The Hanging Wood (16 page)

‘At least she is at peace now,’ Kit said.

If he intended this as a conversational full stop, Sham didn’t take the hint. ‘What I don’t get is – why? I didn’t have a clue what was going on in her head. She must have been disappointed that Aslan didn’t take her seriously, but even so …’

‘Who didn’t take her seriously?’ Gareth asked.

‘Aslan Sheikh, you know, from St Herbert’s. Orla had the hots for him. But he wasn’t interested.’

‘She wasn’t the only one who fancied him, was she?’ Purdey smirked.

Sham, determined not to rise to the bait, turned towards Daniel. ‘So, did you manage to track him down in the end?’

‘Yes, we spoke on the phone before Louise and I left home.’

‘You were looking for Aslan?’ Fleur asked.

‘He left me a message, wanting a word about something, but when I caught up with him on the phone, he said not to worry, it wasn’t important.’

‘He’s an oddball.’ Fleur frowned. ‘I don’t expect Micah Bridge will keep him on when his contract comes up for renewal.’

‘But he’s not costing St Herbert’s a penny!’ Sham protested.

‘Just because he’s a volunteer, that doesn’t give him the right to come and go as he pleases.’ The corners of Sham’s mouth turned down, but she didn’t argue. ‘The bottom line is, he’s not pulling his weight, and that’s bad for morale in any organisation. Wouldn’t you agree, Daniel?’

‘Yes, Fleur tells me she’d asked you to become a trustee of St Herbert’s,’ Gareth interrupted. ‘Congratulations.’

‘I haven’t actually accepted yet,’ Daniel said. ‘But I’m flattered by the invitation.’

‘Very diplomatic,’ Bryan said. ‘But my advice to you, old man, is to face up to the inevitable. What my wife wants, she makes sure she gets, you can take it from me.’

He leant back in his chair, and guffawed with laughter at the precise moment that the pretty waitress began to pour his coffee, with the result that she spilt some over his crisp white dinner jacket. A malevolent gleam lit her eyes even as she apologised, and mopped ineffectually at
the spreading brown stain. Payback for incessant ogling. Gareth couldn’t hide his amusement, but Fleur Madsen’s face was as unreadable as a rune stone.

So Fleur always got what she wanted, did she? Daniel could scarcely contain his curiosity. He would love to find out what she really did want.

Daylight was fading as Hannah arrived back at Undercrag. She was back in Ambleside later than planned. The moment she’d switched on the engine of her Lexus, her mobile had sung. Terri, at a loose end and in the mood for a chat. When Hannah let slip that she’d spent the evening in a pub with her sergeant, her friend insisted on being told all about him. It had taken ten minutes to persuade Terri that Greg wasn’t a candidate to replace Marc in her bed. At least she didn’t make the mistake of announcing that she was due to see Daniel Kind again tomorrow morning. She’d never have heard the last of it.

As she closed the door of the Lexus, the back of her neck prickled. She froze. She wasn’t alone here. Someone was watching her every move.

With agonising care, she craned her neck to look at the front of the house.

A dark figure detached itself from the shadows.

Panic surged inside her. She swallowed hard.

Keep calm, keep calm
.

‘Hannah,’ a familiar voice said. ‘I wondered how long you would keep me waiting.’

‘Have you and Daniel always been close?’ Sally Madsen asked Louise, as Purdey and Sham squabbled over who had
devoured the most truffles. ‘I wish the girls would grow out of this rivalry. I can’t understand it. I’m an only child, and I always longed for a brother or sister.’

Bryan had sent for another dinner jacket. Naturally, the man who had everything could, in the space of five minutes, rustle up a spare that looked even more expensive than the one the girl had drenched.

Louise took a sip of coffee. ‘Not always close, no. Our father left home when we were still at school, and the two of us made the mistake of taking sides. I backed Mum to the hilt, Daniel missed his dad. It took us years to get past that. But there was never any rivalry between us. From my point of view, it would have been crazy. Everyone always said how brilliant Daniel was. How could I possibly compete?’

Daniel had never thought of it like that. Trying to cover his embarrassment, he said to Fleur, ‘So how did you get on with your brother?’

Fleur’s expression gave nothing away. ‘You might be surprised how little Jolyon and I saw of each other. He was older than me, and very different in every respect. I was sent away to school in Yorkshire from the age of seven. I only came home for holidays, and even then, I often stayed with friends for weeks at a time. He broke his neck in a riding accident twenty-one years ago, it was tragic. But although we made sure he had the best care money could buy, I can’t say we were close.’

