Honey's Farm (37 page)

‘All your husband will find when he gets back is two people who have died violently. It will all look like a lovers' tiff! He'll feel betrayed – but only for a moment, before I kill him too.'

His finger was closing round the trigger of the rifle. Eddie held his breath, frozen in a moment of horror when he knew he was about to die.

‘Put it down, Daddy.' The voice was low, cajoling, and Eddie turned in disbelief to see Arian standing in the doorway.

‘I'm going to kill the bastard!' Smale ignored his daughter, and realigned his sights menacingly.

‘No, Dad, don't, please don't shoot!' Arian's voice was low but composed. Bob Smale took no notice; the rifle spat fire, and Eddie felt as if someone had hammered his shoulder.

He heard a woman scream, and then Arian had thrown herself forward on to her father. There was another crack of rifle-fire, and Eddie winced, waiting for the pain.

Slowly, Bob Smale toppled forward, sinking to his knees. ‘Arian . . .' he said in a thick voice. ‘Arian!'

His eyes glazed over and he slumped to the floor. Bob Smale was dead.

Eline had decided to call in at Honey's Farm, just for old times' sake. As she was so near, it would be silly simply to turn around and walk back to town. In any case, she was thirsty; she would beg a drink of water drawn from the sweetness of the well, the well that once, when she was a child, she used to believe was a magic one that would grant her every wish.

The only wish she had now was to make herself useful in some way, use her skill for the benefit of children who would think it a miracle to walk straight. She bit her lip. Perhaps, if she was honest, there was another wish, an impossible wish that involved Will Davies. She thought of him holding her in his arms so tenderly; they would have been so right together, and yet, foolishly, she had allowed herself to quarrel with him. Why couldn't she have left well alone?

Eline was almost at the door of the farmhouse when she heard the sharp retort of a gun. It echoed on the still air, sending the ravens flying from the trees in a dark ragged cloud.

Eline began to run. No-one on the land used a gun anywhere near the house – not unless something was radically wrong.

She drew nearer to the doorway of the kitchen, once so familiar to her. The sound of a woman weeping softly brought chills to her spine.

Eline stopped short, hands resting on the wooden door jamb. A child sat on the kitchen floor, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

Eline hurried into the kitchen, her heart beating swiftly. What tragedy had been played out in the sleepy peace of Honey's Farm?

Clear of the door, she stopped short, her gaze drawn at once to the man lying on the floor, blood flowing from a wound in his chest.

Eline, on a sharp intake of breath, recognized the dead man as Bob Smale, and, as though in a nightmare, she saw Smale's daughter kneeling over him, her slim hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking.

On the floor, close to the distraught girl, lay a rifle, menacing and gleaming evilly in the light from the window. Beside the bowed figure of Arian Smale, a young man was standing, his face puffy, as though he had been hit many times, his hands hanging uselessly by his sides. He was clearly at a loss what to do. Behind him was Fon O'Conner, her face white with shock.

It was as if the appearance of Eline galvanized the small tableau into movement. The young man helped Arian Smale to rise to her feet, and gently he took her in his arms.

‘I killed him, my father,' Arian said brokenly. ‘How could I do such a thing to my own flesh and blood, Eddie?'

‘It was an accident,' he said softly. ‘You snatched at the rifle to protect me, and it went off; you couldn't help it. He would have killed me, and after that it would have been Fon's turn to die – Jamie's too, when he came home. Your father was out of his mind, Arian, he didn't know any more what he was doing.'

‘I know you're right.' Arian's voice was a little stronger now. ‘He had gone quite wild with the pain and grief of losing everything; as you say, he no longer knew what he was doing.'

It was Eline who took control of the situation. She spoke gently to Fon, whose bodice was hanging around her slim body in tatters. ‘I'll fetch the doctor. You go outside, get some fresh air; you've had a terrible shock.'

With touching dignity, Fon held her bodice around her and spoke firmly, though her voice trembled a little. ‘There's nothing a doctor can do; Bob Smale is dead.' She paused. ‘I wish Jamie would come back from market; he'd know how to deal with all this.' She waved her hands, encompassing the dead man and the others in the room.

