Vera insisted on playing in her new tea-kitchen. She served Darjeeling. I was feeling very wicked and very on form.
'As a tea-snob, I think Darjeeling is an afternoon drink, but you’ve made it for mid-morning. What did they teach you at finishing school, Vera?'
This time she stood up, came round the table and gave me a hug.
'That was brilliant, Millicent!' she squealed. 'Larissa Gormley-Stuart couldn’t have said it better. I’ll make a lady of you yet.'
'Karl Vera. That was beautiful too. I try a put down on you and your class and you counter with a declaration that there is hope for me in the world of snob.'
She stood back a little, still holding me. She stared into my eyes. It was a real moment of friendship and expression that told me I was worthy of being in her confidence. Then she spoiled it.
'Millicent, you are wearing so much make-up today. Why is that? You really do and have such lovely skin.'
I blushed.
Things are hotting up between Vera and Millie, with the cracks appearing as each defends their standpoint.
'By the way, I have to go to the solicitor tomorrow, early. Hopefully, there is something that prevents me interfering with the planning process. Then the farmer gets his blasted windmills and I don’t have to annoy the county set.''Is that likely?''No idea? The family has been farming that patch for generations. Who knows what was agreed in seventeen fifty something and how easily it can be applied to wind farms?''Why can’t you lie about the legal position and tell your posh chums you can’t block it?''Because Larissa insists on accompanying me.'I looked blank, then the penny dropped.'Larissa Gormley-Stuart intends to stake out the solicitor’s office, to make sure you don’t try to deceive the county set. She suspects you of some fifth column activity.''And with good reason. I’d love to let Giles Ferguson have his windmills.'A plan formed in my mind. I was willing to form a Vera-support
Day 9. Tuesday. Five o’ clock. I heard my phone vibrate. ‘Shit and derision,’ I mumbled. Through half-opened eyes I saw little sister spring out of bed and grab the phone. 'Give it here,' I barked, but it emerged as a croak. I was on a loser. 'Let me read it or I’ll tell Dad you swore and had a wet dream about Charley boy.' 'Girls can’t have wet dreams, you berk.' 'Well you had something. What are wet dreams?' 'Give me my phone and I’ll tell you.' She was already flicking through my mails. 'I’m not falling for that one. I want to know who texts you at five in the morning.' She paused and then giggled. 'There’s a thing. It’s Charley lover-boy and he says, ‘assume S at 9. Leave L 8. be in bushes opposite drive for 7.30, with camera ready. I have to work and will miss the fun, so make some good pics. Love Charley.’' We had to go through the obligatory
Day 10. Wednesday.'So what did you buy in Lowestoft? Anything pretty?''What did you do with your day off, you little rascal. Larissa was indeed held up by a gate getting in the way, but you forgot to mention you were immediately on the spot, offering help.''Oriolus oriolus, Vera, sitting on her gate. Sonya, my little sister, eleven you know, said she heard one, very typical fluty, challenging ‘whoareyou-oo,’ call and we went to photograph it, very shy too, so without much hope, and there it was sitting on the Gormley-Stuart Gate. Just as Sonya swung the camera up, Larissa jumps in her car, fiddles with something and starts to drive at the gate like a thing possessed, still attending to her dash paying no attention to where she was going, oblivious of the fact that the gate hadn’t opened and had black smoke pouring out the motor end.'I paused for breath. Vera
'No bird, no pictures,' I said.'You see, Ms Backhose,''Backhouse,' I interjected, but the Ms had lost its affectation. Goal to me I think.'Quite so. Whatever. Mrs Gormley-Stuart, has made a complaint to the police, that persons unknown, tampered with her gate, causing it not to open, and her to have a crash. These are very serious allegations, and after a quick forensic investigation, it seems it will be difficult to assuage her fears. Wire of some sort was used to hold the non-hinge end of the gate to the pillar - some heavy gauge wire, we think, as it is a powerful motor needed to slide back a ton of gate. We haven’t found the wire, so someone must have been quick to remove it after the evil deed.'He paused as if exhausted by his deductions.'Why are you telling me this?''You were there, within seconds.''Your chums were there within minutes. Would I have been able to find the wire among the rubble and remove it bef
Julie was not so shy about standing at another door eaves-dropping. Later she came up to my room, sat down and made an afternoon of it.'Vera said she had the video stored in a safe place, and if Larissa didn’t drop the gate issue, the police may get hold of it and then they would add dangerous driving if not driving with undue care and attention to the charge list. Larissa wanted to play the private property card, but Vera said . . .' She paused to get Vera’s words right. The sentence came a word at a time. 'Vera said, even if she was on private property, it was her intent to enter the public highway in a reckless manner, and for that the police were after her.''Wow!' was all I could manage. 'Vera said she would destroy the video!'Julie gave a mocking laugh.'Wake up, Millie. Vera will keep that for a rainy day. No woman would give up a lever as powerful as that. What video did she mean? What was on it?''No idea,' I lied.The
Day 11.Thursday. Most of the morning was to be spent arguing the merits of the wind farm. I was surprised that the Gormley-Stuart’s gate, or rather my part in it, was not mentioned. That was history as far as Vera was concerned. I think Julie had heard the conversation between Vera and Larissa, because Vera wanted her to. That way I’d find out. There is no value in having power if your underlings don’t know it. Julie and Vera were on first name terms There is a friendship there, which is not usual in country houses, between mistress and servant, and there were still Vera’s sexual preferences to evaluate. Perhaps they were sometime lovers - perhaps Vera told Julie what to say to me? I’d have to find a way of asking Vera about these mysteries in the house. That said, the list of ‘to do’ topics in the notebook was getting forever longer. I needed to address them soon, which meant finding a way of inserti
Day 12.Friday.I only just got to the pub on time. Over breakfast Sonya engaged me in a discussion on the morning that lay ahead. I could have done without it. She likes winding me up.'Everyone thinks that hunt protesters feel sorry for the fox. Why don’t you?''Do you feel sorry for the fox?''Kinda. It’s alive, has feelings. It’s a bit like a weed really.'I knew I was in for a child’s view of the persecuted in this world.'In what way is a fox like a weed?' I sighed.'A weed is any plant you don’t want to grow in your garden. We grow horseradish. We make horseradish sauce and sell it. It’s inedible unless you want your brains through your ears, but some people buy it. Horseradish isn’t a weed - to us. It is a weed to everyone else in the village because it tries to take over the world.''Where do foxes appear?'
I thought she would explain. Instead, came the change of subject.'Economic reasons to build the wind farm.''Income of about three hundred thousand a year for the land owner, who is a local man, and unless he buys a villa in the Caribbean, which I don’t think he will - Suffolk born and bred, son of the soil and all that - he will wisely spend that money within the community, preferably supporting job-creation schemes and helping local businesses prosper.''That sounds better. If only it were true.'She scribbled some notes, although everything I’d said, and a few pages besides, was on the sheets I’d given her. Finally, she drew breath.'Environmental, and don’t start on about the Niger bloody Delta. This is Suffolk, warts and all. Let’s deal with them.''You can supply local businesses with cheap power by forming your own electricity generation cooperative.''That’s brilliant. That’s why Juli