River of Destiny (30 page)

‘She is good. She has a reputation across the county for her accuracy.’ She raised her chin a fraction.

‘And did she tell you that the poor mug you chose to father your child was going to refuse to act your stud any longer? And did she predict that he would threaten to tell your husband if you don’t leave him alone; and did she tell you to go back to your fancy hall and your fancy sheets and your fancy life and stay away from the barnyard?’ His face was white with anger.

She looked down at him with sudden rage in her face. ‘Are you refusing to do as I ask?’

‘Oh, yes, I’m refusing. The whole world knows what we’ve been doing, and probably why, and I’m not going to be a party to it any more. I have a wife and soon I will have a child. You go back to your husband, madam, and you work out your own destiny. If you are to have a child it will be with him, not me.’

Behind them Bella gave a nervous neigh. Emily turned to stare at her. ‘What is that horse still doing here?’

‘That horse is fine, my lady. You leave her be.’ Dan gripped the rein of her cob again and, turning it, led her out of the barn into the fierce autumn sunlight. ‘Go home, my lady.’ He slapped the cob on its rump. It bucked, nearly unseating its rider.

Emily steadied herself, grabbing the neck strap, then she turned to look back at Dan. ‘You will be sorry,’ she said icily. ‘So very sorry.’ She raised her whip and brought it down hard on the cob’s rump. This time she was ready when the horse began to buck. She drove it forward and cantered out of the yard, hooves slipping on the high cobbles, scattering the hens, leaving a whirl of dust behind her.

Ken did not come to bed with her that night and in the morning he had left before Zoë went downstairs. She saw his car keys had gone from the hook by the back door. She made herself some coffee and poured some muesli into a bowl, staring out of the window. It had occurred to her the night before to wonder if Ken was having an affair and to her surprise she realised that if he was she was strangely unbothered by the thought.

The Old Forge looked deserted. Odd how she could tell when Leo wasn’t there; it wasn’t just that the windows or doors were closed. Outwardly there wasn’t much difference when he was there or not. It was as if the soul had gone out of the house. She stood staring out, wondering how she felt about what had happened. Her body was happy, there was no doubt about that. She had awoken to a tingling sensation of delight which permeated every inch of her as she lay in bed hugging to herself the memory of the day before. She had forgotten just how exciting sex could be. But what about Ken? Shouldn’t she feel guilty? She picked up her bowl and walked through to the great room, staring out of the window and stopped in shock. There was a police car parked outside The Threshing Barn. ‘Oh, no! Rosemary!’ she said under her breath, and cursed silently as she saw two officers come out of Rosemary’s door, pause as they pointed towards The Old Barn, and head directly towards Zoë. She returned her bowl of cereal to the kitchen untouched and went to the door to meet them, wondering what she was going to say.

They understood, they said, that she had been a witness to the unprovoked attack on Mrs Formby and Mrs Salcombe the day before. Could she tell them what she saw? She led them indoors and they all sat down. One of the police officers produced a black notebook. She took a deep breath. Almost without realising it she knew she was not going to incriminate Jackson.

‘First, it wasn’t an attack. Someone was out shooting behind the copse in the field. I don’t know what they shoot at this time of year – rabbits? pigeons? – certainly not people!’ She smiled, hoping they would take that as a joke. ‘I didn’t see them, but I am fairly sure whoever it was wouldn’t have expected to find anyone in the field. There is no public footpath there although Mrs Formby seems very anxious to prove that there used to be and she wants to reinstate it. As I understand it, part of her campaign is to walk the line of the path as often as possible to prove it is used.’

‘And is it, apart from by her?’ The younger police officer looked up from his notes.

‘No, I don’t think so. She got a group of people together the other day to walk it, but as far as I know the claim is hotly disputed by everyone locally, especially by the farmer who owns the land.’

‘Is there any chance he would have shot at her, or in her direction to warn her off?’