‘You must have grown up with Bryan and Gareth,’ Louise said. ‘They lived only a stone’s throw away.’

‘We knew each other, of course. But my father and theirs didn’t really see eye to eye. Old money versus new,
I suppose, coupled with resentment that we’d been forced to sell a large chunk of our land to people who had to work for a living. Not that there was any of the old money left by this time. The Hall was falling to bits, and I didn’t know what the future held. Lucky for me that, one summer holiday, Bryan plucked up the courage to ask me out. And the rest is history.’

‘Lucky lady,’ Gareth said. ‘Sally drew the short straw. The younger brother. The minority shareholder.’

His wife blew him a kiss. ‘Never mind; you may be the poor one, but you’re still a hunk as far as I’m concerned.’

Sham winced at the ostentatious display of mutual affection. ‘Mum, please.’

Paying no attention to his niece, Bryan sniggered. ‘Fleur’s father almost choked on a glass of gin when I asked for his daughter’s hand.’

‘But like you said,’ Gareth murmured, ‘Fleur always gets what she wants.’

Daniel was conscious of Fleur’s body brushing against his for a moment, as she reached for the cream jug. The contact was probably unintentional, but he worried that his cheeks might turn pink. Shifting in his chair, he turned to Gareth.

‘So you and your brother have managed to work closely together all these years. Never a cross word?’

Gareth grinned. ‘Bryan is the public face of the company, my job is selling pitches, and persuading people who have bought a cheap caravan to keep trading up, year after year. I come up with the wacky ideas, he approves or vetoes them as he thinks fit. We avoid getting in each other’s way, and we don’t disagree that often. When we do, I remind myself
that Bryan has the voting control, and that keeps me on the straight and narrow.’

‘It’s all about achieving consensus.’ If Bryan was trying not to sound smug, he wasn’t trying hard enough. ‘Same as in any family.’

Sure, Daniel thought, but it helped to have the whip hand. He was conscious of Fleur’s perfume, a honeysuckle fragrance. Underneath the table, her knee touched his for an instant. Again, perhaps an accident, but he swung his leg away, just to make sure.

He wrenched his thoughts back to Hannah. If only he could learn something about Callum Hinds’ disappearance to pass on to her.

‘And your neighbour at Lane End Farm?’ he said. ‘How did Mike Hinds cope with the fact that his brother was supposed to have killed his son?’

Gareth shook his head. ‘I hate to say it, but it was just as well Philip hanged himself. I was afraid Mike might take the law into his own hands.’

‘And harm Philip?’

‘I’m afraid so. Look at how he used to rough up poor Niamh.’

‘He’s an animal, frankly.’ Bryan’s languid tone didn’t disguise his contempt. ‘But what do you expect of a man who cares more about beasts on his farm than his own flesh and blood?’

‘That’s a bit harsh, Bryan,’ Sally said.

Bryan rolled his eyes. ‘I can only speak as I find. Philip was useless, but even if Mike had his suspicions, he didn’t need to be the one to point the finger. Not at his own brother.’

‘I hope you remember that if I ever run into trouble with the police,’ Gareth said lightly.

‘Did you all like Philip?’ Louise asked.

‘We felt sorry for him,’ Bryan said. ‘My father let him live in the wood for nothing, in return for a few odd jobs. The cottage wasn’t much, but to be honest, we got the worst of the bargain. Not that we minded, really. My father saw looking after Philip as an act of Christian charity, and so did we.’

‘My husband likes to do good,’ Fleur whispered in Daniel’s ear. ‘As long as it doesn’t cost too much.’

‘He was harmless,’ Bryan continued. ‘Or so I thought. You may say that shows I’m not such a good judge after all, but my guess is, he never intended to kill Callum.’

‘What do you think happened?’ Louise asked.

‘I’d say there was a bit of horseplay between them, and then things got out of hand. And the upshot was that Hinds lost both a son and a brother.’

‘Now he’s lost his daughter as well,’ Sally said.

‘You don’t know for sure that he lost his son,’ Purdey said.

She’d been yawning, a young woman wearied by the dinner table chit-chat of her elders. She reminded Daniel of students he’d taught with a low boredom threshold. They liked to spice up their tutorials with an occasional bit of melodrama.

‘What do you mean?’ Sally asked.

