Abby Ch. 04

She was glad to leave the moor behind as she descended into Paverton, for whilst the rain still fell, the wind had been left behind. As she drove towards the square her car splashed through rivers of surface water cascading down the hill like a torrent, she understood now why the gutters were made so deep. Deciding that leaving the car in the car park and walking would be a little unrealistic; she turned off the square and down Station Road to where Chorister, Brooks and Son were situated. The road was lined with double yellow lines, but today Abby was prepared to pay any fine levied, she didn't want to arrive looking like a drowned rat. She was happy to see that others felt the same way, as cars were parked along the pavement, as if the parking regulations did not exist.

Mrs Forbes met her in the reception, and hearing Abby's explanation about leaving her car on the yellow lines, assured her she had nothing to worry about. "We don't have a Warden here, except in the summer when they come in like a Posse, twice a week from South Molton. The Police don't bother with parking regulations, unless you're causing an obstruction, so don't worry at all, you are quite safe." Mrs. Forbes seemed have warmed a little from yesterday. "Would you like to come through, Mr. Brooks, senior, is here already, which is a wonder." As she opened the door through to the offices she went on Sotto Voce, "When he was practising he would keep clients waiting an hour, and be surprised when they complained. Not many did though, in those days the Solicitor ranked alongside the Clergy and the Doctor, as someone who had a greater calling than most mortals." The stern matriarch sounded to Abby as if she regretted the passing of those days. A door was opened and Abby was ushered in to an office, to meet Mr. Brooks senior, who got up out of his chair and extended his hand to shake hers. "This is Miss Tregonney, Mr. Brooks," Mrs. Forbes announced in a loud voice.

"Thank you Mrs. Forbes, I am sure that Miss Tregonney would like a cup of coffee, I certainly would." Muttering that she would see to it, Mrs. Forbes withdrew. Mr Brooks was a tall well-built man with a thick thatch of grey hair and eyebrows to match. Abby would have expected him to be soberly attired as most Solicitors, but presumably having retired Mr. Brooks had forsaken the uniform. Instead a check shirt, no tie, well worn Jacket and flannels with brown shoes were his preferred mode that morning. Abby was a little shocked. Brown shoes! Different modes applied here, nobody would ever wear brown shoes in the City.

When Mrs. Forbes was safely out of earshot Mr. Brooks grumbled. "She seems to think that because I am old, I must also be deaf. Please, do sit down Miss Tregonney." Abby sat, and immediately thanked Mr. Brooks for seeing her. "Nonsense; think nothing of it. I have a client file and Instructions, which have not been carried out. Hopefully today, I can finalise the work that I started over thirty years ago." He took a file from a side table and placed it on the desk in front of him. From her position Abby, who had become accustomed to reading material upside down in the chaotic environment of the trading world, could see clearly the label. THOMAS TREGONNEY. Mr Brooks looked up and said. "We must observe the formalities first; would you by any chance have your Birth Certificate with you?' Abby nodded and delved into her bag for the document, attached by a paper clip was her mother's death certificate. She also handed to him the expired passport. Mr. Brooks nodded vigorously. "Excellent, excellent. You don't have your mother's will by any chance?"

Abby shook her head. "Mum didn't make a Will, but I do have the probate, not with me But I can send it to you." Mr Brooks waved his hand in a gesture that suggested that would be acceptable. He opened the file and the first document was a copy of her mother's birth certificate.

He sorted through the papers in the box. "You will appreciate that I have to be certain that you are the immediate family and sole surviving relative of Mr. Tregonney. I knew from Mr. Tregonney that your mother was an only child. Mrs. Forbes accessed the B.M.D. files online, I wish we had been able to do that thirty years ago, progress eh? Anyway her results together with these documents are sufficient proof that you too are an only child, so I can proceed. I must admit that I was curious that your grandfather should bother to make a Will. Admirable, though. I wish more people were as conscientious. There was no Estate to speak of, merely some personal effects of little value. However, when I heard of the unusual circumstances of his death, his insistence became a little clearer."

Abby interrupted "Unusual circumstances? What do you mean?"

