She proved remarkably unsentimental about Rigg Cottage and talked about it as if it were already settled that he would buy.
The sitting room fire smokes in an east wind, she said. Ive been meaning to get it fixed these thirty years. Thatll be your job now.
She sounded almost gleeful.
It occurred to Jaysmith that this was a house whose faults could be freely pointed out because its more than compensatory attractions advertised themselves. Built of grey-green Lakeland slate, it stood foursquare to the east, as simple and appealing as a childs drawing. The sloping garden which overlooked the lake was full of shrubs, mainly rhododendrons and azaleas whose blossom in June, Miss Wilson proudly and poetically assured him, burned like a bonfire. Now, however, the colours of autumn were beginning to glow, with Michaelmas daisies challenging the turning leaves to match their rich orange, while mountain ash and pyracantha were pearled with red berries which the blackbirds would soon devour.
It also occurred to him that if he really were looking for a house in the Lake District, this might very well be the kind of house he was looking for.
A thought stirred in his mind.
Why not?
He dismissed it instantly. It was once again the voice of that forgotten young man who played the ostler twenty-odd years ago. Jaysmith, however, knew the dangers of sentiment and impulse. It was one thing to decide on the spur of the moment to treat himself to an extra week in the Lake District, quite another to invest a large sum of money and, by implication, a large piece of his life here.
William Hutton, holiday-maker and property-seeker, would have to speak soon. Miss Wilson had shown him the outside first, as if reluctant to miss any moment of this glorious autumn morning. Now they moved indoors, and all was exactly as it should be, the right old furniture in rooms of the right dimensions, with just enough of light coming through the leaded windows and just enough of heat coming from the small fire in the huge grate.
Old bones need a fire almost all the year round, she said, seeing his glance. Thats what we started with, thats what we end with.
Curiously he had no difficulty in understanding this enigmatic statement. Mans move away from the beast was emblematized by a group crouching around a fire. And Jaysmith had felt the need of that fire in many a long cold hour spent in patient, motionless waiting.
The door bell rang. Miss Wilson left him and returned a moment later with another woman whom, with that tendency to instant mini-biography he had already noted in denizens of the area, she introduced as her niece, Annie Wilson, a widow, who lived out Keswick way, just back from her holidays and come for lunch.
Jaysmith was presented in similar terms with all of William Huttons known and assumed background and purposes spelt out. He guessed that Parker had been rigorously cross-examined.
The newcomer shook his hand. He put her age as early to mid-thirties. She had a long, narrow, not unpleasantly vulpine face, with a sallow complexion, watchful brown eyes and thin nose, slightly upturned, giving the impression that her nostrils were flared to catch the scent of danger. She was dressed in gloomy autumn colours, dark brown slacks and a russet shirt, with her long brown hair pulled back severely from her brow and held back with a casually knotted red ribbon. Her body was lean and rangy and she moved with athletic ease.
Jaysmith felt she regarded him with considerable suspicion. Its cause soon emerged.
Youre selling Rigg Cottage! she exclaimed to her aunt.
Thats right. Ive talked about it often enough.
I know, but its so sudden. Didnt you discuss it with anyone? With pappy or Granddad Wilson?
No I didnt, said Miss Wilson tartly. As you well know, else your father would have told you when you got back and James would have told you when you were staying with him. Ive always made up me own mind and always will, so theres an end to it. Now tell me about you and young Jimmy. Whens he coming to see me? I thought he might come with you today.
Annie Wilson laughed and suddenly a decade was wiped off her face. Jaysmith watched, fascinated by the transformation.
He started back at school today, auntie. Hell be round next Sunday as usual, I promise you.
Just see he is, grumbled the old lady. He could have been here yesterday if youd got back earlier. Its not right leaving it till the day before school starts. Too much of a rush.
Granddad Wilson wanted us to stay as long as possible, said the young woman. He doesnt see much of Jimmy.
Then he should get himself up here more often, retorted Miss Wilson. The wedding, the christening and the funeral, thats been about the strength of it these past few years.
Annie Wilsons face lost its animation and the ten years came back with whatever was causing the pain visible in the depths of her eyes.
Jimmy bought you a present in London, she said abruptly. He asked me to give it to you.
She handed over a packet in gaily coloured wrapping paper.
