him! ”
Meg made no comment, but she looked round the caravan site and did some quick mental arithmetic. Fifty vans, not less than two people to each. Over a hundred people at any one time and probably changing every two weeks or so. Yes, this was where the ‘hundreds’ to which Sir Hector had referred probably hailed from.
“I suppose people walking through fields and woods could do quite a lot of damage even if they didn’t mean to," she suggested tentatively. “Just because of the number of them, I mean.”
“Oh, so you’ve met Heronshaw and he’s talked you round, has he?” Jeremy said, giving her a hostile look. “He hasn’t wasted much time!”
“There was no question of him talking me round,” Meg told him rather sharply. “It was simply—”
“Well, whether he did or not, I’ll be glad if in future you’ll refrain from discussing my affairs with outsiders behind my back,” Jeremy told her with considerable asperity. “I find it offensive and—” He stopped because his little pocket walkie-talkie began to bleep. He listened to the message which came from his office. “As you heard, the mail is in and I must go and attend to it,” he said frigidly. “I shall have to ask you to excuse me—”
“The mail will have to wait for a few minutes,” Meg told him inexorably, “because there’s something I’m going to tell you—and you’re going to listen! And the less fuss you make, the quicker I’ll be!”
“Oh, very well,” Jeremy said impatiently. “But please hurry—”
“I intend to,” Meg replied, keeping a tight hold of her temper with some difficulty. What on earth had happened to Jeremy? He had been such a nice, friendly person to start with. Now he was totally different, and she didn’t like the alteration. “I met Sir Hector because he caught me trespassing.”
“And he turned you off?” Jeremy interrupted incredulously. “Well, I’m damned! Of all the nerve! What harm could you possibly have done to his precious land?”
“None at all,” Meg replied, “as Sir Hector himself admitted. But he pointed out that while one person probably wouldn’t do any damage worth worrying about, a lot of people could just because of their very number. And then he said that the only way to make sure that doesn’t happen is to make no exceptions whatever. No mention was made of your name or of the hotel, and as for being talked round, that’s sheer nonsense. Anyone with ordinary common sense ought to be able to understand that he was right.”
“You may see it. I don’t,” Jeremy retorted obstinately. “In my opinion, Heronshaw has gone out of his way to be obstructive because he’s hoping to make things so difficult for us that we’ll have to close down. I told you he tried to stop us from opening as a hotel—”
“Yes, I know. But why?” Meg asked, puckering her forehead. “I mean, the hotel is so far away from his house that it couldn’t possibly have been a nuisance to him, particularly as you haven’t got the accommodation for so many visitors—”
“I told you—the caravans—” Jeremy said shortly.
“But you said that he objected to the hotel before there was any idea of the caravans,” Meg reminded him. “So why—?”
Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.
“Because he’s that sort of chap,” he explained impatiently. “He just won’t tolerate any changes in what he’s pleased to regard as his territory.”
“But Malvern House has never belonged to the Heronshaws, has it?” Meg persisted.
“No,” Jeremy acknowledged shortly.
“Well, then—oh, I admit he’s something of a martinet where his own property is concerned. But this isn’t his. And though I admit he annoyed me, I’m quite sure he isn’t a fool. He must know he’s got no authority over you.”
“Well, if you must know, it’s a personal matter,” Jeremy told her impatiently. “He’s quite a few years older than I am, you know, and when I was a youngster he always had a
Meg made no comment, but she looked round the caravan site and did some quick mental arithmetic. Fifty vans, not less than two people to each. Over a hundred people at any one time and probably changing every two weeks or so. Yes, this was where the ‘hundreds’ to which Sir Hector had referred probably hailed from.
“I suppose people walking through fields and woods could do quite a lot of damage even if they didn’t mean to," she suggested tentatively. “Just because of the number of them, I mean.”
“Oh, so you’ve met Heronshaw and he’s talked you round, has he?” Jeremy said, giving her a hostile look. “He hasn’t wasted much time!”
“There was no question of him talking me round,” Meg told him rather sharply. “It was simply—”
“Well, whether he did or not, I’ll be glad if in future you’ll refrain from discussing my affairs with outsiders behind my back,” Jeremy told her with considerable asperity. “I find it offensive and—” He stopped because his little pocket walkie-talkie began to bleep. He listened to the message which came from his office. “As you heard, the mail is in and I must go and attend to it,” he said frigidly. “I shall have to ask you to excuse me—”
“The mail will have to wait for a few minutes,” Meg told him inexorably, “because there’s something I’m going to tell you—and you’re going to listen! And the less fuss you make, the quicker I’ll be!”
“Oh, very well,” Jeremy said impatiently. “But please hurry—”
“I intend to,” Meg replied, keeping a tight hold of her temper with some difficulty. What on earth had happened to Jeremy? He had been such a nice, friendly person to start with. Now he was totally different, and she didn’t like the alteration. “I met Sir Hector because he caught me trespassing.”
“And he turned you off?” Jeremy interrupted incredulously. “Well, I’m damned! Of all the nerve! What harm could you possibly have done to his precious land?”
“None at all,” Meg replied, “as Sir Hector himself admitted. But he pointed out that while one person probably wouldn’t do any damage worth worrying about, a lot of people could just because of their very number. And then he said that the only way to make sure that doesn’t happen is to make no exceptions whatever. No mention was made of your name or of the hotel, and as for being talked round, that’s sheer nonsense. Anyone with ordinary common sense ought to be able to understand that he was right.”
“You may see it. I don’t,” Jeremy retorted obstinately. “In my opinion, Heronshaw has gone out of his way to be obstructive because he’s hoping to make things so difficult for us that we’ll have to close down. I told you he tried to stop us from opening as a hotel—”
“Yes, I know. But why?” Meg asked, puckering her forehead. “I mean, the hotel is so far away from his house that it couldn’t possibly have been a nuisance to him, particularly as you haven’t got the accommodation for so many visitors—”
“I told you—the caravans—” Jeremy said shortly.
“But you said that he objected to the hotel before there was any idea of the caravans,” Meg reminded him. “So why—?”
Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.
“Because he’s that sort of chap,” he explained impatiently. “He just won’t tolerate any changes in what he’s pleased to regard as his territory.”
“But Malvern House has never belonged to the Heronshaws, has it?” Meg persisted.
“No,” Jeremy acknowledged shortly.
“Well, then—oh, I admit he’s something of a martinet where his own property is concerned. But this isn’t his. And though I admit he annoyed me, I’m quite sure he isn’t a fool. He must know he’s got no authority over you.”
“Well, if you must know, it’s a personal matter,” Jeremy told her impatiently. “He’s quite a few years older than I am, you know, and when I was a youngster he always had a