Ravens Gathering (18 page)

Norma was beginning to think she’d fallen into an episode of
The Twilight Zone
, or
Hammer House of Horror
.  First there
was the incident with Ron, which had been horribly disturbing, if only because
it was so out of character.  Much as she looked down on the lads in many
respects, she had to acknowledge that their insistence on including Ron in
their group had been admirable over the years.  It would have been quite
easy for them to exclude him without being especially rude about it.  His
limited communication skills would have provided all the excuse they
needed.  But they had gone out of their way to make sure he was part of
the group.

In any pub, there is banter and piss-taking, and sometimes
it can even seem abusive.  Ron had been part of that, both giving and
receiving.  But the viciousness displayed tonight had been well beyond
anything that could have been considered acceptable.  She couldn’t help
thinking about the comments being made yesterday about Peter Salthouse. 
And then the abuse heaped on Colin Gates.  Something was definitely not
right here.

Like the two strangers.  It was possible, of course,
that their presence was just a coincidence.  But it was hard to believe
that there was no connection with the events of the last two days.  Of
course, what it all meant was impossible to guess.  She thought back to
the Post Office this morning, and wondered whether the conclusions she and
others had jumped to could have been off the mark.  Could it be that Martin’s
return to the village was the coincidence, and these two newcomers were the
culprits?

And then there had been Martin’s arrival in the pub tonight,
together with the uncomfortable exchange between him and Patrick.  It
looked as if they had some serious talking to do, but no more than fifteen
minutes had passed before Martin was sitting alone with three barely touched
pints in front of him.  She didn’t know what was going off in the Gates
family, but her curiosity was being seriously tested.

As if that wasn’t enough, for the second night in a row,
Adam Hawthorn had been in.  No awkwardness over the purchase of a pint
this time.  He’d asked for two orange juices.  The second for the
girl accompanying him.  There was something vaguely familiar about her,
but Norma couldn’t recall where or when she might have seen her before. 
They seemed to attract the attention of the strangers as they crossed to a
table.  Then again, the girl’s presence automatically attracted attention
from a large percentage of the room anyway.

Her head filled with so many thoughts, Norma worked
on.  As she did, she was briefly aware of Martin Gates leaving, but it was
another ten minutes before she had a moment’s pause.  When the opportunity
came, she cast her eyes around the room.  It wasn’t nine-thirty yet, so no
one had left for town.  In fact, as far as she could see, the only people
who were missing were Adam, his girlfriend and the two strangers.

Downing three pints had been an attractive prospect. 
He wasn’t happy about the way he was being treated by his family, but he was
also curious about the two men at the bar, especially when they ignored the
Hawthorns.  That was really weird.  He watched them sit on the
opposite side of the pub, barely a glance passing between the two tables. 
But there was a glance.  Very curious.

It was tempting to stay and watch them, find out what they
were up to.  But half way down the first pint, Martin reminded himself of
his plan for tonight.  Although he was frustrated with the responses from
his father and brother, in reality he hadn’t expected the meeting to go
well.  So his intention had always been to follow them back to the
house.  A pub wasn’t the place for the conversation he needed to
have.  And whether they liked it or not, he was determined to have it.

So he’d left the pub and gone after them.  He guessed
they’d been gone for three or four minutes, which was more of a head start than
he’d intended to give them.  And when he reached the road, sure enough
they were out of sight.  He jogged the hundred yards or so to the bend,
and saw that they were already past the Post Office and would probably be home
in less than a minute.  Annoyed with himself for leaving it so long, he
picked up his pace.  He was wearing trainers, so hopefully they wouldn’t
be alerted by the sound of him running.

If they managed to get inside the house before he caught
them, there was no guarantee that they’d open the door to him.  He knew he
needed to catch up before they were off the street.

Between the bend in the road and his parents’ cottage were
the shop, the track up to the Sullivan Farm and the first two cottages in the
row.  By the time they reached the first of the cottages, he was close to
the Post Office.  As they passed the front door of the second, the shop
was behind him.

He was beginning to think he might just make it.  They
might still be in the process of closing the door by the time he got there, but
as long as the door wasn’t completely shut, he could push his way in.  At
least, that was what he was thinking.  Until the two men from the pub
appeared in front of him.

