My Name is Eva(33)
He didn’t press any further. Why should he? She was already giving him access to reams of information about the property and could see his eyes greedily totting up her worth. She had let him look at the land registry documents and read copies of the estate agents’ valuation reports after they’d met her, but she didn’t want him to know that the property was held in trust and she certainly didn’t want him being seen by any neighbours.
On his visits she kept her distance from Neil, her shepherd, if he was out in the fields, and made sure Stephen only came on days when Sharon, her cleaner, and Jim the gardener were not around. She discouraged the few friends she still had from calling these days, but on the odd occasion when someone delivered the parish magazine or a flyer for the Garden Club Annual Show, no one would think there was anything odd in seeing a middle-aged man looking through a pile of papers on the kitchen table, or wandering deep in thought around the grounds, even if he was totting up her worth rather than admiring the herbaceous borders.
Watching him reading the reports and making suggestions, she sometimes found it hard to believe he was the same man she had known in Bad Nenndorf. Certain aspects of Stephen’s old character were still evident, of course: the precision, the skilful manipulation, the eye for weakness and, most importantly, the isolation. But she remembered all too clearly his cold disregard for the pathetic men and women he had questioned as they shivered, flinched and fainted in front of him, while he probed their memories. And when I kiss your photograph goodnight each evening, my darling, I remind myself I’m doing this for you too.
‘These summaries are very interesting and the valuations are most encouraging,’ he said when he had finished reading the estate agents’ reports. ‘But they make it quite clear there’s absolutely no point in selling off land for its agricultural value. Far better to deal with the land acquisition people, that’s where the real profits lie. What do you think?’
Evelyn thought she’d like to chuck the whole lot of files on the fire, blazing away in the inglenook, and see them burst into flames, but she said, ‘I rather liked the Knightley people. If I did decide to go ahead, I’d like to deal with them. I thought some of the others were rather brash with their big shiny cars, but the Knightleys came over in a Land Rover. I felt they were more sympathetic and had a better understanding of the management and importance of a small country estate.’
He nodded. ‘Good to know who you’re dealing with, I agree. But what’s more relevant is how do you feel about actually selling the land, or part of it?’
Sunday lunch was nearly over. Stephen had started coming over for regular Sunday lunches these days. The first few times he’d visited he had driven, but now when he came, Evelyn picked him up at the station, or more often he walked, so he could enjoy a few glasses of wine with the roast beef. He had brought a meagre bunch of daffodils with him on his first visit, but nothing since then, miserly old sod, not even a cheap box of chocolates.
Evelyn toyed with the rind of the piece of Stilton she’d served after the apple pie with cream. ‘I still need time to think about the land,’ she said. ‘It’s such a big decision. I don’t have to decide now, do I?’
‘Of course you don’t. In fact, I think the market might pick up next year and you could do better for waiting.’ He sipped the vintage port she’d poured from Papa’s decanter, then added, ‘And the house? What about that? Did you give it any more thought?’
‘I did rather like the idea of weddings,’ she said. ‘We have got such a beautiful space out there on the lawns for a marquee. I can just see a beautiful bride posing beneath the rose arch for photographs. Making people happy would be rather nice.’
‘No one goes into business to make people happy.’
‘Don’t they?’
‘And you’d probably have to provide the marquee yourself, I think. I’m pretty certain brides and grooms don’t bring their own kit and they are damned expensive to erect and maintain. You have to get heaters for the ruddy things too.’
‘Oh, really?’ She pretended to look downcast as she cracked a water biscuit between her fingers. ‘And of course I would be a little concerned about the furniture and the paintings. It would be such a worry having a lot of strangers here, running about and looking through one’s possessions.’
Stephen glanced around the panelled dining room with its George IV oak sideboard and Chinese famille rose urns. ‘You’re right to be worried – you’ve got a lot of valuable stuff here. Have you had any of the contents checked over in recent years, for insurance?’
‘For insurance? I haven’t had to claim anything on insurance.’
He gave a queer scoffing laugh and said, ‘No, I don’t mean a claim. I meant insurance valuation. Please tell me you have got contents insurance.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean by valuation. I know I pay insurance every year for the house and the contents.’
He peered at her. ‘You mean you haven’t checked whether you’re fully covered recently? You’ve just carried on, year after year?’
‘Yes, I suppose I have. Isn’t that what everyone does?’
‘Evelyn, with an extraordinary house like this and valuable antiques like the ones you’ve got here, you have to review and update your insurance from time to time. You are probably vastly underinsured.’