I Remember You (5 page)

The Feathers had been in Langford for four hundred years. In its day, it had been one of the great coaching inns, the resting place for the beau monde on their way down towards the great estates of the South-West. Charles I had hidden in a cellar there for a couple of weeks, and Beau Brummell had stayed the night before visiting the Roman Villa and signed the visitors’ book. ‘
Passing comfortable
,’ he had written. ‘
A charming little town, Langford. I pay you my compliments. Brummell
.’ Langford, which had always thought of itself as a deeply correct place, and regarded with suspicion the new claims of towns like Bath (vulgar nouveau Regency), Stratford-upon-Avon (American tourists everywhere) and Rye (smugglers’ money!) had col lectively swooned at this, back in the day. In fact, nearly two hundred years later, it still continued to swoon; the visitors’ book was in the great hallway that led through to the dining room; in a glass case, open at the page on which Mr Brummell had flirted with the town. The Feathers was, geographically and symbolically, at Langford’s very heart for this reason.

The dining room had huge wooden settles, carving it up into different sections, so that coachman and nobleman could eat in the same room, but not be troubled by the other. A
huge, leaded oriel window, giving out onto the high street, let in the light, and at the back there was another window, with a perfect view of the countryside as the town sloped down the hill, stopping before the valley, with the Vale of Langford opening up before them.

Tess, coming into the dining room on that March evening, armed only with a copy of
Persepolis
, which she was re-reading, and the paper, was struck once again with the sensation that hit her: the clear, seductive light, the musty, clean smell, the quiet reassuring sounds of a working pub on a slow Wednesday spring night. The bar, a long L-shaped affair, was low and welcoming. Tess pulled up a stool, waiting for Mick to appear, her eyes scanning the blackboard for the day’s specials: she was suddenly very hungry.

And then, from the corner of the bar behind her, someone spoke.

‘Scuse me,’ said a husky, female voice. ‘Can I take this stool?’

Wheeling round, Tess looked up suspiciously to find a girl about her own age looking at her. Of course. It was That Girl. That Girl, as she had wittily christened her in her own mind, was staying at the Feathers, and was the sort of person, based solely on outward appearances, that Tess had always secretly yearned to be. Sophisticated, mysterious, effortlessly glamorous; Tess had seen a Mulberry handbag swinging from her arm as they’d passed in the street a couple of days ago. Tess had been pinning up her advert, wrestling with a rusty pin and a hard wooden board; That Girl had sashayed past, smiling pleasantly at her. That Girl’s long, glossy hair was—well, toffee-coloured, that was the only word for it. Her clothes just sort of hung off her, like they were meant to. She definitely wasn’t a local, That Girl.

‘Er,’ said Tess, pushing the stool next to her away from her, swiftly, feeling like a spotty teenage boy. ‘Here, of course…Yes.’

That Girl pushed her hair away from her eyes, behind her shoulders. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m Francesca.’ She smiled, briefly, and held out her hand. ‘I saw you yesterday, didn’t I? Are you staying here as well?’

‘Um, no,’ said Tess, sitting upright. She wasn’t dwarfishly short, but she was self-conscious about her height, and girls like Francesca made her feel peasant-like, a pear-shaped lard-arse. She smiled and tried to flick her hair out behind her back too, but her thick dark locks were too short and unwieldy. They swung back in her face like bouncing wire wool, so instead Tess shook her head, nonchalantly, trying to pass this off as a normal cool hair-move, and said, ‘I live here, actually. Just moved back from London.’ She felt this was necessary, she didn’t know why. ‘How about you? Are you on holiday?’

Francesca stroked a corner of the small blackboard with her long creamy fingers; the chalk smeared into swirls. ‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘I’m just staying here for a while. I’m from London too.’ She looked down, and was silent.

‘Oh,’ said Tess, not sure what to say next. ‘Well.’ She cast a glance around the almost empty pub. ‘It’s a great town, anyway.’

‘Yes,’ said Francesca, more eagerly. ‘I love it here. Everyone seems really nice. So you—you’re from here, then?’

‘Sort of,’ Tess told her. ‘I grew up here. But I’ve been in London for the last ten years. I’ve just moved back to Langford. I got a new job.’

