Ravens Gathering (8 page)

During thirty years or so of working long, hard hours, there
had been many days when Ian had come home feeling completely drained.  He
knew it wasn’t just the hours he put in.  Because he took his work
seriously, wanting to make sure he did the very best he could for clients, very
often he felt a lot of tension building up.  The tax office, for example,
had cut-off dates for certain things.  Naturally, the fifth of April was
always a stressful time, but there were other times too.  He always
managed to meet the deadlines, but he generated a lot of sweat, and gave his
blood pressure a hard time in the process.

When he came home, though, he was able to switch off. 
There were certain things that worked, little routines that he used to get
himself into the right frame of mind.  To start, he had to have a
shower.  When he felt the water flowing over his body, it was as if it was
washing all his troubles away.  Very often he didn’t feel physically
dirty, but he certainly felt as if he’d been cleansed when he stepped out of
the shower.  After towelling himself dry, he padded out of the en-suite
bathroom.

Some comfortable clothes would be next.  Light and
loose, giving him a sense of freedom.  When he opened the wardrobe, he
reached in for a favourite pair of cotton trousers.  He didn’t need to
look for them because he knew exactly where they’d be.  Except they
weren’t.  The hanger was empty.

He was side-on to the wardrobe.  A chest of drawers was
facing him, and he’d been about to pull one of the drawers open so he could get
some fresh socks out.  Confounding the critics, he was an accomplished
multi-
tasker
.  With his clothes kept in the same
places at all times, it had been easy to develop a habit of producing his
clothes in very short order.  Surprised at finding the empty clothes
hanger, he hesitated for a moment.  The interruption to his habitual
routine was confusing him.

Very slowly, he turned to face the open wardrobe and studied
its contents very carefully, occasionally shifting a jacket or shirt to one
side to get a clearer view of the adjacent clothing.  But the trousers
were gone.  For most people, it probably wouldn’t have been much of an
issue.  He recognised that himself.  It was just so unusual for the
trousers to not be there.  They’d only come back from the dry cleaners a
week ago, and he hadn’t worn them since.

What was more puzzling, though, was that he realised one of
his jackets was missing as well.  It was thick tweed, ideal for wearing in
the autumn when he went for walks.  Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have noticed
it wasn’t there.  Not at this time of year.  If he hadn’t been
searching for the trousers, its absence would have passed him by completely.

A more thorough check told him there was a possibility that a
couple of shirts were missing, but they could very easily have been put in the
laundry basket, and be anywhere between that receptacle and the utility room
waiting for him to iron them.  Out of curiosity, he wandered back into the
bathroom and checked the basket.  Nothing resembling the missing clothes
was in there.

Shrugging to himself, he returned to the bedroom, found
another pair of trousers and started to dress.  It was strange, but not
alarming.

The next stage of winding down was a glass of whisky. 
It was especially effective if he could find something to watch on the
television while he sipped it.  Nothing too challenging – and certainly
nothing serious.  Comedy, action or adventure were ideal.  It didn’t
matter whether it was a film or TV programme.  They helped him escape to a
different world.  If there was nothing suitable on the box, he had a
collection of videos he could pick from.  Some comedy in recent years
didn’t seem all that funny.  He didn’t get the so-called ‘alternative’
comedy.  To his way of thinking, the alternative to comedy was...well,
not
comedy.  But there was still plenty of material out there that
appealed.  When it came to the action and adventure, the video options
were quite limited.  Not many of the TV series he liked were available on
video yet, which was a shame when he wanted to watch some in the late afternoon
and early evening.  Films were more plentiful, but not so practical. 
At that time of day, he’d probably have to break off at some point to have
dinner or help in its preparation.

Drinks were kept in a cocktail cabinet in the dining room,
so headed there first.  He had to pass through the kitchen to get to
it.  As he did, he was vaguely aware that the door leading to the annexe
was ajar.  While he poured himself a Scotch, his mind drifted between
considering what to put on the TV and wondering where his jacket and trousers
had got to.  In a sense, this lack of focus was part of the process of
relaxing.

