Chapter 10 #3
‘The Swans were local to this area for centuries,’ she said, ‘but they weren’t the lords of the manor by any stretch. Yeomen farmers, I think. Then in the seventeenth century one of them married the Sharington heiress and moved to Winterhill, and the rest is history, as they say.’
She was thinking of the farm at what was to become Swan Court, and how it had looked 500 years before, the thatched house lying in a fold of the hills between the Downs and the Vale, watched over by the White Horse.
It had not been at all grand but it had been a safe, solid sanctuary, old even in the 1540s.
There was something timeless about it, and something so strong and reliable about Sam Welland, the farmer, and his sister Mary.
That was why she and Will had chosen it as the place where Richard would live. A safe and protective haven.
She remembered a dark night, a ride over the hills, a baby’s soft cry, then the lights of the farm welcoming them in. Whispered words had been exchanged, promises given. And from that small beginning, the Swan family had grown and flourished…
Owen’s voice broke into the memory.
‘I suppose the family name came originally from the place,’ he was saying, ‘a toponymic surname? Rachel thought it could derive from the word swine, or from the Norse language.’
Or it could be the name Queen Anna had bestowed on her son, Jenna thought, given because the swan was the dynastic symbol of the Cleves princedom.
‘The name Swan Court wasn’t around until about the beginning of the seventeenth century,’ she said carefully, ‘but it was a moated site in the Middle Ages. There could have been swans on the moat.’
‘A moat around a farmhouse?’ Owen looked intrigued. ‘I thought you’d only get them around a castle.’
‘Moats weren’t just for defence,’ Jenna said. ‘At a farm it was a useful source of water for the animals and the household.’
‘I’ll have to see if I can find any traces of it,’ Owen said, then seemed to catch himself up. ‘I can’t believe I said that. It has to be the first time I’ve actually expressed any enthusiasm for archaeology.’
Jenna laughed. ‘It’s different when it’s personal, isn’t it?
An old priory, for example, isn’t necessarily relatable if you’re not particularly into history, but when it’s your own home, when you’re walking in the footsteps of the people who came before you in that place, it can be different.
’ She realised that Owen was smiling, and she stopped, feeling self-conscious. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ Owen said. ‘I just like the way you express yourself, that’s all. It was the same when we first met and you spoke about Winterhill. It was unexpected and vivid. You’re a very interesting person, Jenna Bergin.’
‘I guess I have too much imagination,’ Jenna said lightly, repressing a shiver. ‘It comes from reading so many books.’
‘It’s weird how remote it feels around here sometimes when you’re not really that far from civilisation,’ Owen said, echoing what Jenna had said up on the hill. ‘There’s a very strong atmosphere. Sometimes it’s so quiet it feels as though you’ve time travelled. The past is very close.’
Jenna felt the goosebumps rise on her arms. They were crossing the Roman road that skirted the base of the hill; for a moment she could almost imagine the tramp of the legionaries’ feet, the sound of hoofbeats, the echo of voices from a long-ago time.
‘I didn’t have you down as someone who would believe in the supernatural,’ she said lightly.
Owen didn’t give the equally light rejoinder she had expected.
‘I hope I’m open-minded about it,’ he said.
‘It would be a bit arrogant to assume we know everything about the world we live in, wouldn’t it?
My mother had a strong belief in reincarnation, for example.
’ In the faint light from the dashboard, Jenna saw him smile a little.
‘I think that being an archaeologist and studying other people’s belief systems made her a great deal more inclined to be receptive to ideas that are often dismissed in our culture, and I’m grateful to her for that.
I hope I’ve inherited her sense of balance. ’
Jenna could feel her hands shaking a little.
Changing gear with a lurch, she had to remind herself not to stall the car.
Just because Athena Swan had been receptive to the idea of reincarnation did not mean she should pour out her own story to Owen, she told herself.
In fact, it would look like a blatant attempt to engage his interest if she did; unsubtle, embarrassing and definitely bogus.
With a tiny sigh she smoothed her hands on the steering wheel.
‘My sister Bree has a similar belief,’ she said cautiously. ‘She’s found it rather lucrative for her artwork.’
‘Is your sister Bree Bergin?’ Owen glanced at her.
