The Prayer of the Night Shepherd (21 page)

‘How did Largo
put
it?’ Eirion asked. ‘What did he actually say?’

‘Well, it... it was after we got back from the church, and I’d been helping Nat with these awful Christmas lights, and Amber’s determined to talk to Ben, so Antony just wanders in and he’s like, “Jane, could I have a wee word?” ’

She told him how she’d made Antony some coffee in the lounge, and he’d said, ‘Sit down a minute, Jane,’ and started asking her questions: what did she think of this and that on TV, what did she have planned for when she left school?

‘I mean, it was dead casual, I thought he was just making conversation. We were getting on pretty well – better than when Ben was around. And like having a laugh about how serious Ben was getting over all this. And then he goes, “Tell me, Jane, have you ever used a decent video camera?” ’

‘And then when you said no... ?’

‘I didn’t exactly say
no
. As such. I mean, suddenly I was getting an incredible feeling of where this might be going. Which was just...
wow
. So I told him that my boyfriend... I said my boyfriend’s family was connected with television in Wales and I’d been on lots of shoots and, like, helped out... filled in... done a bit of this and that. You know?’

There was a silence. What she’d actually said was ‘my
ex
-boyfriend,’ wanting to keep whatever might be on the cards to herself, and she felt desperately guilty about that. Despicable. What kind of bitch did that to her guy? OK, he wouldn’t be able to be involved anyway, being out of the country, but it was still... well, not the kind of thing Eirion would ever do to her.

‘It just came out,’ Jane said.

‘You...
lied to Antony Largo
?’

Jane swallowed, realizing she was sweating.

‘You didn’t mention my name to him, did you?’ Eirion said. ‘Because when this is all over and
your
name is like something scraped off his trainers after jogging across the dog pound...’

‘Look, it’s no big deal!’ She stared at the silvery little camera, panic rising. ‘He’ll shoot the heavy stuff himself, the seance. He just wants me to keep track of stuff happening day-to-day when he’s not there. Just like point the thing at anything interesting going down around the place and especially at Ben. See, he can’t afford to spend whole days
himself
around Stanner when he hasn’t flogged the idea to anybody yet – which can take like weeks and weeks – and he needs to keep track of developments and he needs Ben to be in some of the pictures, so... Apparently, they’re always getting people to do it these days. Shoot bits of stuff. There used to be hassles with the unions, but all that’s—’

‘So why don’t you ask
Ben
for a few hints?’

‘Because...’ Jane shut her eyes. ‘Because Ben’s clearly not happy about me doing it. He’d rather shoot it himself and
not
be in shot. It’s all so confused. Antony’s idea of this project may not quite tie in with Ben’s. Like, they’re mates, but there’s artistic friction, you know? I think, what Antony’s got in mind, is that if it all crashes, at least it’ll make a funny episode for this
Punching the Clock
series, about mid-life crises launching new careers.’

‘And these spiritualists – the cranks who think they’re going to raise the spirit of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – they’re actually going along with this?’

‘Yeah, they’re cool with it. Maybe they’re hoping for something amazing. Irene, come on, even if nothing happens it could still be totally brilliant stuff.’

Eirion did this bitter sigh. ‘I don’t know why I’m doing this, but the most basic piece of advice I can give you is to use the tripod whenever possible. You’ve
got
a tripod?’

‘Antony’s having one sent over to Stanner for me.’

‘Right, well, don’t get carried away with hand-held stuff. Unless you’ve got a lot of experience and really steady hands it looks awful. Unusable, right? Also, stick to auto at all times or you’ll just get in a mess.’

‘Won’t it look amateurish?’

‘The difference will probably be minimal, and Largo can get rid of any fluffs in the editing. And make sure your shots are long enough – remember you’re recording what might be a familiar scene to you for people who’ve never seen it before, so hang in there. Don’t pan unless it’s vital. Don’t get carried away with the zoom. And remember that the mike on the camera’s OK for ambient sound or when you’re tight, but... What’s the other mike like? Directional, or what?’

‘Well, it... I mean you can like
point
it. Look, when you said
zoom
...?’

‘Ration it severely. My advice is to pretend that every time you use the zoom it’s going to cost you a tenner.’

‘So the zoom... where
is
that exactly?’

‘Well, it’s... Oh, bloody hell,’ Eirion said, ‘suppose I just come over and show you.’

Jane fisted the air. ‘I love you so much, Irene.’

‘Prove it.’

‘Well, maybe,’ Jane said, low and sexy and exultant inside. ‘Maybe later.’

This greasy, low-wattage bulb over the door. Only a feeble light, coated with dust and cobweb and dead flies, but all light was pain.

Silence in here. The only sound was in his head: the buzzsaw of pain. Standing in the doorway, he was sick with the pain.

‘No. It’s a friend,’ Jeremy said. ‘A friend.’

Danny held on to the door frame. The girl in the straw didn’t move. Her hair was the same colour as the straw in the rancid butter light. She stared up at him and her eyes were full of fear and hate.

Jeremy said, ‘Oh Christ,
they
done that?’

Danny’s face and head were wet. He kept his hands away from it.

‘Gone?’ It was a tattered croak; he couldn’t believe the terror in his own voice. ‘All of ’em? You sure?’

