Moorcroft: The Surrender

Moorcroft

The Obsession

by

Sandra Callister

Smashwords 3rd Edition

Copyright 2018 Sandra Callister

Smashwords Edition Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Sandra Callister has asserted her right under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely co-incidental.

For my darling husband Terry, always by my side with a smile and a word of encouragement.

Books by this Author

The Moorcroft Trilogy

The Possession

The Obsession

The Surrender

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 1

Ben looked up from his computer screen and gazed out of the window. He had set out for work that morning in heavy rain but now the downpour had stopped and the sun had come out, it was time to stretch his legs. He ran his hand across the back of his aching neck and stretched out his arms trying to rid himself of the tightness he felt. He had been working solid for almost two hours on an estimate for a new extension, phoning suppliers and making costings trying to get the best deal. As he stood up and stretched his legs Jet, Ben's black Labrador, leapt from his basket and sat by the door wagging his tail in anticipation.

He stroked the dog’s head affectionately. Time for a walk I think. Come on.

Outside Ben turned up his collar, although it was sunny there was still a stiff wind and he felt himself shiver. There were puddles still lying in the street reflecting the now blue sky, Jet couldn’t resist paddling through them. They reached the end of the street and turned into a narrow alleyway that took them to a small wood and Jet was off running free. They both enjoyed these walks, they had done them every day since Ben and Sam, his business partner, had taken over the small construction business four years before. Things were ticking over nicely; most of their jobs had been from recommendations, both he and Sam took pride in their work. He took in a deep breath, the air always seemed clean and fresh after rain. He looked up at the old, tall trees and wondered how long it would be before the bulldozers moved in and a new supermarket was put in their place, they called it progress, he called it vandalism. He looked at his watch, time to go back, Sam would be in the yard soon and he needed to speak to him so that he could finish off the estimate. He whistled for Jet, who was busy rooting in the undergrowth, he wasn’t quite as enthusiastic on the return journey, it would be the weekend before Ben would be able to take him out into the country to have a real run around.

Sam was already in the yard when they got back, with his usual smiling face and his hair covered in cement dust, here was a man who enjoyed his work, nothing seemed to faze him out. They had known each other from school days, they got on well and had decided to pool their skills and set up a business together. Ben was an architect and had a love of old buildings, while Sam was a skilled builder, they made a good team. Sam bent down and rubbed Jet’s head affectionately before entering the small office. After another half an hour’s discussion and studying the drawings, they were both happy with the figures before them and were soon on their way home.

When Ben entered the car park of his apartment building, he spotted Jane's car. He frowned, she was home early, he hoped nothing serious was wrong. He made his way to the fourth floor and put his key in the door. Jet shot ahead as soon as the door was opened. Ben heard Jane's screams as Jet gave her his usual exuberant greeting. As he took off his coat and entered the lounge, he found Jane lying on the settee with a cloth over her forehead. Concerned he asked if she was okay.

Jane lifted the cloth from her face and looked at him. No, I'm not okay. I will never set foot in that office again. Do this Jane, do that Jane. I'm sick of it and today was the last straw. She lay back and replaced the cloth.

Ben put down his briefcase and entered the kitchen to put on the kettle and shouted. Will a cuppa make you feel any better?

Oh that’s typical, why does everyone think a cup of tea makes everything alright again.

When the kettle boiled he made two mugs of tea and carried them into the lounge and placed them on the coffee table between them. He sat in the chair opposite and looked at his wife. Would you like to talk about it?

Jane took in a deep breath. Mr Fielding gave me two contracts to type out and then decided to dictate a letter and told me he wanted them all to go out in the post that night. That was at 3 o'clock. I ask you, it takes a good hour to do each contract alone. Then to cap it all, in walks Mrs Fielding carrying hundreds of high street shopping bags, which she drops on the floor in front of my desk. She looks me up and down and tells me she must get me a wage increase so that I can get something done with my hair. Before I have time to think of something to say back, she swans off into Mr Fielding's office and slams the door.

Ben smothered a smile and sympathised with her. That was uncalled for I've always liked your hair.

Jane sat up and swung her legs off the settee and faced him, the anger showing on her face. As if that's not bad enough, Mr Fielding then rings through for two coffees, right away because his wife has a taxi calling to take her home in 15 minutes. That was it. I stormed into the office and told him that I wouldn't be able to get the contracts done, his letters typed and ready for the post and make the coffees. Do you know what he said?

Ben shook his head.

That instead of wasting time moaning about it I should just get on with it. SHE sat there smiling. Well by that time I’d had enough and I told him he could stuff his job and if he wanted coffee he could get his lazy wife to get off her backside and make it for him and then I walked out, and here I am, jobless.

