Chapter 9

I attended the first auction. It was interesting looking around the room, I recognised some of the bidders and acknowledged them with a nod. I also recognised new faces. It was quite easy to tell who was new in the business. They had that eager look, constantly consulting the list of properties and when the bidding started flourishing their bidding number ostentatiously as if they would be overlooked by the auctioneer. I hung back, watching, who was bidding and how quickly the bids mounted. When I did enter the bidding for a property I watched to see who was bidding against me and how determined they were. When the signs were right I would stay in, when I saw someone who would go to the wire to get a property I dropped out. I was there to buy cheaply. I left the auction without buying, I just wasn't hungry enough to go to the lengths others would venture to obtain any of these properties. Perhaps the experience was telling me that it was time to dive in another pool.

I didn't go up to Chetford for three weeks, although Tina kept me up to date on what was going on. She would come to the office late on those Monday mornings, tired but happy. I advised her to let Aleksy get some sleep. "If my builder is so tired out perhaps he will not do a good job for me."

"Huh!" She shot back at me. "Tell Aleksy. It is him keeping me awake most of the night." She went off to make some coffee.

"Make it strong." I yelled at her back as she left my office. She ignored me.

When she came back with the coffee I handed her a letter from the estate agency. It acknowledged my ownership of the Chetford estate and attached was a cheque for rent payable for the time I had owned the estate. I let Tina work it out and watched as her face became first puzzled and then darkened with anger. "What's going on here?" She asked rhetorically. She picked up my calculator and tapped in a couple of figures. " This is crap! They have sent us a cheque for the five weeks you have owned the estate. That should be eleven thousand, seven hundred and sixty nine pounds. Their cheque is for four thousand three hundred and eighty pounds. She picked up the statement giving the breakdown. There was a deduction of fifteen percent for management fees, then another deduction for management contract exchange, whatever that was, and then a deduction for essential drainage work. I had noted these already but waited for Tina to come to her own conclusion. It was as I expected. "Bastards!" She blurted. "They are stiffing us." She looked at me. "What are you going to do?"

"I have spoken to Brian and his statement for the period carries the same deductions." I told her. "He is sending me a copy of his statement and I want to know where the drainage work was required. The land registry plan shows the outline of the fields but I need to know who rents what fields. Then I will be then calling on these people."

"Can I come too?"

"Not really necessary."

"Spoilsport." Tina did love a good fight. She then revealed some further research she had undertaken. "Mr. Morestead had owned the estate for six years. He bought it at an auction of assets of an old lady, a Maude Tiverton who died intestate. She had owned Chetford for eighteen years having inherited it from an uncle, who I believe had bought it from the Ministry of Defence. She lived in Harrogate." She looked triumphant. "That explains a lot. When I was in the pub I asked around and nobody knew who owned the estate. Even those farmers who were renting land didn't know. It appears that Huddingtons, the estate agency always said that the land was in trust.

I emailed the estate agency asking for the rented land records, and the location where the drainage work had been needed. I didn't expect an immediate reply. If my suspicions were correct I was sure they would need some time to come up with a believable answer. I decided to go up to Chetford on Thursday. I needed to look around more thoroughly so I hired a Land-Rover Defender for the trip. I didn't want to drive across fields in my Passat.

I had no reply from the estate agent by Wednesday. The next day I started off in the Defender. Despite the diesel engine, which I had always thought would be sluggish the engine pulled well and I had no problem on the motorway in keeping a steady seventy-eight miles per hour. I had left at eight-thirty and pulled into the Dower House at ten past ten. I couldn't see any of Aleksy's labourers although I could hear their endeavours and their voices. I couldn't understand what were saying, they appeared to be conversing in Polish. Nonetheless they seemed to be in good heart judging by the laughter that intermingled with their chat. There were two caravans parked side by side to the east of the house and nearby to them was the smouldering remnants of a fire. Aleksy came out of the front door with a worried look on his face until he realised it was me who had driven in. "Boss. Come to see what's going on?"

"Not really, Aleksy. I wanted to get around the estate and see what I have got here."

His face cleared. "Right transport for that." He indicated the Defender.

Before we could get into that we were interrupted by the arrival of a John Deere tractor. The driver stopped and switched off the engine, then climbed down from the cab. He approached us. "Have you permission to be here?" His attitude was somewhat truculent.

I held out my hand to shake. "I am Daniel Chandler. I recently bought Chetford. You are?"

"Reggie Somers. I farm sixty acres over yonder." He waved his hand in the general direction of Braintree although he could have meant almost anywhere. "Wondered what was going on. Seem to get Tinkers and the like around, trying to nick anything valuable. Mind, there isn't anything worth taking in there anymore. We've had all sorts around over the years, anything worth anything has gone." He paused. "Goin' to knock it down then?"

"No. Aleksy and his crew are going to restore the house as it was."

"Bloody hell. That's going to take a bit. You goin' to live here, then?"

"Probably."

"It'll be a good place to live." He looked around the frontage. "What yer goin' to do with this front?"

"Apart from clearing all the gorse and bramble, I haven't thought too much about that."

"I'll come over tomorrow. Got an attachment for the back of the tractor. It'll go down about three feet and pull the stuff up from the roots."

"That's kind of you."

"No problem. You'll need that hedge layered as well. I'll do you a good deal if you're interested." He was referring to the hedge between the property and the lane.

"What's a good deal on that?"

"Let's say fifty quid a yard."

"No, let's not say that."

He grinned. "Ok forty a yard."

"I like thirty."

"Thirty-five?" He asked

"Deal." He spat into his palm and offered me the hand to shake. I did the same and we shook. This was an old way of sealing a deal. The deal was done, he wouldn't back out of it and neither would I. "When can you do it?" I asked.

"Oh. Not until September."

"Not before?"

"No. Can't do it until the birds have finished sitting on their nests. It's going to be a good summer, they will be raising two clutches this year."