No Holds Barred (22 page)

Daniel shrugged. ‘That's life.'

Drew had been following this exchange and now looked disappointed.

‘Oh, can't we, Dad? Please?'

‘Well, I suppose there's no reason why
you
can't  . . .' he said slowly. ‘If Jenny doesn't mind?'

‘Of course I don't. We'd love to have him,' she said promptly.

Drew's eyes shone. ‘Hist–oric!' he exclaimed. He pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘I've finished. Can I get down now?'

‘Of course,' Jenny said, and when he had disappeared up the stairs to his borrowed bedroom, she added to Daniel, ‘Maybe he'll pass on some of his lovely manners to my lot.'

‘He's not always quite so polite,' Daniel said ruefully. ‘I warn you, it may wear off. But – you, Jenny. How are you doing? Truthfully.'

‘Oh, I'm OK. Tired and a bit fragile, but OK. I always knew it might come to this and I think I've done most of my grieving over the last few weeks.'

‘All the same – when they were saying he might wake up, you must have hoped  . . .'

‘Yes, it was a bit of a shock.'

‘And the children? How will they take it, do you think?'

‘To be honest, Lucy and Harry have never been especially close to Gavin,' she admitted. ‘He was kind enough to them, but I don't think there was ever any real warmth. Izzy is a different matter, but, like me, she's already done her grieving. Lately, she's stopped asking me when he's coming home. She'll be upset, but she'll mend. I think having Drew around will be good for all of them.'

Although Daniel didn't tell her so, Jenny's offer to have Drew to stay suited him in more ways than one. With Drew to cater for, Daniel would have been forced to stay in one of the B&B pubs in the village, which would have put a decided crimp in some of the half-formed plans he had. There was no way he would have gone out at night and left the boy alone in his room. Now that he was certain Drew would be safe, Daniel had free rein to do as he pleased, and no one would be any the wiser.

The news of Gavin Summers' death was received with varying degrees of shocked surprise by the drivers on the Monday morning.

Until Jenny appeared, the hot topic of conversation in the drivers' room had been the fire at Forester's, and although Taylor made no pretence of sorrow over the incident, he was too clever to give away any detail that might reveal a closer knowledge of the crime.

Now, watching the reaction to Jenny's news over the rim of his coffee mug, Daniel saw Reg and Macca's initial shock turn to thoughtfulness, as they no doubt considered the possible consequences for their ongoing employment. Boyd and Dek were not so easy to read. Dek was directly opposite Daniel when Jenny told them and showed not the slightest flicker of surprise. If Daniel hadn't known that he'd only just got back from Ireland, he would have said that somehow the man already knew about Gavin Summers' death. Boyd, on the other hand, was clearly taken aback by the announcement, though Daniel found it difficult to gauge with what emotion he received the information.

After mumbled expressions of sympathy had been offered and accepted, Jenny addressed the unspoken question that was fairly buzzing in the ether.

‘Naturally, you'll all be wondering what this means for you, and all I can say is that, for the moment, everything will go on as normal. If, in future, I see the need for change, I promise you'll be the first to know. OK?'

The assurance was one that countless employers had made before her, and Daniel could see that at least three of those listening gave it no credit whatsoever.

Jenny had much to occupy her in dealing with the formalities that inevitably follow a death, so her mother was to look after the children, and Drew had elected to spend the day with them on the farm while Daniel worked.

Sitting in a lay-by, sipping an over-hot cappuccino from a polystyrene cup, Daniel decided to ring the company that had supplied Derek Edwards' reference. The call was answered after barely four trills by a cautious-sounding female voice that merely said, ‘Hello?'

‘Ah, good morning. Is that Lampard's Logistics?' Daniel asked.

‘Er  . . . yes. Excuse me, can you hold the line for a moment?'

‘Of course.' Daniel listened to the agitation at the other end with a raised eyebrow. For perhaps half a minute, all he could hear were the sounds of a busy office-like environment, and then in the distance he clearly heard someone say, ‘What does he want?'

The reply was an impatient, ‘
I
don't know, I didn't ask! I just came to find you.'

