The String Diaries (25 page)

C
HAPTER
19

Snowdonia

Now

Hannah slammed through the back door of the farmhouse and ran through the kitchen into the hallway, flicking on lights as she went. Leah was screaming. Nate was shouting her name.

Upstairs. Both of them.

Sprinting along the hall, she grabbed the banister and swung herself around.

Nate was standing at the top of the stairs. In one hand he clutched a metal poker. His other arm clasped their daughter.

When Leah spotted Hannah her screams turned to sobs. ‘Mummy!’ She tried to extricate herself from Nate but he held her firmly, staring down the stairs with distrust in his eyes.

‘The meal you cooked that night in the Cairngorms,’ he said. ‘What was it?’

‘Chicken mole. Never again.’

He nodded. ‘My first car?’

‘Volkswagen Scirocco. White, with a leaky passenger door.’

Nate released his grip on Leah. The girl thundered down the stairs and leaped at her mother. Hannah cradled her with one arm, unwilling to let go of the shotgun, worried that she had not yet reloaded it.

‘It’s OK, scamp. It’s OK,’ she murmured into the girl’s hair.

‘He came, didn’t he? The Bad Man came.’

‘Yes, he came. But he’s gone now. Mummy frightened him away. You’re safe. I’m here. Your dad’s here.’

‘What happened?’ Nate asked.

‘He broke in through the back door. Pretending to be Seb.’

‘Your head—’

‘Just a cut.’

‘It looks bad.’

‘I’m OK. Really.’

He nodded. ‘You didn’t wake me.’

‘I’m stupid, that’s why. I couldn’t sleep so I came downstairs, surprised him. Reckless. I could have ruined everything.’

‘You didn’t. We’re all still here. You might even have—’ He cursed, put a hand to his abdomen.

Hannah dropped her gaze to the bottom of his shirt. A dark stain was spreading across the fabric. ‘Oh Nate, you’re bleeding.’

He frowned down at his clothing. ‘I jumped out of bed when I heard the gun shots. Must have torn the stitches.’

Blood was beginning to drip from the hem of his shirt.

For the first time, Hannah felt truly helpless.

Jakab was somewhere outside. And now this.

‘What are we going to do?’ she asked, hating the desperation in her voice.

Nate winced. ‘One thing at a time, as always. Come on. Help me downstairs.’

Between them, they managed to get him down to the hall. Leah opened the door to the dining room and switched on the lights. Hannah helped her husband inside. She felt light-headed. Not enough sleep. Too much adrenalin. Too much fear, panic.

Beyond a mahogany dining table, two armchairs flanked the window. She guided Nate towards one and eased him into it. Breaking open the shotgun, ejecting the single spent round, she pulled two cartridges from her back pocket and slotted them into the breech. Hannah snapped the gun back together, closed the dining-room door, crouched down beside her daughter. She put one hand to the girl’s face. Stroked her cheek. ‘Leah, remember all those times when we talked about this moment? About a time when you’d have to be strong?’

The girl nodded. Her pupils were huge.

‘Well, honey, that time is now. You know we love you, your daddy and I. More than anything else in the world. It’s vital you remember that.’

‘You think one of you is going to die.’

Hannah felt a tear roll down her cheek, cursed herself. ‘No, darling. No one thinks that. But even if there’s a tiny chance, we have to prepare for it. Just so we know what to do if it happens. You’re a strong girl. Brave. Intelligent. All you need to do is keep thinking, keep questioning, keep a close watch. Trust your instincts, react fast, just as we’ve always taught you. Now, do you remember we showed you how to use one of these?’ Hannah asked, indicating the shotgun.

‘Yes.’

‘What’s this slider?’

‘The safety.’

‘How do you disengage it?’

‘Push it forwards.’

‘Good.’

‘How will I know who he is?’

‘You remember how we validate each other?’

‘Yes.’

‘If you’re unsure, that’s how. Now, come here.’ Hannah pulled her daughter into an embrace.

Then Nate said, ‘Car.’

Hannah moved to the side of the window. Dawn had bleached away the darkness, sketching the landscape in shades of grey. A battered blue Defender was rattling down the track from the main road.

The 4x4 bounced over the bridge and accelerated towards the farmhouse, headlights cutting a white beam through the shadows. It skidded to a stop twenty yards from the house. The engine idled for a few moments and then it died. Its lights went out.

Nate twisted his head. ‘What do you see?’

‘Sebastien’s Land Rover.’

‘Can you see him?’

