New Directions (5)

The tea arrived on a small silver tray which looked like the ones that get experts excited on endless antique TV shows. If the tray excited them, the teapot and cups made from delicate off-white porcelain hand painted with exotic palm fronds would have given them an orgasm. 

Celia sat on the adjoining chair and poured herself a cup once she’d made sure I had all the milk and sugar I required. Lifting my cup from its matching saucer I guessed I was holding hundreds of pounds in my hand. The amber liquid it contained tasted like tea on steroids. I’ve never tasted something so smooth and full of flavour.

After I complemented on her delicious tea I asked how long she’d lived in the cottage. I wanted to get her into a conversation hoping she would tell me more about how she was tricked into giving cheques to a perfect stranger.

Looking up at the oak beam cluttered ceiling she held her chin in place while her left hand counted out years on thin air. ‘Let me see,’ she finally said, ‘I came here quite some years after Daddy passed away. The house was so big d’you see? Far too much for one person to look after even with staff. The responsibility was too great for me. I have always worked as a governess or nanny in India and latterly in the country – Sussex. I’ve never really had to do very much for myself. Mummy and Daddy and Poor Angus always looked after everything.’

‘Angus? Was he your husband?’

‘Goodness me, no.’ She chuckled hen-like, ‘I never married. Looking after other people’s children filled all my days.’ For several seconds she said nothing, just stared down at her feet. ‘Angus was my brother. He was killed in The Battle of Mount Longdon shortly before he was due to retire from his regiment. My mother never got over it, she passed away a few months later.’

I muttered a sorry and waited for her to break the silence. It took some time.

‘Daddy died in 1996. He spent many years the diplomatic service in New Delhi. When he retired we returned to the family home in Wiltshire. After he passed away Uncle Charles helped me a great deal. He owned most of the land here. I explained to him how hard I found it hard to run the house. He kindly arranged the sale. The contents I didn’t need are in storage although I do have a great number of personal items in the cellar. The proceeds of the sale are in trust, it provides quite a good income for me.’

‘Did he find this cottage for you?’

‘It was meant as a temporary measure. I liked it here so much I decided to stay. I could have purchased the cottage of course, but it was easier to pay him a fee. Unfortunately when he died his grandson Reginald, The Duke of Swindon – who is not close to our family – took over the estate. He sold the lease to Dev.’ Celia stopped talking for a moment, then realised she hadn’t answered my question.

‘I’ve been here about twenty years. I am lucky Dev is so considerate, I’m too old to be moving now and your recent collection service has made things so much easier.’

Now I was getting somewhere. I had to find out who she was paying, I had to get hold of a cheque. I had a fair idea how. I would just ask for one, but I needed to wait for the right time. I looked around the living space, antique furniture crammed itself into every corner and ancient pottery and ornaments covered it. Paintings littered the walls, the place was a museum. God knows what was in the cellar.

It hit me like I’d been punched in the face by Mohamed Ali. It wasn’t the rent he was after. I doubt the cheques had even been cashed. He would have to make his move soon. David was just a front. Whatever the plan was they had to be found and stopped fast. I had a feeling David wouldn’t be back, but whoever he worked for would.