The Magic Cottage by James Herbert Read Free Book Online Page B

sometimes—’
    ‘May I ask you a personal question, Miss Gudgeon?’ Ogborn said.
    ‘Please do,’ Midge replied.
    ‘I wondered if you had a career, a profession of some kind.’
    ‘I’m an illustrator.’
    ‘Ah.’ That appeared to please him.
    ‘I illustrate children’s books mostly.’
    ‘I see.’ He studied her for several seconds and I began to get a little vexed at his attention.
    ‘I’m a musician,’ I told him.
    ‘I see.’ His smile seemed thinner somehow.
    ‘Could you tell us something about Flora Chaldean?’ Midge asked. ‘She must have lived at Gramarye for a good many years.’
    ‘Indeed she did,’ replied Ogborn, straightening in his chair as much as the curvature in his spine would allow. ‘I understand she was an orphan taken in by the owners of the cottage, who were childless themselves, some time before the First World War, and raised as their own daughter. There was no official record of adoption, and nobody appears to have known her exact age when she died. I don’t believe that years had very much significance to Flora herself.’
    ‘Was she ever married?’ enquired Midge.
    ‘For a short time only. Her husband was killed in the last war after, I think, barely two or three years of marriage. The niece who inherited the estate was his, you see, and proved the devil of a job to trace, I might add. She herself is in her sixties, and has no interest in Gramarye whatsoever, and hardly any in her late aunt-in-law. Quite understandable under the circumstances.’
    ‘How did Mrs Chaldean manage to support herself?’
    If Ogborn found Midge’s question impertinent, he didn’t show it. ‘Oh, her adoptive parents left her a small inheritance and I believe she also collected the usual meagre war-widow’s pension. Generally, I’m led to believe she used the barter system with locals, which is much favoured in the more remote parts of the country.’
    ‘The barter system?’ I didn’t know what all this had to do with buying a house, but I was willing to play along.
    ‘Flora Chaldean had the reputation hereabouts of being something of a healer. Nothing spectacular, you understand, but she made up medicinal potions for ailing locals, those with heavy colds, sore throats, that sort of thing, and in exchange they supplied her with the odd chicken or rabbit or vegetables or whatever. Small things, nothing grand, nothing for the Inland Revenue to be concerned about. She concocted her potions from old, perhaps ancient, remedies, the kind passed down the years through word of mouth. It seems she also had a wonderful way with sick or injured animals.’ Ogborn looked down at his hands folded on the desk and added, as if to himself, ‘Quite remarkable.’
    I almost smiled, thinking of witches’ brews and spells, and boiling babies’ legs. If I could have without being noticed, I’d have nudged Midge. Instead I stole a quick glance at her and found she was still absorbed in what Ogborn had been saying.
    Clearing my throat, I said to the solicitor, ‘About the price . . .?’
    His manner instantly became more crisp. ‘Yes, of course. I know you’re rather concerned over the cost. I’m prepared to accept that conditions in the property have become far worse during the winter months since the previous owner’s demise, so perhaps the original valuation was too high, although I’m bound to say that house prices these days do not generally devalue.’
    ‘Mr Ogborn, the price isn’t – ’ Midge began to say, before I cut in.
    ‘I thought maybe we could meet halfway.’
    ‘You mentioned a reduction of three thousand to Mr Bickleshift . . .’
    ‘Uh, four thousand, actually.’ I ignored the sharp glance from Midge. Ogborn consulted a note pad on the desk.
    ‘Oh, I see. I understood the figure to be three,’ he said.
    ‘Well, yes, it was mentioned, but the more we can save on the price, the more we can spend on the cottage’s renovation.’
    ‘Another couple came to see me yesterday,