Miss Wilson said, Ill look at it later. Ive got to show Mr Hutton upstairs yet.
Ill show him, offered the younger woman. You sit down and open your present.
For a second the old woman looked doubtful, then she agreed. Jaysmith guessed that despite her independence, she might value her nieces opinion of him as a prospective buyer, and he guessed also that Annie Wilson wanted a chance to check him out for herself.
He played William Hutton to the best of his ability as she showed him round the bedrooms, enthusing over the view from the main bedroom window. It looked out over the valley, across the lake to Town End with the great swell of Seat Sandal looming behind.
Yes its hard to beat anywhere in the world, she said. Have you set your heart on Grasmere, Mr Hutton, or will anywhere in the Lakes do?
He almost admitted that his knowledge of the area was limited to what hed been able to garner in the past three days, but this would have sounded very strange from William Hutton, prospective resident and eager house-hunter.
I love it all, he said expansively. But Grasmere best of all.
And you walk, of course?
He gestured towards the eastern heights.
Its the only way to get up there, isnt it?
She nodded, and suddenly thirsty for more of her approval, he went on, I wouldnt like to count the happy hours and the glorious miles Ive passed on the tops.
Which was quite true, he told himself ironically. The reward for his boast was to make her laugh and shed those years once more.
Youre as keen as that, are you? she said, gently mocking his grandiloquence. Youll be telling me youre Wainwright next.
He didnt know if he succeeded in not registering his shock. Wainwright was a cover name hed used on the Austrian job. How the hell did this woman know ? Then it came to him that, of course, she didnt. The name had some significance he didnt grasp, that was all.
He smiled and said lightly, Just plain William Hutton. Is this the last bedroom?
She nodded, her face losing its rejuvenating lines of laughter and settling to the stillness of a mountain tarn, momentarily disturbed by a breeze. He wondered if shed noticed something odd in his reaction after all. But when she opened the bedroom door and motioned him in, something about her stillness focused his attention on the room itself. It was small with a single bed and a south-facing casement window with a copper beech almost rubbing against the glass. On the walls hung several photographs of what he saw were early climbing groups, young men, often moustachioed and bearded, garlanded with ropes and wearing broad-rimmed hats and long laced-up boots, standing with the rigid insouciance required by early cameramen. The background hills were unmistakable. Even his limited acquaintance enabled him to recognize the neanderthal brow of Scafell and the broad, nippled swell of Scafell Pike. The pictures apart, there was no sense of the personality of the occupier of this room, or indeed any signs of recent occupation. But twenty years of nervous living had honed his sensitivity to atmosphere and suddenly he heard himself saying, Your aunt brought up your husband, didnt she?
She looked at him in amazement and said, Why? What has she said?
Nothing, he assured her. She said nothing. I just got the feeling that once this had been his room, thats all.
Now there was anger alongside the surprise and all her initial distrust was back in her eyes.
What are you, Mr Hutton? she demanded. Some kind of policeman keeping his hand in on holiday?
Im sorry, he said. I didnt mean to be offensive. I just
But she was walking away.
Thats all up here, Mr Hutton, she said coldly. Wed better get back downstairs to my aunt. Shell be wanting to get lunch ready. I hope youre as quick with decisions as deductions.
He was very angry with himself. The remark had just slipped out and Jaysmith was not accustomed to anything but complete self-control.
Miss Wilson was holding a small pot replica of Big Ben in her lap.
Tell Jimmy its very nice, dear, she said. Now, Mr Hutton, what do you think?
He hesitated. When hed arrived, hed had it all worked out. A delightful house, but not quite what I was looking for. But now this formula would cut him off from Miss Wilson and her niece for ever. That was something he discovered he didnt want to do, at least not without a chance for further thought.
He said, Would it be possible to come back this afternoon? Its hard to take everything in at a single viewing. You can often get mistaken impressions at a single encounter, cant you?
He glanced at Annie Wilson as he spoke, but got nothing in return.
Miss Wilson regarded him thoughtfully, then turned to her niece.
Well, I daresay we can put up with you trampling round again, cant we, Annie? But give us time to enjoy our lunch. Three oclock, lets say.
Fine, said Jaysmith. Three oclock.
The old lady showed him out, Annie Wilson having disappeared with a perfunctory farewell into the kitchen.
