Free Unhallowed Ground by Gillian White Page B

so, there is an aerial beside the chimney but no TV set, and I could have done with a television last night.’
    The Horsefields’ own TV was enormous, one of those you see in shops, almost the size of a cine screen. It stood on an imposing stand with a video recorder beneath it, obviously state of the art.
    Horace sighed and turned his long sad face to the fire. ‘That’ll be Cramer, then. If anything’s missing, that’ll be Cramer.’
    ‘Cramer?’
    Horace inclined his head and grimaced up the road. ‘Further along, lives with his girlfriend, Donna. Not much better than a pigsty. That’s where you’ll find Cramer.’
    ‘And you think this person, Cramer, came and removed Stephen’s things?’
    ‘Well, I didn’t actually see him, you understand. But then Cramer doesn’t make a fuss, he’d have gone early in the morning. If it was him,’ he added dourly, and Horace Horsefield’s eyes sank even further into his head.
    Now Georgie was totally confused. From the kitchen across the hall they could hear cups rattling, plates being stacked and dropped. And was that an egg being beaten? ‘Did Stephen, did my brother tell this man, Cramer, that he could take his things?’
    Horace rasped his large hands uneasily. ‘We all thought it would be sold on. That’s what everyone thought. Even old Tom Selby. So Cramer must have believed he could get away with it. If you want them back you’ll have to tell him.’
    ‘I certainly will.’ One small problem solved. But Georgie wanted more from Horace Horsefield, she wanted to know more of Stephen. She was keen to explain the reason for her presence. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to come to Wooton-Coney or not. I made the decision on the spur of the moment. I never knew my brother you see, Mr Horsefield. He cut himself off from his family many years ago, and when I was growing up I wasn’t even aware of his existence.’
    ‘Well, that’s what we all thought. We didn’t think there was any family.’
    ‘Did you know Stephen well?’ She had the feeling she needed to hurry. She wanted to dispense with any sensible questions before the excited Nancy came back. ‘You see, part of my reason for coming here was to find out more about him.’
    ‘He was a very sick man at the end. Very sick. But he wouldn’t let anyone help him.’
    ‘But you went in. You gave him your old magazines.’
    ‘He never wanted to see me. And even the magazines, they were Nancy’s idea. Stephen would have been happier left to himself. He never encouraged people. He preferred animals and children.’
    ‘He was an artist, I understand?’
    ‘Cramer must have the paintings,’ said Horace, crossing his long legs dispiritedly. ‘You ought to ask for those back. He was a good painter, no-one can take that away from him.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I intend to ask for them back,’ said Georgie, straightening up. And then, out of politeness, she was a stranger here after all and might be boring him with her problems. ‘This is a lovely house. How long have you and Mrs Horsefield lived here?’
    Horace stroked his long grey chin. His eyebrows wound their way over his eyes. ‘We’ve been here twenty years, since Nancy had her breakdown. We didn’t mean to stay to start with, but the place grew on us and now she’s terrified to go out. She won’t go back. I wouldn’t want to go back now, not even if she wanted to.’
    Something about him seemed so lonely. She knew she’d be beside herself stuck with just the few oddballs in the hamlet and Nancy to care for all day. ‘I’ve only met Mrs Buckpit briefly, and you’ve said enough about Cramer, Stephen didn’t seem the sociable type, so don’t you find you miss company in such a small community?’
    ‘Sometimes,’ mused Horace with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘We don’t have visitors. We have no other family, you see, none that we’re in touch with now. But Nancy does tend to get so excitable round people and that’s not good for her condition,