Returning to the kitchen, he glanced again at the partially
open door.  It wasn’t a conscious thing, but he was aware enough to
realise afterwards that his subconscious might have already started to connect
some dots.  The words ‘utility room’ floated briefly across his mind,
shadowy echoes from his earlier thoughts.  He had been about to turn right
towards the hallway and, beyond that, the living room.  Instead he
stopped.  It would only take a moment to check the utility room. 
That might just solve the mystery of the missing clothes, then he could settle
down and enjoy an episode of
Cheers
.

One of the shirts he was looking for was on a hanger,
suspended from a hook screwed into an oak beam in the ceiling.  There were
several hooks scattered across the four beams that supported the ceiling. 
He had never been sure what the
Sullivans
had used
them for, but Tanya found them useful for the laundry.  Apparently it cut
down on the amount of time she spent ironing.

There was no sign of the other missing items of clothing, so
he came out of the utility room and into the corridor.  As he turned to
close the door, he noticed the door to the guest bedroom was half open. 
On another occasion, he probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it. 
But with the other strange things happening – Tanya’s unexplained absence, the
missing clothes – this additional inconsistency grabbed his attention.

They did generally keep this part of the house closed up,
especially when the heating was on.  Tanya begrudged all of the little
economies he was asking for, but he knew that the collective effect could mean
a big saving overall.  And he knew that deep down she realised it
too.  Which was why she generally went along with his requests.

A part of him considered going back to his bedroom
first.  During the course of his negotiations with the
Sullivans
,
they had discussed a range of different aspects of farm life.  Although
Ian and Tanya wouldn’t be farming, living in a farm house about half a mile
from the village, there were certain experiences they could have which were
significantly different to the lifestyle they had been used to.  Foxes,
for example, weren’t rife in Oxford.  And you needed to learn how to deal
with them.  Like a lot of people who enjoy watching action and adventure
films, Ian had never contemplated actually using a firearm himself. 
Buying the shotgun had been a real wake-up call.  His life was changing
dramatically.

The gun was kept in a locked cabinet in the bedroom. 
Tanya wasn’t happy about it being there, but the alternatives were even less
appealing.  She didn’t want it in the kitchen or other living areas, and
the hallway wasn’t secure enough.  She also accepted that, if they were
going to be so remote from the rest of the village, there was an increased risk
of them being broke into at night.  If that was the case, it was pointless
having their primary means of defence on a different floor, or even a different
bedroom.

Ian’s thoughts of retrieving the shotgun were fleeting,
though.  This was the real world, not some suspense thriller. 
Whatever the explanation for the guest room door being open, it was hardly
likely to involve a psychopath waiting for him with a long knife.  It was
more likely that Tanya would be down there.  He couldn’t guess what she’d
be doing, but the last thing he’d want to do is confront her with a gun barrel. 
Things were strained enough.

Still, he was cautious.  He didn’t march straight
in.  Instead, he paused at the doorway and gently pushed the door
open.  As his view into the room widened, he saw a rucksack on the
bed.  It was leaning at an angle, like it had been dumped there by someone
in a rush.  He knew it didn’t belong either to him or to Tanya.  For
a start, they didn’t have need of one, so they’d never bought one.  And
there was no possibility in his mind that Tanya might have suddenly acquired an
appetite for outdoor living.

There was no other obvious sign of occupation.  Not
from the doorway in any event.  He stepped inside, still cautious, and
carefully looked around the bedroom and en-suite.  A damp sheen in the
sink and a crumpled hand towel were the only other indications that anyone had
been there recently.  But who was it?  And why were they here?

As he returned to the kitchen, he mulled over those
questions.  But no answers were forthcoming.  Suspicions
perhaps.  About Tanya.  He had no evidence that she had been
unfaithful to him over the years, but that didn’t stop him having his
concerns.  She was nearly twenty years younger than him.  She was
beautiful, and sexy, and very physical.  He had no doubt that other men
would find her attractive – and probably pursue her.  The doubts were as
to whether she would respond to them.

Surely she wouldn’t bring a lover into the house,
though?  The thought horrified him.  He had his suspicions about her,
and they came with a familiar gnawing in his stomach at the thought of her
being unfaithful.

A year after they’d moved here, she had decided to return to
work, and had got a job as Marketing Director for a small firm in
Westfield.  Soon after starting there, she’d begun to spend a lot of time
working late and attending meetings that needed her to have overnight
stays.  It had been agony for him.  His jealousy had known no
bounds.  Wondering what she was up to – and with whom.