You've been working there a long time, I'm sure it will blow over.

No. I'm never going back. With that she reclined once more on the settee and Jet sensing something was badly wrong sidled up beside her.

Ben sipped his tea and sat back in his chair. Jane had altercations with her boss on a regular basis, she had been with the company a long time and they always compromised over any disagreements. He had to admit he had never seen Jane quite so depressed and upset before. They were both lost in their own thoughts when the silence in the small flat was broken by the ringing of the telephone. Ben got up to answer it.

Jane sat upright on the settee and shouted to Ben. Don't answer, it will be Fielding and I refuse to talk to him.

I have to answer it Jane, it may be urgent, it could be Sam. Ben put the phone to his ear. Hello. Ahh, yes Mr Fielding, yes she did mention it. He looked across at his wife’s shaking head. No I'm sorry she can't come to the phone she's having a nervous breakdown at the moment. No, I don't think she will be coming to the office tomorrow or ever again. Yes, that's right Mr Fielding she quit. Goodbye. And with that he put down the phone.

Jane sat on the edge of her seat bolt upright, open mouthed. I don't believe it, what have you done? Where am I going to get another job now?

Ben’s jaw dropped. You said that you'd had enough. I though it was for the best.

Since when have you listened to anything I say? Jane groaned and once more reclined on the settee and replaced the damp cloth over her eyes.

Ben sighed and picked up his empty mug, collected Jane's and took them into the kitchen. He shouted, I don't know about you, but I fancy a take away. What do you fancy, Chinese, Indian, pizza?

Anything, was the reply.

He picked up the phone and ordered pizza. He knew what Jane liked so didn't bother to ask. Right, I'm going for a quick shower. The post's there on the table if you want to open it.

Jane lifted the cloth and sneaked a look at the pile of letters with interest. She sat and waded through the pile of envelopes, bills, bank statements, more bills, circulars. At the bottom of the pile sat a large manila envelope addressed to Ben with PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL typed across the front. In the bottom left hand corner was the name of a very respectable solicitors in town. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser, what could this be? She turned it over once or twice in her hands and held it up to the light, but she couldn't make anything out on the letter inside.

Ben came out of the bedroom dressed casually in tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt and slumped in the chair and looked at the letters.

Anything interesting? He picked up the envelope and raised his eyebrows. What's this?

I haven't a clue, it's addressed to you. She sat forward in her seat. I'm intrigued.

Ben tore at the top of the envelope and emptied the contents onto the coffee table. As he read the top letter, Jane perused the rest of the documents.

Apparently, I seem to have inherited something and I have to ring and make an appointment with these solicitors.

Jane was reading another document. Do you know anyone in Lancashire? It mentions here a Mr Richard Henry Gardener and his estate.

It means nothing to me. I don't know anyone from Lancashire, but Gardener was my Mother’s maiden name. Perhaps it has something to do with her.

Jane leant forward and stared at her husband, her eyes sparkling. Perhaps it's a fortune, just waiting for you to pick it up.

He gave a little laugh. Hold on. Don't get too excited. I've never heard of this Richard Gardener.

Well, you’ll never find out anything sitting there, give them a ring.

There won’t be anyone there now it's after five.

Jane pointed to the phone. He sighed, he knew she wouldn’t be happy until he had tried the number. He punched in the digits from the letter and waited. After the sixth ring he was about to put the phone down when he heard someone on the line.

Hello, Carter, Thompson and Bell, can I help you? Ben was taken aback and hesitated.

Oh, yes, my name’s Ben Wesley and I have just received a letter from you. It seems I may have inherited something.

Can you give me the reference number at the top of the letter?

Ben read out the details.

If you would hold on one moment Mr Wesley I'll put you through to Mr Bell’s secretary. and with that he heard the dreaded green sleeves music. The phone clicked.

Hello Mr Wesley. I'm Mr Bell’s secretary, my names Anna. I have your details in front of me, could you confirm your full name and current address.

This Ben did.

Could you attend our offices some time in the next few days? He heard the rustle of pages being turned. Perhaps Thursday, 10 o’clock, how does that sound?

That's fine, but what’s this all about?

It will all be explained to you when you arrive. Now Mr Wesley we will need to see your birth certificate and the birth certificate of your mother. Would that be a problem?

No. I'm sure I can get my hands on them before Thursday.

Good and if you have any other documents or photographs connected to your Mother’s family that would also be useful.

I’ll try my best, but I don’t understand, my Mother’s maiden name was Gardener but I don’t know of any Richard Gardener.

Mr Wesley you are the fifth gentleman named Wesley we have contacted in the last month. We need to verify that you are who you say you are, once that is done all will be explained to you.