The words on her lips still sounded so strange, foreign. She would have to get used to them. She didn’t know what else to add to this but her companion said,

‘Wow. So you’ve been back a few weeks, right?’ Tess nodded. ‘That must be great.’ Tess nodded again, slowly. Francesca pushed the blackboard away, and cupped her chin in her hands. ‘But it must be weird too, I bet. Coming back here—are you on your own?’

She said it in a friendly tone, in the spirit of polite enquiry; at least, Tess chose to take it that way.

‘I’m not on my own—I mean, er, I
am
on my own, yep,’ Tess said nonchalantly. She pushed the ball of her palm firmly over her forehead. ‘I had a bit of a crap time, last few months.’ She hesistated, debating as to how much detail was necessary. ‘And I was unemployed, too. So—I saw this job advertised and I applied and I got it—that’s how I decided to move back. Plus, you know, it was time to leave London,’ she said, getting into her stride. ‘I wanted to live in a proper community again. Escape from the town, shop in local shops, walk everywhere…just be with people who I—you know.’

Francesca was nodding politely. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s so cool of you. Let’s hope they don’t build that out-of-town shopping centre, then!’

‘Oh. Well, exactly,’ said Tess. ‘I know. So—why are you here?’ she blurted, curiously.

‘Oh, I’m just meeting someone for a drink,’ Francesca said. ‘Just someone I met.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry, you didn’t mean that, did you.’

Tess smiled. ‘I don’t want to be nosy.’

‘God, no,’ said Francesca. ‘The weird thing is, it’s the same reasons as you.’ She gave a little smile. ‘I’m here to escape from London too. Except I was never here in my life before, and I have no idea
why
I’m here.’ Her eyes met Tess’s; Tess saw something in them, something vulnerable, and she suddenly liked her, this stranger. ‘I’m a lawyer. Well, I trained as a lawyer, but most recently I’m a banker.’ She made a slicing motion across her throat. ‘An unemployed banker. Doesn’t get much more tragic than that.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I was heading for a burnout anyway,’ said Francesca. ‘Seriously, if I hadn’t been given the heave-ho I’d have done something stupid. It’s the best thing to happen to me in years. That’s the weird bit.’

‘Why? What happened?’ Tess said.

‘Can’t remember, really,’ Francesca said frankly. ‘Last few months are a bit of a blur. I was working twenty-hour days. For about two months. Then I went to a wedding, someone at work, and after a drink apparently told one of the partners to fuck themselves. Then I tried to kiss another one. Then…well, the first round of redundancies was before Christmas, and I knew I’d be the first to go, so they didn’t have to pay me a bonus.’ She said it as though reciting a lesson. ‘I got a few months’ redundancy pay. My flatmate’s just moved in with his girlfriend, so I rented out my flat and…I’m here.’

Tess could only gape as the barman appeared. ‘Hi, Mick!’ said Francesca. ‘Get me a gin and tonic, would you?’ She waggled a finger at Tess and looked at her watch. ‘My drink date isn’t here yet. What do you want?’ She stopped. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t even know your name.’

‘It’s Tess,’ Tess said, and they shook hands again, smiling at the formality of it.

‘God,’ came a voice from the door behind them. ‘Francesca, can you ever—Oh. Tess?’ The deep voice stopped. ‘Is that you?’

Tess whirled round. ‘Adam? I thought you were—’

There, striding towards them, was her oldest friend, a look of bemusement across his face. His thick light brown hair was standing up in tufts, as it did when he was in a hurry, or confused, and his eyes were questioning. He smiled as he reached them, and she nodded, behind Francesca, smiling back at him. Of course…of course.

‘This is a nice surprise!’ he said, squeezing her arm, just a little too hard.

‘Yes, isn’t it,’ she answered, taking his hand in hers and scratching his palm with her middle fingernail. He jumped in surprise.

‘I thought I—’

‘You said you were busy tonight,’ Tess said, unnecessarily loudly. ‘How lovely to see you. I just came in to check up with Mick about my ad.’

‘Ah, of course,’ said Adam. ‘Well, lovely to see you, Tess.’ Francesca was looking at them, confusion spreading over her lovely face. ‘Yes, I am busy tonight, as you can see.’

