Abby Ch. 13

Authors note: At the time of writing the government in the UK was Socialist.

Once back on the track, they retraced their steps of the morning, fording the river once more, and then followed the embankment over the river meadows, with the tall mound of Huish Coppice looming ever closer. The cutting between Huish and the village was in shadow at this time of day, the nettle growth much more dense. Abby was surprised when she spotted a tall post, a rusted iron ladder still connected at the top, standing at an angle by the side of the formation. Combe Lyney up distant. Suddenly the purpose of the day came back to her. She was back in her grandfather's territory. Within a few hundred yards the station came into view, they were out of the cutting now, riding along a small embankment, past the spot where she had crossed the line that first time going up to Huish Coppice, and then riding into the station itself.

James had not said too much during this short ride, now he rested his arms on the pommel and looked around. "I have seen this place hundreds of times and still for the life of me cannot understand why British Railways, or Rail Track, whatever they are called now, has not done something with this site. You would have thought they would have sold it to someone, or even offered it to my father."

A sudden memory came into Abby's mind, what was it that Mr. Brasher had said about the way the land was obtained? A Way leave, and if the land ceased to be used for the purpose of the railway, it would revert to the original owner. "I believe British Railways couldn't sell it, because they didn't own it." She offered.

"Pardon?"

"They didn't own it."

"Then who does own the land?"

"You do." There was a silence.

"I do?" James asked with surprise.

"Yes."

"How do you work that out?"

"Well it was something that Mr. Brasher said, about the land being made available to the railway in what is called a Way leave. In essence it is a leasing system that is self-renewing unless the railway ceases to use the land, in which case it reverts back to the original owner, and that happens to be you."

"How sure of this are you?"

"Well, Mr. Brasher seems to have done his research very thoroughly, and had looked up all the relevant Acts of Parliament, so I don't think he would be wrong on this. You will probably have to consult your solicitor to have the Land Register checked, but as no-one else has laid claim in the meantime, I can't see a problem with it."

James surveyed his restored land with a jaundiced eye. "Much as I am happy to have the situation resolved, if it is as you say; I can't say that it will mean that much to me. The tenants don't want it, except as a convenient track between fields, so it won't bring me any extra income. Then of course, the Revenue will view it as an asset, and will attempt to tax it as such."

It had been a day for Abby to speak without thinking, and she continued in that vein. "You could sell it to me. Well at least this little bit here about the Station." Her brain then caught up with her mouth. "No, you won't want to sell, will you, it's land, you will never sell the land."

James was grateful to Abby for seeing the difficulty, and letting him off the hook. "Why would you want this?"

Abby had spoken with a gut feeling, an emotional reaction, and she thought for a while before replying, clarifying her thoughts as she did. "I said that I might like to settle in Combe Lyney, and I have loved this place; felt an emotional attachment to it, ever since I first came here. It just seems right. This was where my grandfather lived, and died; it's where mum was brought up and I feel somehow that by coming home, granddad's spirit will find some peace, and be happy." She stopped; embarrassed by her words, fearful that James would mock. He didn't.

"That makes sense to me. The valley gives me that feeling, being here, and maintaining the system that my ancestors started. Yes I can understand why you would want to live here." He paused. "I'm glad you understand that I cannot sell the land; that is if it mine to sell. However, I would be prepared to lease it to you on a very long term, if that will make you happy. Having said that, I should warn you that the place is falling down, and will take a load of capital to set it right."

Abby nodded, now the business brain was working. "What sort of term would we be looking at, and what would the rent be?"

James gave a short dry laugh. "I don't think that sitting here on horseback is the right time or place to discuss such business. We should sit down somewhere quiet and talk about it over a drink. Shall we say tomorrow evening at the Combe Inn? Then we've both had a chance to think about it, and what conditions we are prepared to accept."

"And this is the man who said he hadn't inherited his father's acumen." Abby taunted him gently with his own words. "But will the Inn be quiet enough?"

"Oh yes, if we sit down in the Lounge with our heads close together, Mary would crucify anyone who dared to interrupt us. Mavis, of course, would prefer Hanging, Drawing and Quartering."