Mr. Brooks looked at her with an anxious and nervous glance. "Well, yes unusual, eh, ahem," he cleared his throat, "you don't know how your grandfather died?"

Abby shook her head. "No, was it an accident or something. I had assumed that it was a natural death."

Mr. Brooks was now even more flustered. "Oh dear, oh dear, Ah here's the coffee." A young lady came into the office bearing a tray with two cups of coffee, milk and sugar, also a plate of digestive biscuits. He seemed grateful for the interruption, and having made sure that Abby had the coffee to her liking, attended to his own. Abby, however was impatient to hear to what circumstances Mr. Brooks was referring.

"Mr. Brooks, please tell me, how did my grandfather die?' He regarded her with sympathy.

"My dear, I have spent many years as a Solicitor, and having retired thought that I would never have to perform an unpleasant task like this again. I cannot wrap this up in flowery language. I am sorry to tell you that your grandfather committed Suicide."

Abby sat there stunned. She couldn't believe it. After all the stories that she had heard from Sam, she had seen her grandfather as a strong, determined man, not one to let life's troubles get him down, and yet she was now being told that he had taken his own life. She gathered herself."Thank you for telling me that, Mr. Brooks; it cannot have been pleasant for you. Could you tell me how?"

He regarded her sympathetically. "The coroner brought in a verdict of misadventure, but the truth was that your grandfather hanged himself." Abby absorbed this new information without expression. Now her own character came into play, she wouldn't dwell on his death, however horrible, she could allow herself to think about this later, but she wasn't going to break down with grief here in this office.

His sympathetic look remained with him, but he had seen the steel come back into her expression and mentally agreed with her that the business before them was more important. "We collected the effects mentioned in the Will from the Undertaker, and made the usual enquiries for Next of Kin. No one in the village knew where your mother had gone, nor if she was still alive. We placed Advertisements in the local papers, and in The Times, which are the normal organs for tracing relatives, but after twelve months, having no replies to our enquiries, the file was placed in our archive storage. Today there would be little trouble in finding someone; unless they were determined to be lost; everyone is on a computer in some Government department or other, but back in sixty-seven there was little chance." He continued. "As there was little or no estate to speak of, we took our fees from the capital that was there. I hope that you will find that procedure acceptable, there is a full accounting of the monies found and those spent in the file. Your grandfather did have a small life insurance, but because he was a suicide they declined to pay out." Abby told him that she was sure that his actions could not be faulted.

He smiled his thanks "Now," he said, "the effects." and he lifted to the desk a Box-file. "First there was the Will, I will not read it now, and you may peruse it at your convenience. In effect it wills everything to your mother, with the usual paragraph concerning prior demise etc. I am sure that you were the sole beneficiary from your mother's Will, so become the same from your grandfather's. I should at some time like to have sight of the probate, if that is possible, just a formality of course." He paused to sip from his coffee. "The effects are Documents, a Journal, some badges, this watch and these keys. I believe these were gathered by the Police at the time." He held up the extra large Pocket Watch, complete with chain. Although it had lain in this box for so many years; the years before, of constant use had polished it to a shine; only partially diffused where the original plating had been worn away. "The watch may be of some value, I am told they are keenly sought after by collectors of railway memorabilia these days. Particularly when they bear the initials of the railway on the face." He showed Abby the face.

He took the Documents and a large quarto sized notebook from the file and laid them on the desk in front of Abby. The watch he placed on top. The last item in the file was a small oblong box, very like a jewel case, which he opened; inside the similarity was continued as it was lined in what appeared to be a green baize cloth. The contents were two small badges, which proclaimed in intertwined initials, G.W.R., and one other; a more modern badge, which had the word "Stationmaster", set in the original British Railways motif. Abby sat there with a stone in her stomach. This was the sum total of her grandfather, all those years of unremitting work, and these few items were his legacy to his daughter.

Mr. Brooks had watched her face carefully. Like his son he had weighed Abby's motives, and decided that money was not her quest, in fact he would be prepared to bet that this young lady was already very comfortable in that direction. Her search was for some roots, and this exchange was but a small part of that search.

