River of Destiny (3 page)

‘Zoë?’ The voice from the doorway behind her made her spin round. It was Leo. He had followed her across the grass. ‘Sorry. I was rude. Can’t help myself. It wasn’t intentional. Peace offering?’ He held out a wooden trug. In it was a selection of vegetables and on top a spray of golden chrysanthemums. He put it on the table and glanced round. ‘This has the potential to be a nice place. I’m glad you’ve got rid of the chichi blinds.’

She smiled, looking round, seeing the kitchen through his eyes. It had been well designed and expensively fitted, a country house kitchen with soft lavender-blue walls, a cream Aga, a refectory table and old chairs which she had found only weeks before in a shop in Long Melford. ‘There weren’t any blinds when we arrived. They must have gone with the previous owner. They didn’t stay here long, did they?’ Without her realising it there was a touch of anxiety in her voice.

‘No, thank God.’ He began to unpack the trug, scattering earth across the table. ‘I’ll take this back, if you don’t mind. There is one thing I will mention while I’m here. You need to kill those damn security lights. They illuminate the whole area like a football stadium when they come on. They destroy the view of the night sky for everyone for miles around. Do that and I would be eternally grateful.’

Zoë was taken aback by his vehemence. She had barely noticed the lights; all the barns had them. When she had, it was to enjoy the shadowed views they cast across the lawns. She decided it was better to ignore the comment for now, say nothing and respond later if he brought it up again.

‘This stuff is very welcome,’ she said. ‘Ken isn’t a gardener. It was one of the attractions of this place, that most of the gardens are communal and are mown by someone else.’

‘And you?’ He scanned her face enquiringly. ‘Don’t you garden either?’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve never thought about it. We lived in London before.’ She was watching his hands. They were strong and well formed; his nails were filthy.

‘So why on earth have you come here?’

‘Ken wanted to live in the country, and he adored the idea of having a mooring for the boat at the bottom of the garden.’ She didn’t realise that she hadn’t included herself in this statement; that she was distancing herself from the decision.

‘And he couldn’t find a mooring nearer London? What does he do?’

‘IT consultancy.’

‘And you?’

‘Nothing at the moment.’

‘A lady who lunches, eh?’ Was there a touch of scorn in his voice?

The colour flared into her face. ‘No,’ she said defensively. ‘Hardly. I don’t know anyone round here to have lunch with. And anyway, I shall be looking for a job.’

‘Which would be?’

‘I worked in an art gallery.’

‘I’ll bet it was a posh one. Bond Street?’ There was no touch of humour in his voice.

She didn’t dare look at his face. ‘Yes, if you must know.’

His laugh was soft and, she realised, sympathetic. ‘Some friends of mine have an antique shop in Woodbridge. I can ask them if you like. They might know of something which would suit you.’

‘That would be great.’ She risked another glance at him. The scars, now she knew they were there, weren’t so bad. There was an area of red, puckered skin and tight silvery marks from his temple down across his left cheek almost to his chin. His eyes, she realised, were blue, not the bright almost harsh blue of Rosemary’s, but a deep misty colour. ‘Leo –’ She paused for a second, then took the plunge. ‘Our other neighbours. In The Summer Barn. Do you know them?’

‘Indeed.’

‘They don’t seem to be here much.’

‘No, thank God!’

‘What happens in the summer?’

‘Usually they go to Marbella or somewhere like that. Suffolk is too quiet.’ Leo gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Don’t worry. We don’t have to contend with that. And if they come down for Christmas at least they keep the doors shut.’

‘Is it possible,’ again a moment’s silence, ‘is it possible that one of the children might come in here, and somehow hide, move things around?’

He smiled. The scars affected his smile, gave a strangely quirky twist to his mouth. ‘Anything is possible with them. But I think it unlikely. They live somewhere down near Basildon and the kids seem to think coming up here is the next best thing to parental-inspired torture. The youngest, Jade, is almost bearable, she’s about eleven, but she would be at school. And there would be all hell to pay if she wasn’t, so we can rule her out. One thing Sharon and Jeff are fanatical about is that the girl should get her education. The boys are, I fear, beyond hope.’ He put the empty trug down by the door. ‘I take it you have had the feeling there has been someone in the house?’