On the flagged floor, a broken bale and the girl sprawled forward in the straw, looking up, covering the black and white dog with her body.

How much time had passed Danny didn’t know. His head felt like the time he’d been kicked by a horse. Jeremy was staring at him.

‘They was gonner shoot the dog, Danny. Clancy, she just hurled herself in front of ’em. Wasn’t no answer to that. They buggered off.’

‘They was gonner
shoot the dog
?’

‘What they hit you with?’

‘Butt of the gun, I reckon. Why the dog?’

‘Dunno.’ Jeremy was wearing baggy jeans and an old sweater with holes in it. He was quivering. ‘Dunno what they thought.’

‘Don’t you really, boy?’

‘I better get you an ambulance.’

‘Bugger off.’

‘Can you see out that eye?’

‘It missed the eye. You called the cops?’

‘You can’t drive home in that state,’ Jeremy said.

‘You called the
police
?’

‘No, I—’

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t want no police, Danny. It’d all get twisted round. You know how it is.’

‘This
is
Dacre, ennit?’

‘They never said, not really.’ Jeremy ran his hands through his sparse fair hair, his face all screwed up. ‘They never... He’ll admit to hiring them, but he’s gonner deny responsibility for how they done it.’

‘Done what?’

‘Shot the foxes.’

‘Foxes, balls. He’s the bloody hunt master.
He
don’t wanner see no foxes shot at night, or by day. He wants ’em all decently ripped in half by his hounds. The bloody Middle Marches Hunt looks like running out of foxes to chase, Sebbie’d have a couple crates of the buggers shipped over from the city, you know that.’

Danny leaned back against the door frame, breathing through his mouth. The effort of saying all that had left him feeling faint.

‘He en’t an easy man to deal with,’ Jeremy said.

‘He’s a total bastard of a man, Jeremy, we all know that.’

‘He phoned me earlier.’

‘Oh,
did
he?’

‘Said did I know what that feller Foley was doing over at Hergest. With another feller. And a girl.’

‘Why would you?’

‘Well, ’cause... ’cause Nat’lie, she d’work up at Stanner.’

‘Yeah, yeah. You tell him?’

‘Told him I didn’t know nothin’ about nothin’.’ Jeremy looked down at the girl. ‘You best get inside, Clancy, ’fore your mam gets in.’ He smiled at her. ‘Take the dog in with you. You’re gonner need some tea, Danny.’

‘No, I’ll get off home, ’fore Gret calls in the bloody Armed Response Unit. Give her a call for me, will you, boy? Say I tripped on the cattle grid but I’m all right now.’

In the end, it was past midnight when Danny made it home, and Jeremy had to take him in his Land Rover.

What had happened, those bastards had rammed the Justy out of the way with the bull bars on the Discovery, heaving it into the ditch. The driver’s door was stove in, and Danny didn’t give a lot for the sub-frame.

Bastards! Couldn’t believe they’d
done
that. Couldn’t believe any of this.

Knowing for a fact that if he tried to make a claim against them – even if he could find out their names – they’d deny the whole lot. Anyway, Danny avoided lawyers the same way you didn’t drink sheep-dip.

‘I en’t fully sure what this is about,’ he told Jeremy out on the bypass. ‘But far as I’m concerned it just got real personal.’

‘Leave it, eh, Danny. En’t nothing to be done.’

‘
En’t nothin’—?
’

‘I’ll pay for the damage.’

‘You bloody will not, boy!’

‘Happened on my ground. Me as called you out. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have rung you. I just didn’t want nothing to happen to the girl.’

‘Right,’ Danny said. ‘What’s going on, Jeremy?’

‘Nothing’s going on.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Just some shooting yobs from—’

‘Not the
Welshies
, you... that girl. And her mam.’ Danny was talking through the pain now, so he didn’t care what he said, long as he could get it out. ‘What’s the score there, Jeremy? Where’s it goin’, you and her? What’s that
about
?’

Jeremy said nothing.

‘All right, why’d them Welshies say it wasn’t your ground? Sebbie Dacre still think he’s entitled, is it?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Jeremy staring straight ahead, driving slow. ‘En’t his. En’t never gonner be his. That’s all I know. I was born there, I’ll die there.’

Not just an expression of intent, Danny thought, it was like he knew it for a fact – that he would die at The Nant.

Above them, the wishy-washy moonlight shone damply on Stanner Rocks, and Jeremy never spoke another word, except for ‘goodnight’ – not much more than a clicking of the tongue – when he dropped Danny at his top gate.

‘My friend was still looking at the coat of arms and I walked to the archway here and just looked across at the blue curtain. There was an image... it wasn’t even a shape... I can only describe it as when motes hang in sunbeams. But it was the image of a bull and he was giving out the feeling of being angry... he was pawing at the ground but he was in the air. The inside of his nostrils – this was one of the most vivid things – were very, very red, like a racehorse when it’s just stopped running. And it was wet, it was dripping moisture or something on to the ground. It was as though it was hanging in sort of strings... As we walked to the middle aisle it started to fade... I’m a hard-headed business person. But I can’t deny it, I’ve seen it – I’ve experienced it.’

The ladies who prepare the flowers in the church did say on two separate occasions that the floral arrangement had taken the shape of a bull’s head.

FOURTEEN

S
O
D
ANNY
WENT
after Sebbie Three Farms.