"Would you like me to leave you alone for a while?" he asked kindly.

Abby looked up with a wan smile. "No, that won't be necessary. Is there anything that I have to sign?"

Mr. Brooks pushed a paper towards her. "Just this acknowledgement of receipt of the bequest."

Abby signed the paper where he pointed. "More importantly, is there an account outstanding, I am sure that your searches would have been relatively costly."

Mr Brooks shook his head. "Please do not worry about that, if there were an outstanding account, it will have been written off quite a few years ago." He knew well that there was a shortfall between the monies recovered and the expenses, but he decided that it might be a sensible thing to have Miss Tregonney leave with a feeling of goodwill. There might be some further service that the practice could perform. He helped Abby collect the various items together, and suggested that she use the box-file, "it will be more convenient to carry that way."

The rain had ceased completely when she left the office, and blue sky was showing between cushions of white cloud scattering across the sky, driven by the same winds from the south west, which earlier had brought the downpour. Abby put the box file on the back seat of the car, and decided to drive back to the square, where she parked and again bought a ticket, notwithstanding Mrs. Forbes' assurance that there would be no parking Warden for some weeks. She then strolled around the corner to the Library for the promised coffee with Toni.

Toni was not at her desk when Abby entered the reference library, but the sound of the door closing behind Abby soon brought her out from the racks where she had been. She was delighted to see Abby, "Oh, Hi, Abby, how did it go?" The question rekindled Abby's pain, and it obviously showed on her face, as Toni's face immediately fell. "What happened?" she asked, guiding Abby to a chair.

"My grandfather! He committed suicide."

Toni was shocked. "Suicide?" she repeated, "suicide. Oh my God, how awful for you." Haltingly, Abby told her as much as she herself understood, of Thomas Tregonney's life, her mother's running away, and the closing down of the Railway. As she spoke the picture became clearer, and she could start to imagine the complete and utter despair that her grandfather may have suffered. Was this the way it happened, perhaps? Probably only Sam could pour more light on the affair.

Her growing understanding, helped her, and she was soon able to mention the coffee that Toni had invited her for.

"You're sure you will be all right?" Toni asked, and with the affirmative nod, brightened. "Oh by the way, I've found something for you," and with a flourish produced from her desk a slim bound volume. Abby looked at the title, 'The Railway to Paverton'. Quickly she flicked through a few pages. It wasn't a weighty tome but her cursory glance convinced her that some of the information she sought would lie within its pages.

Toni had gone to get her coat and when she returned Abby held the little book up. "Where did you get this?

"Oh my Dad had it. I doubt he's ever read it though. It was written years ago by one of the Librarians, who was something of an amateur historian. He published a number of books like this on the town, and the area, Mostly boring, because he tried to mention all the local worthies, whether they merited a mention or not. Councillors were expected to buy a copy; well they would, because they like to see their names in print. I shouldn't think any of them have been read apart to check that he had spelt their names correctly." Whilst Toni was doing all this talking which revealed a healthy disregard for Politicians, she had steered Abby out of the Library, and across the road towards the Cafe, where they seated themselves comfortably in the window seat. Abby put the book in her bag, and of course paid for the coffee when it arrived.

In response to Toni's question she relayed the events in the Solicitors office. Toni seemed a little disappointed, probably expecting a revelation of a bequest of unclaimed wealth. And she was certainly dismayed at the descriptions of the Lapel and Cap-badges and the Watch. Abby was amused at her reaction, and teased her by suggesting that the Journal might reveal some juicy secrets. They finished their coffee quickly, as Toni had seen the Head Librarian returning from his break, which was taken at the nearest Public House. She would have to get back, but before doing so extracted a promise from Abby that she would come back and see her again, "When you have written your book."

