The Prayer of the Night Shepherd (45 page)

‘
He
’s all right. Juss called me up. Just he got this pal, see.’ Gomer sat down at last, bringing out his ciggy tin like it was part of the same cycle of movements. ‘Ta.’

‘Take it slowly, Gomer.’

‘Bit of a loner, that’s all. Hell, a lot of a loner.’ Gomer shook his head, annoyed, stared in disgust at his ciggy tin. ‘I en’t thinkin’ straight
at all
... You knows full well who I’m talkin’ about. Boy’s girlfriend’s daughter, her’s Jane’s... you know, that kiddie?’

‘Clancy? You’re talking about Jeremy... ?’

‘Berrows. Exac’ly. Jeremy Berrows. Me and Danny been talkin’ a lot about Jeremy Berrows, the situation he’s got ’isself into. And a lot of other stuff. And I been thinkin’ for a long time – Danny, too – we needs to ask the little vicar to take a look. And you know how it is, you lets things slide and then it all come down on you. And now Jeremy...’

Gomer took off his glasses, pinched his nose.

‘What’s he done, Gomer?’

‘Boy’s hanged ’isself,’ Gomer said.

30

‘W
HERE DO YOU
want me to start, Mr Foley?’ Leonard Parsonage asked.

He was a very thin old man. All really old people tended to be thin, Jane thought, making themselves less of a target for all the things that could take you down.

‘I’d just like to get the levels right before we start.’ Ben’s voice came through fainter, from one side. ‘Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been doing since you left Stanner? Have you been in Kington ever since?’

The old guy got as far as saying he’d returned to Kent, where he was born, to get married, then come back to Kington to buy an ironmonger’s business. Then Ben must have cut the recording. When it came back, Ben was saying, on that same background level, ‘Tell me what she was really like, Leonard. Tell me what Hattie was like – Mrs Davies.’

‘Mrs
Chancery
.’ Leonard had a tiny black personal microphone clipped to the mustard-coloured tie jutting out from the neck of his v-neck pullover. The mike looked like a stag beetle climbing up it. ‘We hadn’t to call her Mrs Davies. Mrs Chancery, it was, or Mrs Hattie.’ He stopped talking and looked directly into the lens.

‘No, at
me
, Leonard. Let’s start again, OK? And remember, talk to me,
not
the camera. Forget about the camera.’

It looked to Jane like this had been hard going, but all Ben’s questions and prompts could be edited out, and he could overlay the edits with other pictures, like the photos of Hattie and Stanner – Jane had learned all this from Eirion. For all the use it was now.

Wrenching back her anger, she looked around the Foleys’ bedroom while Leonard rearranged himself. It was at the front of the house, with a bay window overlooking the car park, and it was very unfussy, with a plain wardrobe and a double divan. No dressing table, no mirror. Very Amber.

‘Well, it had to be “Mrs Chancery”,’ Leonard said, ‘because Stanner was the House of the Chancerys, you see. Robert Davies, he was just the stallion brought to the mare, that’s what they used to say. Looked less of a stallion, mind you, when I first saw him than he had before the First War, according to Mrs Betts – she was the cook. Mrs Betts said they all used to fancy Mr Robert, although in later years they all felt very sorry for him, naturally, because of... because of the way she would treat him.’

Leonard wore false teeth which clicked sometimes, but he talked quite fluently, in the way of a man who was used to dealing with people. Ben had positioned him in front of a picture window with a view across some kind of car park to Kington market place with its red-brick clock tower.

‘What was she like, Leonard? Physically. Describe her – what she looked like. Take your time.’

‘She was... Oh, my Lord, she was like a goddess to us. Diana the Huntress – somebody called her that, I think it was the minister at the church. Diana the Huntress, yes. Because she
was
, you see – she used to go hunting every day of the week, it seemed like, in the season. Well, not that many women did, in those days. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she was all woman.
All
woman. Too
much
woman, some might’ve said.’

