‘I was about to have a bath,’ she whispered.
Something was bothering her, he knew her well enough to be certain of it. Wanting to let her share it in her own time, he said nothing and waited.
‘I feel dirty.’ She bent towards him, so that her face nestled against his. He felt the dampness of tears on his cheek.
‘What is it, Miranda?’
‘It’s — well, it’s Wayne.’
A cold apprehension fingered him. ‘What about Wayne?’
‘After you’d gone, I went to bed. I felt so drained, I needed some sleep. When I woke up, it was after three o’clock and I had a headache. I came downstairs for something to eat and an aspirin and he was in the kitchen, making himself a drink. We were chatting, it was all very friendly, I didn’t even mind that he’d stopped work. He was telling me that he was a keen angler, describing the excitement an angler feels when he catches something. I told him a bit about life in London. And then, just as I was starting to feel okay — well, he made a pass.’
Daniel tightened his grip on her. ‘What did he do?’
She closed her eyes. ‘He put his hands around me. I think he must have gone into the village for a drink at lunchtime whilst I was asleep. He pulled me towards him, his breath smelled of beer.’
Daniel could picture the young man’s leering face, as he decided to take advantage of his opportunity. So many if onlys were passing through his mind.
Miranda kept talking, the words coming out faster as she remembered. ‘It was just as if I was a carp he’d caught and he was reeling me in. I screamed and slapped his face. Daniel, I was out of my mind, I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. He and I were all alone here and I didn’t have a clue when you’d be back.’
Daniel swore. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
‘Thank God, he — he backed off, as though he couldn’t believe I wasn’t surrendering. His cheek was bright red where I’d hit him. It looked so absurd, I’d have laughed out loud if I wasn’t so scared. He turned on his heel, jumped into his van and drove off down the lane. Brakes squealing as he rounded the bend and disappeared. I called his firm straight away and told his boss what had happened. He promised to sack Wayne and asked if I wanted to tell the police, make a charge of assault. I said no, as long as I never have to see him again. The man said of course not. Eddie can finish the work.’
‘Never mind the work. As long as you’re all right.’
She took in a breath. ‘I think so.’
‘We must hire a different builder.’
‘Don’t make a fuss, I just want to forget it ever happened. Everything’s sorted. It was awful, but it only lasted a few seconds. Now it’s over.’
‘Oh God, Miranda. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay, darling. It’s not your fault.’
‘The bastard, the utter bastard. I shouldn’t have left you here with him.’
‘I’m a grown-up. Besides, he’s a chancer, not a rapist. There was no real harm done.’ She took a breath. ‘He simply jumped to conclusions — about you and me. He thought he was in with a chance.’
‘He was eavesdropping when we quarrelled.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ she said, wriggling away from him so that they were standing face to face. ‘Perhaps I was mean.’
‘No, I shouldn’t keep harping on Barrie Gilpin.’
‘Like you said, it’s about your father. If you do want to talk to this woman, this police officer, I can understand. If it’s important to you, it’s all right. You can go ahead.’
She was looking at him expectantly. The thought sneaked into his mind: she wants me to say that I won’t ring Hannah Scarlett, that nothing else matters to me but her. At once he dismissed it as shameful and wrong.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘I shouldn’t have ranted,’ she said. ‘It’s just that…well, you know.’
‘Things will be fine.’
‘You’re right,’ she said eagerly. ‘Let’s put it all behind us. Wayne, the argument, everything. Let’s forget all about them.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Go and have your bath. It’ll do you good.’
‘I was wondering,’ she said. ‘Do you want to join me? My hair needs a wash and I remember that time in Oxford, you did it so well, it really turned me on. Afterwards, we can make up properly, if you like.’
Doubts stilled, he brushed his lips against her cheek. Already the tears had dried. ‘Yes, I would like.’
In his dreams, he was lying at the foot of the Sacrifice Stone. His hands and legs were tied with rope and there was a gag in his mouth. Twilight cloaked the fells, but he didn’t feel cold. He was trembling because he was afraid what would happen next. As he waited, a blurred face entered his line of vision and a knobbly finger wagged at him.
‘I warned you not to come up here.’
The woman he’d met walking on the fell had turned into a witch. Her nose was beaky, her cheeks speckled with warts. She began to cackle, baring huge yellow teeth.
‘You only have yourself to blame, young man. You did not heed the legend.’
She glanced beyond him, as though something had caught her attention. He strained hard so that he could turn his head. The muscles in his neck were sore and tears stung his eyes.
A small crowd of people was approaching along Priest Edge. Tom Allardyce was at the front, manhandling a naked girl towards the Sacrifice Stone. Her hair was long and blonde and he knew that it was Miranda, Miranda in her teens. Some of the faces in the gathering were familiar: Wayne the builder was there, and the Moffat women, Tash and Simon Dumelow, and Joe Dowling and his wife-to-be from The Moon under Water. Their faces were alight with excitement, but on the fringe he saw Jean Allardyce weeping quietly. Her husband grinned at Daniel, then ran his hands down Miranda’s sides. Her legs were matchsticks, her breasts mere buds.
‘Tonight she is a virgin once again,’ the witch hissed in his ear. ‘It is as if you’d never touched her.’
Miranda’s face turned to him. Her complexion was pale and flawless, her eyes wide with terror. As he tried in vain to move, she cried out in despair.
‘Why did you have to do this? Why couldn’t you let well alone?’
He wanted to answer, to explain and to apologise, but the gag made it impossible to speak. Exhausted, he could do nothing but watch as the mob lifted Miranda up on to the top of the Sacrifice Stone. Wayne and Joe Dowling stepped aside and a man garbed in a flowing robe emerged from the middle of the crowd. A shaft of moonlight fell on him and Daniel recognised Marc Amos. In one hand he held an open leather-bound tome and he was chanting something incomprehensible. In his other hand a sharp blade glinted.
Miranda screamed, shattering the night.
At once he was awake, clutching her warm bare body, saying a prayer of thanks under his breath as he ran his fingers over her back and thighs, proving to himself that they were safe together after all.
‘What is it?’ she murmured dozily.
‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘just a bad dream. Everything’s going to be all right.’
Next morning he headed off towards Kendal before eight, stopping on the way at the builder’s. He’d told Miranda about his meeting with Hannah Scarlett, but she seemed more bothered about Wayne losing his job as a result of her complaint to his boss. She even said that, having slept on it, maybe she’d overreacted, perhaps she should have been flattered.
The yard was an Aladdin’s cave of timber, bricks, and breeze-blocks, overseen from a hut in the corner by the proprietor of the firm, Stan Mustoe, a stout and balding Geordie in outsize denim jeans and a gravy-stained T-shirt. Over the racket made by two brawny youths loading a pick-up truck with planks, he proffered apologies for Wayne’s behaviour and said he’d given him the sack by way of a text message the previous evening.
‘Tell you the truth, I was glad of an excuse to get rid. He’s bone idle, leaves all the graft to Eddie.’
‘We noticed.’
‘Trouble is, reliable labour’s like gold dust round here. He’ll walk straight into another job, if he wants one.’
‘So what did he have to say for himself?’
‘You know what these lads are like, Mr Kind.’ The builder shook his head sadly. The image of social