Seconds later, the handset was picked up and a male voice asked, ‘What can I do for you, Mr  . . . er?'

Daniel ignored the invitation.

‘Is that Lampard's Logistics?' he repeated.

‘I'm afraid Lampard's has ceased trading,' the man replied. ‘May I ask where you got this number?'

Daniel thought fast. ‘I work for Summer Haulage and I was just following up a reference,' he said.

‘Well, I'm sorry I can't help. I've taken over the office but I have no knowledge of former employees. Goodbye.' The man spoke pleasantly enough, but there was no mistaking the message implied by the abrupt severance of the connection.

Daniel returned his mobile to his pocket and picked up his coffee once more, wishing it tasted more like a genuine cappuccino and less like the contents of a sachet mixed with hot water.

The call had been interesting. If he had learned only one thing, it was that the office to which that particular phone number was assigned had never been occupied by Lampard's Logistics – if indeed such a company ever existed.

In the evening, Daniel, Jenny and the three older children went for a ride, while Jenny's mother looked after Izzy. With Jenny leading the way, they crossed Barn Field and made their way along a wooded ride to come out eventually in the lane just a few hundred yards along from Forester's.

The hooves of the five horses and ponies clattered impressively on the tarmac as they rode along the lane, and the kids chattered happily about everything and nothing.

For a moment or two, the family scene beguiled Daniel, and he found himself dreaming of his childhood home in Dorset and a different life that might have been. Even though he'd worked in a city for the last ten years, he'd always felt the pull of the country, and while he understood what had prompted Jenny's disillusionment, after living on the farm all her life he couldn't imagine how she would ever be happy anywhere else.

Before the cottage even came into view, they could smell the acrid tang of smoke and charred wood on the air, and the horses began to flare their nostrils and snort uneasily as the odour tickled their sensitive noses.

Although he had known what to expect, the sight of the cottage was still a shock to Daniel. It had a sobering effect on the children, too. After an awestruck ‘Whoa!' from Harry and a gasp from Lucy, they fell silent as they approached the blackened shell of the building. One or two roof struts remained, standing up like burnt ribs above the brick walls, but the front door and all the windows had gone, and inky puddles lay on the path. In the front garden, the steel-sprung remnants of beds and chairs lay in the boot-churned mud.

The horses and ponies drew up in a line in front of the blue-and-white tape that stretched across the lane and stood staring curiously at the devastation beyond, seeming to sense that something was amiss.

A Wiltshire Fire and Rescue van was parked in the shadow of the trees on the far side of the taped-off area, and the horses' heads rose sharply as a black Labrador suddenly appeared in the doorway of the cottage. The dog stopped short, looking back at them.

‘Monty!' Harry exclaimed, turning to look at Jenny. ‘It's Monty!'

‘No, darling, it isn't,' she said. ‘It's just a dog that looks a bit like him.'

‘It
is
Monty,' he persisted stubbornly.

‘It's not Monty – Monty's dead,' Lucy stated impatiently, and Daniel saw Harry's eyes start to fill with tears.

‘That's actually a fire investigation dog,' he put in hastily to divert the boy's thoughts. ‘See his little boots? That's so he doesn't burn his feet or cut them on broken glass.'

‘What does he do?' Harry's attention was successfully caught, and Jenny flashed a look of gratitude in Daniel's direction.

‘He's been trained so that he can smell accelerants – that means things like petrol that people might have used to start a fire – and show his handler exactly where the fire started.'

Harry wrinkled his nose. ‘I don't like the smell of petrol.'

‘But when there's been a fire, there's hardly any petrol smell left, which is why you need a dog to sniff it out,' Daniel explained.

‘Why does he do it?' Lucy wanted to know. ‘Does he like the smell?'

‘No. He does it because to him it's a game. When he finds what he's looking for, his handler throws a ball for him to play with as a reward. That's all he wants – a game.'

The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the dog's handler in the doorway.

‘Good evening!' Jenny called out. ‘Did you find anything, or are you not allowed to say? I own the cottage, by the way. Or what's left of it.'