She nodded. ‘Stupid. It’s just taking time to get used to the place. It’s so big after the flat and it’s so quiet here.’

He glanced round. ‘There’s no need to be worried about it. This place has always had a strong feeling that there are things going on. Not the kids next door, not real people. Just echoes.’

For a moment she said nothing. ‘Is that why the people before us left?’ She walked over to the window, fighting the tightening in her chest. He was going to tell her it was haunted. That was all she needed. ‘It’s a new conversion,’ she went on. ‘Hardly anyone has lived here. No one has died here, have they? It can’t be ghosts.’

He frowned. ‘This building is hundreds of years old. Surely you realise that.’

‘But it’s a barn. Nobody lived here,’ she repeated firmly.

‘No. Nobody lived here.’ Whatever he had been going to say, he changed his mind. ‘Don’t worry about it. These old buildings creak and groan with every change of wind or temperature. You’ll get used to it. In the end you won’t hear it any more, or if you do you will feel it’s like a conversation. My place is the same. I can tell what the weather is like and which way the wind is blowing just by which beam creaks in the morning when I wake up.’

She smiled. ‘That sounds positively friendly.’

‘It is.’

‘I’ll keep the security lights in mind,’ she said as he stooped and picked up his trug.

‘Do that. They desecrate the night.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Right. I must go. You must introduce me to Mr Lloyd one of these days.’ And he had gone.

Zoë clenched her fists. There was no ghost. There could not be a ghost. Just a creaky house with a past as a farm building. She could live with that.

The huge barn doors were open to the afternoon sunlight. Several chickens were scratching at the dusty cobbles. They scattered at the approach of the horse.

‘Daniel!’ The woman leading the elegant mare towards him across the yard was slim and beautifully dressed in a burgundy riding habit with a black hat adorned with a veil. The horse was lame.

‘My lady!’ Releasing the pump handle with a start, Dan Smith straightened abruptly, letting the water sluice off his broad shoulders as he tossed his hair back out of his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, my lady! I didn’t hear you coming.’ He groped for his shirt, forcing it on over his wet skin.

Emily Crosby smiled. She let her eyes linger a few seconds more on his body as he wrestled with the damp material before turning to the horse beside her. It stood dejected, its head hanging almost to the ground. Her gloved hand touched the animal’s neck. ‘My mare has cast a shoe and it was easier to bring her straight here than walk her back to the Hall.’

Dan hesitated, then he approached the horse, running an expert hand down its leg and lifting it to inspect the hoof. ‘Where was your groom, my lady? Surely Sam or Zeph or one of the stable boys could have brought the horse in.’

‘I was riding alone.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘I am sure there is no harm done. She just needs a new shoe.’

He glanced over his shoulder towards the forge. The fire had died down and his tools were stowed away for the night. ‘If you’ll leave her here, my lady, I will shoe her in the morning and bring her up to the Hall for you.’

‘I don’t think that’s good enough, Daniel.’ Her face set in a petulant scowl. ‘How do you expect me to get back?’

He eyed the side saddle and her long-skirted habit. ‘Walk, why don’t you?’ The words hovered on his lips, but he bit them back. ‘I can put your saddle on the squire’s cob. He’s here in the yard.’

Emily stared round, her grey eyes widening. ‘The squire is here?’

‘No, my lady. His horse.’ Daniel suppressed a smile. He pushed his wet hair back from his eyes. ‘No one has come down to collect him from the Hall stables yet. It will only take me a minute to put the saddle over for you.’

‘Very well.’ She handed him the rein. ‘Be quick. I need to get back in time for dinner.’

Dan walked the mare across the yard and tied her bridle to a ring in the wall. It took him seconds to release the girth and hump the heavy saddle onto his shoulder.