‘Yes,’ said Tess, trying to think of some appropriate comeback, but she had missed her chance for Adam leaned forward, towards That Girl again.

‘I really am sorry for being late,’ he said, smiling at her. Francesca looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, hair falling in her face, her composure momentarily disturbed.

‘Oh, that’s fine,’ she said, shyly.

‘I had to lock up at the museum, and then I found a little chick barely alive in the lane…’

‘Country Boy,’ said Francesca. She turned to Tess. ‘I called him Country Boy the first day I was here. He’s so funny.’ Her eyes met his again.

‘I’m not,’ said Adam. He was smiling at her. ‘I’m a sophisticated international man of mystery, that’s me. Call me Adam Bond instead.’ Francesca gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘So you’ve met my oldest friend, then?’

‘Wow, really?’ said Francesca, turning to Tess with pleasure in her eyes. ‘Isn’t that weird!’

‘Hilariously weird,’ said Tess, ignoring Adam’s glares. ‘We grew up together. In fact—’

‘Let’s get a drink,’ Adam said hurriedly.

‘I’ve got one, but—great idea,’ Francesca said, turning to the bar. ‘Tess, what did you say you wanted?’

Tess felt as welcome as a red sock in a white wash, nor did she wish to stay and watch Adam perform his moves on yet another unsuspecting victim—although in this case she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be called upon to pretend to be Adam’s girlfriend, as with Liz from the deli.

She said, warily, ‘Oh, I really can’t—’

‘Yes,’ Adam said, too quickly. ‘It’s really sad, but unfortunately Tess can’t stay.’

Tess looked at him, and she thought of walking back down the lane to the cottage again, opening the door, seeing Jane Austen’s somewhat disapproving face on the wall. ‘Oh, go on then,’ she told Francesca. ‘Just one, then. I’ll have a gin and tonic too, that’d be lovely. Thanks.’

‘Brilliant!’ Francesca said happily, moving off towards the centre of the bar.

Tess narrowed her eyes and glowered at Adam. She said, under her breath, ‘I can’t believe you! I don’t
want
to be in this situation, you know!’

‘OK, OK. Don’t kill me.’ Adam put his arm around her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just—this one’s a tricky one.’

‘I’m not staying for supper. Just one drink,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘I promise. I didn’t know—is it a date?’

‘Not sure,’ Adam said. He touched her lightly on the shoulder. ‘Wouldn’t mind your advice, later. I’m looking for a sign either way before I make a move.’

Francesca came back with the drinks. ‘I’ve just asked Mick if we can change the dinner reservation to three, Tess—why don’t you have some food with us? We’re eating. Go on, it’ll be fun!’

Tess looked from Adam to Francesca.

‘I think that’s a sign,’ she said.

‘What’s a sign?’ said Francesca. She handed her her drink.

‘Nothing,’ said Tess.

‘Go on!’ Francesca said, nudging Adam.

‘Yes, Tess,’ Adam said woodenly. ‘Go on. Please do join us.’

‘Oh, all right then,’ said Tess. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. ‘Since you insist.’

Tess had been looking for some confirmation, a sign that, a month down the line, she had made the right decision moving back to Langford. She was due a good time, and that night was it. There was nothing her still-raw single state hated more than feeling like a gooseberry, but as they sat down she promised herself she’d leave early, citing preparation for the new job, leaving Adam to make his move. As darkness slid over the old building, and the lights behind the bar glowed at their backs, the welcome fire leaping in the grate, they sat down at a table and intently studied the menu.

‘Mm,’ said Adam, after that awkward pause that always joins the group of diners with menus who aren’t quite sure what to say to each other. ‘Looks great. I love the food here. It’s the best.’

‘Yep,’ said Tess. She glanced down.

‘You hungry?’ Adam asked Francesca.

‘Not sure,’ she replied, seriously. She looked at the menu again, a curtain of hair falling about her shoulders. ‘Deep fried local brie with cranberry sauce? Or chicken liver pwith onion marmalade? What is this?’ she said, laughing. ‘Caf?Rouge circa 1997?’

