River of Destiny (12 page)

The barns were full of grain and hay and straw against the long winter, the stalls for the horses empty now except for Bella’s as the animals were out working on the farm, bringing in heavy wagons of turnips, tumbrils full of cider apples, collecting the last of the potatoes for the clamps in the yard. Dan was busy in the forge. As farrier and blacksmith to the estate he was in constant demand, shoeing all the horses on the farm and up at the Hall, and making a constant stream of iron goods; at present he was forging sets of gate hinges and railings for the park. He rubbed Bella’s nose. ‘I must get on, my lovely,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be back to see you later.’ He froze as he heard the tap of heels in the doorway.

‘Daniel!’

He hadn’t seen Emily Crosby for several days and the sound of her voice filled him with resentment. He saw the mare’s ears flatten against her head and he held his breath. Did the woman know he was there? Silently he tiptoed out of the stall, instinctively knowing she mustn’t catch him near the horse. Keeping to the shadows of a pile of straw bales he edged his way towards a side door.

‘Daniel!’ The voice was closer now, sharp. She was walking towards Bella’s stall, the heels of her riding boots noisy on the cobbles. ‘Drat it! Where is the man?’

He did not want her near Bella; he had to distract her. Ducking round the far side of the bales, he walked towards her as though he had just come in from the yard. ‘My lady? Were you looking for me?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? I was calling your name.’ Her tone was sarcastic. She was as usual dressed for riding. ‘I need you to check my horse.’

‘Of course, my lady.’ Meekly he followed her outside. The roan pony was tied up near the forge, tossing her head up and down irritably. Something was obviously distressing her. It took him only minutes to find the burrs beneath the saddlecloth. ‘That must have been vexing her badly, my lady,’ he said as he extracted them. ‘It would be very sore. They are a bother at this time of year. I’ve found them under the harness of the working horses as well. Shall I help you into the saddle, my lady?’ He knew very well she had put them there herself; no one saddling the horse could have failed to see them.

‘If you please, Daniel.’ She narrowed her eyes at him like a cat, holding out her hand. As he stooped to take her foot she put her arm round his neck. ‘You could lift me off my feet so easily, Daniel, a great strong man like you,’ she murmured. She turned towards him. ‘You find me attractive, don’t you, Daniel?’ Her voice was low and seductive. ‘You would like to kiss me, I’ll be bound!’

He took a step back, repelled. ‘No, my lady. I know my place.’

‘But your place is to do as I tell you, Daniel.’ She moved closer to him. ‘I trust your wife is not going to make a habit of appearing suddenly. She might find it hard to understand how tempted you are by my beauty.’

‘Dan, where are you, my friend?’ The voice came so suddenly from the far side of the yard that for a moment neither of them moved. Not Susan. It was a man’s voice. Leaping backwards, Daniel looked round and saw to his immense relief the sight of Jem, one of the horseboys with two of the Suffolks. He was riding astride one and leading the other, the harness hitched on both of them. ‘We’re done for the day so I brought these two back, Dan,’ he called. He seemed to notice Lady Emily for the first time. ‘My lady!’ The young man touched his forelock as he drew to a halt in the yard and slid off the great horse.

Daniel saw the flash of fury in her eyes as she turned back to her own mount. He stooped again for her foot and threw her none too gently into the saddle. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?’

For a moment she stared down at him. ‘There is, Daniel, and you would do well to remember it. You were shirking your duties. If I find you avoiding me in future you might well find yourself in need of a job.’ She paused. ‘It wouldn’t do to be put off, would it now, Daniel, and you and your wife with a baby on the way?’ She brought her whip down on the pony’s rump, sitting the saddle remarkably well as it gave a small buck of resentment.

‘Phew!’ Jem winked at him as she rode out of the yard. ‘George and me, we reckoned you needed rescuing. George saw her heading down here from the Hall.’ The head horseman had appeared behind them leading three more of the working horses into the yard.

Dan grinned. ‘Pity the squire can’t rein her in.’

‘You don’t fancy yourself fathering the heir then?’ Jem guffawed.