The squire’s cob was not happy. It tossed its head angrily as he reached under its belly to cinch the first buckle tight. ‘It doesn’t fit him. It will rub. You will have to ride slowly, my lady.’

‘You can lead me. I can’t ride this great brute without an escort.’ She eyed the horse with disfavour. She watched for a moment as he led it towards the mounting block. ‘I can’t get on it on my own, Daniel,’ she said sharply. ‘You will have to lift me.’ The veil of her hat blew for a moment across her eyes as she looked round at him, her gloves and whip in one hand, the train of her habit in the other. Dan sighed.

‘She didn’t weigh much more than a child,’ he said later to his wife, Susan, when at last he was back home in the cottage behind the forge. ‘And she behaves like a child at that. One toy broken, so she needs must have another. That poor mare was drenched with sweat. It took me hours to rub her down and bed her for the night. And she’s that jumpy. I doubt I’ll get near her in the morning to shoe her.’

Susan was standing over the small black iron range, stirring rabbit stew. She straightened, her hands to her back. ‘She’s a spoiled madam. Just because she’s an earl’s daughter! She runs the squire ragged, so they say.’

‘They?’ Dan grinned. ‘You mean that blowbroth sister of yours?’

Susan laughed. Her sister Molly was lady’s maid at the Hall and there wasn’t much gossip around up there that hadn’t reached the home farm within the hour. She blew a strand of hair away from her face and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘I felt the baby move again today.’

He grinned. ‘That’s good.’

‘It was my turn on the churn. Betsy says it’s good luck to feel the baby move in the dairy. Means he’ll grow strong and tall.’

Dan nodded. ‘As long as you don’t exert yourself too much.’

‘It’s my job, Daniel! If I can’t work in the dairy what will I do?’ She turned to the dresser and, picking up a jug of cider, poured him some. ‘You drink that down you and I’ll fetch you some more to have with your dinner. It won’t be long till it’s ready.’ She set down the jug again and stood watching him as he pulled up a stool and sat down at the table. ‘Where had she been, do you know?’

‘Lady Emily?’ He shook his head morosely. ‘She just said she was riding alone. And I know for a fact the squire has said she should always have a groom with her, or one of the men. She’s fallen off that mare more than once.’

‘But she was all right when you took her back?’

‘Yes.’ He looked at her sharply. ‘Why are you asking about her, Susan?’

His wife looked smug. ‘Just something Molly said. About her ladyship being sick in the mornings.’

‘You mean she’s expecting?’ Daniel frowned.

‘Maybe. And if so,’ Susan picked up a cloth to pad her hands against the heat of the pan, ‘whose is it, that’s the question.’ She glanced at him coquettishly.

Dan frowned. ‘You shouldn’t be spreading gossip like that, Susan. And nor should Molly. She’d be sent off if anyone heard she’d been talking about the folk at the Hall.’ He stood up and reached for the cider flagon from the dresser. ‘No.’ He held up his hand as his wife opened her mouth to continue. ‘Enough. I don’t want to hear any more.’

He didn’t want even to think about the squire’s new wife. There had been something deeply unsettling in the way Emily Crosby had looked at him as he had stooped to take her foot in his cupped hands and tossed her up onto the squire’s bay cob, and the way she had trailed her fingers across his shoulder and, just for a fraction of a second, across his cheek as she reached down for the rein.

He shod the mare next morning with no trouble, and sent her up to the Hall with one of the farm boys. There was no sign of her ladyship and no word from Molly. Dan straightened his back for a moment, his hands deep in the pocket of his heavy leather apron, eyeing the pair of Suffolk punches awaiting his attention in the yard as two of the men manoeuvred a heavy wagon out of one of the barns. Behind him the boy, Benjamin, was renewing his efforts with the huge pair of bellows. Dan glanced once down at the river where a heavy barge was making its way slowly on the top of the tide towards Woodbridge, then he turned again into the forge and after a moment’s consideration chose a new shoe from the pile in the corner.