The windscreen was a dark slab of glass. She could feel the gaze of the vehicle’s occupant upon her. ‘No. Leah, watch the car. If it moves, if anyone gets out, shout.’

The girl was gripping one of the dining-room chairs. Her knuckles were white. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To get the spare ammunition. I won’t be long. Count to ten. I’ll be back.’ Hannah threw open the door and ran into the hallway. She skidded around the corner to the kitchen. The back door was hanging open, slamming in the wind. Two of the windows were broken, where she had tried to shoot Jakab. A smattering of shot was lodged in the frame.

Flinging open the pantry door, she grabbed two boxes of cartridges and ran back to the dining room.

‘It didn’t move.’

‘Good girl. Now take these boxes. Open them up. I want you to lay the cartridges in a nice long row, so I can reach them easily if I need to. OK?

Leah nodded. She put the first box on a chair. Opening the second, she began to arrange the rounds in a neat line, brass casings upwards.

Hannah moved back to the wall beside the window. Outside, the Defender’s door banged open. She saw a blur of movement in the gap between the driver’s compartment and the frame. Moses jumped down on to the gravel. He dropped his head to the chippings, turning in a slow circle. He looked up at Llyn Gwyr, then back at the 4x4. Nose close to the ground, he ran towards the farmhouse as if following a scent. ‘It’s his dog,’ she said.

‘Moses?’

She nodded. The dog ran past the window, raising his head and meeting her eyes. Then he was gone.

‘Keep talking to me, Hannah.’

She glanced down. Nate’s shirt was wet with blood now. The sight of it made her want to retch or scream or both.

You have to get him to a hospital! He’s not strong enough for this!

‘Nothing happening yet,’ she replied. ‘No movement.’

A bang somewhere in the house. A metal object falling over with a crash. Leah moaned with fear. She clamped a hand to her mouth.

A skittering in the hallway outside. A thump against the dining-room door. A low woof.

Hannah flicked off the safety on the shotgun. She took her left hand from the weapon and pried open the door a crack. Moses nosed into the room. She shut the door behind him.

The dog dropped his head and sniffed her feet, her legs, her crotch. He moved his nose up and down her free hand and licked her. Turning away, he approached Leah, enquiring, investigating. He moved his nose all over her body, licked her fingers and then he trotted over to Nate.

Moses stopped when he saw the blood.

‘It’s OK, boy,’ Nate said, holding out his hand.

The dog turned his head away, first towards Hannah and then towards Leah. Whined.

‘Go on, Moses,’ Hannah said. She felt her stomach contracting, her scalp buzzing. She moved her free hand back to the barrel of the shotgun. The safety was already disengaged. Her daughter was far enough away from her husband’s chair.

The dog took a step forwards, dropped his head and sniffed Nate’s shoes. He looked up and whined a second time. Closer now, he sniffed her husband’s legs, his crotch. Nate waggled his fingers. The dog nosed them. Then he licked them.

Hannah sagged against the door frame, breath exploding from her.

Nate raised his eyebrows at the animal. ‘Thanks buddy. You nearly got me shot.’

Moses padded to the window and jumped up. He placed his front paws on the sill, and barked twice.

Outside, Sebastien climbed out of the Land Rover. He put his hands to his mouth and shouted Hannah’s name.

She joined the dog at the window and opened it. ‘Seb?’

‘I heard shooting. Anyone hurt?’

Hannah glanced down at Nate, at the glistening pool of blood in his lap. ‘No one was shot.’

‘He was here?’

Hannah nodded.

‘I’m coming in.’

‘Front door.’ Moving from the window, she handed the shotgun to Nate.

‘Mummy, what are you doing?’

‘It’s Sebastien, sweetheart. I’m going to let him in.’

‘What if it isn’t? What if it’s the Bad Man?’

‘I don’t think it is. Moses wouldn’t ride in a car with the Bad Man, would he?’

‘What if he trapped Moses in there with him?’

‘OK, Leah, here’s what you do. When I bring Sebastien in, I want you to watch Moses very carefully. If he starts acting strangely – hostile – I want you to nod at Daddy. He’ll know what to do. OK?’

‘Please be careful.’

Hannah went to the front door, seeing the distorted shape of Sebastien’s head through the central bulb of glass. She hesitated, hand on the latch, and then she opened it.

Sebastien stared at her, his emerald eyes unreadable. ‘Your father’s favourite Bordeaux.’

‘Château Latour. The name of your second dog.’

