The Long Gallery, Chapters Six and Seven (standard:drama, 2084 words) [4/6] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Dec 07 2014	Views/Reads: 2133/1659	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Daisy Truman inherits a large country estate. But why has she been given precedence, and what are the secrets lurking inside Harvest Hall?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

but I heard say they would scale the fence on its boundaries ...' 

‘And you say you weren't that close?' Jane narrowed her eyes. ‘You sound
almost fond of her.' 

William tightened his lips thus avoiding a smile. ‘A certain grudging
admiration I suppose. No, don't get me wrong ...' he reached out and 
took Jane's hand, ‘we didn't get on – fact – and nothing's changed 
there. Far too bossy for me, most of the time – I don't think she was 
grandfather's flavour of the month, either.' 

‘Which makes it all the more strange that she should inherit the
property in preference to you.' Jane watched William's face cloud and 
asked, ‘What happened to Daisy's father?' 

William hung his head, staring directly into his cup. 

‘Ah.' Jane bit her lip. ‘One question too many.' 

‘No – there was an accident,' William paused, stirring his tea absently
before he met Jane's eyes. ‘Apparently, he swerved to avoid a vehicle 
speeding on the wrong side of the road. The car went into a ditch. He 
survived for two weeks before he died of complications. It was late and 
dark, or so it seems. Daisy's father was convinced grandfather had been 
driving the other car. But of course, it was nonsense.' 

Jane took a sip of her tea, her eyes regarding him over the rim, ‘It was
proved to be nonsense, naturally.' 

William gave a shake of the head, ‘No, nothing was ever proved.' He
looked past Jane, through the window to the well-tended garden beyond. 
‘But Grandpa would never have committed such a thing – and he certainly 
wouldn't have kept quiet about it, he would have been too overcome with 
remorse.' 

‘No, I'm sure he wouldn't have.' Jane quickly tapped William's hand. ‘I
can see it grieves you to talk about it. I'm sorry I asked.' William 
took her hand in his, ‘No, please don't be. You weren't to know.' 

He managed a smile from a corner of his mouth. ‘Perhaps I should have
told you about it. Anyhow – that's all in the past. Let's talk about 
our future.'   

Chapter Seven 

‘Gosh, it's dark in here – and the dust – it's like a veil of mist. I
never thought these places could be so gloomy – and the musty smell – 
and ...' 

‘Welcome to Country House life, what did you expect?' Daisy interrupted
Alison's torrent of complaint and then turned to the window, watching 
beams of September sunlight reveal particles of floating dust. ‘Never 
mind, it's nothing a spot of cleaning won't solve.' 

Alison shoved her hands on hips. ‘What? The size of this place we need
more than spring cleaning. We could clean right through 'til next 
spring and not keep it under control. Plus we've jobs of our own. 
Surely we can hire a cleaner?' 

Daisy raked a hand through her thick, fair hair. ‘Well, Uncle provided
funds for maintenance – |I guess that covers cleaning ... what the ...' 
A brisk clip of footsteps in the hall stopped her in her tracks. 

‘Dear lady – that's where I come in.' 

Daisy swung round, her blue eyes flashing annoyance at the tall,
beige-suited newcomer. ‘Don't dear lady me, who the hell are you? I 
hate to appear rude, but there are a door and a bell on this house ...' 


‘Yes I do apologise, please excuse my intrusion, but both gates and door
were wide open. I did announce my presence by sounding the bell, but it 
appears not to be working. You are Miss Daisy Truman, I presume? It 
appears I've entered at an appropriate moment.' 

Daisy took a step towards the man, her lithe body arced forward. ‘I
asked who the hell you were.' 

The uninvited guest coughed, placing a balled hand to his mouth. ‘I do
beg your pardon, Frobisher-French, madam. Richard Frobisher-French. 
Allow me to explain myself. I am managing director of Anchor Estate 
Management. I take it you received our letter?' 