After a few pleasantries the conversation ended.

Jane sat on the edge of her seat. Well?

He repeated the telephone conversation. We will just have to wait.

Little did Ben know that the meeting on that Thursday morning was going to change his life and that of his wife.

Ben's Mother and Father had lived in a desirable semi-detached house and were very happily married and after his Father took early retirement, they had enjoyed country walks. His Father had a passion for old buildings and stately homes and manor houses and they would often get in the car and go off for the day. It was returning from such a jaunt that they were involved in an accident, a lorry driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and ploughed into the back of them, they didn't stand a chance. Ben was completely traumatised by the death of his parents and when the family house was sold both he and Jane found themselves emptying drawers full of papers and documents into boxes without even looking at them. Photo albums and jewellery, personal items of his parents were thrown into boxes without ceremony. After friends and neighbours had said their goodbyes, the furniture and clothing were given to charity. Jane had understood, in time Ben would have to sort through these boxes, but only when the pain of losing his parents was not so raw.

Now that time had come, they had two days to find all the paperwork needed to prove his identity. Ben was reluctant to start, saying he had a business to run, so the sorting was left to Jane, now that she no longer had a job she had plenty of time on her hands.

The next morning after she had seen Ben and Jet off to work she washed the breakfast dishes, made the bed and cleaned the little flat. When that was done she made herself a cup of tea, sat down at the table and once more read the letters from the solicitors. Ben was probably right not to get too excited; they were not the sort of people to have good luck. The boxes from his parents’ house had been stored in the wardrobes in the spare bedroom, none of them had been labelled so each one would have to be opened and waded through. She was not looking forward to her task. She emptied two of the boxes on the bed and started putting things in order. Jane sorted through letters, bill receipts, insurance documents, birth certificates, even Ben's old school photographs and school reports, she also found a box just full of old photographs, some of them grey and sepia coloured, the edges worn from handling, could these photographs be of Ben's parent’s family? Jane sighed, these were things Ben would have to sort through himself. She looked at the clock on the bedside table, nearly one o’clock; she had been sorting through these boxes for over two hours, now it was time for lunch.

Ben parked the car at the side of the office. Jet bounded ahead as he fumbled with the keys. Once inside he turned on the electric fire and put the kettle on, he didn't feel much like working today, but he had to finish off that estimate so that he could get it in the post that day. Looking at his desk he saw a note from Sam, one of the crew was off with flu so he would have to work late so he wouldn't be in the office that day. If Ben needed him for anything he had his mobile with him. Ben was disappointed; he enjoyed their little chats at the end of the day. Sam would bring him up to date on the progress of each job and they would have the usual banter between them. Sometimes Ben would go to the job site just to get the feel for the project; he had even been known to give a hand when men were short, but not today. Today he had a lot on his mind. He would finish the estimate, sort through the post, take Jet for his walk and then he would go home and help Jane. He felt a little guilty leaving all the sorting to her, but it was something he had been putting off for long enough, now he had no option, the time had come to sort things out and he was not looking forward to it.

Ben arrived home just as Jane had finished her lunch; Jet was not happy to have missed the crumbs and searched the floor in the kitchen, occasionally sniffing the worktops.

You’re home early, have you had lunch? she asked.

He shook his head. I'm not really hungry.

How do you fancy a ham sandwich and a nice cup of tea?

Fine. He said, as he threw his case on the settee and flopped into the chair. As he ate his lunch Jane explained how far she had got with the boxes.

I've found your Mother’s wedding certificate and birth certificate and we already have yours in our file. There are lots of letters addressed to your Mother, some postmarked Lancashire, I put them to one side, I thought you should read them. There are some very old photographs too of children in the countryside; there are names and dates on the back and there is one of an old house but I don't recognise it from anywhere around here.

Ben looked up. Sounds interesting, I must have a look.

At last, thought Jane, a spark of interest, and followed him to the spare room. On the bed were several bundles and a couple of boxes. Ben went straight away to pick up the box of photographs.

Jane placed her hand on the box. Oh no you don't, you look through everything else before you get to them or nothing will get done today.

Ben smiled. You know me too well.

They each picked up a bundle and took them into the lounge. Sitting opposite each other they slowly went through everything putting to one side documents they thought might be relevant. They both had a good laugh when Jane read out Ben's school reports and looked at the old school photographs, what a hair cut. Jane handed him his Mother’s letters and went to make a cup of tea. He tried to put them in date order and picked up an envelope, yellowing on the edges, from the look of it his Mother must have read it several times. It was postmarked Lancashire, but the town had been smudged out; he couldn’t make out the date either. He slowly read it and sat back in the chair and sighed.