They emerged from the opening to the farm track, only ten
yards or so ahead of him.  Surprised, his initial reaction was to slow
down.  When they stopped directly in his path, he assumed they must have
been just as surprised as he was.  Recovering from the shock, he stepped
off the pavement so he could pass by.  The bald man was nearest to the
road.  He moved to block Martin.  The move was fluid, almost
balletic.  It was also very effective.

The road was wide enough for two cars to pass, so Martin
knew he should be able to get past this man easily enough.  He should be
able to get past both of them with ease.  But even as the bald man stopped
moving, he became aware that the other one was also in motion.

Martin had been in fights before.  He didn’t like them,
and he would avoid them if he could.  But when you’re a stranger in a
strange land, sometimes you couldn’t avoid them.  And when you don’t come
out of them too well the first couple of times, you realise that you need to
learn from your mistakes.  So he’d gone out of his way to learn, and the
first thing he’d learnt was how to identify when you’re under threat.  He
was under no doubt about that right now.  The second thing he’d learnt was
how to work out whether the prospective opponent knew what they were
doing.  From the coordination between the men, he felt confident that
these two knew exactly what they were doing, and how to handle
themselves.  The third thing he’d learnt was to establish whether he
should fight or run.

Up ahead, he could see his father and brother at their front
door.  Matthew was turning the Yale key.  Even if he could get past
these two, he doubted that he could reach the house in time now.  So if he
chose to fight, there would be no point if his sole objective was to continue
with his plan to confront the family.  He turned his attention back to the
two men.

The man on the road was a similar height to Martin.  In
the street light, it was difficult to tell, but Martin guessed he was in his
forties.  He wore jeans and walking boots.  The boots could cause
some damage if used appropriately.  His companion was shorter, maybe five
foot eight.  He too had jeans on.  Martin couldn’t tell whether he
was wearing black trainers or boots.

More important than their appearance was their stance. 
Both men could fight.  They seemed to be quite relaxed, but were keeping
their bodies deliberately loose, which would allow them the flexibility they
might need.  If he gave them the reason.

His father and brother entered the cottage, neither looking
back in his direction.  Had they not heard anything, he wondered.  Or
had they set this up?

Anger and frustration rose up in him again at that last
thought.  Was that the case?  Had they decided he needed to be given
a physical incentive to leave them alone?  Just like the three pints had
seemed appealing to him a few minutes ago, going up against these two offered
some attractions too.  Whichever way the fight went, there were
benefits.  He could use his fists and feet to let off some of the steam
building up.  Or the pain from the beating would take his mind off the
other pain he was feeling.

But neither would resolve anything.

He took a step back.  Neither man moved, just watched
him.  He couldn’t read anything in their eyes.  Couldn’t tell if they
wanted simply to intimidate him or were itching to give him a good hiding.

Another step back.  Still no reaction.  It looked
like it was just intimidation, then.  He might get away with just turning
away now and going back the way he’d come.  Perhaps to the pub for a
while.  But he wasn’t prepared to risk that yet.  They were still too
close.  He wouldn’t have time to react if they decided to attack him while
he had his back to them.

Taking another step away, he started planning his
retreat.  A couple more paces would put him a comfortable distance from
these two.  The question then was what to do when he turned away. 
Should he walk manfully back to the pub, or should he simply run for it? 
The latter option had its attractions.  He wasn’t worried what they would
think of him.  And if he was running, he’d get away quicker.  But he
also knew that with the rush of air past his ears and the pumping of blood
around his body he wouldn’t hear them coming up on him as easily if they gave
chase.  And they looked fit enough to catch him.

He started to lift his foot for another step.

“I think that’s far enough.”

The voice came from behind him.  Spinning round, he
found another two people facing him.  The Hawthorns.  The tall man
looked over Martin’s head and nodded, a gesture towards the two men behind him.

“Are you going to come quietly, or do my friends here need
to help you?”

Having the police around had been unsettling.  And
Martin’s reaction hadn’t been any more reassuring.  When Oakes had left,
there had been a long uncomfortable silence.  Then he’d announced he was
going out.

The way he said it and stormed out put Ian in mind of his
teenage son, Danny.  Not that he was a teenager any more.  Danny must
be...  Oh, twenty-four now.  A wave of regret washed over him as he
contemplated the fact that he had to think hard to recall his son’s age. 
Now wasn’t the time to dwell on his past mistakes, though.  With an
effort, he pushed the thoughts aside and turned to Tanya.

“What do you make of that?” he asked.

