from the end of lunch until around six in the evening; he had a flask of coffee and bought cakes and biscuits at the shop for snacks during the day. The evening meals at the Horseshoe were excellent and, fortified by a glass or two of wine and one of brandy, Alex would sleep soundly until next morning. It was a happy routine, rich with contentment.

  On the Wednesday afternoon of his holiday, he decided to wade into the river so that he could fish a deep pool where the Esk curved in a wide bend. Here the cold water from the distant moors flowed at a much slower rate,

  whirling ever so gently like a whirlpool in slow motion. Over the years, it had sculpted the earth from the far bank to create this wide open corner where the swift waters appeared to gather for a rest before continuing their run to the North Sea. Where the water had eaten into the sandy earth of the far bank, there flourished lots of overhanging bushes and alder trees. These cast deep shadows over the languid water, and Alex knew that the deep pool below them was a haven for trout. There the fresh, pure water was smooth and dark. The wide bend bore the relics of past floods too - there were tree trunks and branches which had been carried from higher up the dale to lodge against the side of that bank and, here and there, he noticed patches of wool, all that remained of sheep which had died in the higher reaches. On his side of the river, opposite the pool, the water was much shallower; through its green depths he could see the stony bed of the river with water weeds and moss quivering in the strong flow. This was an ideal place for trout.

  Alex Ferrenby pulled on his long waders, a single garment comprising thigh-length rubber boots with heavy studded soles topped with waterproof trousers which came up to above the waist. He equipped himself with his rod, net, bag, gaff and bait, and began to wade across the bed of the river. He could feel the water pressing against his legs while the pebbles below his feet moved and rolled with the power of the current. Once or twice, he slipped a little, but the water was only knee-deep at this point. There were some shallower parts, he noted, where moss-covered rocks protruded. He aimed to stand in this shallow part and cast across into the pool, placing his bait beneath the overhanging trees. It was a worthwhile exercise, he told himself, for if there were any fine trout in this part of the river today, that was where they would be.

  For the best part of an hour, Dr Ferrenby stood and waited, with never a trout to celebrate. The fish were not biting … perhaps he should change his bait? Should he try fly fishing?

  He moved his pitch slightly, seeking signs of fish jumping to take insects which hovered over the surface. Then something caught his eye. To his left, a few yards upstream, he noticed a sack caught on the branches of an old tree which had been swept away by floods higher upriver. The remains of the tree had come to rest against the far bank and the sack had floated downstream to come to rest against it. Alex wondered if he was seeing things, for the sack seemed to be moving. After all, he’d not been well recently. This, however, looked real enough. Confusion appeared on the doctor’s face and the rod in his hand dropped lower until the tip was touching the water, while he stared for a long time at the sack. And now he was sure it was making a noise … there was something in it! It wasn’t his imagination! Alex moved slightly; he felt dizzy for a moment, but it passed. Whatever was in that sack was crying for help … it sounded like a kitten!