No Holds Barred (15 page)

‘Reg not back yet, then?' Boyd's enquiry cut through his thoughts.

‘Er, no. I haven't seen him.'

‘Late again.'

‘Perhaps something's wrong. You could ring him,' Daniel suggested.

‘
You
ring the old duffer. I'm not his friggin' keeper!' Boyd glared at him, took two cans of lager from the fridge and tossed one to Macca. Jenny wouldn't be happy to see alcohol on the premises – as professional drivers, they couldn't afford to take any chances – but Daniel kept quiet. Boyd was clearly in a confrontational mood and he had no intention of playing his game.

Moments later, they all heard Reg's lorry coming down the drive to the farm.

‘There's Grandad,' Boyd said, stepping over the back of the sofa with the lager in his hand and sliding down to sprawl on its cushions. Macca came round the end of the chair to join him.

In due course, Reg came in, looking thoroughly fed up.

‘You OK?' Daniel asked.

‘No. Some joker let my bloody tyres down when I took Skip for a walk, lunchtime. I ask you – what's the point in that? I'd probably still be there if a breakdown truck hadn't come by. Luckily he came from a nearby garage and he nipped back to fetch a compressor. Still made me nearly an hour late.'

Daniel had been covertly watching the other two men while Reg spoke and would have been willing to bet that Boyd had known all about the flat tyres. His expression was just a little too carefully disinterested.

‘Sit down, mate. I'll make you a cuppa,' Daniel told the older man. As he waited for the kettle to boil up again, his phone sounded and the display showed Amanda's name. He pressed the button to void the call. He did want to speak to her, especially in the light of what Joey had told him, but he didn't relish holding that particular conversation with three interested pairs of ears listening. She would keep.

‘You look a bit stiff, mate. You all right?' Boyd asked, watching Daniel bring Reg's coffee to him.

‘Yeah, fine. Been doing a bit of gardening. Gets your back when you're not used to it.'

‘Quite the little homebody. You don't want to get too comfortable in your little cottage,' Boyd advised.

‘And why would that be?'

‘Well, I mean, you don't know how long you'll be staying, do you? Temporary drivers – here today, gone tomorrow. You know how it is.'

‘Yeah, but now Deano's quit, we'll be shorter than ever,' Daniel pointed out. ‘Can't see me going anywhere just for a while. Even to please you.'

Boyd shrugged. ‘'S'all the same to me.'

Daniel was the last to leave the drivers' lounge, hanging on so as to hide the fact that he wasn't going straight back to the cottage. Reg, perhaps seeing his reluctance to leave as loneliness, kindly suggested that Daniel might like to join him for a meal at The Fox and Duck in the village. Daniel thanked him but declined. He had plans to take Piper out again.

Passing the farmhouse on his way down to the yard, Daniel paused to admire the sleek lines of a black Porsche 911 Cabriolet with the current year's plates. It seemed that Jenny had a wealthy visitor. He wondered who it was.

Even as he hesitated beside the gleaming car, the door of the farmhouse opened and a man with pale blue eyes and a shadow of razor-cut gingery hair came out, turned to say goodbye to Jenny and then headed towards him.

‘Just admiring your car,' Daniel announced, feeling he had to say something.

‘Thanks. She's a beaut, isn't she?' The man was a Scouser, in his mid to late twenties. He wore expensive-looking clothes and had about him an air of assurance – a slight swagger even – that suggested he considered himself important.

Daniel wondered who he was. He stepped back as the man slid into the driving seat, donned a pair of designer shades and started the engine.

When the car had pulled away with a rather unnecessary amount of engine revving and wheelspin, Daniel turned to see Jenny standing on the doorstep.

‘Jumped-up prick!' she said, with a look of contempt.

Daniel was surprised. The comment was out of character.

‘So, who was he?'

‘Liam Sellyoak.'

‘The footballer? The one who owns next door? What did he want? Not that it's any of my business,' he added as an afterthought.

‘He made me an offer for the farm,' Jenny said. ‘A surprisingly good one, considering the state of the market.'

‘Are you considering it?'

