Abby Ch. 16

Abby wondered if she had overstepped the bounds, until James suddenly began to speak. "In many ways I was only playing at being an Officer, I viewed it as part of my training really to become Landlord here. Oh it was fun and I enjoyed it, that is until the Falklands happened. You know it is rather exciting to enjoy that sort of life, believing that you will never have to put into practice the skills you are being taught. Many officers can go through their entire Army career and never hear a shot fired in anger. I thought that would be my situation. Seven years in the Army, and then back here." He shook his head "Unfortunately it didn't work out that way. I hadn't had the time to enjoy the Captains pips on my shoulder before I was off to the Falklands. It was cold, wet and thoroughly uncomfortable, and if that wasn't enough the Argies were firing at us!" He was quiet for a while, and then said softly. "I killed a man you know."

Abby not understanding just commented. "I would have thought that was part of war."

James shook his head. "It is unfortunately, but usually you are detached from the deed. You pull the trigger, there's a bang and the bullet goes on its way and that does the killing. No, I actually killed a man, only he wasn't a man, he was a boy, and I did it with my own hands. I stuck a bayonet in his stomach, and watched him die. I had his blood all over my hands. He was only young, couldn't have been more than eighteen! What in Hell was he doing there? He shouldn't have been there." James stopped suddenly, his face a picture of misery.

Abby leaned across and took his hand, suddenly understanding the misery and horror. James carried on as if he was speaking to himself. "It was when we moved in on Goose Green, we had to be as quiet as possible as we got into position; a shot would have told the garrison that we were there. My Company was creeping around an outcrop. It was all rock, scrub and bush, when suddenly he was there, I just reacted. Afterwards I wondered if he was trying to surrender. Sometimes when I look back, I am sure he was trying to surrender. Then at other times that he wasn't... I just don't know. My Company Sergeant had put his hand over the boy's mouth to stop him crying out, stomach wounds are very painful. I could see the agony on his face and tears running down from his eyes. He just looked up at me and you could see the question, 'why? Why me?' When the boy died my Sergeant just said to me 'you or him Boss', and carried on." James voice faded away and he just sat there, clinging to Abby's hand.

Abby heard herself say without thought. "Well I for one am glad it wasn't you."

If James had heard he didn't react, they both remained still, waiting for the misery to pass. Eventually James stirred his voice now a little less strained. "I talked a lot with Sam when I got back. He had served as a sniper during the Second World War; sometimes the Army does manage to get the right peg in the right hole. He helped a lot, but as he said he had never killed close up, all he ever saw was a uniform, no details of a face, so it was impersonal." He moved and lessened his grip on Abby's hand, but kept the contact. "Thanks for the comfort. I haven't gone through that for quite some time."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked about it."

James shook his head. "You are a friend, you should know." He paused, "Sam is the only one who knew about this, and now you. It's not something I would like to be common knowledge."

Abby understood what he was saying. "It stays with me, you know that. Why was Sam the right peg in the right hole?"

"Countryman. He had used a shotgun from an early age, knew how to move about the land without drawing attention to himself, and how to lay up in a thicket for hours if need be without moving. All essential to be a good sniper." Abby nodded, it was simple really, but not the sort of thing that most people would think about.

The Sun was now getting quite warm, and their position so comfortable that Abby lay back enjoying the peace and quiet. After a while she realised that it wasn't so quiet, used as she was to City life where noise is a constant background she expected the country to be quiet, now she knew that it wasn't. She could hear the crunch as Cassie and Jason cropped the grass, the faint buzz of insects flying around; the flutter of birds grown bold, anticipating that there could be crumbs for them, and faintly on the breeze the ripple of the river. She lay contentedly, only occasionally sitting up to sip at her wine which although now warm tasted delicious anyway. James had moved away a little and was methodically packing away the remains of the picnic.

She watched through half-closed eyes for a while and was prompted to comment. "You are very tidy you know, was that the Army training?" she remarked.

