group of young fishermen had been there, surrounded as usual by women. As he watched them, Joseph felt his father’s resentment coming back to him like an unwanted legacy. If his wife hadn’t left him, if there weren’t men like that in the world, handsome young men to whom words and charm came easily, his life would have followed that well-worn path, uneventful but content. He had hated them then, and he hated them still for turning him into the man he had never wanted to be.
Voices were raised in song around the bonfire now, rowdy but good-natured, and it reminded him of a different life. It was the same comfortable sound that accompanied his going to sleep on Friday and Saturday nights, when the men from the estate passed his house singing on their way home from a night out in Helston after a hard-working week. Some held the notes as steadily as they held their drink, others were worse for wear and broke the melody, but the voices and laughter sounded sweet in the road outside, mingling with his drowsiness and the warmth of his wife’s body next to him, with the security of four walls and the promise of a life to come. He closed his eyes, weakened by this persistent nostalgia for memories that were not truthfully his. When he opened them again, he saw Loveday looking at him curiously and her very presence seemed to taunt him. Fire had not been able to tear her family apart. What made them so much stronger than him? He threw his glass down on to the sand and turned towards the coastal path that led to the village. He needed something stronger than cider. It was harder these days to forget.
The soft sea wind stirred the leaves of the ancient oaks and sycamores as Josephine and Archie wandered back through the woods to Loe House. ‘There’s something about a fair,’ she said, stopping to admire a pair of swans as they flew low over the evening lake. ‘All those miserable months I spent in Nottingham were worth it just for that one week when the Goose Fair arrived.’
Archie smiled at her. ‘I’m not sure we can compete with that, but I’m glad you had a good time.’
‘Don’t put yourself down – you’ve got the sea on your side.’ They rounded a bend in the track, and the Lodge came into view on the opposite side of the water, grey and solitary in the waking starlight. ‘And the company’s better, of course,’ she added, taking his arm, ‘even if it is a bit quiet. I hope you’re not still smarting over that run- out.’
‘Don’t even mention it,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Sometimes I wonder which side Lettice is on – she took nearly as many of our wickets as they did.’
‘Yes, but you can’t knock a hundred and three not out. And I don’t think the name “Slogger” really does her justice – there was a lot of finesse in some of those boundaries. Anyway, you certainly wouldn’t have won without her.’
‘No, you’re right, as much as I hate to admit it. But that’s not why I’m quiet. To be honest, I was just enjoying the peace – it’s been a strange couple of days, and I think I might have got caught up in things which are really none of my business.’ He told her about his conversation with Jago, and the promise he had made to look into Christopher’s disappearance.
‘That doesn’t sound like much of a holiday to me.’
‘I know, but what can I do? They’re my friends.’
‘And you feel guilty for never being here, so you think this might make up for it.’
‘Something like that. Next time we want some time together by the sea, remind me to book a weekend in Brighton.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Sorry, you’ve got your reputation to think of. What would the good people of Inverness say if they opened their
‘I think they’d be sorely disappointed. It’s nowhere near as exotic as some of the things they imagine I get up to.’ They reached a fork in the road, and took the path that led past the stable block and through the walled gardens to Loe House. ‘So what
‘Well, I can’t do much tomorrow because of this wretched play but, if he hasn’t shown up by Wednesday, I’ll have a word with the local station here and ask around a bit on the estate, then put a call in to Bill just in case he’s gone further afield. Apart from that, I don’t really see what I
‘Of course, but if you don’t mind, I’ll leave her sister to you.’
‘It’s a deal.’ The gentle, contented sound of a horse came from the stable block and Archie saw Josephine glance towards the door. ‘Go and have a look if you like,’ he said. ‘The world and his wife’s at the fair, and there’ll be nobody around at this time of night. You’ll love it – William’s as discerning about his horses as he is about his cars, and I know you’re dying to see Shilling.’
‘All right. I won’t be long, though.’
‘Take your time. I’ll go and see what the Snipe’s got for supper.’
The stable block was built of handsome grey stone and took up three sides of a large courtyard, with the fourth open to the ornamental parkland beyond. Horseshoes hung over the arched door, and inside there was a soft light from four hurricane lamps which were nailed to a beam. It was a scene of extraordinary peace, and the only noise came from the horse nearest to her, who – wary of a stranger but interested nonetheless – offered a low- pitched nicker as she entered. She was on her way over to return the greeting when one of the estate workers emerged from a stall further down with a sack of oats in his hand.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, startled. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I didn’t think there was anybody here. I’m staying at the Lodge and I can never walk past a stable.’
The man grinned at her. ‘No reason why you should have to, Miss – they’re friendly enough, and you’re not interrupting. Come and say hello to them. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone either – most people are down at the fair.’
‘You weren’t tempted, then?’ she asked, walking over to the nearest box.
‘No, not this year,’ he said, and carried on measuring out the feed. ‘I usually go, but I’ve got to hold on to my money at the moment.’
‘Saving for anything special?’
Most of the blush was lost as he turned back to the stalls, but she could still see enough of his shyness to warm to him instantly. ‘Yes, if she’ll have me. I want to take her somewhere nice, so I chose the short straw and let the other lads go off to the fair.’ He stroked the neck of the horse nearest to him. ‘It’s not that short, though, if you ask me – they’re a fine lot, these creatures.’
They were indeed, Josephine thought. She looked down the line at the horses; some of them were working animals and others very fine hunters, but they all shared the brightness and vitality that came only from good, knowledgeable care. Their names were over their boxes – Gilbert, Sorrel, Violet, Diamond and Boxer – and five very different faces looked back at her, curious and attentive, with ears which were seldom still.
‘They’re in grand condition,’ she said admiringly.
‘Oh yes – Mr Motley doesn’t stint on his horses.’ He watched as Josephine held her hand out to the dark-grey Percheron, making no attempt to pat or slap him but gently touching his mane, emulating the nibbling action of another horse’s mouth. ‘You know about horses, then?’ he asked, impressed.
‘A bit,’ she said, as Gilbert twisted his head round and returned the compliment so vigorously that she wondered if the sleeve of her coat would ever look the same again. She glanced round at the other horses and noticed a magnificent grey hunter at the far end of the stables, set slightly apart with no name above its stall. ‘Is that Shilling?’ she asked, and the man nodded. Josephine looked for a long time at the animal she had heard so much about, and couldn’t remember when she had last seen anything as beautiful.
‘He’s something else, isn’t he?’ he said, and there was a note of awe in his voice which she had heard before from people who spent their lives with horses. ‘Worth a bit more than his name implies. That used to be the standing joke.’ He walked slowly over to the horse, but stopped when Shilling began to flare his nostrils nervously.
‘He must have been very disturbed by what happened,’ Josephine said.
‘Yes, he was, and I suppose he’s bound to be a bit suspicious of people after what he’s been through. He hates water, you know – even rain – so it’s not hard to imagine how he must have felt in that lake.’ He held his hand out to the horse, who continued to flick his tail from side to side. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that, my boy,’ he said softly, and turned back to Josephine. ‘I thought they were pushing their luck to use him for the funeral, but he seemed to get through it all right so he must be getting a bit of his old confidence back.’
Another horse nudged his arm, as if to remind him of his duty, and he obliged with a generous helping of oats. ‘All right, Violet – how could anybody forget you?’ he said fondly, as the old face nuzzled him eagerly.
