Chapter 19

Once back on the track, they retraced their steps of the morning, fording the river once more, and then followed the embankment over the river meadows, with the tall mound of Huish Coppice looming ever closer. The cutting between Huish and the village was in shadow at this time of day, the nettle growth much more dense. Abby was surprised when she spotted a tall post, a rusted iron ladder still connected at the top, standing at an angle by the side of the formation. Combe Lyney up distant. Suddenly the purpose of the day came back to her. She was back in her Grandfather's territory. Within a few hundred yards the Station came into view, they were out of the cutting now, riding along a small embankment, past the spot where she had crossed the line that first time going up to Huish Coppice, and then riding into the Station itself.

James had not said too much during this short ride, now he rested his arms on the pommel and looked around.

"I have seen this place hundreds of times and still for the life of me cannot understand why British Railways, or Rail Track, whatever they are called now, has not done something with this site. You would have thought they would have sold it to someone, or even offered it to my Father." A sudden memory came into Abby's mind, what was it that Mr. Brasher had said about the way the land was obtained? A Way leave, and if the land ceased to be used for the purpose of the railway, it would revert to the original owner.

"I believe British Railways couldn't sell it, because they didn't own it."

"Pardon?"

"They didn't own it."

"Then who does own the land?"

"You do." There was a silence.

"I do?"

"Yes."

"How do you work that out?"

"Well it was something that Mr. Brasher said, about the land being made available to the railway in what is called a Way leave. In essence it is a leasing system that is self-renewing unless the railway ceases to use the land, in which case it reverts back to the original owner, and that happens to be you."

"How sure of this are you?"

"Well, Mr. Brasher seems to have done his research very thoroughly, and had looked up all the relevant Acts of Parliament, so I don't think he would be wrong on this. You will probably have to consult your Solicitor to have the Land Register checked, but as no-one else has laid claim in the meantime, I can't see a problem with it."

James surveyed his restored land with a jaundiced eye.

"Much as I am happy to have the situation resolved, if it is as you say; I can't say that it will mean that much to me. The tenants don't want it, except as a convenient track between fields, so it won't bring me any extra income. Then of course, the Revenue will view it as an asset, and will attempt to tax it as such." It had been a day for Abby to speak without thinking, and she continued in that vein.

"You could sell it to me. Well at least this little bit here about the Station." Her brain then caught up with her mouth. "No, you won't want to sell, will you, it's land, you will never sell the land." James was grateful to Abby for seeing the difficulty, and letting him off the hook.

"Why would you want this?" Abby had spoken with a gut feeling, an emotional reaction, and she thought for a while before replying, clarifying her thoughts as she did.

"I said that I might like to settle here, and I have loved this place; felt an emotional attachment to it, ever since I first came here. It just seems right. This was where my Grandfather lived, and died; it's where Mum was brought up and I feel somehow that by coming home, Granddad's spirit will find some peace, and be happy." She stopped; embarrassed by her words, fearful that James would mock. He didn't.

"That makes sense to me. The valley gives me that feeling, being here, and maintaining the system that my ancestors started. Yes I can understand why you would want to live here." He paused. "I'm glad you understand that I cannot sell the land; that is if it mine to sell. However, I would be prepared to lease it to you on a very long term, if that will make you happy. Having said that, I should warn you that the place is falling down, and will take a load of capital to set it right."

Abby nodded, now the business brain was working.

"What sort of term would we be looking at, and what would the rent be?" James gave a short dry laugh.

"I don't think that sitting here on horseback is the right time or place to discuss such business. We should sit down somewhere quiet and talk about it over a drink. Shall we say tomorrow evening at the Combe Inn? Then we've both had a chance to think about it, and what conditions we are prepared to accept."

"And this is the man who said he hadn't inherited his father's acumen." Abby taunted him gently with his own words. "But will the Inn be quiet enough?"

"Oh yes, if we sit down in the Lounge with our heads close together, Mary would crucify anyone who dared to interrupt us. Mavis, of course, would prefer Hanging, Drawing and Quartering."

"So you have noticed that as well." The grin returned to James' face.