Jane put a cup of tea in front of him. Are you okay?

He nodded. It looks like I have an Uncle. I always thought Mother was an only child, but this letter is from her brother.

Jane took the letter from him and read it.

My Dearest Sarah,

It has been many years, too many years, since we last corresponded and there are things I must put right. Although you left under a cloud of suspicion, your leaving our home brought much unhappiness to our parents. They always hoped that you would come home.

In time I realised that the death of my darling Victoria was not at your hands that it was an accident, although at the time I blamed you. You always said someone else had scared her, that you were not responsible for her frame of mind that dreadful morning but I searched the house from kitchen to attic and could find no-one else in the house. Charles Wesley was the only one who stood by you, for that I am grateful. After you left the Wesley family home I hired a private detective to find you. I knew that you had married and that you later had a son, you should have told me.

As you know after Father’s death, Mother never recovered. Father left the estate to the both of us, with all it’s problems, but in your last letter you said you wanted nothing to do with Moorcroft, that I could keep it all. I have tried to maintain the old place, but my heart just isn't in it and as you know I had to lay off all of the staff. Mary is the only one left now and she only comes in part time and looks after me. I have also had to sell most of the land to pay off debts, Father was much too generous and not a good bookkeeper, he also lost heavily on the stock market and we were mortgaged up to the hilt. Now only the house and the surrounding grounds remain

I am becoming weary; this house is far too big for me. I should move on, but something holds me here. As you know it was common knowledge that several staff members were dismissed after items of jewellery and silver were taken, they all claimed innocence. One said after only a month’s employment that the house was possessed and that she would never set foot within its walls ever again. I just don’t understand what’s been happening here. I often think I hear the sweet voice of my Victoria that she comes to me in the night. Does that mean I am going mad? My dearest Sarah, please forgive me, come home, bring some light back into this dreary dark house. Let me see my nephew. I need to know that I am not alone in this world.

Your loving brother, Richard.

Jane sat with the letter in her lap. What a strange and sad letter. It seems your Mother was wrongly accused of causing someone’s death and then running away. Your Mother was the kindest person I have ever met; she wouldn't do such a thing. This must be a mistake.

Ben had been looking out of the window, trying to put together the clues to this mystery. If that letter is authentic, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, I do indeed have an uncle, living somewhere in Lancashire. All these years and he was never mentioned. This accusation must have really upset Mother to make her turn her back on her family.

He went into the bedroom and came out with the box of photographs. He looked inside. Perhaps these are of my grandparents and my uncle and my Mother. She always said that my grandparents had died before I was born; a brother was never mentioned. Jane, it’s so sad that I never got to meet them but perhaps now I have the chance to find my uncle before he too is gone.

Most of the photographs were of himself as a child and teenager. He compared them with the older ones and could see the resemblance right away between himself and the young man in the photographs. Some of them were dated over forty years ago. He laughed at the old cars in the pictures. There was one of an old hay cart piled with straw with four young teenagers on top laughing and waving. He looked on the back and there written in pen were the names, Richard, Victoria, Charles and Sarah, it was dated 1956. Between them Ben and Jane put together quite a portfolio of documents, letters and photographs. As he closed the folder Ben sighed. That should do it. Now it’s up to the solicitors.

Thursday morning found Ben and Jane sat opposite the oak desk of Mr Bell of Carter, Thompson and Bell Solicitors. Mr Bell was carefully looking through the documents that Ben had produced. He was a distinguished looking gentleman in a pin striped suit; he took off his glasses and looked at Ben.

Well, I think we have finally found the correct Mr Benjamin Wesley. Of course, I will have to have these authenticated, but from what I have seen here this morning, I am quite satisfied. I suppose you are both wondering what this is all about?

Ben nodded and Jane fidgeted in her seat next to him.

Mr Bell cleared his throat. A few months ago we were instructed by a solicitor in Preston, Lancashire to find the heirs of a Richard Henry Gardener. It would seem that on his death, his will held by these solicitors, stipulated that his estate should be left to his only sister Sarah Margaret Wesley, nee Gardener and in the event of her death passed on to any of her surviving children. It seemed that Mr Gardener had last received a letter from his sister some years previously which was postmarked Worcester. It was only recently that we discovered that a Sarah Wesley, along with her husband had been killed in a motor accident, but that she had left a son. We put an ad in the local papers asking for a Mr Benjamin Richard Wesley to contact this office. We had several enquiries, but none had the correct credentials. It was by chance that my secretary had been given a business card with your name on it. We made further enquiries and decided we must send you an introductory letter and here you are.

Ben