"It's a lovely house. I don't know why ..." He stopped short. "I'm sorry that sounded ..."

I laughed. "That sounded like the truth. An ordinary Little house ... not much more than a cottage, but there is something about it, isn't there? You haven't been here half an hour and you feel it. It's my aunt. She does that to places."

"I hope I have an opportunity of seeing her again." "When do you have to go back?"

"I thought of leaving tomorrow."

"Well, I feel sure you'll be invited to stay to lunch if you play your cards right. At any moment Violet ... my aunts devoted friend and companion ... will appear with a tray on which will be glasses and a bottle of her parsnip wine. If you drink it with relish and if you will go so far as to tell her that you have never tasted better parsnip wine, you will surely be asked to stay to luncheon."

"Does it depend on that?"

"Of course not. My aunt will ask you, and I have already decided to do so. That is good enough. But it would please Violet. Don't be too effusive for she is shrewd. Just savour, put your head on one side and say Ah. She is such a dear, though people don't always realize it. We like to tease her and please her."

"Thank you for the warning."

"And here is Violet," I said; "and yes, she is bringing her parsnip wine."

"It was a good year," said Violet, "and no one can make good wine without a good crop. You'd know that, Mr... ."

"Mr. Markham," I said.

"Oh yes, I remember now. Mr. Markham, now try that. Teresa, bring in those wine biscuits."

"You are spoiling me," said John Markham. He took the glass reverently and raising it to his lips sniffed the aroma as though he were testing wine in the cellars of some château vineyard. He sipped, there was a deep silence.

Then he raised his eyes to the ceiling and said: "I knew before I tasted it. The bouquet is superb, and this must indeed be a vintage year."

Violet flushed pink. "Well, I can see you are one to know what you are talking about."

"I was suggesting to Mr. Markham that he might care to stay to lunch," I said. "He's at the King's Arms."

Violet grimaced. "I heard the food's not up to much there. Well, if I'd have known... but there's only shepherd's pie and apple tart."

"I can think of nothing I should like better than shepherd's pie and apple tart."

"Well," said Violet, still pleased. "It'll be a pleasure. I'll see about laying another place." Teresa had come in and was introduced.

By the time Aunt Patty returned John Markham had succeeded in making a remarkably good impression on both Violet and Teresa. For me he was Lydia's brother and hardly seemed like a stranger.


He stayed to lunch and went back to his hotel afterwards but not before he had received an invitation to dine with us.

I knew that he had been deeply saddened by Lydia's death, but he was not the sort to burden others with his grief. He was amusing and interesting. He talked about banking, his life in London and on the Epping farm. He said that his brother Charles was in London. It was always pleasant to get down to the farm when they had a chance.

"It is amazing," he said, "what pleasure there is in haymaking and bringing in the harvest ... particularly after you have spent your days in an office juggling with figures and doing all that makes up a banker's life. Not that I'm averse to banking. I find it fascinating. It's just the change ... the joy of rolling up one's sleeves and getting into my old farm clothes and throwing off the polish of the city for a bit of rural activity."

Violet, who had been brought up on a farm, listened avidly. I had never seen her take to a newcomer so quickly. He had so many stories to tell of the farm and how in the old days he had not had the faintest notion of how to go on. He made it all sound very amusing.

Teresa listened to his anecdotes with great interest. "I should like to live on a farm," she said. After dinner we sat in the garden.

"The cool of the evening is the best time of the day," said Violet.

We all walked down to the gate to say goodbye to him, all very sorry that his visit was at an end. But the next morning he called again.

Violet was in the garden peeling potatoes which she often did out of doors on fine days, and Teresa was beside her shelling peas. Aunt Patty was dressed for going out and I was going with her to the village to shop. And there he was. From my window I saw him coming up the path.

I called out: "Hello. I thought you'd gone." "Couldn't tear myself away," he said.

"Go into the garden," I replied. "I'll be down shortly."

Violet said: "My patience me!" And was pink with pleasure, and so was Teresa.

"As a matter of fact," he said, "I thought I'd stay another day."

"We're all rather pleased about that," I told him. Aunt Patty came into the garden wearing her sunflower hat. "This is a nice surprise."

"It's a nice welcome," he replied.

"He's staying another day," said Violet. "Teresa, pop in and get me three more potatoes. I think there'll be enough peas."

"Thank you," he said. "I was rather hoping you'd ask me to stay."

"When I think of what that King's Arms serves up in their dining room it wouldn't be right not to get you out of that," commented Violet.

"I was hoping," he said, "that I might be asked for another reason."

"What was that?" asked Teresa.

"That you found my company entertaining enough to want to put up with me for another day." "Oh, we do," cried Teresa.

"And there's roast pork for dinner," said Violet. "Is that a statement or an invitation?"

"Knowing Violet," put in Aunt Patty, "it's both."

"It seems as though I have arrived just as you are going out," he said, looking at Aunt Patty and me in our outdoor clothes.

"Just down to the village shop. We were going in the dog cart. Would you like to come? Cordelia can show you the church while I'm in the shops and we can all come back together. The church is well worth looking at, though the tower is in danger of falling down at any moment."

