Free That Would Be a Fairy Tale by Amanda Grange Page A

penny-pinching woman you could ever hope not to meet - but this is outrageous, even for her. You will not answer this letter. I will answer it for you,’ said Cicely firmly. ‘ The Haringays always upheld this tradition ! The woman takes my breath away!’
    ‘It’s a good thing I hired you,’ he laughed. ‘No one else would have been able to tell me that Mrs Fotherington is a fraud.’
    ‘A sharp set-down is what she needs,’ said Cicely.
    ‘Then we will give her one. Well, that is all the mail for today. But now, there is something else I need your help with. I’ve been looking for a key for the old stable block but I can’t find one. If it’s suitable, I mean to keep my Daimler there.’
    ‘The key’s in the garden room, in the top drawer of the bureau,’ she said. ‘But I’m not sure about using it for your motor car - although, of course, you must use it as you see fit,’ she said, remembering with a sudden pang that she was no longer the owner of the Manor.
    ‘Oh. And why is that? Is it already full?’
    Cicely nodded. ‘It houses my father’s collection.’
    He raised his eyebrows. ‘Your father kept his collection in the stables?’ he asked.
    She nodded. ‘Yes.’
    ‘As the doors have been locked ever since I arrived, I suppose he did not collect horses?’ he asked.
    ‘No.’ She smiled fondly as she remembered her father. ‘Not horses. My father collected bone-shaking machines.’
    ‘Bone-shak— you mean he collected bicycles?’
    ‘Yes.’ Her smile brightened. ‘My father loved bicycles. He was fascinated by their workings and belonged to an inventors’ club whose sole purpose was to devise more of the machines. He sat me on one before I could walk and I loved it. I have been riding ever since.’ Her smile faded. ‘But they will be of no interest to you,’ she remarked, thinking that Mr Evington would want to dispose of the rickety machines in order to make room for his car.
    ‘On the contrary. I found an abandoned bicycle when I was a boy. I spent all my free time riding it. I’ll look forward to seeing your father’s collection.’
    ‘It really needs cataloguing,’ said Cicely, her interest awakened. ‘My father intended to open a museum, so that when people came to visit the Manor they could see the various machines in his possession and chart the history of the bicycle.’
    ‘I think that’s an excellent idea. When we have finished on the inventory of the house, we could move on to the bone-shakers. In fact, I suggest we go out and take a look at them now.’
    ‘Oh, yes!’
    It did not take Alex long to find the key, and before long the two of them were walking round the Manor and heading towards the old stables which lay behind it
    ‘I just hope I picked up the right one,’ he said as they approached the stables.
    He fit the key in the lock and turned it. The stable door swung wide.
    ‘Shall we?’
    He stood aside to let her pass, and Cicely went into the stable. It was cool and dark. There was a slightly musty background scent, but the overwhelming smell was of hay.
    ‘It really should be cleared out,’ said Cicely, looking at the soft piles of dried grass as her eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light. Here and there, pieces of dried clover could be seen sticking out of the mounds, adding to the sweet smell.
    Alex nodded absently, but his attention was on the bone-shakers and not on the hay.
    ‘It’s a treasure house,’ he said appreciatively, as his eyes too accustomed themselves to the dim light.
    Cicely was gratified at his interest. ‘Do you really think so?’
    He nodded. ‘I do.’
    Arranged lovingly in the stable were bicycles of every size and description. Some of the contraptions had one wheel, others had two or three. Some of them had wheels of the same size, and others had wheels of startlingly different sizes, most notable of which was a magnificent penny-farthing machine.
    ‘It must have taken your father a lifetime to assemble his