"Don't be upset, it's just that they believe it not right for anyone to be single, and happy."

They turned the horses, homewards, riding back down the formation until the Public Footpath that crossed the track for Huish Coppice. Here James turned them off the formation and they took to the fields, riding through a herd of cattle, some of which looked incuriously at them before moving slowly out of their way. James unlatched the gate of the field, and they moved through into a meadow, bright with rippling field grasses, adorned with shades of Purple, Yellow, Red and White. Many hued Butterflies fluttered busily over the kaleidoscope of colour.

"What kind of field is this?" Abby asked James.

"A meadow." He replied. "It hasn't been grazed this year but it has been dunged. Next year the cattle will love all this."

"What are all these flowers?"

"The purple is Knapweed, the red is Betony; I think the yellow is Hay-rattle, and all the white is Saxifrage, and actually they are weeds or Meadow grasses."

"What funny names, and you know them all, I'm impressed. I've never seen a meadow like this before."

James thought before answering Abby's observation.

"Modern farming is all about fertilisers, and pesticides. Spray the field with those, and within a year or two all of these meadow grasses will be gone."

"So why haven't you done that?"

"Economics. The market today is so competitive, and is only viable if you produce in bulk, to sell at the lowest unit price. The West Country farmer cannot create huge fields that are worked with the minimum labour. Here in this valley we have even less chance of creating viable units. So there is little point in adding to your costs, when the unit price the market is paying is often below your production cost anyway. We still use the old ways of fertilising."

"The old ways?"

"Yes, the old ways, Dung my dear, Dung. It's cheap and plentiful."

"If the market price is below your production costs, are you making losses?"

"No, most of the tenants break even, or make a small profit, but that is by only producing in quantities that they know can be sold locally. Economies of scale work both ways."

"That's not very business-like."

James made a face.

"Do you really want to end a great day discussing profit and loss?" Abby shook her head.

"No, you're right; it's not the time to talk business, besides I am finished with all of that for the moment. What else can we talk about?"

"Well, I was going to ask you if you would like to come to the Hunt Ball later this year?" Abby was dumbstruck.

"The Hunt Ball, I didn't know you were a Huntsman." James could detect a slight distaste in her voice.

"I'm not. But I allow them to hunt on my land, so they send me an Invitation. The Farmers support the Hunt though, and if you have any reservations about that, talk to Sam, or some of the other tenants, see what they have to say." James' tone was a little testy, as if here was a Townie adopting a high moral position about something of which she had little knowledge.

Abby heard the unspoken message, and backed off quickly. She remonstrated with herself for allowing her distaste of hunting to show. James hadn't said as much, but his tone of voice had hinted, that judging people before knowing all the facts was a recipe for ill will. She was discovering that Life in the country was lived very differently to life in the cities, and that attitudes shaped by the paved streets, and high-rise buildings had to be adjusted accordingly.

She changed tack quickly.

"What sort of event is this? Is it very dressy?"

"You could say that." Replied James. "White Tie and Tails, Pink for the members of the Hunt, and every lady trying to outshine the rest." Abby was thinking. She would have to get a dress for the occasion, in her thoughts the word "dress" was written in capitals and illuminated. She would have to enlist Toni's help to find the right shop.

"Who will be there?"

"The Lord Lieutenant, some Right Honourables, and a Knight or two."

"Oh so this is Society."

"Definitely, well Society as it is down here. God knows why they ask me. So will you come?"

"James, I accept your invitation with pleasure."

They had arrived back at the Inn. James dismounted and held the horses while Abby slid down, something she did with a little groan. James looked concerned.

"A few aches?" He asked.

"None that a hot bath will not cure." She replied, "James it has been tremendous, I have thoroughly enjoyed the day, thank you."

"I have enjoyed it too, and don't forget we still have the rest of the track to cover." He had a mischievous grin on his face. "Perhaps when you are ready to get in the saddle again." He left the rest of the question in the air.

"I'll let you know, it won't be too long, rest assured of that." Abby smiled. Mary came out of the Inn at her usual pace.