Adam looked astonished, and Tess stifled a laugh, not
wanting to agree with her, but at the same time she felt a stab of loyalty. Almost as if, by dissing the Feathers, Francesca was dissing Langford, Adam and thus Tess’s decision to live here. She caught this train of thought and shook her head. ‘You can have a special,’ she said, pointing to the board where ‘
Chicken Pie
’ and ‘
Lasagne
’ were starkly scrawled. Francesca looked at them, sadly, as if she’d expected more. Adam gazed expectantly at her. He seemed worried she might be about to drop dead of starvation.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘We can—’

‘No, no,’ said Francesca, hurriedly. ‘It’s fine! So.’ She put down her menu and smacked the table. ‘You two have known each other for—what? How long?’

‘Thirty years,’ Tess said at the same time as Adam said, ‘No idea,’ and they broke off, laughing.

‘And you grew up here?’ Francesca said. ‘That’s so cool. I bet it must have been a lovely place to grow up.’

‘It was,’ said Tess. ‘Just—it’s a lovely town. Small, friendly. Very…’ she trailed off. ‘We could pretty much do what we wanted, couldn’t we?’

‘Were you near each other?’

‘Opposite houses,’ Adam said, rolling his eyes. ‘Tess and Steph used to throw mud at me over their garden fence. Lovely children. My mum…’ He paused. ‘Mum was always having to tell them to stop bullying me.’

‘What a load of rubbish,’ Tess said, feigning indignation to cover the pause that always happened whenever anyone mentioned Philippa.

‘Do they still live there?’ Francesca said.

Tess opened her mouth, but Adam said quickly, ‘No. Mine—don’t really know who my dad is, he was Irish and my mum met him at college in Dublin. My mum’s dead. And hers,’ he jerked a thumb in Tess’s direction, ‘moved to the seaside.’

Francesca laughed, awkwardly, at the contrast, and looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

‘S’fine,’ Adam said quickly. ‘I was being—yeah.’ He smiled at her. ‘Anyway,’ he said, turning to look at Tess. ‘Langford is a beautiful town. Bit quiet sometimes, but I like it that way.’

There was a silence. All three looked down at their menus again until Adam broke the slight tension, gently touching Francesca’s hand.

‘How about you, then?’ he said.

‘Well, I’ve come here for peace and quiet, so that suits me fine,’ said Francesca. ‘Just some time somewhere new, some fresh air, chilling out, getting some perspective, walking, reading, you know.’ She spoke slowly, and gazed into the fire.

‘Sounds like a great idea,’ said Tessa, sympathetically, whilst thinking at the same time,
Chilling out and getting some perspective? Who are you, Deepak Chopra?
‘Just a week or so, then?’ she asked, smartly. ‘How long will you be here?’

‘Bit more than that.’ Francesca dropped her mellifluous voice. ‘I need to not be me for a while.’

‘I know,’ Adam was murmuring, staring into her eyes. ‘But you’re here now, and you couldn’t have come to a better place.’

Tess wished she
wasn’t
here, in the gooseberry costume she’d been afraid of donning. She cleared her throat, and said nothing, and as the silence between her two companions grew more intense, and they held each other’s gaze, Tess wanted to hold up a banner:

Just as she was wondering if staying for dinner was a massive mistake, Mick appeared with a notepad, humming to himself, one bandy leg tapping out a rhythm on the floor.

‘Ready?’ he said, eyes flicking from Francesca to Adam.

‘Oh, hello, Tess! Didn’t see you there. Any reply from that advert yet?’

‘None yet,’ Tess told him. ‘Thanks, though.’

‘When’s the new job start then? You looking forward to it?’

‘Week after next, Mick,’ she said.

Mick whistled through his teeth. ‘Is that right?’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘Well. You done all right for yourself, haven’t you? Langford College, eh.’

Francesca looked impressed. ‘What, the residential place? Is that Langford as in Langford, here? I hadn’t realized.’ Tess nodded, ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach.

‘That’s the one,’ Mick said. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Good to see you, Tess. Look at you and Adam here, your little husband, eh?’ He grinned in delight. ‘That’s what she used to call him,’ he told Francesca.

Adam rubbed his head with his fingers. ‘Oh, God,’ he said, in mortification.

‘These two,’ said Mick, jabbing his pencil in the air with delight. ‘When they was little, well—you couldn’t see the daylight between them! Like a little pair of Siamese twins. Her so dark, him so blond, riding their bikes down that lane there.’ Mick’s rich, slow voice was like the scene-setting narration at the beginning of a nature film. ‘It were ever so sweet. We all thought so.’