‘No, of course not! At least – I don't think so. Do you think I should?'

‘Is it yours to sell?' Daniel asked.

‘Yes, it is. Gavin and I made a prenuptial agreement. The farm stays in my name.' She looked anxiously at Daniel. ‘Are you shocked by that? Some people are.'

He shook his head. ‘Surprised maybe, but no – not shocked. It's a sensible precaution when you've got so much to lose.'

‘He was quite persistent – Liam, I mean.'

‘So, why's he so keen to have it? Hasn't he got enough land with that huge house next door?'

‘Actually, there's not all that much with the manor. Nothing like there used to be. The last owner sold it off piecemeal to try to keep his head above water. When Liam bought it, there wasn't much more than fifteen acres left with the house.'

‘Enough, I would have thought,' Daniel mused. ‘Considering he's probably hardly ever there. What does he want more for?'

Jenny shrugged. ‘He says he fancies farming, though I doubt that would last. Anyway, I told him I had no plans to sell. The farm's been in my family for three generations, you see, and I always thought that Harry might  . . . But of course, he's way too young to know what he wants. It's just that sometimes, after what happened to Gavin and with all the stress about the business, I just feel I'd like to walk away from it all and live a
normal
life.'

‘Don't let him bully you into it,' Daniel advised. ‘And don't rush into anything. You're tired at the moment; you don't want to make a decision you'll regret later. A lot can change in a very short time.'

‘Don't I know it,' Jenny agreed. ‘Are you taking Piper out? Have a nice ride.'

‘I will, and, Jenny  . . . normal's seriously overrated, you know.'

She responded with a wistful smile. ‘You're probably right.'

TEN

D
aniel was to remember his words, a few days later, with a strong sense of irony, when events in his own life had taken an unexpected and tricky turn.

All in all, things had seemed to be settling into a fairly steady routine after the violent events of the weekend. Summer Haulage was managing to meet its targets in spite of its reduced workforce, Taylor Boyd had pulled his head in and made no further attempts to confront or intimidate Daniel, and Daniel had got his car fixed.

The first interruption to the status quo was the sad disappearance of Reg's Jack Russell, Skip, while on his early morning walk in the woods behind their home. Reg suspected the little dog might have gone to ground after a rabbit and become stuck, and took a day off to search for him with no success. In the evening, Daniel offered the services of Taz, to try and track him, but although the German shepherd started eagerly enough, all at once he seemed to lose the trail and cast about randomly in a vain attempt to pick it up again. As dusk fell, they had to admit defeat, Reg disconsolate at the loss of his companion.

Daniel tried to offer words of hope and comfort, but felt hypocritical doing so, with the knowledge of the many other missing pets uppermost in his mind. If Woodsmoke was right, he feared that Skip might well have signed his own death warrant when he chose to bite Taylor Boyd. The way the little dog's trail had suddenly petered out suggested to him that Skip might well have been picked up at that point, and memories of the net used on Taz gave a clue to how it might have been accomplished. He very much feared that Skip wouldn't be found alive.

The next ripple on the pool of life came in the form of news from the hospital.

Arriving for work on the Thursday morning, Daniel found the drivers' room abuzz with speculation.

‘Mrs Summers has been called in to the hospital,' Boyd told him. ‘Looks like the boss might be waking up. Get him back at the helm and we'll start to see things done properly. Haulage is no business for a woman.'

Daniel was surprised to find Boyd so enthusiastic at the prospect of Gavin Summers' possible return. After all, it would surely put a crimp in his extracurricular activities.

‘Even if he is coming out of the coma, it might be a long time before he's fit for work again,' he pointed out.

‘On the other hand, he might just wake up and be right as rain. Happened with the son of a friend of mine,' Boyd replied. ‘That lad who got knocked out in the ring – you remember, Macca? You trained him.'

Macca replied with a nod and a grunt, not bothering to lift his eyes from his dog-eared copy of
Amateur Boxing
magazine. Across in the armchair, Reg sat with a cooling cup of tea cupped between his hands, taking no interest in the conversation. He looked as though he hadn't slept.