‘Cyrus.’ He blinked. ‘Where are the others?’

‘Follow me.’ Hannah led him into the dining room. Moses jumped up to greet him.

Sebastien ruffled the dog’s head. He turned to Nate, noticing first the pain in his eyes, and then the blood. ‘Hellfire. They’ve torn loose.’

‘Kind of bad timing,’ Nate replied.

Sebastien turned back to Hannah. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know yet. What’s worse, Seb, I don’t even know how you fit into all this.’

The old man frowned. ‘Meaning?’

‘We were out riding yesterday, near your cottage. Quite a party you were having. Not exactly the hermit lifestyle you’d led me to believe. What’s going on?’

‘Riding? Riding what?’

‘Answer the question, Seb. Who were those men you were with?’

‘It’s good that you’re suspicious. But there’s a time for that. You need to tell me what happened here. So I can help. Your husband is injured. We need to—’

Nate lifted the barrels of the shotgun. ‘Answer my wife.’

Sebastien hesitated. He looked from Nate to Hannah, and then back to Nate. ‘Bloody-minded, the pair of you,’ he snapped. ‘Fine. I didn’t realise you were spying on me. The two men you saw were Eleni.’

‘I thought you’d severed your ties,’ she said.

‘I had.’

‘So what? That was just a social visit?’

‘Of course not. I contacted them. Just one of them. In confidence. I thought they might be able to help.’

‘Just one of them?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘And yet two showed up. Some confidence, Seb. How many others know about us now, I wonder?’ She paused, expecting a reply, but he remained silent. ‘You didn’t think we might want to be consulted about that? It didn’t occur to you to ask us about involving another one, two, three or however the hell many more of those people now know about us?’

‘I was trying to help,’ he said quietly. His tone was so incongruous it made her pause, and with sudden clarity she realised how deeply she had wounded him.

And yet he’d had no right to do what he had done. She was absolutely right to be furious with him. ‘Where are they now?’ she demanded.

‘They’ve gone back to town. They’ve rented a place there.’

‘You tell them to stay the hell away from us.’

His jaw tightened. ‘Can I examine your husband now?’

Then, upstairs, Hannah’s phone began to ring. She had left it on the dressing table. ‘I need to get that,’ she said. ‘It could be him. Could be Dad.’

‘Mummy, don’t go.’

Sebastien moved to the door. ‘I’ll do it.’

Hannah locked eyes with him. Then she stood aside and let him pass. She listened to the tread of his boots as they moved up the stairs, on to the landing, across the first-floor hall. Above, the bedroom door creaked. A loose floorboard squealed.

Hannah moved to the window. She scanned the nearby hills, the river, the road. No one. No people. No animals. No movement. Sebastien’s Defender stood on the track, silent and alone.

Upstairs, the phone stopped ringing. A thump. Another creak, followed by footsteps back down the stairs and across the hall. Hannah opened the door and Sebastien slipped into the room. He handed the phone to her.

She checked the missed call log. No number had been recorded. She was about to put the phone on the dining table when it rang in her hands.

Hannah stared down at it, watching it warble and vibrate. She wondered what chance there was that her father was calling. Silly to torture herself. Thumbing the call button, Hannah raised the phone to her ear. She heard empty static. And then a voice.

‘This isn’t really working out, is it?’ Jakab said.

‘If I’d had another half a second to aim, it would have worked out a lot better.’

‘Ouch.’ He laughed. ‘Come on, this isn’t like you.’

‘You don’t know me.’

‘I feel like I do.’

‘Then you’re deluded.’

‘Ah, Hannah, it pains me to hear this anger in your voice.’

She stepped back to the window and looked outside. Was the purpose of his call a distraction? ‘You tried to kill Nate. What did you expect?’

‘We’ve talked about this. Your husband shot me. What did you want me to do? Lie down and die?’

‘That’s exactly what I want you to do.’

‘I have no interest in harming your family.’

‘You murdered my mother.’

‘Another misunderstanding. I don’t blame you for being confused. You’ve been fed so many lies over the years, so much vitriol. No one seems to recognise the truth any more.’

‘And you do.’

‘I know my truth.’

‘What do you want?’

‘The only thing I’ve ever wanted, Hannah. A small and simple thing: something so inconsequential it would cost you virtually nothing to grant it. I want to see you, just once. I want to sit down in a room with you and look at your face while I talk. I want to show you who I really am. And if at the end of all that, you still want to walk away, if you still insist that this has to end, then so be it. I’ll honour your wishes.’