He wasn’t looking for a meaningful response, so was
surprised at her answer.  “He’s hiding something.”

“What, apart from the van in our barn?”

“I’m serious, Ian.”  She’d moved closer to him, and
reached out with a hand, resting it on his forearm.  He was suddenly aware
of how vulnerable she looked.

“Tanya, what’s wrong?”  He’d removed her hand to allow
himself to put his arm around her.  It felt strange, after such a long
period of coolness between them.  But he knew it was the right thing to
do, and she’d leaned against him for comfort.

“You couldn’t see his face.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were telling him about the van.  He had his
head down.”

As she said it, he’d replayed the scene in his mind. 
She was right.  He and Oakes had been standing up, but Tanya had been
sitting close to Martin.  She would have been the only one to see his
face.

“What happened?”

Her hand slipped into his, and gripped it tightly.  “He
was frightened.”

*   *   *

They didn’t go out much these days.  Finances were a
constraint, but so was the fact that they hadn’t built up a circle of friends
since they moved up here.  Even if they had the opportunity, neither felt
inclined to leave the house unattended.

As evening passed, they waited.  The television was on,
but neither of them were watching it.  They were too distracted, listening
out for the kitchen door – or the sound of a van coming into the yard. 
They even talked to each other.  At one point, Ian reflected that maybe
something good had come out of this situation.

In recent times, they had taken to sitting separately. 
Ian had his armchair and Tanya had hers.  To sit on the sofa was clearly
too much of a risk for either of them to take.  It invited
companionship.  But that was what Tanya had done when she first came into
the living room, a gesture Ian had acknowledged by joining her and leaving his
hand free for her to hold if she wanted.

Considering the years they’d been together, it was awkward. 
But he was aware that they both welcomed it too.  In Tanya’s case, he knew
she was afraid.  But, more than that, he suspected that feeling was
aggravated by her awareness that it was she who had brought Martin into their
home.  He didn’t have any answers that could reassure her, so he satisfied
himself with offering unspoken comfort.

As it grew later, and more likely that their guest would
return, Ian would have liked Tanya to go to bed, out of the way.  Then he
could talk to Martin without her around.  He had already worked out that
Martin was more comfortable one to one.  But he also knew that she
wouldn’t be happy about being on her own.  She needed company for
now.  He contemplated asking her to leave when Martin did come in. 
Contemplated it, but didn’t say anything.  His fears had nothing to do
with dog murderers and van thieves.  They were about rejection.  For
tonight, he could hold her hand and be close to her.  His own
uncertainties lay snugly with their relationship, and he was afraid of what he
might find if he faced that head on.

It was after midnight when they heard the engine.  It
didn’t stop running, just idled for a few seconds, then they heard it rise in
volume again as it went away.  A moment later the kitchen door clattered
open and closed again.

Squeezing his wife’s hand, Ian stood up.  He gestured
to her to stay where she was.  This was his compromise.  He was going
to head Martin off and talk to him in the kitchen.  That way, he didn’t
have to risk rejection.

The kitchen was empty when he got there.  A light shone
in the passageway that led down to the guest room.  By the time he reached
the doorway, he could see the bedroom door was closing.

“Martin?”  He was relieved that his voice didn’t sound
too wary.

The door opened again, and a weary figure appeared, his face
drawn, almost pale.

“You okay?” Ian asked tentatively.

His houseguest gave him a wry smile.  “Not really.”

“Want to talk about it?”

A shake of the head.  “Not really.”  Then he made
a show of looking at his watch.  “I’m sorry I’m so late.  It’s very
inconsiderate of me.  I hope you haven’t stayed up just for me.”

Ian opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly found he didn’t
know what to say.  He had lots of questions to ask.  After all, he’d
been thinking about them all afternoon and evening.  But Martin looked
completely shattered, ready to collapse.  Maybe now wasn’t the time.

“We should talk in the morning,” he said eventually. 
It wasn’t perfect, but at least he was making it clear that he wasn’t going to
ignore the situation.

Leaning against the doorframe, Martin nodded his
understanding.  “We will,” he assured him.  Then he raised his hand
in a parody of a wave, and disappeared into his room.

“Let’s hope so,” Ian murmured to himself, as he turned to go
back to Tanya.  She wasn’t going to be very happy about the continued
uncertainty.  He just hoped he could convince her of what he had just
seen.  They weren’t in any danger from him tonight.  That man was in
no fit state to do anything other than sleep.