‘Oh that.' Daisy drew in a breath, let it out slowly. ‘Well, as you can
see I've hardly moved in. I fail to see what's appropriate about it – 
now if you wouldn't mind butting out again ...' 

Undaunted, the tall man took a couple of paces forward. ‘Forgive me for
contradicting madam, but this appears to be exactly the right time. You 
see, we provide a highly efficient service from the outset, attending 
to both internal and external maintenance of your property. Moreover, 
we can provide at no additional expense to your good self, as an 
introductory offer, an estate-warming party with which we include the 
services of a butler and meet all expenses incurred therein during the 
function.' 

‘Is that a fact?' Daisy appraised the distinguished-looking man who'd
simply strode into her property as if he might have been the owner and 
not she – but then they had left the hall invitingly open to all and 
sundry, and he had told them he'd sounded the bell, which was a point – 
the electricity not due to be reconnected until the following morning. 
She twisted her lips and donned her thinking cap, then turned away and 
gazed out the window. She and Alison had taken time out to assess the 
Hall and grounds prior to moving in, three days hence. Some 
consideration would need to be given to employing a cleaner and 
groundsman at least. In point of fact, she ought to have acted sooner. 
But handing a contract to an unknown agency was another matter. 

‘I'm not sure, Mr Frobisher French, that I want a company or
organisation administering my affairs. I have been of the inclination 
to employ my own staff,' she said swinging round to face him. 

‘Well, dear lady, if you feel you have sufficient experience and
expertise to undertake such recruitment, then so be it. May I?' French 
took a few paces to the right, placing the briefcase he carried onto a 
library desk and pulling out a brochure. ‘I'll leave this with you if I 
may – for you to peruse at your leisure. Should you consider you might 
benefit from our services please do not hesitate to call.' Retrieving 
his case, French bowed to the girls. ‘Please accept my apologies for 
the intrusion – good day to you ladies.' 

‘Frobisher bloody French; smarmy bastard!' Daisy marched through the
hall and slammed the main door shut. ‘If he'd have called me “dear 
lady” once more I swear I'd have slapped him one ...' she yelled at 
Alison on her return. 

‘Providing you could have reached his face, of course,' the plump girl
said, straight-faced, then stepped back as her friend made to wind up a 
punch. ‘Seriously, I thought he was quite a charmer. Shouldn't you at 
least have thought about it, here and now?' Alison traced a finger 
through the covering of dust that lay like a grey shawl on the 
mantelpiece above the Adam fireplace. ‘I mean, what an opportune moment 
for the guy to walk in. I mean, here we are with mountains of cleaning 
we know we won't be able to handle – and what about the introductory 
offer – free party and all ...' 

‘Stop right there!' Daisy raised a hand as though regulating traffic.
Forget about the free party – that was precisely my point – that's what 
he did, just walk right in, I mean. This company seems too pushy by 
half. First I get the letter, and then he strolls in the moment we walk 
through the door. How does that happen, eh? I've heard of precision 
timing but ... huh! Daisy ran her eyes over the glossy brochure French 
had left on the desk. ‘Anyhow, he's left us a pamphlet. It doesn't do 
to rush things. As a matter of fact, I meant what I said, I'd rather 
employ my own people.' 

Alison smacked her hands, ridding them of the dust. ‘So who do you know
...' 

‘Nobody – as you are well aware. But we should be thinking about keeping
control of our own affairs,' Daisy said, flicking absently through the 
brochure's half-dozen pages. 

‘Huh!' Alison raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Fine in theory, but in
practice we wouldn't have a clue who we were hiring. Better to let the 
professionals take over from the start. I reckon it was fate that the 
guy walked in here. If I were you, I'd get started on that brochure 
right now.' 

‘Later.' Daisy flopped it on the desk and took a deep breath; she felt
the myriad of dust particles invade her lungs; sharp, piercing. She was 
loathed to admit it, but Alison had a point. However, she wasn't 
capitulating to her demands. She was jumping to nobody's tune. The 
brochure was waiting until she was ready to read it.   


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