"So you have noticed that as well."

The grin returned to James' face. "Don't be upset, it's just that they believe it not right for anyone to be single, and happy."

They turned the horses, homewards, riding back down the formation until the Public Footpath that crossed the track for Huish Coppice. Here James turned them off the formation and they took to the fields, riding through a herd of cattle, some of which looked incuriously at them before moving slowly out of their way. James unlatched the gate of the field, and they moved through into a meadow, bright with rippling field grasses, adorned with shades of Purple, Yellow, Red and White. Many hued Butterflies fluttered busily over the kaleidoscope of colour.

"What kind of field is this?" Abby asked James.

"A meadow." He replied. "It hasn't been grazed this year but it has been dunged. Next year the cattle will love all this."

"What are all these flowers?"

"The purple is Knapweed, the red is Betony; I think the yellow is Hay-rattle, and all the white is Saxifrage, and actually they are weeds or Meadow grasses."

"What funny names, and you know them all, I'm impressed. I've never seen a meadow like this before."

James thought before answering Abby's observation. "Modern farming is all about artificial fertilisers, and pesticides. Spray the field with those, and within a year or two all of these meadow grasses will be gone."

"So why haven't you done that?"

"Economics. The market today is so competitive, and is only viable if you produce in bulk, to sell at the lowest unit price. The West Country farmer cannot create huge fields that are worked with the minimum labour. Here in this valley we have even less chance of creating viable units. So there is little point in adding to your costs, when the unit price the market is paying is often below your production cost anyway. We still use the old ways of fertilising."

"The old ways?"

"Yes, the old ways, Dung my dear, Dung. It's cheap and plentiful."

"If the market price is below your production costs, are you making losses?"

"No, most of the tenants break even, or make a small profit, but that is by only producing in quantities that they know can be sold locally. Economies of scale works both ways."

"That's not very business-like."

James made a face. "Do you really want to end a great day discussing profit and loss?"

Abby shook her head. "No, you're right; it's not the time to talk business, besides I am finished with all of that for the moment. What else can we talk about?"

"Well, I was going to ask you if you would like to come to the Hunt Ball later this year?"

Abby was dumbstruck. "The Hunt Ball, I didn't know you were a Huntsman."

James could detect a slight distaste in her voice. "I'm not. But I allow them to hunt on my land, so they send me an Invitation. The farmers support the Hunt though, and if you have any reservations about that, talk to Sam, or some of the other tenants, see what they have to say." James' tone was a little testy, as if here was a Townie adopting a high moral position about something of which she had little knowledge.

Abby heard the unspoken message, and backed off quickly. She remonstrated with herself for allowing her distaste of hunting to show. James hadn't said as much, but his tone of voice had hinted, that judging people before knowing all the facts was a recipe for ill will. She was discovering that life in the country was lived very differently to life in the cities, and that attitudes shaped by the paved streets, and high-rise buildings had to be adjusted accordingly. She changed tack quickly. "What sort of event is this? Is it very dressy?"

"You could say that." Replied James. "White Tie and Tails, Pink for the members of the Hunt, and every lady trying to outshine the rest." Abby was thinking. She would have to get a dress for the occasion, in her thoughts the word "dress" was written in capitals and illuminated. She would have to enlist Toni's help to find the right shop.

"Who will be there?"

"The Lord Lieutenant, some Right Honourables, and a Knight or two."

"Oh so this is Society."

"Definitely, well Society as it is down here. God knows why they ask me. So will you come?"

"James, I accept your invitation with pleasure."

They had arrived back at the Inn. James dismounted and held the horses while Abby slid down, something she did with a little groan.

James looked concerned. "A few aches?" He asked.

"None that a hot bath will not cure." She replied, "James it has been tremendous, I have thoroughly enjoyed the day, thank you."

"I have enjoyed it too, and don't forget we still have the rest of the track to cover." He had a mischievous grin on his face. "Perhaps when you are ready to get in the saddle again." He left the rest of the question in the air.

