I closed the laptop, it was late. I needed to at least try to sleep, even though I knew I would toss and turn in bed and would wake as tired as before. I was coaching pupils like a zombie, I knew people were tolerating me at the moment, they understood the pressure I was under, but they were paying customers. How long people would remain tolerant when they weren’t getting the lessons they were paying for. I spent most of my time staring into space. Thank goodness Caroline was qualified, she was taking most of my lessons now. It wasn’t fair on her, but there wasn’t another option at the moment.
Had I been stupid, contacting the police before anyone else? They had to be on the side of justice, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t made things worse. I was just desperate; I couldn’t keep doing this alone and if I had to do it with a child as well.
I sighed; it was time for bed.
25
The Hunt is on
I woke exhausted, feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all, which was pretty much true. My night had been restless, worrying about Adam, not sure what I should do. I stumbled down to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Opening the laptop was an automatic reaction, when it had booted up, I saw there was a message waiting for me on Facebook. I quickly clicked on the messenger icon.
“Hi there, I saw you’d posted about Hilary’s groom. I used to work with Sally years ago and I was sure I saw her at the local hunt meeting. Someone said her name wasn’t Sally, but I was pretty sure it was her.”
It was hardly the detailed information I wanted to receive. Someone thought they might have seen her. However, no matter how obscure this was, it was the only lead I had, so I quickly typed up a reply.
I didn’t know what to expect so went back to making a strong coffee to try and get me through the morning. I was surprised when a minute later the laptop pinged and a new message was showing.
“Hi there, just getting ready for work, I saw you’d replied. I am pretty sure it was her, even from a distance. As I said we worked together and I recognised her immediately. It threw me when someone said her name wasn’t Sally, but what with what happened at Hilary’s yard I thought she might have wanted a new start.”
I typed up a response, was she really sure it was her?
“Yeah, I’m sure it was her. We were good friends for a long time. Our friendship went a bit sour towards the end however, Sally and I didn’t see eye to eye in the last couple of weeks before I left the yard. She stole my boyfriend and we came to blows over it. I was a bit surprised to see her down here, I don’t think she saw me. At least I hope she didn’t…”
I asked a few questions as to where she was and discovered it was at a local hunt in Devon, she told me the next time they would be meeting to hunt would be later in the week. Would she be there? What would I even say to her if I saw her? I was seriously clutching at straws, but it had to be worth it. I looked up the journey and started to plan a day trip to Dartmoor.
* * *
It was early, I hoped to get to Devon before the hunt started out so I needed to get on the road early. I had filled a flask with coffee and stepped out onto the dark and silent yard. I got in my car and started the long journey.
The hours on the motorway dragged, after many hours I finally reached Devon and my sat nav directed me to where I had been told the hunt would be meeting. I was soon pulling up at a thatched country pub, I could see horses already milling about outside, there were lines of horseboxes and trailers in the car park. I pulled my car up and stepped out. There was a bustle of people in red hunt coats, horses and others wrapped up warm against the drizzle in wax jackets and green wellies.
“Hello! I don’t recognise you. You’re not one of them, are you?” The woman was older with the ruddy face of someone who had spent their life outdoors.
“One of them?”
“A bloody sab… Look, if you are, we don’t hunt foxes anymore and to be honest we hardly ever caught any when we did. The last fox that was killed by this hunt was in 1974 and that was an old vixen that was accidentally stepped on by the Master’s horse. So, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“Oh… No… Not at all. I’m not here to try and stop the hunt. I’m here to meet a friend.”
“Didn’t think you looked the sort who would be a bloody sab, I can usually tell a rider, but you can’t be sure these days. Barbara Shields.” She flung her hand out for me to shake. “I was the local Pony Club DC, but a bit of a gammy leg means I support when I can but don’t hunt anymore.”
“Oh, I don’t hunt. I run a yard in Cumbria with my husband.”
It was what I always said when I was asked what I did. However, did I really run it with Adam anymore? I shuddered at the thought of what the future could bring. Barbara smiled before excusing herself to
