filled it to overflowing.’
‘It may have been there for ages.’
‘Maybe.’ Plainly she was unconvinced.
‘What did Allardyce have to say about the suitcase?’
‘I–I bottled out of asking him.’
‘But why?’
‘He may be our tenant farmer,’ she said slowly, ‘but he’s his own man. And he has a dreadful temper, not just violent but irrational. He’s always been like that, but lately, he’s seemed worse than ever. You should hear him ranting when Simon complains about the fencing or the fact that the covering on the sheep dipper wouldn’t pass muster with the health and safety people. I keep expecting him to burst a blood vessel. God knows how he’d react if I suggested that his wife might have been preparing to move out. He’s — on the edge.’
He remembered his conversation with Jean Allardyce the day before. ‘She kept a stack of tourist brochures in the Land Rover. Only yesterday she was telling me that she’d like to travel.’
‘Did she give away any clues?’ Tash’s tone was urgent. ‘What else did she say to you?’
‘Very little.’
‘Think back. Was there anything? Anything that might explain what’s happened?’
‘I gathered she was discontented, but I didn’t pick up any reason why she’d choose this particular time to leave home.’
‘You’re sure?’ When he shook his head, she gave a lavish sigh. ‘Thank God for that. I’m sorry, Daniel. I shouldn’t have loaded this on to you, and for no good reason. After all, we hardly know each other.’
‘It’s not a problem.’
‘I have this awful feeling I’ve led you and Tom on a wild goose chase. I suppose Jean will turn up any minute now, safe and sound, wondering what all the fuss has been about. Much to my embarrassment. What’s the betting, she’s back at the farm already?’
‘She’s your friend,’ Daniel said. ‘It’s only natural that you should be concerned. Especially given Tom’s reputation.’
A wary look came into Tash Dumelow’s eyes. ‘That’s not fair. Don’t forget, Jean’s stuck by him all these years. Deep down, he’s not really an ogre. She always said, his time in Northern Ireland cut him up very badly.’
‘But?’
‘No buts,’ she insisted. ‘I’m really grateful for your support, Daniel. You’ve helped to set my mind at rest.’
‘I’m glad.’ He was tempted to clasp her hand, but thought better of it. ‘I only want to help. If Jean isn’t…’
‘No, don’t say another word.’ She tossed her sketching book on to the Alfa’s passenger seat and pulled the ignition key out of the back pocket of her jeans. ‘You’ve been very kind. And so patient. It’s something we women do, isn’t it? Simon’s always saying I worry unnecessarily. Until we started talking, I’d persuaded myself that something dreadful had happened to Jean.’
‘We still don’t know where she is.’
But Tash had climbed into her car. As she switched on the engine, he realised that he was talking to himself.
‘What is she like?’ It was half an hour later.
‘Who?’ Daniel wanted a few more seconds to compose his answer. He hadn’t told Miranda about his meeting with Tash Dumelow, but he’d been speculating about Jean Allardyce’s unexplained absence and why Tash was quite so concerned about it.
‘You know. Hannah Scarlett.’
‘Oh. Pleasant enough.’
‘Is that all?’
A suitably neutral adjective occurred to him ‘Business-like, I’d say. Yes, definitely business-like.’
‘Did she help you to fill in the gaps about your father?’
‘Sort of. She said he was a decent detective, but I didn’t learn much more. She was pressed for time.’
‘Pity.’
‘I gave her my number. She said she might be willing to meet up again for another chat. In the meantime, she’ll mull over the questions I’ve asked, see what she can do to give me chapter and verse.’
‘I see.’ Miranda took another sip of wine. ‘Well, do you think there was a romance between her and your father?’
‘She said not.’
They were lazing out on the paved area, glasses at their elbows, watching a kingfisher that had become bold enough to emerge from its home in the vegetation on the far side of the tarn. It perched on a low branch of the willow that stretched its claws over the water. Every now and then the bird took flight, skimming over the surface of the tarn in a dazzle of blue and green before flying in a circle around the trees and returning to land on its perch. There it remained, undisturbed by intermittent outbreaks of Eddie’s hammering, a joyless clatter suggestive of sporadic bursts of gunfire in the face of an overwhelming enemy.
‘You mean, you actually asked her?’
‘No, she volunteered it. Perhaps she read my thoughts.’
‘Interesting. Doth the lady protest too much?’
‘She struck me as honest,’ he said icily.
‘Darling, she’s a police officer. They are trained to gather information, not to give it away. And not above telling a few porkies when it suits them. Trust me, I’m a journalist.’
Stung, he almost retorted: Hannah isn’t like that. But really, how would he know?
‘You were never a crime reporter.’
Miranda raised her eyes to the heavens. ‘Daniel, I don’t need an apprenticeship in the magistrates’ courts to have an inkling about how the police behave.’
‘Don’t forget, my father was a policeman.’
‘You rarely give me a chance to forget it,’ she retorted. ‘But you never saw him again after you were twelve. As for me, my first boyfriend after university was a DC in the Met.’
‘I never knew that.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me,’ she snapped. ‘Or me about you, for that matter. Anyway, Iain and I had been going out for a fortnight before I discovered he was married. Not just involved, actually married to another woman.’
‘God,’ he said softly. But what really struck him was Miranda’s choice of words. There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Or me about you. They’d made a new life together on a whim. It was so out of character for him, he couldn’t quite believe he’d taken things so far. Thank God their love for each other was so strong.
‘Anyone at home?’
Leigh Moffat was peeping over the makeshift barricade created by the tarpaulin-covered pile of timber, destined for the bothy, that Eddie had dumped at the side of the cottage. To Daniel, her auburn hair seemed to have lost its lustre and her earnest features were pale and drawn, as if she’d missed out on a good night’s sleep.
‘I did ring the bell, and knock at the front door,’ she said apologetically, ‘but…’
A renewed onslaught with the hammer finished the sentence for her. ‘Can you squeeze past the stuff?’ Daniel waved at his glass. ‘I’ve just opened a bottle of Rioja. Care to join us?’
She shimmied between the cottage wall and the barricade. ‘I knew I’d regret that cream cake for elevenses. Back to the diet tomorrow, strict rations. But a drink would be lovely. Only one, mind, as I’m driving.’
She took a seat on the wooden patio chair that he’d unfolded for her. Her figure didn’t suggest any need to diet: she’d poured herself into charcoal jeans and a purple jersey with a generous v-neck. Lucky Marc Amos, to have this woman as a workmate and Hannah Scarlett to come home to. For a few minutes the three of them sipped from their glasses and chatted idly about the cottage renovations and shared complaints about the unreliability of tradesmen. Miranda didn’t mention Wayne, of course; the previous afternoon’s trauma seemed already to have