‘No, I don’t!’ Dan threw a mock punch at him, then he sobered, all humour gone. ‘It’s no joke, though. She’s threatening to have me and Susan thrown off.’

‘You’ll have to do what you’re told then, boy!’ Jem clicked his tongue at the horses and walked them over towards the water trough to drink. ‘I wonder where you’ll get the strength.’ He was still grinning as he dodged out of reach a second time.

‘A word to the wise.’ Leo saw Zoë walking towards the landing stage and hurried down the path to catch up with her. ‘Our friend Rosemary has upset Bill Turtill in a big way.’

Zoë put down her basket, pleased to see him. In spite of his occasional brusqueness he was, she realised, one of the few people in her new life who interested her and whose company she enjoyed. He kept her on her toes. ‘Who is Bill Turtill?’ She frowned. ‘Yes, I do know, he’s our neighbouring farmer, right?’

‘Right.’ Leo nodded. ‘She’s had a go at him about the footpath.’

‘But surely everyone knew she was going to do that.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not even sure where this path is supposed to be.’

‘It’s over there.’ He turned and pointed. ‘You can see where it would go from here. There’s a ten-acre field on the slope going down towards the river; in the centre there is a copse with a tumulus in it and she wants the path to go right through the copse and presumably over the tumulus.’

‘Dead Man’s Field,’ she said thoughtfully

‘Ah, you’ve been doing your homework.’ He gave her an approving grin.

‘Lesley Inworth told us.’

‘Nice woman. Knows her stuff.’

She nodded, pleased he was confiding in her. ‘Why is it that Rosemary is so keen on this? It seems so obsessive.’

‘Why indeed. Bill was nearly apoplectic. He says the fact that there is an earthwork there proves there has never been a path there, and she told him there was, because she had seen it on some hand-drawn map in a little booklet she bought in Woodbridge about nice walks and she didn’t care about the earthwork; she said it isn’t marked on most maps, and that anyway highways and byways take precedence.’

‘Highways?’

He laughed. ‘The woman is mad. Please, have a word with her if you’ve any influence. I haven’t. She’s no time for me, but I’ve seen this sort of thing before. It could escalate and we are a very small community and we do want to stay friends with Bill. He’s a nice guy.’

‘But surely you’ve told him we have nothing to do with her.’

‘We all live at the barns, Zoë. In his eyes that makes us all part of the same gang. His dad may have sold off the barns and probably made a packet on the development, but that doesn’t stop Bill, and everyone else in Hanley for that matter, from resenting us. You must have noticed. You and I and your husband are townies. We don’t fit. However friendly they are, we will never be part of the community. Not really. And this sort of nonsense will make them close ranks. He thinks we are all in it. Especially you.’ He glanced at her. ‘He heard that you and Rosemary went up to see Lesley at the Hall.’

‘Yes, we did. And we did mention the path – or Rosemary did, but I didn’t say anything to support her.’

‘Well, Lesley must have said something to him to give him the impression that you did.’

Zoë looked round with an air of bewilderment. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I really don’t support her. I’ve made it clear to her I don’t want to join her walks.’ She sighed then frowned as she saw Ken emerging from the shadows of the trees. As he strode towards them she sensed Leo withdrawing into himself. She put her hand on his arm before he had a chance to turn away. ‘You haven’t met my husband, Leo. Wait. Let me introduce you.’

The two men shook hands. She could see Ken giving Leo’s face a quick glance then turning away, pretending not to have noticed. ‘You’ve met Bill Turtill, haven’t you, Ken? What was he like?’ she said after moment’s awkward silence.

‘He seemed a decent enough bloke. Why?’

Her explanation elicited a snort of derision. ‘I hope he takes no notice of that woman. She’s a complete pain. Always round our house!’

Zoë hid a smile. ‘Not always, Ken,’ she said gently. ‘But more than I would like, I must admit. Please, Leo, if you see Bill again can you tell him we have nothing to do with her paths?’

‘Weird guy,’ Ken said after a few seconds as they watched Leo retrace his steps across the grass. ‘Not very sociable, is he?’