James looked up. "Yes and no. It's also the Country Code. All this paper and waxed cartons have no place in the country. Cows would eat it, because it smells good, but it wouldn't do them any good. Remember Sam's cow Jesse?" Abby nodded. "The most likely cause of her discomfort would have been something like this, left innocently by some visitor, but causing trouble all the same." He picked up the bottle of wine and held it up squinting through the glass.

"There's some wine left, shall we finish it?"

"Good idea." Abby said with a grin. She held out her glass. "You know it was interesting listening to you talking about your family history. I was fascinated by how they kept out of the limelight and prospered. But how do you know they kept a low profile?"

"It is as much a question of what isn't there, rather than what is there. The local histories of the time mention quite a few names, who aren't around now. But don't mention the Comberfords, who are. So I make the assumption that it was this keeping their light under a bushel attitude that ensured survival." Abby nodded.

"You still do that, don't you?"

He looked curiously at her. Abby went on to explain. "Well in all this time you have never mentioned any strong political adherences, nor any religious ones. Have you never been interested?"

"There is a very simple answer to that. No! No political views except that they are all a little dodgy. And as for religion. I was not brought up as anything, so I have no views on that score. Perhaps my family became non-religious as a way of surviving, go with the flow, say the words, but you don't have to mean them. That sort of thing. The West Country was once very Catholic, but that was at the time of the Tudors and Stuarts. For the last two hundred years or so it has been Wesleyan in the main. But if you talk to a few round here you will find that they tend to be Anglican mixed with Wesleyan, but not so much you would notice." The conversation faded away and Abby relaxed.

She may have dozed a while, for it seemed only a moment before she realised that James had packed everything away. Cassie and Jason were standing at the field gate following his movements as if they sensed that the journey was soon to begin once more. Abby didn't move, quite content with the warmth, and the rest she was enjoying until James asked. "Are you going to lie there all day?"

Abby stuck her tongue out at him. "You were the one who recommended that I should take things a little easier, so don't get stroppy if I follow your advice." Without looking she knew that smile was on his face.

"I see gone native have you?" Abby roused herself and stood up. Grasses had stuck to her back, and she vigorously brushed them off.

"Mary would be ecstatic if she saw these." She bantered. "She'll put two and two together and make at least six."

James restored to his normal humour grinned delightedly. "Yep, and the phone line to Mavis would be red hot."

Abby laughed. "Is the country always like this, I mean gossip?"

"Of course. Everyone is an object of interest, it's not malicious, but there has to be something more than crops and weather to talk about, so you coming here has been a welcome break from the normal gossip. You would be surprised at the fanciful stories circulating about you."

"Me!"

"Yes, you are new, and a bit of a mystery, so in consequence you will get talked about. As I said nothing malicious."

Abby thought that over. She found a certain humour in the situation. "How nice to be thought of as a mystery woman." Abby grinned. "And what are they saying about you and me?"

"Oh not much. Just that you had come down here to get away from an unhappy relationship, or that you are writing a novel, or that you are trying to buy the estate."

"Mary and Mavis don't subscribe to those ideas." Abby said dryly. James agreed with her.

"Ah well Mary and Mavis have their own gossip, which they do not share with anyone else." Whilst this banter was going on, James had released the horses from the field.

Jason immediately broke away and walked over to Abby, snuffling at her pockets. James called across. "He wants his treat, here!" He searched in the saddle bag and found an apple, with his pocket knife he sliced it in two, and gave both halves to Abby. Jason greedily nudged Abby's hand, and she fed him his treat. James had done the same for Cassie, so with both the horses happy, they mounted, and resumed the journey.

The way now entered the woodland, the track bed curving left and then right but always on a constant downgrade. With the trees in full leaf the area was gloomy, with only splashes of dappled sun creating islands of brilliance. Apart from bird calls and the rustle of the breeze in the foliage it was quiet. Even the river could not be heard.

"Are we still on your land?"

"Yes, for a while. We shall leave it in about a mile."

"About a mile?"

"Yes. The boundary isn't marked, but I shall know when we are on the Crown property." Abby was used to a system where everyone knew to the inch where their property began and ended.

