like to think of him out there…It’s getting dark now, and you never know, he might not be quite…well…you know…”
“He is,” said Anna flatly. “He is dead. But I think you should not touch him. The police should see him first, I think.”
Rosie blew her nose hard and nodded. “She’s right, Seb. Best not to touch him for the moment.” Then she left the room, and Sebastian could hear her choking back tears before she lifted the telephone and dialled the police.
He made a decision. He was a vet, after all, and he could not leave an animal possibly in pain. “I’m going to look for him,” he said, passing Rosie in the hall. “I won’t touch him, unless there’s something I can do for him. If there is, then bugger the police.”
¦
Enid Abraham woke up and saw that it had grown dark. Christmas Day had not been a very festive affair. She’d done her best, cooking a chicken her father had killed, and heating up the pudding she’d bought from the shop. It was all good, and even the plates put outside her mother’s door were completely empty. Every bit of both courses had been eaten, and Enid had felt gratified.
“Why don’t you have a rest, Enid, after all that cooking,” her father had suggested, even proposing to do the washing-up.
“I shall fall asleep for sure,” said Enid.
“Good thing too,” said her father. “You’ve been looking tired lately, doing all that housework for other people.” She ignored the jibe, but agreed that a snooze would be quite a pleasant prospect. She’d gone up to her room and been asleep in minutes.
Now she could hear her father out in the yard, banging the chicken shed door and clattering pails in the barn. Time to get up, Enid, she told herself. There wasn’t much to get up for. Another dimly lit evening by a smouldering fire. The wind had got up, and moaned around the old mill. Perhaps I’ll just stay here in bed, she thought. At that, she stood up swiftly and began to tidy her hair. That was probably how Mother’s long retreat into reclusion had started. Giving in once to temptation, and then the next time things had been bad with Father and Edward, finding it easier to shut herself away again…and then for longer periods of time, until she reached her present hermit-like existence.
Enid went downstairs as her father came into the kitchen. “Ah, there you are,” he said. “Time for a surprise.” Her heart stopped. Surprises at the mill were always bad ones. What was Father up to?
Walter walked over to the cupboard where he kept his gun, unlocked it and opened the door. He reached inside and then turned around, a broad smile crossing his lined face. “Happy Christmas, Enid,” he said.
It was a small cake, iced, and with holly berries stuck into the top. She had seen them in the shop, but had thought them too expensive. She blinked. “My goodness, Father,” she said. “You’ve certainly been slaving over a hot stove while I was asleep!”
In the warmth of the shared joke they sat down at the table, and Enid poured tea and cut cake. “If only Mother would…” Enid’s voice tailed away as usual, and her father nodded.
“Maybe one day,” he said, and wiped his hands across his eyes.
? Weeping on Wednesday ?
Twenty
Next morning, Rosie and Sebastian Charrington awoke to a specially clear, cold light that could mean only one thing. Snow. In the night, unexpectedly, snow had fallen heavily. The children rushed into their parents’ bedroom whooping with excitement, demanding that everybody must be up and dressed and outside before it all melted away.
Rosie surfaced with difficulty. It had been such a dreadful day yesterday, and for one blissful moment before properly awake, it had gone from her mind. But then, as she sat up to drink the cup of tea Sebastian brought, the whole appalling business rushed back.
Constable Keith Simpson had finally arrived, clearly resentful at being called out on Christmas Day. Anna, now more or less recovered, and beginning to feel quite important and the centre of attention, had led the way in the twilight into Cathanger wood, saying she remembered exactly where Rick had been done to death.
They had met Sebastian on the way, and he’d frowned at Anna. “Where did you say he was?” he’d asked her, and she had guided them to the clearing where she’d seen the blow falling on the unsuspecting dog’s head.
She was shivering again, and Constable Simpson had put his hand on her arm. “All right, gel?” he’d asked, and Sebastian had reluctantly taken her hand.
Then the embarrassment had begun. No dog, dead or alive. The clearing was quiet and empty. The soggy grass stretched away from them, undisturbed, and though they’d hunted around for a long time, thinking he might not have been quite dead but crawled away to die, as animals will, they had found nothing. In the end, they had returned to the house and Anna made a statement for the records. After profuse apologies for getting Keith Simpson out on such a day, they had made a great effort to return the family to normality, doing their best to ignore Anna’s frequent lapses into tears.
Now, pulling on some old clothes, Sebastian took the children away to get dressed. “We’ll get Anna up,” he said to Rosie. “She was keen to see snow at Christmas. And there’ll be some talking to do later,” he added grimly. Late the previous night, when he and Rosie had exhausted all the possibilities of what might have happened, he had been very definitely sceptical. “Made it all up, that’s what I reckon,” he’d said finally.
“But why?” Rosie had asked.
“I expect she just lost him, and was scared,” he’d replied. “Invented the whole thing, knowing we’d go and look and find nothing, but not thinking much beyond that. Perhaps she thought when we couldn’t find him, we’d just wait for him to come back. I don’t suppose she really cared much whether he did or not. She’s never seemed particularly fond of him.”
He was not a great fan of Anna, but kept quiet because she undoubtedly made life easier for Rosie. Up to now…Rosie did not agree with him, but had been too tired to argue. Now it was Boxing Day, and they were all due to go to the pantomime in Tresham this afternoon. She slid out of bed feeling unrested and depressed.
In the garden, building a giant snowman with the children and a subdued and wan-looking Anna, Sebastian evolved a plan. He felt very strongly that the whole family relied on him to find their dog, and the children seemed to think because he was a vet, he could, if necessary, magic him back to life. He was going to need help.
Young Bill Stockbridge, one of Lois Meade’s cleaners, had approached him several weeks ago. He’d explained who he was, and said although he enjoyed the New Brooms’ work, he was missing his dad’s farm. “Mostly the animals,” he’d said. He had wondered if he could help Sebastian at the weekends. “Money’s not important,” he had said confidently, though Rebecca had thought otherwise.
“If you’re disappearing to work for hours over the weekend,” she’d said, “I shall expect big treats in compensation.”
“Treats don’t need to cost money,” he’d replied, with a lascivious look. He had gone out once or twice with Sebastian, and been very helpful.
Now his services would be required for something different: a big trawl through the woods, an exhaustive search for Rick, as soon as the snow disappeared. Sebastian noticed the temperature rising, and the snow on the house roof was melting at the edges already. Soon it would slide down, turn into slush, and be gone in hours. Sebastian returned to the house and rang Bill’s number.
¦
Rebecca had said she must go home for Christmas and had invited Bill, but he had found good excuses for declining. His own family did not expect him, regarding him and Rebecca as being more or less married, and saying he should stay with her at such a time. But Bill felt uncomfortable with Rebecca’s family. He knew they did not really approve, and she became a different person in their midst. So in the end it was agreed that he would stay and mind the cottage, be on Lois’s emergency list, and have a good time in the pub on Christmas Eve.
When the telephone rang, Bill was sure it would be Rebecca. She had rung twice yesterday, and sounded miserable. Well, that was no bad thing. But when he heard Sebastian’s voice, he was pleased. He had begun to feel lonely, though he wouldn’t admit it, and when the idea of a search through the woods was put to him, he agreed