It was strange, Eline thought, that Fon didn't question the appearance of Eline so unexpectedly or the fact that she seemed to be organizing everyone. She simply crossed the room to where Patrick was sitting and clasped him tightly in her arms.

Eline took it upon herself to fetch a blanket from the cupboard on the stairs and cover the still form of the dead man with it.

Fon took a shawl from the back of the door and draped it around her shoulders to cover her breasts, and then, in a gesture of determination, she pushed the kettle on to the flames.

‘Do you think we should call in the constable?' she asked of no-one in particular. Then she turned to Arian. ‘There will be an awful scandal.' She shook her head, as if attempting to clear it. ‘You must prepare yourself for it; all sorts of stories will go around the town.'

‘Oh, God! I don't care about gossip for myself!' Arian Smale said. Her beautiful eyes, filled with the horror of what had happened, turned to Eline in supplication. ‘But I don't want everyone to know that my father had turned into a rapist and was intent on murder.'

‘Let me go for my husband,' Eline said softly. ‘Calvin has a great deal of influence in the town; he'll know just how to handle this.'

Fon put some cups on the table. ‘We'd be grateful for any advice,' she said. ‘None of us know what we should do next.'

‘My father will be branded a madman and a killer,' Arian said softly. ‘I know what he was doing was wrong, but I don't want his memory besmirched with malicious gossip.'

It was Eddie who rose to his feet, wincing a little as he moved. ‘I'll go into town,' he said. ‘If you'll tell me where I might find your husband?'

Eline frowned. ‘But your shoulder, it must be . . .'

‘It's all right – just a graze,' Eddie said quickly.

After a moment's hesitation, Eline gave him directions in soft tones. ‘Tell Calvin what's happened, he'll know what to do.'

‘Don't worry,' Eddie said reassuringly. ‘I won't be long, and then we'll have all this nightmare taken out of our hands.'

There was silence for a moment after he'd gone, and Eline watched as Fon reached out and covered Arian's hand with hers.

‘Thank you for saving my life,' she said simply. ‘I realize what courage it must have cost you to tackle your own father, especially the . . . the way he was.'

She paused and took a deep breath. ‘You know you have a home here with us for as long as you want it.'

Arian's face crumpled. ‘You're kind and generous, but I couldn't stay here now, not where I . . .' Her voice faltered. She put her head down on her arms as they rested on the scrubbed boards of the table and she wept.

Eline was proud of the way Calvin sorted out the problem of the death on Honey's Farm; the killing was, he said, clearly a sad accident. With the help of one or two of his magistrate friends, the entire affair was hushed up. All that the townsfolk knew was that Bob Smale had died suddenly in an unfortunate shooting accident.

Eline sat in her newly acquired workshop and looked across the table to where Arian was gamely trying to cut a piece of leather into the shape of a boot sole.

Arian glanced up and shrugged ruefully. ‘It's good of you to give me work,' she said, ‘but I don't seem to be very good at this.' Her hands dropped dejectedly into her lap.

‘You show great promise,' Eline replied. ‘No-one can learn a trade in five minutes. Give yourself time. You are already good at selecting the best leather; you seem to have an aptitude for it.'

‘Well, that's something,' Arian said, smiling. ‘At least I'm not entirely useless.'

Eline studied Arian as she returned doggedly to her task. The girl had spirit and courage; how much courage it must have taken to pull the shattered threads of her life together after the dreadful experience she'd gone through up on the farm, only she would know.

The girl was very lovely. Her hair was looped up now in silver coils about her face, which was, perhaps, a little too thin and, in repose, quite melancholy – a fact that added to Arian's ethereal quality. But she was tough, Eline knew that already; the girl would never do anything she didn't want to. She needed to be led, not driven: something any man in her life would need to learn.

‘Know me next time, will you?' Arian said, her eyebrow raised.

Eline laughed. ‘Sorry, was I staring?' She put down the drawing she had been making. ‘Let's break for a cup of tea, shall we?'

‘I still can't believe that I did it,' Arian said as, a few minutes later, she sipped tea from the cup Eline had handed her. ‘Killed my father, I mean.'

