‘You’ve seen him?’
‘Kate and I saw him down on the shore.’
‘And Norcross is dead?’ It seemed only just to have sunk in. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure.’ Greg’s tone left no room for doubt. ‘What the hell do we do now, Joe? We have to have help.’
‘I could take your car. I reckon that old Volvo would have a good chance of getting up the back lane.’
Greg shook his head. ‘Our old Volvo is out on the marsh, Joe. Don’t ask how it got there, and our Land Rover is smashed up; it hit a tree.’
Joe stared. ‘You mean there are no cars working? None at all?’
‘And no phones.’
The two men stared at one another. ‘You reckon he did it. He caused Cissy’s crash.’
‘And Kate’s. He tried to kill me on the beach.’ Greg paused. ‘Wait, Joe. I’ve just remembered. Kate’s little car. The Peugeot. It’s in the barn. I don’t know if it would make it up the lane, but it might be worth a try.’
‘Right.’ Joe dug down into his pocket and came up with two cartridges. ‘I’ll put a couple of these up the spout, then we’ll have a go. Is the barn unlocked?’
Greg shrugged. He rummaged in the drawer of the table. Two small padlock keys on a large ring appeared and he pressed them into Joe’s hand. ‘I’ll come with you. Hold on while I get my boots.’
‘No.’ Joe shook his head. ‘I reckon I’ll be quicker on my own. You look after your dad and the women.’
‘I don’t know if she left a key in it.’
‘If she didn’t I reckon I’ll smash the window and hotwire it. I’m sure she’ll forgive me in an emergency. My Cissy needs a doctor. No car door is going to come between me and that.’
Once more Greg unbarred the door and pulled it open. It was beginning to grow dark. The shadowed woods were in stark contrast to the brilliant whiteness of the lawn. Somewhere in the distance a pheasant let out its manic alarm cry. Joe tightened his grip on the gun. He gave a quick thumbs up sign to Greg then he turned and ran towards the black barn.
The padlock hung open from the hasp. Joe stared at it. His hackles were stirring again, like the back of a frightened dog. Cautiously he put his hand to the door and pulled it open a fraction. There was a strange smell in the barn. He sniffed. It smelt hot, petrol, with something else – like cordite. And smoke. There was smoke. He had time only to step back half a pace before a fireball of yellow and gold heat erupted out of Kate’s car and blew him backwards into the garden.
‘Christ Almighty!’ Greg had not had time to close the door when he saw the man’s figure fly backwards away from the barn doors. Fire and smoke were already erupting from the barn roof, sparks jumping into the air to be lost in the snow.
‘Greg? What is it? What’s happened?’ Diana ran to join him followed by Susie. Behind them Roger closed his eyes. For a moment he stood without moving, then slowly he dragged himself after them to the door.
‘Daddy!’ Susie’s hysterical cry was followed by a wild sob as she saw the figure on the grass begin crawling towards them. ‘I’ll go.’ Diana pushed past Greg. In seconds she was kneeling beside him.
‘I’m all right. I’m all right. Just shaken.’ Joe was coughing violently, his eyes streaming. ‘Find the gun. Quickly. Find the bloody gun. And be careful, it’s loaded.’ He staggered to his feet and began to move towards the house.
Greg watched in an agony of frustration, seeing his mother running towards the blazing building. ‘Get me my stick,’ he yelled at Susie. ‘Quickly. Get me my stick!’
Grabbing it from her he had begun to hobble towards Diana when he saw her duck into the smoke and reappear a moment later, the shotgun under her arm.
Pushing past his son, Roger ran out into the snow. ‘Di-’
‘Get in, Joe.’ Greg thrust the man behind him and ran after his father, his eyes on the barn. Smoke was pouring through the roof; a series of small explosions were rocking the building. Diana reached them, gasping. For a moment they all stood staring at the fire then Greg took his mother’s arm and pulled her away. ‘Get back inside quickly.’
‘Oh Greg.’ Her eyes filled with tears. Miserably, she went to Roger, who put his arm around her and guided her back towards the house.
In his impatience Greg had put his foot down for a couple of steps. The pain sliced through him like a knife and he swore viciously. ‘Just thank God the wind is blowing away from the house; the snow will damp down any sparks. But we’ve lost the barn, Dad. Nothing can save it.’
They stood in the doorway for a moment watching in despair as the first flames licked out through the black boarding. Diana’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I loved that barn. It was lovely. And my roses! My poor roses. They’ll be burned.’
‘I expect their roots will be all right.’ Roger tried to sound reassuring. Gently he pulled her in and closed the door. ‘Go and sit down with Joe. Greg, can you manage to get us all a brandy?’
‘Are you hurt, Joe?’ Trying to forget the pain of her precious plants, and the small birds who always roosted in the barn at dusk Diana turned towards him, scrutinising the black smudges across his face.
He shook his head. ‘Just bloody shocked.’ He sounded angry more than anything else. ‘What bastard would do a thing like that? That place must have been booby trapped!’ He threw himself down on a chair. ‘I reckon I could do with that brandy, thanks Greg.’ He looked at Cissy. ‘How is she?’
‘Much the same.’ Diana sat down beside her and put her hand on Cissy’s forehead. Aware that her own heart was thundering in her ears with the shock of what had happened she slipped her fingers down to take the pulse beneath Cissy’s ear. It was stronger now and steadier.
She looked up to find Greg standing behind her with a glass.
She reached up for it. ‘So. What happens now?’
‘I’ll go on foot. That’s what happens now.’ Joe swallowed his brandy in one gulp and held out the glass for a refill. ‘I’m not letting any murdering bastard do that to me and get away with it.’
‘You can’t go in the dark, Joe.’ Greg glanced at the windows. ‘It would be madness. Kate and Paddy will have reached your place by now. If they can’t get in, I’m sure they will hitch up to the Headleys’ or Heath Farm. They will get help far more quickly than you can.’
‘And if they haven’t made it?’ Joe’s question was brutally direct. ‘What if he got them?’
‘He hasn’t got them, Joe.’ Greg looked at his mother. ‘Paddy had a gun. He wouldn’t be afraid to use it.’
His eyes strayed thoughtfully to Sue. She said she had heard a shot. But you can’t shoot ghosts. The thought kept straying back into his mind. A gun would have no effect on Marcus. No effect at all.
As if she had read his mind, Diana glanced at him. ‘A ghost couldn’t set fire to the barn, Greg. Or move the Volvo. That must have been a real man.’
‘A ghost?’ Joe stared at her. ‘What does a bloody ghost have to do with all this? Are you telling me a bloody ghost ran my wife off the road?’
‘I don’t know what we’re telling you, Joe. I just don’t know.’ Greg was white with frustration. He threw himself down on the chair again. ‘Oh, Christ, I wish I could walk! Where are Kate and Paddy?’
LIII
Kate was lying on her face, her head cushioned on her arms, aware slowly that a small trickle of blood somewhere in the hair above her left temple had dried into a crust. How long she had been lying there she wasn’t sure, but in the interval she had grown very cold. Cautiously she raised her head, expecting to feel at any second an icy hand on her back, but there was nothing, just the long, lingering catch of the bramble which had scratched her head as she fell. Her hand closed in the mud, crisp now with incipient ice, and she realised she was shaking.
‘Paddy?’
There had been no sound since the gun went off. Her terror had led to paralysis of will. She could not move or speak. Some atavistic instinct told her that shamming death was her only protection. How long that state had lasted she didn’t know. She moved her hand slightly, trying to bring her wrist, with the narrow, gold watch, within sight without raising her head more than a few inches.
‘Paddy?’ She tried again, louder this time.