‘No!’ Zoë shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. He’s a nice law-abiding man. We met him just recently. There is no way he would do anything like that, although I think he is planning to go to law about her claim.’

‘And you haven’t lived here very long yourself?’

‘No. Only a few months.’

‘Long enough to know if there are any feuds between neighbours?’

She gave a wry smile. ‘We haven’t any neighbours apart from this complex, and as far as I can see there aren’t any feuds amongst us. We all get on quite well.’

‘So, may I ask what you were doing in the field yesterday? Were you going to go and support Mrs Formby on her walk?’

‘No.’ She paused, wondering in sudden panic what to say. ‘No, I was walking down the track, which is a public footpath, with another neighbour, Mr Logan, who lives across there in The Old Forge.’ She gestured out of the window, and hoped that the heat she could feel in her cheeks at the mention of his name did not show. ‘We were going down to the river but we heard the shots and the shouting, and we saw a new gap which Rosemary – Mrs Formby – had cut through Mr Turtill’s hedge, and we ran over to see what was happening. She and her friend sounded very upset.’

‘And did you see anybody else. The man with a gun?’

She shook her head.

‘So it is possible he shot without realising that there was anyone in the field?’

‘Yes. I’m sure that was what happened.’

‘No one should use a firearm of course without being absolutely certain that they have a clear view,’ the first police officer said at last, ‘but it does sound as if there was every reason to suppose that the field was empty. We will of course have to go and speak to Mr Turtill. He has a licence to own various firearms, as most farmers do round here. And even if he wasn’t out shooting himself he must know who was unless they were there without his permission. And we will speak to Mr Logan to make sure he confirms your story. Which I am sure he will.’ He looked up at her and held her gaze. She gave a faint smile. The two men stood up. ‘Thank you, Mrs Lloyd.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.’ She led the way to the front door.

She watched surreptitiously as they made their way down the path towards The Old Forge. As she had suspected, Leo seemed to be out. They knocked several times and waited then retraced their steps to their car. Moments later they had driven away.

Rosemary knocked at the door only five minutes after that. ‘Did you tell them what happened?’

‘I told them what we saw.’

‘It was Turtill. It must have been. I’ll see him in court over this!’

Zoë shook her head. ‘You don’t know who it was, Rosemary, and almost certainly it wasn’t deliberate. Someone was out shooting pigeons. It was just unfortunate. They weren’t expecting anyone to be in the field.’

Rosemary pursed her lips. ‘Well, they will in future. This makes me even more determined to get that path made official again, so if Turtill thinks it is going to deter me if he shoots at us, he has another think coming!’ She glanced towards the window. ‘Where is Leo? The police didn’t seem to find him at home.’

‘I don’t know where he is.’ Zoë clenched her fists, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘So where were you both going yesterday when you heard us in the field?’

‘Down to Leo’s boat.’

‘Why?’

Zoë frowned and shook her head. ‘We just thought it would be nice to walk down there. He wanted to collect something and I was on my own and thought it would be fun to stroll down with him, that’s all.’ Enough. Don’t say any more. She took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me, Rosemary, but I was going out. I need to go and change. This business with the police has set me back a bit.’

Rosemary sniffed. ‘I’m sorry I’m sure. Next time someone tries to murder me I will remember to make sure it is convenient for you!’ She swung towards the door and went out, slamming it behind her. Zoë stared after her, then she shook her head. Now she would have to go out whether she wanted to or not.

She met Leo in the Cake Shop in Woodbridge. ‘Small world,’ she said as she tapped him on the shoulder. She could have kicked herself for saying something so banal, but he didn’t seem to mind. His smile was warm.

‘Are you on your own?’ he asked. ‘I saw Ken go out about six o’clock this morning.’

‘I didn’t hear him leave. I don’t know where he’s gone.’ She didn’t want to talk about Ken.

‘Then come for a picnic with me.’ The queue was moving up and he was next. ‘I’ll buy us some goodies.’