‘I don’t think he likes people looking at his face.’

‘I didn’t.’ Ken was indignant. ‘I came to find you. I was getting hungry.’

They spent the afternoon on the boat and, without actually saying so, made sure they packed up to return to the house before it grew dark.

Hurrying up the path between the pines they came to a halt at the edge of the communal lawn. Someone had set up a huge gas-fired barbecue on the grass with, round it, two or three tables surrounded by chairs. ‘Oh God! Our neighbours are going to have a party,’ Zoë whispered.

Ken grimaced. ‘I hope they don’t invite us.’

They did. Barely had they walked in through the door of The Old Barn when a large florid woman in tight jeans and a T-shirt embellished with the words
Daddy’s girl
across a bust which must have been heading towards size twenty, hurried after them. She introduced herself as Sharon Watts ‘just like
EastEnders
,’ she added so automatically that Zoë realised she must always say it, assuming everyone would know who she meant. ‘You must come,’ Sharon went on. ‘We’ve asked Rosie and Steve and old ugly mug from The Old Forge. They are all coming. A barn get-together for half-term. Don’t worry about booze. We’ve got enough. Just bring yourselves!’

‘Christ!’ Ken murmured once she had gone. ‘What have we done, moving here? We don’t seem to have a single normal neighbour.’

Zoë shook her head, suppressing a smile. ‘We’ll have to go.’

‘Can’t I have flu?’

‘No you can’t. She saw you. Besides, it would be good to meet them all. Better the devil you know, and all that.’

‘Did I hear right – she called Leo an ugly mug?’

‘Vile woman.’ Zoë shook her head. ‘I think he’s quite attractive once you get used to his face.’

‘Have you seen the ghosts yet?’ Jamie Watts was a redhead like his sister; whereas in her it contributed to her gamine attractiveness, in him, combined with a receding chin and a thick crop of acne it looked thoroughly unwholesome. He sneered at Zoë as he swigged from a bottle of lager.

‘I have.’ She smiled at him with an attempt at graciousness. ‘I gather you are quite the expert on our ghosts.’

He looked taken aback for a moment, unsure how to take her remark. ‘They’re scary,’ he said after a pause.

‘They are,’ she agreed. ‘So, tell me, don’t you have ghosts in your house? I would have thought all these barns would be haunted. They are prime examples of paranormal habitat.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you taking the mickey?’

‘No. Are you?’ She held his gaze, fending off an inquisitive lurcher looking for titbits.

They were interrupted by Leo, who had arrived carrying a bottle of wine which he gave to Sharon. In exchange he was handed a glass of Pimm’s, containing more fruit than seemed possible. ‘So, young Jamie, how are you? Any GCSEs under your belt yet?’

The boy flushed. ‘No. I take them next year.’

‘Your mother will be proud of you.’ Leo spoke deadpan though Zoë presumed there was some kind of subtext there. She wondered how old Jamie was. Sixteen, she would have thought, though perhaps more. She saw a flash of something like hatred cross the boy’s face and winced for Leo. She wondered why he had come.

The party, once it got going, was passable. Jeff seemed a master of his barbecue and turned out a succession of wonderfully grilled meats and sausages, much coveted by the two slavering dogs, while Sharon had made several mouth-watering salads, which, Zoë noticed, her children appeared to boycott, preferring their ketchup and mayonnaise unadulterated. As far as she could see, Sharon and Jeff were going out of their way to be nice; the two boys the opposite. The girl sat close to Leo but said little. Of the eldest boy, Jackson, there was no sign at all.

By the end of the evening Zoë was convinced they were in for trouble. As they wandered back across the cold, dew-soaked grass under a hazy moon she said as much to Ken. Leo was walking with them. ‘I think you’re right. The little buggers will be planning something. They were doing their best to put the wind up you.’

Ken snorted. ‘We’ll be ready for them.’

Leo gave him a sideways glance. ‘Don’t underestimate them. They may look thick. They are actually quite bright, as I know to my cost.’

‘Besides which,’ Zoë added, ‘some of the ghosts are real, aren’t they?’

Both men looked at her.