The Prayer of the Night Shepherd

of Gomer, which had been reassuring. But he’d still come creeping up by the back stairs, because he wasn’t worthy, and the vicarage knew.

‘Only, time’s nearly up,’ Jeremy Berrows said.

His face was haloed by the fire, like a monk’s face in an illuminated manuscript. Like a martyr’s face.

Time nearly up. Merrily wondered where she’d heard that phrase recently.

Jeremy let out a deep sigh, as though a decision had been made for him.

‘Farm’s on a lease, see.’

‘This farm? I thought you owned it.’

‘Folk do.’ Jeremy fingered his throat. ‘Me too, when my dad was alive.’

He’d started to talk to her, in a half-apologetic way, as though ashamed at the ungraciousness of his early responses. Danny had rescued him from himself, therefore Danny was owed, and Danny had brought in this woman to help. Perhaps a concession was needed.

And so Jeremy had conceded that the time was nearly up.

The lease was nearly up? Was his suicide attempt linked to a fear — a fear he’d felt unable to share, even with his best friend — that he was about to lose his beloved home? Farmers had hanged themselves for far less.

Merrily glanced at the Welsh dresser, with its mugs and picture plates and a gilt-framed, faded photo of two children, a boy and a girl, both fair-haired, like brother and sister. It looked as if little or nothing had altered in here in thirty or forty years. What would Jeremy do when goin’ quietly on was no longer an option?

‘I… heard that Mr Dacre might have been putting it around that he… has some rights to The Nant.’

Jeremy shook his head just far enough for it to hurt.

‘No?’

‘Always reckoned it should be his, on account of he owns the rest of the valley.’

‘It’s said he’s been behaving in a threatening way. Hiring men with guns, Gomer says.’

‘He’s scared.’

‘What’s he scared of?’

‘He’s scared of what they took on. His family. What was give to ’em.’

‘The Chancerys? Your family were tenants of the Chancerys, right?’

He nodded, and then — evidently relieved that he could at least do this without pain, that it didn’t hurt to be positive — he nodded again. Merrily wondered if Gomer and Danny were following this from the other side of the closed door.

‘What did the Chancerys think had been given to them?’

Jeremy looked at her, like, Do I have to go into this?

She thought she knew, anyway: a tradition, roots. Gomer had told her how the Chancerys had sought to buy into the Welsh Border heritage. Not the most stable foundation on which to build a new dynasty.

Jeremy said, ‘Don’t suppose you seen Nat’lie?’

‘We came straight from Ledwardine. I haven’t been up to Stanner yet.’

‘Her won’t be there.’

‘Where will she be?’

He didn’t answer. He looked down at his knees, between which Flag had wedged his head. Jeremy placed his hands either side of the sheepdog’s head, as if in benediction. Merrily let the silence hang for maybe half a minute before trying to catch his gaze and failing and then feeling her way back into the mystery of Natalie Craven.

‘People talk. People like to gossip when somebody new turns up.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘They’re only curious. They don’t realize what damage it can cause when things get twisted around.’

‘No.’ Jeremy lifted his hands and placed a palm either side of his face, as if to stop his head from shaking.

‘And if your friends don’t know the truth either, they can’t help you. They can’t put a stop to it.’

‘No.’

‘Who exactly is she, Jeremy?’

Jeremy shifted to grip the dog’s fur. The silence from the other side of the door was like a balloon blown up to bursting point.

‘Her’s my landlord,’ Jeremy said.

The door handle rattled slightly as if somebody had just let go of it.

‘She owns The Nant? Natalie?’

He nodded. ‘Her name’s not Nat’lie… din’t use to be.’

‘So that would make her…’

‘Paula’s daughter. Brigid. Paula inherited The Nant from her mother.’

‘Hattie.’

Jeremy nodded.

‘So, is Paula dead now?’

‘Aye. Long time.’

‘So Natalie came back to… claim her inheritance?’

‘And mabbe find out some… things.’

Merrily thought of what Gomer and Jane had both said about Jeremy and Natalie: such an ill-matched couple. Perhaps they weren’t a couple at all. Was one of them a kind of… lodger?

‘Paula…’ Jeremy looked at Merrily. ‘… Not many folks know this, but Paula was sick, see. Her growed up sick. In the head. When Hattie and Robert died, her was still young, eight or nine, and Margery was only three. Things wasn’t too good between the kids, so Hattie’s uncle who come down to sort things out, he decided it was best if —’

‘How do you mean, things weren’t good?’

‘Oh. Well, they reckoned Paula was always jealous of Margery and when they… Well, there was a bit of an incident when… I think Paula tried to drown her in the bath one time — they was only little.’

‘God.’

‘Well, see, Robert had a sister up north, and they took her in. They had to sell Stanner on account of the debts, so Paula got the only house left, which was The Nant, as was rented then to my ole man. Paula had the rent. In trust. But Paula… her wasn’t right. Got took into homes, early on. They figured her wasn’t safe. Set fire to the house once.’

‘Oh.’ This did not sound good.

‘Margery, the Dacres adopted her, and she got left a couple hundred acres of land and some money, and her growed up and married the Dacre boy, Richard. Keepin’ it all in the family, kind of thing.’

‘These things happened…’

‘And they had Sebbie ten year before Paula was even married, even though Paula was five years older. Met a feller in hospital. Male nurse. Paula was real good-lookin’, he… fell in love, I s’pose. ’Ventually, he convinces the authorities to let her out. Short stretches at first, and he looked after her, and there was no problems. Then Paula was discharged and they got wed. Her’d be well into her thirties by then. But her… wasn’t right, see. Should never’ve been let out, they reckoned.’

‘She had a baby…’

‘Then… died. Brigid growed up with her dad. They’d come yere on holiday, on the quiet — never wanted nobody to know about Paula, how she’d turned out. One stage, see, they offered to sell The Nant to my ole man, but he didn’t have the money, nowhere near. So they negotiated another lease, for twenty-five years. So like, both sides agreed it be better if they let it get round they’d sold us the farm. Keep Richard and Sebbie off dad’s back.’

‘But now, you think Sebbie perhaps… knows the truth?’

Jeremy looked at Merrily at last. ‘It’s possible. Deal was done at the time through Big Weale, the solicitor, in Kington. And when he… when he died, sudden, leavin’ his whole business in a big tangle, this other firm come in to sort it all out. ’Course, Sebbie’s a magistrate, knows all the lawyers for miles around. Things gets mislaid.