‘Mick,’ Adam said firmly, coming up for air. ‘Leave it.’ He smiled shamefacedly across at Tess and she shook her head, smiling back at him in embarrassment.

‘Aah,’ Francesca said, and patted them both on the back. ‘That
is
so sweet. Now, Mick,’ she said, getting down to business. ‘This roast with all the trimmings, what is it?’

‘Chicken, did it myself this afternoon,’ said Mick.

‘Great,’ said Francesca. ‘I’ll have just the chicken, and a green salad—
no
iceberg please—and some of that potato salad you made for lunch if you can lay your hands on any? And I want a glass of the Chablis—shall we just get a bottle?’
Adam and Tess nodded mutely at her. ‘That’s that, then!’ she said happily, as Mick scribbled away and then turned to Tess.

‘Er…’ Tess said, at a loss. ‘Er…Same for me?’

‘No problemo,’ Mick said, scribbling it down with a flourish.

‘I’ll have the fish and chips, please, Mick,’ said Adam. ‘And a pint of Butcombe when you’ve got a minute, but I’ll have a glass for the wine just in case. Need a hand?’

‘No, you’re all right,’ said Mick, and he walked off. Francesca turned back to them.

‘That’s adorable. So you were boyfriend and girlfriend?’

‘No,’ said Tess, a little bit too quickly. Adam glanced at her.

‘No,’ he echoed. ‘Just—when we were little, five or six. That’s what
some
of us—’ he glared at Tess, before grinning at her—‘used to go around saying.’

‘So the two of you never…’ Francesca made a strange flapping gesture with her hands. Tess and Adam both stared at her, then at each other, in bewilderment.

‘Joined a hand puppet society?’ Adam said. ‘No. We never joined a hand puppet society together.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Francesca said.

‘No, I don’t,’ Adam said, shaking his head at her wickedly. ‘What?’

‘I don’t know…’ Francesca had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Had a little teenage romance when you were younger. I don’t know,’ she repeated. She looked at Tess. ‘Come on, you must have thought about it, at one stage or another.’

‘Not really,’ said Tess.

‘Er—no,’ said Adam. He shook his head.

‘So you never had a moment? You’ve just always been friends?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s weird.’

They were both silent.

‘It may be, but it is true,’ said Tess eventually, aware she sounded very prim.

‘Yeah, nosy girl,’ Adam told Francesca, and she nodded.

‘I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’ Tess took a sip of her
drink, and Adam did the same. As if realizing the conversation needed changing, Francesca said, ‘So. It’s always quiet around here, you say? No crazy rock festivals down the road or anything?’

‘I don’t knew about that,’ Tess began, and then there was a loud noise, and the door to the pub across the bar flew open, banging loudly against the wall, and a middle-aged man burst in, palming his hair firmly onto his shiny forehead as he hurried into the bar.

‘A’right, Mick!’ he called loudly to the landlord, pushing a stool out of the way and knocking over a chair.

‘A’right, Ron,’ said Mick.

‘Meeting’s starting in five minutes, that all right with you?’

‘No probs,’ said Mick. ‘Not many people in tonight, anyway, you can have the place to yours—’

‘Save the water meadows!’ Ron shouted suddenly, with enormous vigour. Francesca jumped; Tess dropped the fork with which she had been toying. Even the more stoic Adam blinked in surprise.

‘All right, Ron?’ he called. ‘How’s it going?’

Ron turned around at that. ‘ ‘Ullo, Adam!’ he said, coming forward. ‘Good to see you! It’s been a while, you all right?’ He peered, mole-like, at Tess. ‘Hullo there, Tess.’ Tess held up her hand, and Ron’s gaze moved from her to Francesca, and turned back to Adam. ‘Right you are,’ he said to him, clearly meaning, Go on, son. ‘You coming to the meeting tonight?’

‘No,’ said Adam. ‘We’re just having some food.’

‘Suggs is organizing it, Adam, didn’t he mention?’ Ron said firmly.

‘Yes, he did.’

