into his pocket he took out the letter and stared at it for a moment, his anxious eyes scanning the handwriting:
Mr Leonard Maitland,Office of Farming and Land ManagementNumber 16, Roiter Place,Corner of Derwent and Launceston,BOSTON,U.S.A.
Try as he might, he could not recognise the handwriting; it was not the hand of his solicitor, and certainly not the almost indecipherable scrawl of the doctor. In fact, he began to wonder whether he had got it altogether wrong in thinking it might be from Lucy.
With newfound confidence, he decided to take a peep inside. First though, he listened, making certain that Vicky was still busy at her tasks. Satisfied, he took the letter between his fingers and began to open it, almost leaping out of his skin when Vicky suddenly rushed in through the door.
‘I’ve made a whole jug full,’ she told him as he hurriedly thrust the open letter into his pocket. ‘It’s been such a hectic day, I thought a mug of honey and hot milk might help me sleep, too.’ She placed the tray on the small table before him.
For a while they sat and talked, of Ronnie, and Thomas and Susie. ‘I’m proud of them all,’ Vicky said. ‘Thomas has taken to helping you manage the estate like a duck to water.’ She cast her mind back, as she often did, more so as she grew older and the memories sharpened. ‘Mind you, he had good training with his dad,’ she said fondly. ‘Though managing a small farm is different from managing a vast estate like this.’
Leonard nodded. ‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘But when you get right down to it, the principle is the same: you plough the land, set the seeds, and reap the harvest.’
He gave a contented smile. ‘I’m fortunate to have a man like Thomas working with me,’ he admitted. ‘I have good people in the office, but outside in the fields I can leave it all to Thomas and know everything will be taken care of. He works hand-in-hand with the office, orders the right machinery for the job, brings in the right mix of seed, and oversees the working of the land. He’s good with the men, and has an instinct for the seasons. Moreover, he knows every machine inside out; there’s nothing he can’t fix and he’s always ready to pass his knowledge on to the men. Matter of fact, I don’t know what I’d do without him.’
After a while, Vicky shifted the conversation to Ronnie. ‘I only wish that lad would settle down. He doesn’t seem to have the heart for anything.’
Leonard was philosophical where his other stepson was concerned. ‘He’s still coming to terms with life’s disappointments,’ he said kindly. ‘Give him time, he’ll come round.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes, I do. Like Thomas, he’s a good man.’
‘Lonely though?’
‘Well, yes, there is that. But some people like their own company.’
For different reasons, all of her children worried Vicky. There was Thomas working all hours God sent, with a wife who thought only of dressing herself up and trawling the most expensive shops. She wanted for nothing, she had a husband who doted on her, and still she wasn’t satisfied and, if Vicky’s instinct served her right, Sheila was in the throes of yet another affair. ‘Sometimes, I wonder if Thomas ever suspects that his wife sees other men?’ The words were not meant to be said out loud, but they just popped out.
Leonard was not surprised. ‘So, you think the same as me, do you – that she’s being unfaithful to him?’
‘I’m convinced of it.’ Vicky told him of her fears. ‘I think she’s had several affairs. If Thomas knows, he must love her so much, he can’t bring himself to confront her in case he loses her – though if you ask me, that might be the best thing all round.’
‘Well, I don’t think she would leave him, whatever he said to her.’
‘No, you’re right!’ she conceded angrily. ‘Why would she leave him, when she has everything all her own way … a husband who adores her, money to fritter on clothes and fancy furniture, a house she helped to design. Anything she asks for she gets – holidays, jewellery – and on top of all that, whenever she fancies a fling, she just goes out and finds herself a man.’
Clenching her fists, she almost spat out the words. ‘Sometimes, Leonard, I feel like pinning her against the wall and making her confess what she’s been up to. I hate what she does to Thomas. I despise the way she takes advantage of him and gives so little in return!’
Seeing how upset she was becoming, Leonard reached out and closed his hand over hers. ‘It’s up to them,’ he reminded her. ‘They’ll sort it out between them. One day, Thomas will wake up and realise what she is. When that happens, he’ll deal with it in his own way.’
‘Oh, I do hope so!’
‘Trust me. For now, he’s taking a beating, because he loves her. He probably knows what she’s up to, but Thomas is nobody’s fool. He won’t put up with it forever.’
Regaining her composure, Vicky sighed. ‘Susie’s doing well, isn’t she?’
He nodded. ‘She’s a born businesswoman.’
‘Do you think she’s lonely?’
‘Maybe.’
Vicky was sad about that. ‘The trouble is, she works such long hard hours, she never has time for a social life. So, she never meets anyone outside of work.’
‘Well now.’ Leonard had also given it a lot of thought. ‘Maybe when she meets her man, it could be the very one she’s been working alongside all the time. It’s been known to happen.’
Vicky smiled. ‘So, that could be any one of about ten.’
‘There you go!’ Somehow, Leonard always managed to say the right thing. ‘She’s got a healthy choice right there on her doorstep.’
The couple sat quiet and content for a time, their faces pink and warm in the heat from the cheery fire. In the background, the grandfather clock struck eleven, and Leonard began to nod off. ‘Hey!’ Vicky gave him a nudge. ‘That milk and honey seems to be working well, but don’t go to sleep yet,’ she said. ‘You lock up, and I’ll put the guard in front of the fire. Then we’ll away up the stairs and into bed.’
‘You go,’ he said. ‘I’ll be along shortly.’ He needed to stay down for a while. He needed to think.
Vicky put the guard in front of the fire, gave him a kiss, and made her way upstairs. She thought nothing of him not going up with her. Often Leonard would work in his study long after she’d gone to sleep.
Upstairs, she made her way to the bathroom, while downstairs Leonard remained in the armchair, his hand spread over his jacket pocket where the letter was safely tucked away.
He wanted to open the letter and read it, but his every instinct once more urged him to throw it into the fire.
After a time, common sense took over. He knew he should read the letter, if only to make sure it contained nothing that could harm himself or his adopted family. And if it was a threat, he might need to deal with it as quickly as possible.
Taking out the letter he glanced towards the door; he could still hear Vicky pottering about in the bedroom upstairs. He got out of his chair and went across the room, where he quietly closed the door.
Returning to his chair, he sat a moment, the letter in his hand, his gaze mesmerised by the flames dancing in the coals. ‘Come on, old man,’ he chided himself. ‘Open the damned thing and see who it’s from!’
With trepidation he opened the letter, surprised to find another envelope inside, which was simply addressed to Vicky.
Unfolding the accompanying letter, he thought he might have recognised the sweeping scrawl, but that was not the case. Instead his fears were made tenfold by what was written there:
Dearest Leonard,