Leonard smiled in what struck Jane as a surprisingly lascivious way, and there was a shiny bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. He had a thin white moustache, kind of dandyish. Jane wondered, just wondered...

‘OK, tell me about the hunting,’ Ben said. ‘How did that start?’

‘Oh well, old Walter, he encouraged her. That was what I was told. Walter couldn’t ride and he was too old to start, but that was what you did in those days, the gentry, and so he had his daughter on a horse from a very early age, and that was how she got in with the hunt. If you rode, you hunted – pretty much the way it is today. But I would say the hunting was always more important than the riding for Mrs Hattie. Anyway, that was about when the Middle Marches Hunt was first started, and it was mainly young people back then.’

‘This was before the First World War?’

‘It would’ve been, yes. She was just a girl, but quite large, even then – you could see that from the photos, I expect. Yes, the hunt, I believe they kept that on through most of the War, although some of the young men had gone off to fight. Afterwards, after the War, it went from strength to strength. They had these hounds from France that were bred down in Glamorgan – nothing but the best for the Middle Marches. The Chancerys, they supported the Hunt in the early years – financially, that is, when they had money to spare – and they also founded a hunt supporters’ club to raise more money, so it would always be
buoyant
. But Mrs Hattie lived for it, oh my Lord, yes. If there was bad snow or disease or some reason the hunt had to be called off, then she was in a
very
black mood indeed.’

‘This is in your day, Leonard?’

‘Oh yes. I came there in thirty-four, which was the year after the old fellow died. I was soon Mrs Hattie’s right-hand man – that was what she used to say. Or “my squire”. She talked about herself like a knight on horseback. “My squire”, yes. I was her squire.’

‘Black moods?’

‘Eh?’

‘You said she’d be in a black mood when the hunting was off. What was that like?’

‘Black moods... black hound.’ Leonard bit down on his lower lip and stared into the distance. He had pale blue eyes, watery.

‘What’s that mean?’ Ben said.

‘Used to say she ran with the black hound. One of her sayings. She’d come back, and the groom would take her horse, all covered with sweat, and I’d be there, and she’d say, “Bring me a bloody drink, Leonard, the black hound was in the pack today.” ’

‘What did she mean by that?’

‘Well, it was one of her sayings.’

‘But did she mean there was an actual—?’

‘It meant, as far as I could fathom, that she’d been riding hard and fierce that day, Mr Foley. And if there’d been no kill, she wouldn’t be in the best of moods.’

A silence, then, that went on for a long time. The television and video were in the corner of the bedroom, near the window. Jane was sitting on a bedding box at the foot of the bed, and old Leonard seemed to be looking over her shoulder. She glanced behind, uncomfortable, as if Hattie might be there with her onion eyes. The bed was unmade, as though Ben had just rolled out of it. Or as if someone had pulled all the—

‘And Mr Robert would soon know about it,’ Leonard said.

Jane turned back to the TV in time to catch another silence.

Ben said eventually, ‘What did she do to Mr Robert, Leonard?’

‘He...’ Leonard licked his lips. ‘Next day, Mr Robert might have a black eye, or a big lip. Or scratch marks down his cheek. Or all of them. That was the wounds you could see.’

‘She might have done damage you couldn’t see?’

Leonard nodded very slightly. ‘Sometimes he’d be limping.’

‘And this happened after she
ran with the black hound
,’ Ben said, with a lot of emphasis.

Leonard said nothing.

‘Where did they go, Leonard? Did they hunt on the Ridge?’

‘Oh, everywhere. For the local farmers, it didn’t do not to let the hunt cross your land.’

‘The...’ Ben broke off, struggling to form a question. ‘Leonard, when she said “black hound”, did you have any reason to believe she might have been making some connection with the legend of the Hound of Hergest?’

Leonard smiled.

‘You do
know
of the legend?’

‘’Course I do.’ He looked stern again. ‘And all that damn silliness.’

Ben let the silence hang for twenty, thirty seconds.

