60

It was Shirley not Rilla who delivered the quilt, once the Wrights had left for the cottage and everyone else had retired for the night. His smart blue uniform had long gone, he favoured flannel shirts and sturdy corduroys now. When Teddy saw him enter the shed, he wished he had not blown so much money on his fancy new suit.

"Glory," said Shirley, dumping the quilt on Teddy's lap, "you'll turn into a kipper if you keep that up, it's like a smokehouse in here."

Teddy stubbed out his cigarette and got to his feet. He lit another directly. "You want one?" he said.

"Nah," Shirley waved the offer away. "I gave 'em up since I got home."

"The Doctor disapproves I take it."

"Probably, but that's not the reason. I used to get 'em for free in the air force, I'll be darned if I start paying for them now."

He looked for the hammock next, and found it rolled up by an old tent.

"You don't have to do that, I'm used to sleeping on the floor," said Teddy as Shirley started banging a couple of six inch nails into the low beamed ceiling.

"I thought you were with Ken Ford during the action, never saw him as the sort to let his men sleep rough."

The hammering stopped, and together they strung up the hammock. Teddy tested it. Not bad.

"We slept in trucks mostly," he said. "In them, under them, on top."

"I had to sleep in my plane sometimes. Sure beats a trench, though."

They looked at each other, the sort of look that only soldiers would understand. Like a bottomless hole with a fence around it; guarded and gaping at the same time.

'Ah, c'mon, give me one of your cigs then," said Shirley, squatting down against the shed wall. "Seeing as you're paying."

Teddy hunkered down next to him. He wished he hadn't finished his flask of whiskey. It was the kind of night that demanded it.

"Are you watching your pennies or something?" he said.

"Every one. Been saving since I got my idea to start a fox fur business. I got Baron and the Baroness in Belgrade."

"What the hell were you doing there?"

"Never mind what I was doing there, you know better than to ask that. I dunno though…" Shirley took a deep drag then flicked his cigarette away half smoked. "I'm quite attached to my foxes, they're interesting little rascals and I don't really give a fig for fur hats."

"But think of the money-"

"I am thinking of it. Unlike you, you lucky duck."

Teddy bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've got it made, haven't you. The founder of Killick Co being your grandfather. Poor Mother, she was really upset about all that."

"I gave her a hug as soon as I found out and said not to worry."

Shirley gave Teddy a sidelong look. "What you know about mothers you could write on the head of a pin."

"Maybe, but I know all about red tape. Getting round it was part of my job in logistics."

"Yeah, stamps and paperwork and all that palaver. Ken Ford really had some skill there. Say! He's a lawyer, isn't he? Well, he studied the law, at least. Why don't you write to the fellow and ask him to look into it."

"Look into what?"

"You don't know?" Shirley rubbed his chin. "No, you probably don't."

He got to his feet and started strutting, if Shirley Blythe could ever be said to strut. Teddy discovered his tobacco pouch was empty and started chewing on his thumbnail instead.

"The constable made his call an hour ago," Shirley continued. "He's coming back tomorrow but he thought he should make the effort to get here sooner rather than later since not many rich strangers die in the Glen. Anyway, Dads gave him all Mr Killick's papers and whatnot that were tucked inside his coat - can you believe he had one of Walt's books?"

Teddy was becoming curious and leaned forward so far he looked like a goose. "Uh huh, go on, yes."

"There was a letter." Shirley raised his eyebrows and took a long pause. If he still had his cigarette he would have finished it, just to milk the tension. "Mr Killick said he wanted all his worldly possessions to go to you."

"But he doesn't even know me!"

"He doesn't have to, you're flesh and blood."

"I could squander it, or gamble it away, or ruin his empire."

"You wouldn't though," Shirley scoffed.

"It's all academic, it's only a letter -"

"Signed by him."

"It's not a will."

"It's as good as. And anyway we can ask Ken."

Teddy could guess how that would go. He was supposed to watch over Rilla and was fairly sure that order did not extend to replaying the moment when she undressed over and over in his head. No, Ken never meant that kind of watching.

"I dunno, Shirley, I'm not so sure about that."

"Can you afford another lawyer?"

"No."

"Well then."

"I uh… the thing is, Shirley… the thing is…"

Teddy got to his feet. No strutting for him; he started pacing back and forth over the patch of dirt that had been strewn over an oil stain. He had tried to teach Doctor Blythe how to change the oil and the Doctor discovered that cars could be just as challenging to work on as people.

Shirley watched; he was a very patient fellow, but he was also sort of peckish. And Di had her eye on the last piece of cake in the larder.

"Go on," he urged. "I'm listening."

The pacing stopped. Teddy looked a bit of a shambles. Oh boy. There was only ever one reason for a man to crumble like that. And Shirley Blythe was not known for having much of a sympathetic ear when it came to those things, but rather a cloth one.

"I'm kinda sweet on your sister," Teddy blurted. "Rilla. I mean Rilla."

"Sweet on her." Shirley looked surprised. "Is that all?"

"If you really want to know, I love her."

"Then you should probably go up to the house and tell her so," he said, "because that girl's got it into her head that she's ruined your life."

"My no count stinking miserable one?" Teddy very nearly laughed. "I guess she has in a way."

"Boy, you are gone." Shirley shook his head and hastened out the door.

"Not yet," Teddy said to himself, "but I reckon I soon will be."

...

See you tomorrow, love, k.