The Hardie Inheritance Read Free

poor?’
    â€˜That’s not a word to use when we’re talking to them.’
    â€˜I know
that
.’ Her voice expressed indignation.
    â€˜I don’t suppose they’re poor in the way that ordinary people are poor. I don’t even expect that they have to tell their children, if they have any, that they’re not allowed new red sandals until their feet have grown out of horrid black strap shoes.’ This was a subject which had been much discussed between Trish and her father recently. ‘But a big house like Greystones costs a lot to keep up, if it’s to be done properly. The Hardies may not have been able to manage that. If I’d written in advance and asked permission to call, they’d probably have said No.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜When a house has grown shabby, its owners often don’t want people to come and look at it. Or if they do say Yes, they feel that they ought to do something about it before they let us come – you know, clean it and make it tidy. That would mean that we’d be giving them a lot of hard work. So we’re just going to turn up. Then I can explain what I want. They’re more likely to let us look round this way.’
    â€˜They might think we’re burglars.’
    â€˜That’s why I’ve brought you with me. I may look like a burglar, but you don’t.’ He squeezed her hand affectionately. ‘You’re a very useful companion.’
    Trish grinned and began to skip along the path, pleased to feel that she was useful to her father by not looking like a burglar. Watching her, Ellis felt himself overcome by love. He had embarked on her upbringing, four years earlier, in a mixture of rage at the rotten hand which life had dealt him and terrorat the thought of his own inadequacy as a father. But almost from the start she had seemed to know how to bring herself up, leaving him only the task of translating her instructions into practical arrangements.
    Today, for example, she had decided which of her summer dresses would be most suitable and had given two days’ notice that it ought to be washed. Her long white socks and the straw hat, with a red ribbon tied under her chin, proclaimed her to be a well-behaved little girl, which she was, and a demure little girl, which she most certainly was not. Only the hated scuffed shoes spoiled the neat picture she made, and it was Ellis’s own fault that he had refused to accept the need for new red sandals. Trish was a bundle of lively energy, but the bundle came in such a neat and pretty package that her father longed to pick her up and hug her every few minutes. If only she could stay like that for the rest of her life and never grow into a woman!
    Trish’s attention was no longer on her own appearance, but on the grounds through which they were walking.
    â€˜Do the sheep belong to the Hardies?’
    â€˜Might. Might not. Most likely thing is that a farmer pays them for grazing rights.’ Ellis always tried to give his daughter a serious answer to her many questions. ‘The farmer gets more grass to fatten his sheep, and the owners get a bit of money and don’t have to mow the grass, so it suits everyone.’
    But although Trish had asked the question, she was no longer listening to the answer. She had come to a halt, staring. ‘What’s
that
?’
    The object which had caught her eye was indeed strange. Immediately in front of Greystones was a circle of lawn surrounded by the turning circle of the carriage drive. Unlike the rough parkland which was kept short by the nibbling sheep, this area of grass had been smoothly mown, and in its centre was an object made out of stone.
    â€˜It’s a hole,’ said Ellis. Someone had hollowed out a large block of stone so that what faced forward was indeed a hole.It had a roughly rectangular shape, but because the stone around it curved backwards like the tyre of a motor car, the effect was round