The man clipped his dog on a lead and came towards them, taking off his hard hat to reveal short brown hair. As he drew closer, he opened his eyes wide and a smile lit his strong-boned face.

‘Well I never! Jenny Maidstone! Or – no, not Maidstone – you got married. What is it now? We went to school together,' he added for the benefit of Daniel and the others.

‘It's Jenny Summers, and it was Barton before that,' she told him.

‘Well, you have been busy!'

‘And you, too. Look at you,' she retorted, indicating his fire investigator's jacket. ‘Is this the Paul McCreesh who used to sit behind me and put things down my neck?'

He laughed. ‘I have moved on a bit.'

‘You were always going to be a pilot,' she quizzed him.

‘Mm. Changed my mind.'

‘So,' Jenny said, ‘can you tell me about the fire?'

McCreesh's face took on a more serious expression. ‘Nothing you don't already know, I gather. The dog has confirmed the use of accelerants and that the seat of the fire was threefold – that is to say, in both downstairs front rooms and the hallway. It was definitely arson.'

The children had been sitting quietly on their ponies, but now Harry spoke up.

‘What's your dog called?'

‘Roscoe,' McCreesh said, and the dog immediately looked up at him and wagged its tail.

‘We had a dog just like that. His name was Monty but he died,' Harry said.

‘I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like to come and talk to Roscoe? He loves children.'

Both Harry and Lucy scrambled off their mounts and went to greet the dog, who wriggled ecstatically, his tail doing overtime. After a moment, Drew followed. Daniel smiled inwardly. Reserved by nature, he never normally put himself forward in this kind of situation. Being with Jenny's children was already doing him good.

‘It was funny, seeing Paul again, after all these years,' Jenny said as they turned the horses towards home. ‘I remember I used to have a crush on him at school.'

‘Seems like a nice guy,' Daniel said, more for something to say than anything.

‘Mm, quite pleasant,' she agreed. ‘So, anyway, where did you stay last night?'

‘In the village,' Daniel replied evasively.

‘The Fox and Duck?'

‘No, they were full. Weekend ramblers.'

‘I'm surprised they had room at The Crown, then; they're usually busier.'

‘They didn't,' Daniel admitted reluctantly. ‘I slept in the car with Taz.'

Jenny rounded on him.

‘You promised to come back if you couldn't find a place!'

‘I did find a place. In my car. It's quite comfortable. I've often slept there. Besides, it was late.'

‘Well, what about tonight?'

‘It's not the weekend, now. They won't be so busy.'

‘Well, have you booked?'

‘Not as such  . . .'

Jenny rolled her eyes heavenwards and Daniel laughed.

‘It's all right, you know. I can take care of myself – I'm almost grown-up.'

‘If you ask me, men never grow up,' she said in a blighting tone.

‘Ouch!' Daniel responded in a small voice.

FIFTEEN

W
hen Daniel left Maidstone Farm after dinner that evening, the children were already in bed and the sky was darkening into night.

Before he had driven a hundred yards, his mobile trilled.

‘William,' he said, recognizing the number of the
DVG
office. ‘Not working at this time of night, surely? You won't have any friends, you know!'

‘Not working, exactly,' he said. ‘But I've found something I think you might be interested in.'

‘Oh? What's that?'

‘Come and have a look,' William suggested. ‘Unless you're too busy with your own dazzling social life.'

Daniel laughed. ‘Touché!'

When he arrived at the
DVG
office, Daniel found the door at the bottom of the stairs ajar. As he let himself in, he noticed that there was a light on at the vet's. Presumably Ivor Symmonds with an emergency on his hands. Upstairs, William was sitting at his computer, his skinny frame clothed in jeans, a collarless white shirt and a black waistcoat, his mop of hair as unruly as ever.

‘Pull up a pew,' he invited. The screen in front of him was showing an aerial view of an area of countryside, overlaid with a map.

‘So where's that?' Daniel said, leaning forward to peer at it. Taz flopped to the floor beneath his chair.

‘Actually, that's where I used to live as a child, a couple of miles down the road. I was just surfing while I waited for you. By the way – hard luck about your cottage. That's a bit of a bummer.'