"Why isn't the boundary marked?"

"Little point as this is not land that can be rented. Too wet for anything but woodland. We will fell trees from time to time, which gives the new growth room to grow, but apart from timber that is it."

"It's very gloomy here." Abby observed. James nodded.

"It is now. When the railway was running it was much more open. The engines would have worked hard coming up this bit, so sparks would often set little fires in the undergrowth. Too wet for them ever to become big blazes, but it did clear the ground either side of the track."

Another reminder for Abby of how it was when her grandfather was alive. Yet one more piece in the Jigsaw. She came back to the subject of boundaries.

"If you don't mark the boundary, and don't have fences, anyone can walk on to your property at any time, can't they?"

"Yes they can. There is nothing here for them to steal, and they can do little harm. Country dwellers have little objection to people wandering over their land, so long as they observe the Country code. Don't light fires, don't do damage, and take your rubbish home with you."

"That's a very generous attitude."

"I mentioned once that although legally this is my Land, I am really a Curator keeping it safe for everyone. It's lovely country here, it would be churlish to deny entry to anyone who wanted to enjoy this beauty." Abby looked across at James to see if he had that little grin on his face, and was surprised to see that he was being totally serious.

She lightened the mood. "So the wicked Squire does have a social conscience." She knew that James would be grinning now, and waited for the retort. It wasn't a long wait.

"Social conscience is merely a nice way of avoiding the truth that I cannot afford to fence the whole thing in." The laughter in James' voice told her that he was once again hiding his true values behind humour.

Abby had taken little note of their whereabouts for some time and was now surprised to see that the track bed was rising on an embankment. Upon closer examination she realised that the track was level and it was the land either side that was dropping away. The curve of the track straightened and in the distance she saw the brick parapet of what appeared to be another viaduct. She remarked on this to James who confirmed that they were to cross the river. "The river is now in quite a deep valley, and the track crosses here and then leaves the valley."

"The railway didn't follow the river all the way?"

"No" James went on to explain. "Do you remember when you first drove up the valley?"

"Yes."

"You may have noticed that the road followed a side valley, and then you crossed over and came down a steep hill into the Lyney valley proper."

"I certainly remember that hill. What was it? One in Four or something."

"Yes it is. That hill was always a problem, especially in winter. Well the railway and the road used the side valley, I assume it was because the Lyney valley from this point on was Crown Estate, they weren't allowed to build there, Also from the railway's point of view the gradients involved would be too steep."

"So this is where we leave your land?" She asked.

"Just a bit further on." Replied James, pointing towards the viaduct.

The track crossed the river by a single arch viaduct, but not so high as the viaduct they had seen on their previous ride. Shortly after that they entered a gloomy cutting, the steep rock sides towering over them, scattered with bush and small trees that had managed to gain a footing in the cracks and crevices. The track here was narrowed by the slippage from the sides, so Abby was forced to ride behind James. The cutting ran for some one hundred and fifty yards, and they emerged into relative daylight, Abby following James as he guided Cassie off the track and descended the embankment. Suddenly there in front of them was a lane, which Abby quickly recognised as the lane she had driven with caution that first day, the bridge abutments that had drawn her attention then standing to her right. She found it difficult to recall the excitement and doubts she had then, if she had realised that it was taking her to a new life would she have gone on, or turned and driven away? Whatever she felt then, now she walked Jason confidently across the lane, and following James, up the trail to regain the track bed. She belonged here now, no longer an outsider looking in.

The track was again wide enough for them to ride side by side, and she dug her heels into Jason's flank to urge him on. The horse needed little urging and they were again riding abreast. The land had become a little more open the tree line having receded to allow small fields with a few grazing cattle, the fields bounded by those familiar stone walls covered in Ivy and grasses. "So where did the estate end?" Abby enquired.

"Back there when we rode through the cutting."

"This isn't Crown Estate then?"

"No." James shook his head. "It belongs to Richard Welling, Sir Richard Welling. You will meet him at the Ball."

"He doesn't mind you riding on his land then?"