She shook her head as if to free her mind from the terrible memories that filled it. ‘A daughter raising her hand to her own flesh and blood, it's unheard of.'

‘No, it isn't,' Eline said. ‘It's often within the family that the greatest violence takes place. In any case,' she continued, ‘you had no choice. It was an accident; you snatched for the gun and it went off.' Eline paused. ‘Look,' she said, ‘it was quite obvious that your father meant to leave no-one alive, not even the little boy.'

She leant across the table. ‘He wasn't himself; he was disturbed, that's the only way you can think of him with any peace of mind.'

‘I know.' Arian looked down into her cup. ‘But unfortunately I know my father; I think he was quite clear about what he was going to do.'

Eline watched the girl, sensing her anguish, knowing she must speak out, clear her mind of her nightmare thoughts, however much the words hurt her.

‘I know you are right. I believe Dad would have raped Fon and then killed everyone, including Fon's husband. Then, only then, when he felt he'd had his revenge, he would have turned the gun on himself.'

Eline saw that Arian's mind was crystal-clear. The girl faced life head on; she would not be content fooling herself with comforting half-truths.

‘Well, in that case, you did the only thing possible to avoid an even greater tragedy; you must see that.'

‘Oh, I do,' Arian said. ‘My head accepts it, but my heart, my soul, whatever it is that lies deep within me, still says I killed my father, and somehow, some time, I will be punished for it.'

Eline sat back in her chair. She knew it was useless to protest further; Arian's views were unmovable. She would always regret what she had been forced to do, but she would survive, because she was strong.

‘Please, Arian.' Eddie was lying beside her on a sweet bed of hay. She was naked as a baby, her slim body lying close to his, so close that he could reach out and touch her. He could even take her again, make her moan with desire and fulfil that desire; but what he couldn't do was make her love him.

‘No, Eddie,' she said flatly, with the ease of practice. ‘I have no intention of marrying you or anyone else.'

She turned laughing eyes towards him. ‘You men are useful,
very
useful, I won't deny that; but I don't want to live with one. Less do I want to be married to one. Forget it, Eddie' – she turned to him, pressing herself against him – ‘let's just make the most of the moment, shall we?'

Later, Eddie went back to Honey's Farm and made his way to the room above the stables. Tommy was there, sprawled out on his bed, his hair tousled as though he had been rubbing his hands through it.

‘Been out tom-catting again, have you?' He sat up on one elbow and stared at Eddie enviously.

Tommy was still a pimply youth, with a strong but too thin body. However often Eddie assured him that the pimples would go if he only left them alone, Tommy despaired of ever being attractive enough to get himself a woman.

‘You needn't answer that,' Tommy said. ‘I can see by the look on your face that you've had enough oats to keep you happy for a week, lucky bastard.'

He spoke without rancour and fell back against his bunk. ‘Well, I suppose at least my sister'll be safe with you; she's still a kid yet.'

‘Your sister?' Eddie undressed and sank on to his bed, kicking off his boots.

‘Aye,' Tommy said laconically. ‘Mam's feeling bad, so April is coming to stay up by here with Fon for a few weeks.'

‘Oh?' Eddie's thoughts were still full of Arian, her lovely body, her passion, her total refusal to be his wife. But he didn't wish to hurt Tommy's feelings by showing a lack of interest in his affairs.

‘What's wrong with your mother, then?' he asked, stretching his arms behind his head and staring up at the dark beams of the ceiling.

‘Some women's trouble,' Tommy said vaguely. ‘Don't really know. Anyway, it seems April's getting in the way down at my auntie's place; causing a bit of bother, she is, and Mam can't cope.'

‘I see,' Eddie said, but his eyes were closing; sleep was claiming him. He turned over on his side and pulled the covers up over his naked shoulder.

‘Lucky bastard!' Tommy said again, and Eddie smiled to himself. He
was
lucky, even if Arian did refuse to regularize their affair; at least there
was
an affair, and for that he should be heartily thankful.

‘Night, Tommy,' he said slowly, as sleep closed his eyes and dulled his senses, drawing him into a net of sweet darkness.