"I'll let you know, it won't be too long, rest assured of that." Abby smiled.

Mary came out of the Inn at her usual pace. "Hello you two, back earlier than I thought. Did you enjoy yourselves? Mavis called and told me you had dropped in for tea. Are you going to have a cup before you leave?" This directed exclusively at James, who was emptying the saddlebags of the lunch packs. Mary was watching hawk-eyed and seem satisfied that everything had been consumed.

"No. Thanks all the same, Mary, I shall take these two back to their stables. Liz will be up there by now, wanting to curry them and feed them. Perhaps I shall see you later?" He said to Abby.

"Yes possibly, but I shall be standing at the Bar tonight." They laughed together, as he remounted Cassie, and taking Jason's rein rode out of the yard.

Mary turned to Abby. "Will you want a cup of tea?" She asked.

"Yes please Mary, a good strong one, and then if I may, is there a bath I can use." There was a shower but no bath in Abby's room.

"Of course, you can use mine, and I'll get you some Radox salts as well. Sit down and I'll get you the tea. May as well have it out here, the weather has been so good today."

Abby composed herself for the inevitable barrage of questions. She was resigned to the fact that Mavis and Mary were intent on pushing James and her together, and found amusement in the situation. Not that Abby was averse to James' company, it was very pleasant; but Abby had suspicions that James, like her, would act contrary if too much pressure was brought to bear. Perhaps a word with Sam would help, before the interference created an atmosphere.

Mary returned with a tray of tea, typically she had added some scones, Jam and cream.

Abby went on the attack. "Mary, after all the food you gave us in the packed Lunch, how could you possibly expect me to eat anything else."

Mary just smiled. "Well you may have felt like something, so I brought it just in case."

The tea was poured and Mary sat expectantly, waiting for Abby to begin. Abby kept Mary waiting. Taking time to sip her tea, and savour the sensation of sitting still for a while. She could see the frustration on Mary's face, so she eventually began to talk about the day, describing everything that she had seen, everything that they had done, in minute detail. This was not what Mary wanted to hear, and had to be satisfied when Abby told her about walking in the quarry, and James taking her hand. That it was to help Abby over a rough part, would not count later in Mary's recollection.

The longer she sat, the more her aching thighs demanded attention. She reminded Mary of the offer of a hot bath, and soon she was relaxing in the warm scented waters. With time to indulge, she took her mind back over the day. It seemed that with everything she learned, the more questions there were to be answered. One question had been answered, that of where she should live, and that answer had come without thought or discussion. The idea of re-opening the station house as a home; had come on the spur of the moment, yet the prospect filled her with pleasurable anticipation. It was no silly flight of fancy to believe that there was a strong emotional bond directing her plans; she didn't need to ask if her mother or grandfather would approve, if there were an afterlife, she was sure that they were watching and urging this course of action.

Her mind turned, as mind's do with no logical link, to the information that life in the valley may seem idyllic, but not profitable. She was well aware that farming in the U.K. was problematical, but this had always been a detached fact, viewed from a distance in the metropolitan manner. Now it was in her face. These people had welcomed her, and made her a friend. Their hurt was becoming her hurt; although she did not for a moment believe that there was anything she could do, except perhaps understand. She would ask Sam smiling at the thought. It was fate that always had her turn to Sam for knowledge, the man who had known her grandfather, who was becoming a surrogate for the man she had never known. It was interesting that it was to Sam that James had turned, when he needed a voice of comfort.

Then there was James, oh dear, she was starting to look forward to seeing him, enjoying his company; never feeling uncomfortable, even in those periods of silence, that would always occur when two people spent some time together. She didn't have the need to fill the void with inconsequential chatter, and neither did James. That was something she liked about him. His flippant and self-deprecating manner didn't annoy her, and she was quite prepared to banter in the same way; but because he never took it to excess, the human, caring side of him was revealed, never far from the surface. None of her few friendships had inspired any feeling of happiness in anticipation of meeting again. Was this the beginning of something more? The cooling water brought her mind's monologue to an end. She returned to her room to find that Mary had anticipated her sudden wish with another pot of tea, freshly brewed on the side table, steam rising gently from the spout. She drank a cup, standing at the window, before letting the fatigue of the day lead her to the bed.