‘Be interesting to hear what he has to say about the assault or whatever it was that put him there,' Daniel mused. He watched Boyd as he spoke, but the other man appeared unmoved by the prospect.

‘Probably won't remember a thing,' he said dismissively.

‘No doubt the police will be waiting by his bedside in case he does,' Daniel said.

‘Nosy buggers!' was Boyd's surly response. ‘Hope he tells 'em where to go.'

‘Why would he do that? Surely he'd want them to catch whoever it was who clobbered him.'

Boyd appeared to find the idea amusing.

‘OK. So, what's funny?' Daniel asked.

‘Yeah, right. As if that lot could find a nun in a bloody convent!'

Daniel shook his head and went to make himself a coffee. In his pocket, his phone chimed twice. It was a text from Jo-Ji.

Can you talk?

He sent back a negative, promising to call back later, but before he'd finished making his drink another text came through. Amanda, this time. He remembered guiltily that he hadn't returned her call and was surprised, too – she wasn't known as an early riser.

You didn't answer my text so assume OK. Will be there 5.30. A.

‘What?' Daniel exclaimed under his breath. ‘I didn't get any bloody text!'

‘You're popular this morning,' Dek commented. ‘Chick trouble?'

‘Hardly. Ex-wife, actually.'

‘Didn't know you'd been married.'

‘No reason you should.' Daniel wasn't in the mood for casual conversation. He was trying to figure out what Amanda could mean by
be there 5.30
. Be where? Surely not at the farm? And, if so, what reason could she have unless it was to hand Drew over to him. It was the only time they ever had contact these days.

A small worm of unease started turning in Daniel's mind as he recalled an unfinished conversation they'd had just before he had left for Wiltshire. She'd said something then about him having Drew for part of the holiday, and he'd told her he couldn't make any firm plans until he'd at least got to Maidstone Farm. Predictably, she'd protested, there had been heated words and the issue had remained unresolved. Or so he'd thought.

Taking his coffee with him, Daniel went outside to try to ring her back.

Frustratingly, his call went straight to the answering service and a call to her landline produced no better results. He left a message for her to ring him as soon as possible and went back inside. One way or another, whatever her plans, she must be made to see that it was impossible for him to have Drew at the moment; it just wasn't safe – even if he hadn't had to work all day. She wouldn't be happy – that was a given – but she'd understandably be a great deal more annoyed if she made the journey from Bristol to Great Ditton before she found out.

As the day wore on, Daniel began to suspect that Amanda was actively avoiding contact. All he could get on her house phone or mobile was an answering machine message. After lunch, with visions of her and Drew setting out, he tried calling Drew's mobile, but he had no joy there, either. It looked as though he was powerless to stop them coming, if indeed that was the plan.

In a dark corner of Daniel's mind there lingered a tiny spark of hope that he'd got the wrong end of the stick and his nine-year-old son wasn't on his way to stay with him, but it wasn't much more than a faintly glowing ember and it was effectively snuffed out by the sight of a silver sports coupé parked in front of Jenny's house when he returned at the end of the day.

‘There's no one in,' were Amanda's first words as he stopped the lorry and jumped down from the cab. She was standing beside the car, dressed in skinny, pale pink jeans and a lace-trimmed vest, sunglasses perched on her short, pixie-cut blonde hair. Drew stood on his side of the car, looking a little sulky. Daniel guessed the journey hadn't been wholly harmonious.

‘There wouldn't be,' he told her. ‘Jenny's been at the hospital all day, and I imagine the kids are with her mother. Hi, Drew. How're you doing?'

Drew shrugged and tilted his head in a non-committal way and said nothing, but his mother had picked up on one particular word.

‘Jenny?' Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘Jenny Summers, my boss. Her husband's been in a coma for weeks and he's finally showing signs of waking up. That's why I'm here to help out, remember?'

‘Meanwhile, you've been keeping her company here?' She fixed Daniel with a gimlet gaze.

He looked at her immaculate make-up and the perfect bone structure of her sharp face and wondered, not for the first time, how he'd ever found her attractive. Talk about double standards – she'd not gone short of company since the break-up, from what he'd heard.