heading."
The path, shaded by trees, was well maintained and smooth: no hacking through the undergrowth here. At least, Wesley thought,
Philip Thewlis took his obligation to maintain the public footpath that ran through his land seriously.
"Do you think Pauline was meeting somebody?"
"Well, our friend Squirrel said she looked determined. It's a good bet she was going to have it out with someone."
"But she wasn't the battle-axe type. If she was the village busybody, always out for confrontation, I could understand it."
"She stood up to D'estry and got threatened for her pains. We'll stroll up to Worthy Court when we've finished here and see if he's back."
The path leading down to the creek became sandy as it emerged from the trees. Then it dropped away steeply to form a bank, full of exposed roots and stones.
Knot Creek, an inlet off the River Trad, was a picturesque spot. On the far bank stood cottages behind their rickety boat houses Small boats bobbed in the channel of water down the centre of the creek. The tide was out and a wide area of muddy sand lay exposed and strewn with seaweed. A small, sleek cabin cruiser, the Pride of de Stoke, lay helpless on its side on the wet sand, waiting to be floated back to life when the tide returned. The bleached wooden skeleton of a large vessel also lay on its side some way away, a relic of the days when the River Trad and its inlets had buzzed with commercial traffic. Now the boat's remains had acquired a more romantic look: the wreck of an old pirate ship; the hull of an ancient war craft -anything the imagination of a child or a romantically inclined adult could manufacture.
There were a couple of rowing boats pulled up on the sand near the end of the footpath, probably there for the use of the Manor's occupants, thought Gerry Heffernan. "This place hasn't changed much since I was last here," he commented, seeing Wesley looking around.
"It's a lovely spot."
"You're right there, Wcs. Very peaceful. We had a picnic here once," he said wistfully, 'when the kids were small. Kathy used to say it was one of the good things about living round here lots of places for picnics."
"We've not reached that stage yet. When Michael's a bit older ..." Wesley paused. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask you. Er ... it's Michael's christening at the end of next month.
We ... er, Pam and I wondered if you'd like to come. Two o'clock... Sunday the 28th."
Gerry Heffernan's face lit up with a wide, delighted smile.
"My parents are coming from London," Wesley continued. "And my sister's booked some time off duty; she's coming over from Oxford. It won't be a big do, but... '
"Just try and keep me away. St. Margaret's, is it?"
Wesley nodded. "We were there last week sitting near the back." He smiled. "The choir were very good."
Each Sunday morning Gerry Heffernan was to be found in the choir stalls of the parish church of St. Margaret's, Tradmouth, singing his heart out. Wesley had heard rumours that he had an excellent voice, but last Sunday had been his first opportunity to confirm this for himself.
"I didn't know you'd started' to come to St. Margaret's, Wcs. Why didn't you say?"
"It was a condition of getting Michael christened. I had a bit of trouble getting Pam there she wasn't brought up with it like I was. In our house Sunday meant church and Sunday school."
Gerry Heffernan nodded, his mind wandering back to his own days as a choirboy in the huge red sandstone church in the Liverpool suburbs where he had read comics and given cheek to the verger between anthems and evensong.
Wesley looked around again. "Nothing here, sir. Where to now?"
"Worthy Court. Was this D'estry character really skinny-dipping in the pool there?"
"Apparently. In front of a former magistrate too." Wesley grinned.
"Well then, Wcs, I think it's about time we paid a little call on Mr. Julian D'estry. Let's hope he's found himself something to wear."
Chapter Five
14 March 1475
John Fleecer while drunk did
The path, shaded by trees, was well maintained and smooth: no hacking through the undergrowth here. At least, Wesley thought,
Philip Thewlis took his obligation to maintain the public footpath that ran through his land seriously.
"Do you think Pauline was meeting somebody?"
"Well, our friend Squirrel said she looked determined. It's a good bet she was going to have it out with someone."
"But she wasn't the battle-axe type. If she was the village busybody, always out for confrontation, I could understand it."
"She stood up to D'estry and got threatened for her pains. We'll stroll up to Worthy Court when we've finished here and see if he's back."
The path leading down to the creek became sandy as it emerged from the trees. Then it dropped away steeply to form a bank, full of exposed roots and stones.
Knot Creek, an inlet off the River Trad, was a picturesque spot. On the far bank stood cottages behind their rickety boat houses Small boats bobbed in the channel of water down the centre of the creek. The tide was out and a wide area of muddy sand lay exposed and strewn with seaweed. A small, sleek cabin cruiser, the Pride of de Stoke, lay helpless on its side on the wet sand, waiting to be floated back to life when the tide returned. The bleached wooden skeleton of a large vessel also lay on its side some way away, a relic of the days when the River Trad and its inlets had buzzed with commercial traffic. Now the boat's remains had acquired a more romantic look: the wreck of an old pirate ship; the hull of an ancient war craft -anything the imagination of a child or a romantically inclined adult could manufacture.
There were a couple of rowing boats pulled up on the sand near the end of the footpath, probably there for the use of the Manor's occupants, thought Gerry Heffernan. "This place hasn't changed much since I was last here," he commented, seeing Wesley looking around.
"It's a lovely spot."
"You're right there, Wcs. Very peaceful. We had a picnic here once," he said wistfully, 'when the kids were small. Kathy used to say it was one of the good things about living round here lots of places for picnics."
"We've not reached that stage yet. When Michael's a bit older ..." Wesley paused. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask you. Er ... it's Michael's christening at the end of next month.
We ... er, Pam and I wondered if you'd like to come. Two o'clock... Sunday the 28th."
Gerry Heffernan's face lit up with a wide, delighted smile.
"My parents are coming from London," Wesley continued. "And my sister's booked some time off duty; she's coming over from Oxford. It won't be a big do, but... '
"Just try and keep me away. St. Margaret's, is it?"
Wesley nodded. "We were there last week sitting near the back." He smiled. "The choir were very good."
Each Sunday morning Gerry Heffernan was to be found in the choir stalls of the parish church of St. Margaret's, Tradmouth, singing his heart out. Wesley had heard rumours that he had an excellent voice, but last Sunday had been his first opportunity to confirm this for himself.
"I didn't know you'd started' to come to St. Margaret's, Wcs. Why didn't you say?"
"It was a condition of getting Michael christened. I had a bit of trouble getting Pam there she wasn't brought up with it like I was. In our house Sunday meant church and Sunday school."
Gerry Heffernan nodded, his mind wandering back to his own days as a choirboy in the huge red sandstone church in the Liverpool suburbs where he had read comics and given cheek to the verger between anthems and evensong.
Wesley looked around again. "Nothing here, sir. Where to now?"
"Worthy Court. Was this D'estry character really skinny-dipping in the pool there?"
"Apparently. In front of a former magistrate too." Wesley grinned.
"Well then, Wcs, I think it's about time we paid a little call on Mr. Julian D'estry. Let's hope he's found himself something to wear."
Chapter Five
14 March 1475
John Fleecer while drunk did
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