Abby did indeed spend most of that evening in the bar, standing, and enduring with good humour the gentle comments regarding her presumed saddle soreness. In an easy way she was discovering, without realising it, the social skills she lacked. If she had examined the question logically, she would have realised that, these people who would be described as simple by urbanites, had much to teach in this area. They didn't form cliques that excluded others, but moved easily from one to another, joining in topics of conversation, and adding humour or pertinent comment effortlessly. She noted James' arrival, and how he would stop and exchange greetings and some comment with almost everyone in the bar, as he made his way towards her, the journey taking some ten minutes or so, to cover just ten yards. Abby had asked Jack to set up a drink for James, so it appeared on the counter as if by magic. He picked up the glass and took a large sip. "That's good! Good evening Abby, I won't enquire after your disposition, I gather that plenty of comments have been made already."

"You could say that, but I had a long soak in a hot bath, and that seems to have worked wonders."

He grinned. "Well let me know when you want to finish the exploration."

"Give me a couple of days, and I'll be raring to go."

James moved his head closer to Abby. "Look," he said quietly, "about the Hunt Ball, I may have bounced that upon you, and you may want to re-consider. If you do, I can understand, you may not be comfortable with a load of people with whose leisure pursuits you do not agree." Abby shook her head.

"I do want to go, that is if you still want to take me."

"Of course I do."

"Then I will be delighted to go. But can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you hunt?"

"It just doesn't appeal to me."

"Is that all?" Abby was getting to know James, and realised that his answer was a palliative, designed to prevent controversy.

He looked a little uncomfortable. "I can agree with the necessity of the hunt, I just don't want to join in. I've seen enough blood to satisfy me."

You're talking about the Falklands."

"Oh you know about that, I suppose I can thank Mavis for that. Yes, that has a lot to do with it."

Abby nodded. "I cannot understand what it was like, but I can appreciate the sentiment; and I'll reserve judgement on Hunting until I spoken with Sam."

She was pleased that he felt he could trust her sufficiently to be honest about his feelings. "Now about the station, what sort of a deal are you going to offer?"

James looked aghast. "Abby, Abby, slow down. This is the country; everything takes time here. We don't go rushing into things. Besides I haven't even thought about it." The truth was that he had, and was very keen to have Abby here in the valley. His first thought to offer the property at a rent she could not refuse, he had rejected; knowing that her business background would not allow her to agree the first offer, and in addition he didn't want her to see how keen he was that she should stay. Abby was disappointed but concealed her chagrin behind a smile.

"O.K. we'll talk about that later." Mary who had been eavesdropping whenever her duties behind the bar would allow, had only caught snippets of the chat, but had heard enough to put two and two together and make five. She was elated, as she was certain that James had invited Abby to the Hunt Ball, but she didn't understand the reference to the station. Not that it mattered; this was something she would have to share with Mavis immediately.

Choosing a quiet moment, she left Jack to cope and hurried upstairs to their private quarters. It seemed an age before Mavis answered the phone, and when she did Mary blurted out her news without the normal preamble that they would have shared. Mavis, like Mary was thrilled by the news of the Hunt Ball, and again like Mary could not decipher the reference to the station. "Perhaps James is trying to buy it back from whoever owns it now." Mary ventured. Mavis thought about this.

"That could be a possibility, but for what reason? The land has been unused since they closed the railway, and it's not as if James can rent it to anyone. Why should he spend money on buying it if he has no purpose for it?"

"Well perhaps he has heard something that we don't know about. I mean could the council be planning to build a new road?"

"I shouldn't think so. After all there's little enough traffic on the road through the village anyway, so why build a new one?" The discussion went on for some time but no conclusion was reached. Mary came down to the Bar to find that Abby had gone to her room, and that James was now making his way out, stopping to talk with various groups, in the same way that he had made his entrance. The mystery would remain unsolved for the moment.