One thing, said Miss Wilson on the doorstep. Youve not asked me price, young man. It may be too high for you.
He rather liked her directness. It also occurred to him that he would rather like her good opinion.
He said, If you really think of me as a young man, Miss Wilson, then Ill be happy to accept any estimate of the houses value based on the same principle.
A sunbeam of amusement warmed the old face. Then she closed the door. There was a little red Fiat in the drive, presumably belonging to Annie Wilson. Carefully he backed the BMW past it and drove down the hill to the Crag Hotel.
Chapter 4
Jaysmith ate a snack lunch in the hotel bar and told the openly curious Parker that he had liked Rigg Cottage, but needed a second look.
Quite right, old boy, said Parker. Never rush into these things. On the other hand, dont hang about either. There is a tide and all that.
Youre probably right, said Jaysmith, finishing his beer. By the way, who is Wainwright?
Wainwright? You mean the walking chappie?
Probably.
Parker was regarding him with considerable surprise.
How odd, he said.
Odd?
That someone as keen on the Lakes as you hasnt heard of Wainwright! Hes the author of probably the best-known series of walkers guides ever written. You must be pulling my leg, Mr Hutton. Every second person you meet on the fells is clutching the relevant volume of Wainwright!
Of course, I know the books you mean, lied Jaysmith. Me, Ive always managed very well with the OS maps.
He left the hotel a few minutes later and strolled through the sun-hazed village to a bookshop he had noticed on a corner. There he found shelves packed full of the Wainwright guide books. He bought Book Three, entitled The Central Fells, which included much of the terrain around Grasmere. A glance through it explained its popularity: detailed routes, pleasing illustrations, lively text; there was possibly something here even for the man who lived by map and compass.
It was after two-thirty. Slipping the book into his pocket, he set out to walk up the hill to Rigg Cottage. It was a good distance and a steepish incline and he found himself admiring the old lady for having stayed on so long.
At the house he was relieved to see the little Fiat still in place, but there was no sign of Annie Wilson as Miss Wilson showed him round the ground floor once again.
Has your niece gone? he asked casually.
No, shes out in the garden.
You mentioned a boy, Jimmy. Are there any other children?
Youve got sharp ears and a long nose, young man, said Miss Wilson reprovingly.
If Im going to become an inhabitant, I need to adapt to local customs, smiled Jaysmith.
His impudence paid off.
No, just the one, said the old lady abruptly. Theyd been married barely seven years when Edward died. It was just before Christmas last year.
Nine months and still grieving. Grief could last forever unless life wrenched you out of its course. And even then you could not be certain if you were really living or just escaping.
You look around upstairs by yourself, instructed Miss Wilson. I dont bother with the stairs unless I have to.
He spotted the younger woman from the window of the room with the mountaineering pictures. She was reclining in a deck chair at the bottom of the garden with her feet up on an ornamental wall, her eyes closed against the slanting sun. He stood for a while, watching, till she shifted slightly. Suddenly fearful she might glance up and see him at this particular window, he turned away and went downstairs.
Well? said Miss Wilson. What do you reckon?
We havent talked about a price, delayed Jaysmith.
I thought you said youd leave that to me, she replied, her lips crinkling. Well heres what the agent reckoned hed advertise it for if I put it with him, which Im going to do tomorrow if its not sold today.
She mentioned a figure. It was hefty, but, from the little bit of expertise Jaysmith had had to gather to keep up his end in conversations with Phil Parker, it seemed reasonable.
Miss Wilson added, But for the pleasure of not paying an agents fee and not having hordes of strangers and more than a few nosey local devils tramping around the place, Id knock a thousand off that, Mr Hutton.
He scratched his chin and whistled softly.
Thats very generous of you, he said. Very generous.
He hoped that Annie Wilson would materialize at some point to show a protective interest in her aunt. But he saw now that the old lady would not take kindly to being protected and that the niece would remain determinedly absent till negotiations were concluded.
And if the conclusion were no sale, he would be politely shown the door and his chance would have been missed.
His chance for what? He wasnt quite sure, but Parkers words rang in his ears there is a tide in the affairs of men
He said, On the other hand, I rather feel that for a cash sale, no property chain to worry about, no pressure to complete, or delay when you are ready either, all this guaranteed, you might come down a little lower.