The Hanging Wood

‘We knew each other, of course. But my father and theirs didn’t really see eye to eye. Old money versus new, I suppose, coupled with resentment that we’d been forced to sell a large chunk of our land to people who had to work for a living. Not that there was any of the old money left by this time. The Hall was falling to bits, and I didn’t know what the future held. Lucky for me that, one summer holiday, Bryan plucked up the courage to ask me out. And the rest is history.’

‘Lucky lady,’ Gareth said. ‘Sally drew the short straw. The younger brother. The minority shareholder.’

His wife blew him a kiss. ‘Never mind; you may be the poor one, but you’re still a hunk as far as I’m concerned.’

Sham winced at the ostentatious display of mutual affection. ‘Mum, please.’

Paying no attention to his niece, Bryan sniggered. ‘Fleur’s father almost choked on a glass of gin when I asked for his daughter’s hand.’

‘But like you said,’ Gareth murmured, ‘Fleur always gets what she wants.’

Daniel was conscious of Fleur’s body brushing against his for a moment, as she reached for the cream jug. The contact was probably unintentional, but he worried that his cheeks might turn pink. Shifting in his chair, he turned to Gareth.

‘So you and your brother have managed to work closely together all these years. Never a cross word?’

Gareth grinned. ‘Bryan is the public face of the company, my job is selling pitches, and persuading people who have bought a cheap caravan to keep trading up, year after year. I come up with the wacky ideas, he approves or vetoes them as he thinks fit. We avoid getting in each other’s way, and we don’t disagree that often. When we do, I remind myself that Bryan has the voting control, and that keeps me on the straight and narrow.’

‘It’s all about achieving consensus.’ If Bryan was trying not to sound smug, he wasn’t trying hard enough. ‘Same as in any family.’

Sure, Daniel thought, but it helped to have the whip hand. He was conscious of Fleur’s perfume, a honeysuckle fragrance. Underneath the table, her knee touched his for an instant. Again, perhaps an accident, but he swung his leg away, just to make sure.

He wrenched his thoughts back to Hannah. If only he could learn something about Callum Hinds’ disappearance to pass on to her.

‘And your neighbour at Lane End Farm?’ he said. ‘How did Mike Hinds cope with the fact that his brother was supposed to have killed his son?’

Gareth shook his head. ‘I hate to say it, but it was just as well Philip hanged himself. I was afraid Mike might take the law into his own hands.’

‘And harm Philip?’

‘I’m afraid so. Look at how he used to rough up poor Niamh.’

‘He’s an animal, frankly.’ Bryan’s languid tone didn’t disguise his contempt. ‘But what do you expect of a man who cares more about beasts on his farm than his own flesh and blood?’

‘That’s a bit harsh, Bryan,’ Sally said.

Bryan rolled his eyes. ‘I can only speak as I find. Philip was useless, but even if Mike had his suspicions, he didn’t need to be the one to point the finger. Not at his own brother.’

‘I hope you remember that if I ever run into trouble with the police,’ Gareth said lightly.

‘Did you all like Philip?’ Louise asked.

‘We felt sorry for him,’ Bryan said. ‘My father let him live in the wood for nothing, in return for a few odd jobs. The cottage wasn’t much, but to be honest, we got the worst of the bargain. Not that we minded, really. My father saw looking after Philip as an act of Christian charity, and so did we.’

‘My husband likes to do good,’ Fleur whispered in Daniel’s ear. ‘As long as it doesn’t cost too much.’

‘He was harmless,’ Bryan continued. ‘Or so I thought. You may say that shows I’m not such a good judge after all, but my guess is, he never intended to kill Callum.’

‘What do you think happened?’ Louise asked.

‘I’d say there was a bit of horseplay between them, and then things got out of hand. And the upshot was that Hinds lost both a son and a brother.’

‘Now he’s lost his daughter as well,’ Sally said.

‘You don’t know for sure that he lost his son,’ Purdey said.

She’d been yawning, a young woman wearied by the dinner table chit-chat of her elders. She reminded Daniel of students he’d taught with a low boredom threshold. They liked to spice up their tutorials with an occasional bit of melodrama.

‘What do you mean?’ Sally asked.

‘Suppose Mike Hinds’ son is still alive?’

‘Darling, it’s not a joking matter.’

‘I’m not joking.’ Purdey gave an elaborate yawn. Lapping up the attention, Daniel could tell. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and he was sure that was what she’d aimed for.

‘Purdey, what are you talking about?’ Gareth demanded.

‘What I said, Dad. Mike’s son is alive and well.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I’m not being silly.’ Purdey’s silky smile made it clear she was about to play her ace. ‘In fact, I’ve met him.’

‘Marc, for God’s sake!’

The instant Hannah recognised him, her panic was lost in a surge of fury. He stood next to the front door of Undercrag, hands in pockets, his demeanour expectant yet tinged with irritation, as if she had no right to come home this late. She had to stifle the urge to rush up and throttle him.

‘Not the warmest welcome,’ he said. ‘I’ve been hanging around here for two hours, wondering where you might be.’

Deep breaths.

‘You’ve still got a key. Your name is still on the title deeds. It’s not as if I changed the locks.’

‘I would have felt like a trespasser. It’s your place at present, not mine. I meant to do the right thing, by not going inside and making myself at home without permission. I thought you’d understand.’

Aaaaagh! He hadn’t lost his flair for sidestepping her wrath, and putting her in the wrong. She knew him well enough to be aware that he’d see his behaviour as eminently reasonable — sensitive, even. Must it always be like this in a relationship between a man and a woman? Two different views of the world, because the two of you were never standing in precisely the same place?

‘What do you want?’

‘Hannah, we need to talk.’

‘It’s Friday night. I’ve been working all day.’ Well, a permissible exaggeration. ‘I’m knackered. All I want is to have a soak in the bath and then climb into bed. On my own, Marc, before you get any ideas.’

He waved away the gibe, as if swatting a bunch of midges, and took a stride towards her. The smell of his aftershave mingled with the fragrance of lavender in a large stone tub outside the living room window.

‘I may be crass, Hannah, but I’m not quite that crass. Listen, we can’t go on like this. We had something special together, and I fucked up big style. How many times do you want me to apologise? Not a problem, I’ll grovel as much as you like. We just need to move forward, that’s all.’

‘You don’t have to grovel,’ she said. ‘For what it’s worth, I’ve forgiven you. That isn’t the point; the question is what I want to do with the rest of my life.’

‘Spend it with me.’

He reached out an arm, but she skipped out of reach. ‘No, Marc, I’m not ready.’

As soon as she said it, she regretted her choice of words. Not ready implied that one day she would be ready. In the light from the halogen lamp fixed under the house eaves, she saw a spark of hope in his eyes, and cursed herself.

‘All right. It will take as long as it takes, I guess.’

‘Marc, you need to get over me.’ Horrible cliche, but what else should she say? She forced a smile. ‘Terri was asking after you. You could do worse than give her a call.’

‘Terri?’ He was hoarse with amazement. ‘Is that meant to be funny? How many times has she wrinkled her nose when she talked about my musty old books?’