Free Rose Cottage by Mary Stewart Page A

‘Nay, lass. Anything like that, they’d go to a locksmith. Baines in Durham’s the nearest.’
    ‘I see. Thanks. Well, you’re busy, and I’d better be going. It’s lovely to see you again, Mr Corner.’
    ‘Good to see you, lass, and if you was dressed for it I’d give you a job the way I used to, you and young Pris. You been to the vicarage? Thought I saw you come out, but I didn’t know you, my eyes not being what they used to be at a distance.’
    ‘I was wanting to see the vicar, but he’s out. The garden looks nice. Is Mrs Winton Smith the gardener?’
    ‘Aye. Always at it, she is. Well, if I cannat set you to work, I’ll be getting on myself. I’ve a wheel to fettle next door.’ Next door was the shed where he did his wheel-wright’s work. ‘Come back and see me before you go, lass. Or better still, come up to the house and get a cup of tea. The missus’d be real pleased to see you. Any day about six, and I can run you home in the trap.’
    ‘That would be lovely. Thanks very much.’
    And at any time after six o’clock today, I reckoned, as I went out into the sunshine, everyone in Todhall would know that Kathy Welland was down home at Rose Cottage, packing up her grandmother’s things to send away to Scotland, and asking about keys. Like any other village, we had a very efficient grapevine. So, I would use it for myself. Perhaps someone, somewhere, might know if anyone had been hanging around Rose Cottage and might have broken in and rifled Gran’s safe of her treasures.

9

    The village shop lay about a hundred yards beyond the smithy, and looked out across the duckpond. The geese had left the water, and were marching purposefully across the green towards a farmyard we had always known as Scurr’s, though it had been many years since anyone called Scurr had lived there. Their place on the water had been taken by a small fleet of ducks, mostly white Aylesburys, but with a visiting mallard in convoy, and one water-hen. A nondescript terrier sat at the edge of the water, wistfully eyeing the flotilla.
    A shrill whistle from just behind me jerked me round, startled, and jerked the terrier, too, from his post. He came running to the shop doorway, which had opened to let a young woman – a girl of about sixteen – out onto the step.
    She saw me and stopped in the doorway. ‘Oh, sorry! I never saw you. Come here, Muffin! You leave them ducks alone! Were you coming in the shop? He’d loveto get them ducks, but he’s frightened of the water. You can’t blame him, can you, all that mud and the weed and all. A fair disgrace I call it, and no one does a thing about it. Come in, then. I’m Jinnie Barlow, Mrs Barlow’s niece, from Ashhurst, and keeping the shop while she’s on holiday. I haven’t met you yet, have I?’
    ‘No. I’m Kate Herrick. Nice to meet you, Jinnie. Will Mrs Barlow be away long?’
    ‘Only a week. She’s gone over to Hartlepool, to her sister’s, my other Aunty’s. She’s just out of hospital, my other Aunty, that is, so I said I’d come and mind the shop, and the cat and dog. The shop’s the least of the troubles.’ She laughed merrily. ‘Whose are the ducks?’
    ‘I don’t know. They probably belong to Scurr’s, like the geese. I think they’re used to dogs – anyway, I’m sure they’ll know Muffin quite well. I wouldn’t worry about them.’
    ‘I won’t. What can I get you, then? Is it the rations?’
    ‘Yes, please. Here’s the book.’
    ‘Ta. Makes it easy, this does. This is only my second day, and I’ve not quite got the hang of Aunty’s shelves yet, but the rations are easy, and I’ve got some of them made up ready anyway.’
    She chattered on as she served me. Ashhurst, where she lived, was about five miles away, and before this visit, she told me, she had done no more than call occasionally on her aunt, but she was enjoying this temporary job because one of her friends from home was working at the vicarage.
    ‘Lil Ashby?’ I said.