‘You don’t agree with them building over the water meadows then, do you? Letting that Mortmain woman get away with it again, eh?’ Ron’s voice rose, his nose twitched, as he waggled a finger—benignly—at Adam.

‘You know me, I don’t like taking sides,’ Adam said easily.

He smiled at Ron, and just as Tess was looking at him curiously, Francesca said, in her charming way, ‘Ron—it’s Ron, isn’t it?’

‘Yep,’ said Ron, non-committally.

‘Sorry to be stupid, I should know this, but what exactly is going on with the water meadows? I only got here a few days ago.’

‘You haven’t heard about it?’ Ron said incredulously, as if the idea that this wasn’t front-page news across the country hadn’t occurred to him. ‘That’s strange. You know the Langford water meadows, right?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Francesca said politely.

‘You never heard of them? That’s—’ Ron scratched his head, as if he could scarcely conceive of such a thing. ‘Only the most precious bit o’ land for about a hundred miles, that’s all. There’s more wildlife, more plants, more birds sighted
only on
the Langford water meadows than anywhere else in the country. And they want to fill it in, drain the land and sell it off so we can have a bloody shopping centre there!’ He was shouting again now, his burr more pronounced than ever. ‘That bloody Mortmain woman, she’s got it all stitched up! What’s she want the money for anyway? She ain’t got no one to leave it to. And she thinks she can can ride roughshod over us all. Again!’

He held a finger up to heaven and his eyes looked skywards; he reminded Tess of a Roman statue.

‘Wow,’ said Francesca. She turned to Adam. ‘Is that true?’ she asked.

Adam nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said. There was unease in his voice and Tess remembered what it was that had been bothering her; the truth about Adam and the bursary, how Leonora Mortmain had always been so unpleasant to him in particular ever since. ‘Yes, I suppose it is true. But it’s done, isn’t it? The council’s given initial early approval—’

‘What does the council know?’ came another loud voice
from behind them, and Adam stood up, laughing, his deep voice echoing around the pub. Beside them, Mick put down the tray of drinks and started laying out cutlery, as Adam hugged the bearded man next to Ron.

‘You bastard,’ he said fondly. ‘I didn’t know this was happening tonight.’

‘Tess!’ said the stranger. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be here.’

‘Suggs!’ Tess said turning round. She hugged Adam’s best friend, squeezing him tight.

‘Look at you, with two ladies, you smooth bastard,’ Suggs said, sitting down happily next to Francesca. ‘I’ll join you, shall I? Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes.’

Ron was still hovering behind Tess and Adam. ‘We need you to sort out the leaflets,’ he said, tetchily.

‘Andrea’ll do that,’ Suggs said easily. ‘I haven’t seen Tess properly since she got back. Mick, do me a favour and bring me a pint of the good stuff, will you?’ Mick shook his head, smiling indulgently. ‘Thanks, mine host.’ Suggs leaned forward. ‘You lovely ladies signed the petition yet?’

‘No,’ said Francesca. ‘Just show us where, though. They can’t do that, can they?’

‘Looks like they are,’ said Suggs, and Ron nodded. ‘It’s a right fucker. You’d think they wouldn’t be allowed—the council wouldn’t let it happen.’

‘They have, though,’ said Adam evenly.

Suggs turned to him angrily. ‘I know you love them Mortmains, because that stupid cow paid for your education and you feel like you have to crawl to her, you little sucker.’

‘She paid for you to go to
school
?’ Francesca said, bewildered.

‘Shove off, Suggsy,’ said Adam, tugging his hair and looking uncomfortable, but Suggs ignored him.

‘Enough’s enough,’ Suggs went on. ‘There’s a lot of people in this town who think she’s gone too far this time.’ He paused
for dramatic effect. ‘You know, the Mortmains have been shafting the good people of Langford for years and she’s no better. There was Ivo Mortmain, Victorian feller, he got a girl from the town pregnant and then killed her father when he came to complain. Shot him in the face! And old Mrs Mortmain’s father, he sold a whole bit of land by Thornham and they made it into horrible box houses, not fit for a pig to live in. That were fifty years ago! And she—she turfed out the old people in the alms houses by the church fifteen years ago, just because she wanted to sell them on.’ He gripped the back of Adam’s neck. ‘Remember how angry your ma was about it?’