Wickham Hall, Part 2 by Cathy Bramley Page A

white,’ Esme pointed out.
    â€˜You don’t think he was married, do you?’ I whispered. ‘That could be it. What if she fell in love with someone she couldn’t have? Perhaps he had children of his own. That would explain why Granddad wouldn’t have been proud of her. And that might be why she’s too ashamed of the affair to talk about it.’
    â€˜Possibly.’
    We both fell silent then. I was mulling over my theory and Esme appeared to be concentrating on her salmon.
    â€˜I’ve had another thought as well,’ I added in a low voice. ‘Mum has always said that Granddad left her his savings.That’s why she’s only ever had to work part-time. But maybe the man is still around and pays her an allowance and Mum can’t tell me because she’s sworn to secrecy.’
    Esme wrinkled her nose and twisted her corkscrew curls around her finger. ‘Isn’t a savings fund a bit more . . . likely?’
    I thought about that. She was right, I was getting carried away. ‘OK, but I bet he’s local. Mum has never wanted to move away from Wickham. What if she wanted to stay in the village to be near him?’
    â€˜You think she had an affair with someone in Wickham?’ gasped Esme. ‘Blimey, that would be playing a risky game, wouldn’t it? She would bump into him all the time; Wickham’s only small.’
    I swallowed. It would also mean that I would bump into him all the time. Perhaps I had? I let out a groan. Perhaps it was actually someone I knew . . .
    Esme frowned. ‘I don’t buy it. If she says she met him at the Summer Festival, then that means it wasn’t someone local, or she would have met him previously. Perhaps it was just a visitor.’
    â€˜I’d like to think Mum wouldn’t simply fall in love with someone who turned up to Wickham Hall with a day ticket and fifty pence for an ice cream,’ I scoffed, pushing my plate away.
    â€˜So,’ Esme tapped her lip and narrowed her eyes, ‘we are looking for someone who perhaps worked there, or at least someone who was there for longer than a day.’
    â€˜There are tons of staff at Wickham Hall, especially during the festival,’ I suggested. ‘And then of course there are all the exhibitors. They arrive three or four days before the start of the event. There would have been plenty of time to get to know one of them.’
    â€˜Or – it could be Lord Fortescue!’ Esme leaned back in her chair.
    I gaped at her. ‘Esme! I hardly think—’
    â€˜
He’s
married.’ She raised one eyebrow suggestively.
    â€˜Yes, but he’s too old for Mum
and
he adores Lady Fortescue, and that was his first year at Wickham Hall.’ I shook my head. ‘Definitely not.’
    â€˜Ha!’ She stabbed the air triumphantly. ‘There you go. That’s why she hadn’t met him before; he’d only just moved to Wickham.’
    â€˜That’s ridiculous. Besides, he’s lovely.’ I stared at Esme defiantly. ‘Far too nice to be unfaithful.’
    â€˜Don’t you be so sure,’ she said knowingly. ‘He might be a very nice man but I know what the aristocracy is like. I’ve seen
Downton Abbey
.’
    â€˜This is crazy. Stop right now.’ I snatched up the photograph from the table and gave her a warning look.
    â€˜Keep your hair on.’ Esme chuckled, scraping the last of the salmon off her plate. ‘Well, what about the celebrity then? Who did the celebrity appearance in 1984?’
    Every year Wickham Hall had somebody famous on the festival programme to pull in the crowds. This year it was a TV gardener. In 1984 it had been the local BBC weather man.
    â€˜Someone from the BBC,’ I said. ‘I can’t remember his name.’
    â€˜Ah well,’ Esme grinned, pushing herself up straight, ‘that’s it. He’ll be the one. I always thought you’d make a good