"And the bells are cracked," put in Violet. "You should hear them, Mr. Markham, or rather you shouldn't. It's a shame."

"I think we should be going before we get into the tower versus the bells controversy," said Aunt Patty. "Come on."


It was a pleasant morning. John Markham and I went to the church and I showed him the stained glass which was renowned in the neighbourhood and the brass effigies of our most illustrious inhabitants and the names of the vicars dating from the twelfth century. We went through the graveyard stepping over ancient tombstones, the inscriptions on which were almost obliterated by time and weather; and by the time Aunt Patty joined us, I felt I knew John Markham very well.

Over dinner that night, he said: "I shall have to go to London tomorrow and I shall be going to the farm the week after next. I shall be there for a whole week. I wish you would come and see it."

"What!" cried Teresa. "All of us?"

"There's plenty of room and we like visitors. The old farmhouse doesn't get used enough really. Simon Briggs, our manager, has his own place. He never uses the farmhouse at all ... it's purely for the family and we're always saying it ought to be used more. So, what about it?"

Aunt Patty looked at Violet and Violet looked down at her plate. Normally I should have expected her to raise all sorts of objections. But she did not.

Aunt Patty, who liked unexpected things to happen, was smiling at me.

Teresa said: "Oh, do let's ..."

"Are you sure?" I said. "There are four of us."

"That's nothing for Forest Hill. The old place can take twenty without cramping. What do you say?"

I said: "It sounds ... inviting ..."

Everybody laughed and then we were making excited plans to go to the Markhams' place on the borders of the forest.

The week we spent at Forest Hill was one which would remain in our memories for a long time to come.

I thought often of Jason Verringer and wondered how he was faring on the Continent in his search for Fiona. But I did wonder what he would do if he found her. If she were married he would not very Well bring her home. It did occur to me that when he returned he might come to Moldenbury and I did not want him to arrive when we were at Epping, so I wrote a brief note, saying that I hoped he had found satisfactory information about Fiona and that I should not be at Moldenbury as we were visiting friends.

There was a great deal of bustle getting ready for the visit. Violet insisted on doing a minor spring clean, "Just in case anything should happen. I wouldn't want people coming in and finding the place all at sixes and sevens."

"What do you mean ... anything?" I asked.

Violet pressed her lips together and wouldn't say, but being Violet she had thought of accidents on the railway in which we were all killed or some such dire event. In any case the house must be as it would for a special visit.

We let her get on with it. Teresa and I packed our bags discussing interminably what to take for a week on a farm. Aunt Patty had three hat boxes each containing two hats. We did not comment on that, knowing that Aunt Patty and her hats were inseparable.

John Markham met us in London and ail went down together, and from the moment we arrived we loved the place.

Because of the hot summer, harvest started early and we played our part in it. Anxiously we watched the sky for signs of rain; Teresa and I took out bottles of cold tea and bread and cheese to the workers. We sat down with them in the shade and listened to their talk.

Teresa and I went off for rides through the forest. Sometimes we walked. The forest was beautiful but the trees were already beginning to show the tints of autumn and the beeches, elms, birches and sycamores were tinged with yellow; and the oaks were turning reddish brown. I remember the smell of the honeysuckle which grew profusely round the door of the farmhouse. Even now it brings back to me a memory of peace.

At night I would lie in my room and savour the pleasures of being physically tired and intoxicated with sunshine and fresh air. I slept better than I had since I had received the anonymous letter and I was amazed to realize that ail through the day I had not thought of it and the rumours and scandals; so tired was I, so full of the impressions of the day that I could not feel the same apprehension and horror that I had known previously. I felt that I was being healed.

We ate the midday meal at the big wooden kitchen table with the windows wide open to the smell of new mown corn, and we listened and joined in the talk of the harvest.

"It's a pity you won't be here for the harvest home," said John. He seemed so different from the immaculate gentleman who had called on us at Moldenbury. I felt-and I knew the others did too-that I had known him for a very long time.

"Perhaps we could be," said Teresa hopefully.

"Teresa," I said, "we have to go back to school soon."

"Don't talk of it," replied Teresa gloomily.

John told us about the harvest home and the festival. "It's the best time of year. The children make the corn dollies when it is ail gathered in."

" `Ere the winter storms begin,'" quoted Violet.

"And we hang them on the walls. They are talismans in the hope of getting a good harvest next year."

"We used to do that in my home," said Violet. "It's a universal custom," added John. "And I think it goes back to the Middle Ages."

"I like to see the old ways kept up," said Violet.

I think she was the one who amazed us most. She was really enjoying being at Forest Hill. She had taken over the kitchen. The manager's wife, who usually looked after the household when the family was there, was only too pleased to pass over the responsibilities, and Violet was in her element. She grew quite sentimental talking about her childhood.

In spite of the happy time we had I could not get Lydia out of my mind and when John told me: "You have Lydia's bedroom!" I seemed to sense her there and I dreamed of her once or twice.

I thought I heard her voice in my dreams. "You mustn't worry about me, Cordelia. I'm dead."

I woke up with the words echoing in my ear. The light curtains were blowing outward, for the wind had arisen and the window was wide open. Startled from my sleep, I thought it was a ghost standing there.