Abby didn't go back to the Combe Inn immediately. It was just after twelve, and to return would probably mean being dragooned into eating one of Mary's superb, but huge, meals. Instead she drove slowly towards the station. The wind had dropped and the skies cleared, allowing a bright Sun to start warming the air. The station dripped water wherever the guttering had broken away, but Abby was pleased that under what was left of the Canopy, dry areas existed. She still had in her bag the little book that Stella had given her, and she skip read various pages. The author had not been too concerned about the places the railway passed through to get to Paverton, and Combe Lyney rated just about one page. No mention of personnel, except of course for the Comberford family. It was understandable that the major Landowner in the area would be mentioned. The book seemed to be written as if Paverton was the goal for the railway, until Abby read of the quarries that had existed in the Valley. If she had learned anything from her hobby it was that in the early days of railways, passengers were secondary to goods, and she was certain that it was the quarries that attracted the promoters.

The sound of horse's hooves startled her, and looking up she saw James Comberford riding along the track bed from the direction of Huish Coppice. He saw her and urged his horse up onto the rough remains of the platform. Abby thought for a moment he was attempting to intimidate her, but he stopped the horse about six feet away and touched his crop to his cap. "Miss Tregonney."

Equally seriously Abby replied. "Mr. Comberford." She felt for a moment that she should drop into a curtsey, and giggled at the thought. The giggle surprised him and he moved abruptly in the saddle unsettling the horse.

"I usually have to crack a joke before someone laughs at me. If I have amused you, please tell me how, is my habit buttoned up wrongly, of are there bird droppings on the shoulder?" His voice was quite level but a grin played around his mouth.

"I am sorry; I wasn't laughing at you. It was something that Sam said yesterday evening. It would seem that my grandfather couldn't drink in the Lounge if your father was there. Not the same class it would appear. When you raised that whip, and said so seriously Miss Tregonney I had this insane idea of dropping into a curtsey. That's what made me giggle."

James appreciated the anachronism, and stretched the grin on his face. "I am sure that a curtsey is something not called upon from many ladies these days, but I believe you would have carried out the manoeuvre excellently. My father had a number of antiquated ideas, one of the reasons why his circle of friends were mainly boring old f...' Abby knew what he was going to say, so when he stumbled over the word she filled in the gap.

"Farts, was the word you were looking for."

His grin grew even larger. "Yes that was the word. Incidentally, when I get down to the Inn; I drink in the bar."

Abby responded to his grin, it really was very attractive, and shading her eyes from the Sun, looked up at him. "I am glad to hear it."

James sidled his horse nearer to the unkempt hedge that lined the back edge of the platform. "Would you mind if I dismount?" Abby indicated that she wouldn't mind, thinking that some of the antiquated ideas of the father also existed in his son. The good ones, like manners.

James threw his leg over the horse's shoulder, and slipped to the platform, the horse took a step or two nearer to Abby, and James gentled. "Come on, don't be a silly old beggar, Cass." The horse quietened, and Abby walked to its head and stroked its muzzle. This gave Abby an opportunity to appraise Mr. Comberford. She reckoned that he was about four inches taller then she with light brown hair cut short in a military style. He was slim and held himself easily. Whilst not handsome he had regular features which were enlivened by the grin which seemed to play around his mouth almost constantly.

Cass twitched her ears forward, and pushed gently against Abby, inviting further stroking. "Well you seem to have no trouble with horses, do you ride?" Abby didn't reply immediately, as Cass was thoroughly enjoying having her muzzle stroked, and her ears gently pulled.

"Sorry, no, I cannot say I ride, well sort of; I have ridden once or twice, but there's not much opportunity in London."

James nodded. "Well we will have to see about getting you up on a horse whilst you're here. You will see much more of the valley from horseback, than you will from that car of yours." She thought about that and what he said was true, but she wasn't sure that her riding skills were up to it.

"That's kind of you Mr. Comberford, but I shall only be here for another couple of days."

"Please call me James; I don't go much for that Mr. Comberford title." Abby smiled,

"And I'm Abby, pleased to meet you, James." She held out her hand, and he shook it.

"Abby presumably named after your grandmother, Abigail." She was taken aback that he should know this, when she had only in the last day or so learned her grandmother's name. Realisation came, she was the newcomer, and James was part of the valley.

"It's marvellous that everyone around here knows details about me and my family that I am only just putting together. What else do you know that I don't?"