‘Silliness,’ Leonard said again.

‘What do you mean exactly?’

‘There was a bit of silliness when she... when they died.’

‘In what way?’

‘Oh...’ Leonard looked cross. ‘One of the maids said she’d seen a shadow of a big black dog go across the lawn.’

‘When Hattie died?’ Ben keeping the excitement out of his voice. ‘Robert?’

‘Oh, before. Before any of it. The night before, around dusk, before it was dark. And the night before that, too. Or so she said. Just silliness, Mr Foley. Things get repeated and exaggerated, specially in country places. You don’t want that on your programme, do you?’

‘And Hattie – she knew about the legends.’

‘Aaah.’ Leonard’s face twisted in exasperation. ‘She’d no time for
legends
. History, now, she was interested in history. She always said this was her place, and her roots were here – even though they weren’t, of course, because Stanner was still a new house then, even if it looked old. But she’d never known anywhere else, she was born at Stanner, so I suppose that was true in a way. And she used to go to the church and look at the graves.’

‘Why?’

‘I was never with her, Mr Foley, I was only the butler. Never been much of a churchgoer, anyway. Lost my two older brothers in the First War, and never saw much point to it after that. Got themselves killed before they were twenty-one, and here’s me, ninety-three. It’s all a lottery, Mr Foley, no God in this, I’m afraid. Or if there is, you can’t rely on him.’

‘What about Mrs Chancery? Did she go to church?’

‘Well... she went to the church. Not to the services much, unless it was something to do with the hunt – a funeral, a wedding. When a member of the hunt got married, they’d all form an arch outside the church, whichever church it was, with their riding crops and they’d—’

‘Leonard, why did she go to the church, if not to services?’

‘To look at the graves, like I say. The big ones inside the church. I never go there, but aren’t there some big ones inside?’

Silence.

Ben said, ‘You mean... the tombs?’

‘Ah. Sorry. Yes, the tombs.’

‘Thomas Vaughan.’

‘Him, yes. Black Vaughan. And the woman.’

‘Ellen Gethin. The Terrible.’

‘The Terrible, yes. Mrs Hattie, she used to say,
that
’s my ancestor, there in the church.’

Jane said, ‘
Shit
.’

‘You’re saying she described Ellen Gethin as her ancestor? This... take your time, Leonard, this is interesting. She said that this Ellen Gethin – the Terrible – was her ancestor?’

‘I think she meant they were alike,’ Leonard said. ‘Or she liked to think they were. Did this Ellen hunt? I suppose she would’ve done.’

‘What else?’

‘Eh?’

‘Did they have anything else in common?’

‘Well, I don’t know.’

‘Leonard, if I remind you that Ellen Gethin killed a man in cold blood...’

‘Did she?’

‘You don’t know about that?’

Leonard didn’t look particularly interested. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I expect I must’ve heard about it once, a long time ago perhaps, but I’ve never bothered much with history.’

‘You mean medieval history. Old history.’

‘Knights and things.’

‘But more recent history... Walter Chancery’s time.’

Leonard smiled. ‘That’s not history to me.’

‘Good,’ Ben said. ‘But first, can we... talk in some detail about the night when Hattie killed Robert?’

‘I’d really rather not, if you don’t mind, Mr Foley,’ Leonard said. ‘That wasn’t what Frank said you wanted to talk about.’

‘It upset you?’

‘It upsets me still, Mr Foley. No point in upsetting yourself any more when you get to my age. It’s all over, it’s all done, it was a very tragic business, and it didn’t do me any good at all in the long run. The children were too young, and it turned out there were huge debts. Mr Walter Chancery’s younger brother came to sort things out, and I think he just wanted rid, and my services were the first to be dispensed with, thanks to... someone I could mention but won’t. Anyway, Mrs Hattie, she always
valued
my services. Oh my Lord, yes. And I cried when I found her. I was in tears. I knew it was all over for all of us.’

The water in Leonard’s eyes had become pools, and he turned his head away.