She watched as he bought pasties and buns as well as a loaf of bread. When she had bought her own, they walked on down the Thoroughfare and bought a bottle of wine, glasses, some rich country cheese and, at her instigation, a bar of dark hazelnut chocolate, then they made their way back to the car park.

She followed him through a network of country lanes which nevertheless she thought was not very far from home until at last he pulled into a lay-by which just had room for both cars.

‘This is a very special place,’ he said as he came and helped her out. ‘I’ve never brought anyone here before. I know it’s on the map but people seldom seem to bother.’

‘I’m honoured.’ She smiled at him a little shyly.

He didn’t waste time on conversation; pushing open a gate – Zoë noticed the overgrown footpath sign with a small grimace – he led the way up a small grassy meadow and into a wood. The leaves were already turning a rich russet, rustling in the breeze as they pushed their way along an overgrown path and then turned off it, through another gate, this one falling off its hinges. Behind it Zoë could see a ruined stone wall. Leo glanced over his shoulder and grinned. He seemed very pleased with himself. ‘It still seems undiscovered, doesn’t it? I am always afraid some awful Rosemary-type person will have been in and stuffed it full of signs and health and safety warnings or wired it off altogether.’

‘What is it?’ She followed him across the grass and gave a small gasp of delight as they emerged in a sheltered rectangle of walls, one of which contained a small rounded aperture which must once have held a window. In another was the remains of an arched doorway. ‘It’s a church!’

He nodded. ‘This is our Anglo-Saxon church. Isn’t it a gem?’ He unslung his bag from his shoulder and dropped it on the grass. ‘We are, in fact, very near home; the river is just over the hill there and the Hall is through the woodland that way, but there is no access from the farm any more. Don’t tell Rosemary, whatever you do. The last thing we want is another crusade for a footpath.’ He walked over to the wall and rested his hand on the pale stones. ‘This is a magic, sacred spot. This is all that’s left of our village. I don’t go much on churches, not working churches anyway. But this is so special.’

‘Why isn’t it working any more?’ Zoë put her hand near his on the stone which was warm in the sunlight and rough with lichen. ‘What happened to it?’

‘It’s been a ruin since early medieval times, I believe. As I told you, there was an Anglo-Saxon settlement here, with the hall of the local leader probably under the foundations at Timperton. It seems to have been a flourishing community. One can see the outline of some of the buildings as crop marks from the air. I was shown some photos of them by a guy I met whose hobby is looking for archaeological remains. It is fascinating how much evidence there is of the past still there under the surface of the fields. The settlement vanished. It didn’t survive as a village. As you see, the only thing left is the ruin of the church.’

She walked out into the centre of the grassy space and looked round. It was sheltered in here; there were elder trees heavy with berries growing inside what was left of the walls, and clumps of nettles interspersed with flowers. There were oxtongue and mayweed, mallow and a few little flowers of the most intense blue. She picked one and twirled it in her fingers. ‘What are these? There were great patches of them down by the landing stage a few weeks back. They are such a brilliant colour.’

He took it from her. ‘This is called viper’s bugloss,’ he said. ‘In ancient times it was said to be a cure for the bite of an adder.’ He tucked it into her hair. ‘It grows round here because it is so sandy. We’ll make a country woman of you yet, Zoë Lloyd!’ He bent to open the bag. ‘Shall we picnic in here?’

‘Wait. Not yet.’ She put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Leo –’ She wasn’t sure what to say next.

He bent forward and kissed her on the lips. ‘Over here. In the corner. That is what is so special about this place. We won’t be spied on.’

He caught her hand and pulled her with him. ‘Only if you want to, of course.’

‘Oh God, I want to!’ She threw herself against him, reaching up for another kiss, feeling the puckered roughness and ivory smoothness of his scars under her lips. She tore at the buttons on her shirt and pulled it open, desperate to feel his hands on her breasts, and for a long time she was aware of nothing but the closeness and strength of this man and the neediness of her own body.