James turned to her, smiling. "No, he doesn't mind. This area is difficult for access bounded by the two rivers, the Lyney and the Bray, coupled with the limits on that bridge. It isn't really big enough to make a decent farm, but too big for a small-holder. The ground gets very wet in winter, so you have to take the livestock off. He has tried to sell it to me on one or two occasions, but I am not interested at the price he wants. Even then the same problems apply for anyone who would be interested in renting. I could make it more attractive if I cleared this track bed back to the viaduct, giving it better access, but then it would only be of interest to my existing tenants, and the closest is Abe Stone, and he, I think, is looking to have less land rather than more. You couldn't put dairy cattle on it either." Abby was confused by that statement.

"Why not?"

"Milking. Twice a day you have to milk them, and that means machine milking or you cannot sell the milk. The nearest parlour is five miles away, so your herd would be walking twenty miles a day, wouldn't do them any good, and would affect the yield badly as well." Abby was even more confused now.

"But there were some cattle back there."

"Bullocks." He was grinning widely. "Can't get milk from a bullock."

"It gets very complicated doesn't it?" Abby laughed with him.

"Yes it does. It would appear so simple, here's a field, good grazing, put cows on it, money for old rope. Then the problems come, and suddenly it's not so easy. Something those blokes in Westminster don't think about."

Abby was quiet for a while digesting the import of this. She like most people had thought that farmers led an easy life. It would appear that every day she was learning something new. Her opinions were changing dramatically.

"You said something about the bridge and the limits on it. What bridge would that be?"

"We'll see it in a minute." James told her "You will have driven over it when you came up the lane, we will take a break there, and I will explain." As if on cue, the gradient levelled and a final wide curve brought them to a long, low viaduct. Abby stared in confusion for a while until she suddenly realised that this was the bridge she had seen from the road on her first visit, and looking to her left she saw the embankment and road bridge. Intuitively she knew that this was the bridge that James a spoken of.

"That's the bridge you meant, isn't it?" James had stopped Cassie and was dismounting. He nodded.

"Yes." He tethered Cassie, and walked a few paces onto the railway bridge, looking carefully for signs of unsafe footing. Finding none he returned.

"Shall we have some coffee?" He enquired whilst holding Jason's rein so that Abby could dismount. He tethered Jason, and brought the flask and cups from the saddlebags.

"The viaduct seems safe enough for us, but I wouldn't like to let the horses on it. If we walk out you will be able to see better."

They sat on the flat top of the parapet with coffee. Abby looked down at the river, it hardly seemed the same river as that which flowed through the valley, the valley river was bright and urgent, it chuckled as it flowed. Here it was brown, slow and lethargic, meandering between banks of weed.

"So what is the problem with the bridge?" she asked.

"Did you notice when you drove over, the weight limit?" Abby mused for a moment and then it came to her.

"Yes, it said thirty hundredweight."

"Exactly! One and a half tons. Only the smallest of vans could go over that bridge. Any decent size lorry will be seven tons, and a bus will be three tons without passengers. So access to the valley can only be from Paverton."

"I thought the sign was just a remnant, they had forgotten to remove."

"No that is the weight limit, and has been for the last ninety years. " James went on. "When your granddad's railway was running it didn't matter, all goods and passengers went by rail. When they closed the railway it was on the understanding that the bridge would be upgraded to take heavier vehicles. That never happened. My father often tried to get the Council to fulfil their promise; he didn't get anywhere as the answer was that it would happen when they could allow for it in the budget. It would appear that many other projects had priority. The Bus Company said it would provide a service, but that had to come via Paverton. For anyone in the village wanting to get to South Molton, that would mean a round trip of some forty miles, to get to a place that was only seven miles from where they started. Understandably the locals went out and bought cars, the bus service ran empty for much of the time, so eventually the buses stopped. To be fair to the council, it wasn't just the bridge. That whole lane would have needed to be widened and re-graded. You know how steep those hills are. What I could never understand is why; when the railway was lifted; they never took over the track, and used that to build a new road."