‘Suppose Mike Hinds’ son is still alive?’

‘Darling, it’s not a joking matter.’

‘I’m not joking.’ Purdey gave an elaborate yawn. Lapping up the attention, Daniel could tell. Everyone’s
eyes were on her, and he was sure that was what she’d aimed for.

‘Purdey, what are you talking about?’ Gareth demanded.

‘What I said, Dad. Mike’s son is alive and well.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I’m not being silly.’ Purdey’s silky smile made it clear she was about to play her ace. ‘In fact, I’ve met him.’

‘Marc, for God’s sake!’

The instant Hannah recognised him, her panic was lost in a surge of fury. He stood next to the front door of Undercrag, hands in pockets, his demeanour expectant yet tinged with irritation, as if she had no right to come home this late. She had to stifle the urge to rush up and throttle him.

‘Not the warmest welcome,’ he said. ‘I’ve been hanging around here for two hours, wondering where you might be.’

Deep breaths.

‘You’ve still got a key. Your name is still on the title deeds. It’s not as if I changed the locks.’

‘I would have felt like a trespasser. It’s your place at present, not mine. I meant to do the right thing, by not going inside and making myself at home without permission. I thought you’d understand.’

Aaaaagh!
He hadn’t lost his flair for sidestepping her wrath, and putting her in the wrong. She knew him well enough to be aware that he’d see his behaviour as eminently reasonable – sensitive, even. Must it always be like this in a relationship between a man and a woman? Two different views of the world, because the two of you were never standing in precisely the same place?

‘What do you want?’

‘Hannah, we need to talk.’

‘It’s Friday night. I’ve been working all day.’ Well, a permissible exaggeration. ‘I’m knackered. All I want is to have a soak in the bath and then climb into bed. On my own, Marc, before you get any ideas.’

He waved away the gibe, as if swatting a bunch of midges, and took a stride towards her. The smell of his aftershave mingled with the fragrance of lavender in a large stone tub outside the living room window.

‘I may be crass, Hannah, but I’m not quite that crass. Listen, we can’t go on like this. We had something special together, and I fucked up big style. How many times do you want me to apologise? Not a problem, I’ll grovel as much as you like. We just need to move forward, that’s all.’

‘You don’t have to grovel,’ she said. ‘For what it’s worth, I’ve forgiven you. That isn’t the point; the question is what I want to do with the rest of my life.’

‘Spend it with me.’

He reached out an arm, but she skipped out of reach. ‘No, Marc, I’m not ready.’

As soon as she said it, she regretted her choice of words.
Not ready
implied that one day she would be ready. In the light from the halogen lamp fixed under the house eaves, she saw a spark of hope in his eyes, and cursed herself.

‘All right. It will take as long as it takes, I guess.’

‘Marc, you need to get over me.’ Horrible cliché, but what else should she say? She forced a smile. ‘Terri was asking after you. You could do worse than give her a call.’

‘Terri?’ He was hoarse with amazement. ‘Is that meant
to be funny? How many times has she wrinkled her nose when she talked about my
musty old books
?’

‘I didn’t realise she carried a torch for you either. Seems we were both wrong.’

For a few moments, a look crossed his face that she recognised, as he weighed up pros and cons.

‘No,’ he said. ‘She’s your friend. This is about you and me. Not Terri.’

‘Up to you.’

‘I’d better go.’ He took a couple of paces away from her, before halting, as if he half-expected her to call him back. Typical man, Hannah thought. Hope sprang eternal. ‘I parked down the lane.’

‘Goodnight, Marc.’

She fished out her keys and walked up to the front door. Not trusting herself to speak, far less to look back over her shoulder.

‘You may not believe this, but I’ve changed.’

Oh yeah
?

‘I’m sorry about your miscarriage, Hannah, more than I ever said. Heartbroken. But we can start again.’ He paused. ‘Try for a baby.’

Jesus
.

She caught her breath.

I don’t believe I’m hearing this
.

‘Hannah.’ His voice was clear as he walked away; in the quiet of the evening, it seemed unnaturally loud. ‘Don’t forget one thing. I love you.’

The key rattled in the lock. She felt clumsy and juvenile. Her hands began to tremble.

‘
Aslan Sheikh
?’ Fleur repeated. ‘I don’t believe it!’

‘You don’t have to,’ Purdey said. ‘I’m telling you what he told me. And I happen to believe it’s true.’