friendship. When he was in the States, Chad’s family was like his own. He stayed with them in the holidays – the Hamptons and all that. And he’s a nice guy, Chad. But that Hope. She reels him in occasionally, you know?’
‘Who – Sam?’
‘That’s it.’
My mind raced. ‘But – why come back here, then? Why be near her?’
‘Perhaps he needs to be.’ He gave me that steady look again. ‘The Armitages came over here first because of Chad’s work. Bought a house in London, then a weekend cottage out here, because of course Hope knew the area from her days with Sam; it was only natural. Then Sam announces he’s leaving London too, dismisses the tenants, and takes over the reins at the Hall again, something he said he’d never do. Funny that.’
‘Because he can’t bear to be away from her?’ I breathed.
Mark shrugged. ‘Who knows? Not my business.’ He winked. ‘You learn a lot on the hunting field, though. Surprised your mate Angie hasn’t told you all this, but then again, she probably doesn’t know. She wasn’t about in the old days, although she acts like she was born and bred in the saddle.’
I licked my lips. ‘How long were they married for?’
‘Only a couple of years.’
‘So … a bit like going out with someone, really?’
‘Except he loved her enough to put a ring on her finger. Commit the rest of his life to her. And Sam’s not a man to do anything lightly.’
‘No.’
I returned my gaze to the photo again. God, poor Sam. That laughing, carefree young man, with his childhood friend, Mark, and his American girlfriend, who he’d brought home, soon to be his wife, looking about sixteen. Who he still loved? And who, as Mark had so eloquently put it, reeled him in occasionally. No wonder he’d looked haunted when her name was mentioned.
‘Was it Sam who told you about Peddler?’ I asked suddenly. He’d said Dad had rung to tell him, but that he already knew. ‘That it was my horse who kicked?’
‘No, Emma Harding did.’
‘Emma Harding!’
‘The one that was shacked up with your husband, love.’
I caught my breath. Who was this Mark Harrison? This countryman in his isolated cottage with his hounds, who seemed to have no domestic life of his own, but knew everything about everyone?
‘You knew my husband?’
‘Couldn’t miss him. They were down the road. Across that field over there, in the flint cottage.’ He jerked his head out of the window across the meadows, and I realized that, as the crow flew, Emma’s cottage, which I’d passed on the road, was surely not far. ‘I’d exercise my hounds in the summer past her back garden – how could I not know? Many an evening I’d go past with twelve couple and see him arrive at her back door on his bike, six o’clock, head to toe in blue nylon. Nothing subtle about his entrances.’
Six o’clock. The children’s bath time. Which Phil never made it home in time for. ‘It seems the whole world knew,’ I said, swallowing. ‘Except the wife, of course. Always the last.’
‘Ah, but you’re well shot of him now, aren’t you?’ he said gently, with a small smile. ‘And he surely got his comeuppance.’
‘He did,’ I agreed, and couldn’t help but smile back. I’d forgotten this man had a philosophical take on death.
‘She said she saw you look guilty as sin when Peddler was mentioned, and that she knew your horse kicked. Couldn’t come running across the field quick enough that evening to tell me, still in her hunting coat, she was. But when she bustled back to her own house, she got a nasty surprise herself. The police were on her doorstep.’
‘The police? Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Thought you’d know, love. Apparently it’s all over the village. Fraud of some sort. White collar. The kennel girl’s brother is a cop down at the station and says it’s something to do with business. Where she worked.’
‘Where she worked? You mean, at the bank?’ I said, in astonishment.
He made a non-committal face again. ‘No idea.’
I sat down slowly on the sofa behind me, bewildered; dimly aware of a very plump cushion in my back. But even more aware of