‘Wow, I hadn’t made the connection before, even though I knew she was based in Oxford.
Rachel is a terrific fan of hers. Our grandparents gave Rach and Hugh a piece of Bree Bergin sculpture as a wedding present.
It’s her pride and joy.’ He patted Titus. ‘Even more than you, bud.’
Titus gave him a suitably disbelieving look and Owen laughed. ‘Okay, maybe not.’
‘Bree would be thrilled to know,’ Jenna said. ‘She’s remarkably successful considering that she’s still only in her late twenties. I find her work…’ She hesitated, not wanting to sound disloyal. ‘…quite disturbing,’ she said. ‘She’s incredibly talented but her work is very dark.’
Owen nodded. ‘I know what you mean. It’s certainly fierce. Is she like that in person?’
Jenna was accustomed to people finding Bree far more interesting than they found her, but when it was Owen asking, it seemed to hurt just a little more.
‘Yes,’ she said, hoping she didn’t sound too wooden. ‘Bree’s fierce and prickly and dazzling. People generally find her irresistible.’
‘That sounds wonderful from a creative perspective,’ Owen said gravely, ‘but exhausting to live with. I bet your teenage years were full of her tantrums.’
Jenna found she had to bite her lip to stop an unexpected giggle. ‘Not just Bree,’ she admitted, ‘but my younger sister Molly as well. Both drama queens in their own different ways. Molly went through a kleptomaniac phase that was rather disturbing.’
A cluster of lights appeared ahead of them signalling the first cottages on the edges of Woolstone village.
‘There’s Swan Court.’ Owen pointed to a house set back from the road down a neat, tree-lined drive. ‘I’d love to show it to you sometime.’
‘I’d like that,’ Jenna said truthfully. It would probably be a mistake to go there, she thought. Every step further that she took with Owen felt as though it was drawing her in, teasing her with a past that she had loved and that he did not either know or remember. Yet she didn’t want to walk away.
They entered the centre of the village and turned left by the inn, a beautiful black and white thatched building.
‘I haven’t been here for ages,’ she said. ‘Last time, the food was really good.’
‘It still is.’ Owen checked his watch. ‘It’s only six, but I think they’re open all day.’
The warmth from the wood burner reached out and hugged them as they walked in.
Owen ordered a pint and Jenna a coffee, mindful of the fact she would be driving back later.
Grabbing a couple of menus, they made their way across to a bench seat beside the inglenook.
Titus took a long drink from the pet bowl and then curled up on the edge of the rug with a happy sigh.
‘This is perfect.’ Jenna slid her damp jacket off and put it over the back of the chair. She yawned. ‘It’s strange how the fact that it’s dark makes it feel as though it’s about eight o’clock rather than six.’
‘Were you working in the shop today?’ Owen asked.
‘Only until lunchtime,’ Jenna said, wrapping her hands around the coffee cup for warmth. ‘Bart, one of my booksellers, was in charge this afternoon so that I could take some time off.’
‘I guess it’s a lot of people’s dream to own a bookshop,’ Owen reflected, ‘but I can only imagine it’s damned hard work as well. It’s a business, with all that entails.’
Jenna nodded. ‘I studied business management alongside English at uni,’ she said.
‘I suppose you could say my dad owned a small business too, so I had some background experience, despite some of his rather dodgy working practices.’ She gave him a smile.
‘How did you get into your line of work? I know you said you were attracted to maths and finance, but it’s quite a step from there to being an angel investor. ’
Owen cocked an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been researching me?’
‘It’s hard to miss you if you read the business pages,’ Jenna said dryly, stirring her coffee.
‘Haven’t you recently helped establish a networking platform enabling young entrepreneurs to build strategic relationships with others in similar businesses?
You’ve got quite a track record of investing in start-ups. ’
Owen looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I realised that I enjoyed spotting new business opportunities and mentoring people more than I enjoyed the business itself,’ he said. ‘After I sold FinTract, my first company, I decided I’d like to invest in a few interesting projects. It all grew from there.’
‘It’s impressive,’ Jenna said. The scale of Owen’s vision made her head want to explode. He was definitely a big picture person, she thought, whereas she was a details type.
Over dinner, she managed to get him to open up more about the reasons he had gone into tech and finance in the first place.