Many times he’d wanted to confront her, to find out whether
his suspicions were true.  He was afraid of the answer, though.  And
he was afraid of losing her.

Then she’d left the firm.  He’d sold the first few
houses, and they seemed to be making some money at last.  She’d told him
she could be of more help with the development.  Her reasoning didn’t
really make sense, but he wasn’t prepared to question her.  In part, he
didn’t want to show her how vulnerable he felt.  He also didn’t want to
hear the truth about the reasons for leaving the company.

The familiar insecurities crept over him, as he wandered
through the kitchen.  He was going to get that Scotch, see if that
helped.  As he passed the window, movement in the yard caught his eye, and
he looked out.  Tanya was coming towards the house.  Beside her was a
tall blond man.  Ian felt his guts twist as he realised they were holding
hands.

The walk back from the clearing was uneventful.  That
didn’t mean Tanya felt any more comfortable.

“What happened back there?” she’d asked when they had been
walking for a while.  A look back had told her that the clearing was
hidden from view, and there was no sign of any birds following them.

“I don’t know.”  Martin shook his head thoughtfully.

“But you were expecting it.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“But something?”

He stopped walking and looked warily around them.  She
wasn’t sure if he was genuinely worried, or just trying to keep her
scared.  In fairness, it didn’t really matter.  She had been unnerved
by the appearance of the birds.  And now she had something else to
consider.

“Yes.  I was expecting something.”

“Crows?”

“I doubt it.  They were too big.”

“Ravens then?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I really
don’t.”  He sounded as if he was almost as bewildered by the incident as
she was.

“I’ve never seen birds like that.  Not gathering
together like that, anyway.  It was like something out of a Hitchcock
film.”

Martin shook his head, clearly unable to verbalise any
coherent response to that.  “I don’t think you need to worry about being
attacked by them...”

“Probably not, but
you
scared me bloody shitless!”

“Seriously, Tanya, I don’t know...”

“
Anything
?  Do you know anything
at all
?”

She was looking up at him, trying to see what was going on
behind his eyes, but was thwarted by a combination of the fading light and his
apparent unwillingness to return her gaze.

“Probably not enough,” he said eventually.

“But you know something.  What is it?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m guessing from the way you said that, you’re not
planning to give me a chance to, either.  Are you?”

He glanced around them, searching for something.  She
was frustrated with him, and that made her annoyed.  But she was also
still frightened.  The birds had continued to gather, landing in the
branches of the trees like an audience arriving.  To watch a performance
of some kind – a play or a sporting contest?  At first she had tried to
keep a count of them, assess how many there were.  Within minutes, she’d
realised it was an impossible task.  There were too many of them. 
Easily dozens, possibly over a hundred.  And they had continued to take
their places as Martin had guided her out of the clearing.  For all she
knew, there could be hundreds of them by now.

Martin had been expecting something.  His behaviour had
told her that, and now he’d admitted it too.  She wouldn’t have said he
was frightened, but he was certainly on edge.  The light shining down
through the trees had been all but blotted out by the ravens descending through
the opening.  Things always seemed worse in the dark.  She knew that
from her childhood, going to bed after listening to her parents arguing. 
Afraid it would mean they would split up.  Lying in the dark and imagining
the consequences, all too terrible for her to bear.  And when they had
eventually gone on to separate and divorce, it had been terrible – but not as
bad as it had seemed in the darkness.

In the clearing, with the ravens perched all around them and
the light virtually gone, fear had become an intrinsic part of her being. 
She had felt it building up inside her.  Until Martin took her hand, and
led her away.

Now the fear had abated, but she was aware of the darkness
creeping into the woods.  She checked her watch.  It took a moment or
two in the half-light, and she was surprised to see it was nearly ten past
six.  How had all that time passed?  She didn’t want to be here at
night, and the sun would set in little more than half an hour.

“I’m obviously not going to get much more out of you right
now,” she complained.  She tried to sound annoyed, but wasn’t able to mask
her apprehension.  “We might as well go.”

Without thinking, she reached for his hand, and was
comforted to feel it grasp hers.  For the first time since she’d met him,
she stopped thinking of him as a potential lover.  As they walked back to
the farm, it was like being held by her father.