A Thoughtful Woman

by K T Findlay

  She needed a tricky five-point turn to negotiate the Range Rover through the gate, but soon she was parked about twenty yards inside the field, next to the hedge where the Range Rover couldn't be seen from the lane.

  ◆◆◆

  Long before she’d reached the gate, Freddy had arrived at the other end of Bleak Road. He’d driven as fast as he could and he was confident that if he hadn’t caught her by then, he must have missed her.

  He pulled over and examined his map. He quickly confirmed that there were only really two places she could have gone, Heaven’s Spur and the Widow Maker. If she’d gone into Heaven’s Spur then she’d either be following along behind him, or she’d headed back east and he’d lost her. He thought back to what they’d managed to hear of the plan and remembered that Emma was supposed to meet Sally near the flying fox. That meant the Widow Maker was the more likely place she’d be. Cursing himself for his carelessness, he drove back to the Widow Maker and parked.

  One look at the track surface told him it wasn’t a great idea to try and take the Transit. He’d probably get down it okay, probably, but getting back up the hill was quite another matter.

  He got out and crossed the road for a closer look. The only recent tracks were solid off road tyres on a vehicle turning in from the right, and Sally should have been going in from the left.

  His first reaction was that Sally must have used Heaven’s Spur to double back, but the meeting with Emma resonated in his mind. He walked back along the road towards Ipington, looking carefully at the edge of the tarseal. About fifty yards on he found what he was looking for. Chunky off road tyre marks were visible in just one spot on the northern side of the road. The same car that had gone down the Widow Maker had done a three point turn here.

  He stroked his chin in admiration. If he hadn’t had the patience to check, she’d have gotten clean away. As it was, he couldn’t follow in the van, and he didn’t expect her to be coming back, so there was nothing for it but to return to the house and get ready to observe Emma and Sally later in the day.

  ◆◆◆

  There was no sign of Sally at the Throcking end of the moor yet, but James was hardly unoccupied. A man in his early thirties saw him with his binoculars around his neck and made immediate enquiries.

  ‘Twitcher or birdwatcher?’ he demanded.

  James gazed at him levelly. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked, far more politely than he felt the man deserved.

  ‘Are you a twitcher or a birdwatcher?’ the man repeated. ‘It’s a fair enough question.’ he added, as if to justify himself.

  ‘I’m here to look at birds.’ James agreed.

  The man’s face creased in frustration. ‘Yes yes, I can see that, but are you a twitcher or a birdwatcher? Which are you?’

  ‘I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’ replied James.

  ‘The man narrowed his eyes. ‘New to it then are you?’

  ‘First day.’ confirmed James, hoping against hope that the man would go away, but instinctively recognising a leech when he saw one.

  His unwanted companion beamed, and thrust out his hand. ‘Then it’s a lucky day for you my friend! Luke Featherstonhaugh at your service, but most people call me Feathers!’ he laughed happily, as an unwilling James accepted his hand.

  ‘James.’ James replied curtly, damned if he was going say he was pleased to meet this creature.

  ‘The first thing to know,’ Feathers said earnestly, ‘is that a birdwatcher is a decent, wholesome person who’s interested in the birds he sees, tries to learn as much as he can about them, and treats them with respect. A twitcher,’ and here Feathers’s mouth formed the nastiest sneer James had seen in years, ‘is nothing but a glorified trainspotter! All he cares about is adding another bird to his list, and he’ll happily trample over its habitat, deprive it of food, crush its eggs, anything, as long as he gets his wretched photograph! Ghastly people! Wicked people! Evil incarnate!’

  James examined the intensely angry, puffy red face before him. ‘Ah.’ he said to himself. ‘What we have here is an enthusiast…’ and equally silently, he groaned inside.

  On the outside though, he maintained a veneer of scrupulous civility. ‘Are those the official definitions?’ he enquired.

  Feathers snorted. ‘It’s certainly how we define it in the Greater Throcking Birdwatching Club.’

  ‘Large organisation is it?’ asked James sarcastically, then instantly kicking himself for giving the man an opening to talk about his wretched club.

  ‘Large? Oh my heavens yes. There’s seven of us now that Boggy Sunderland’s joined up. He’s a real coup you know. Knows more about the Pied Flycatcher than anyone else on the coast! We were lucky to get him.’

  ‘Yes… I can see that…’murmured James. ‘I’m much too new to it to be of interest to a club I think.’ he suggested as his first serious attempt to disengage.

  ‘Nonsense!’ boomed Feathers. ‘Chicks are the lifeblood of any birdwatching club! We love teaching new members. You must join!’

  Then, suddenly aware that James’s body language wasn’t expressing overwhelming enthusiasm for this suggestion, he leaned in to play his top card. ‘Look, we don’t normally do this, but seeing as it’s my afternoon off, I’ll stick around and get you off to a good start. Now let’s have a look at those binoculars of yours so I can tell what you’ll be able to see and what you won’t.’

  As the tsunami of passion and enthusiasm broke over him, James tried to console himself that nobody, nobody at all, could doubt that he was up in this wet, windy godforsaken spot for any other reason than to look at birds.

  ◆◆◆

  Sally took her time reassembling her bike. She’d arranged to meet Emma at dusk and that was still a while away yet. Only once she was fully rested, and replete with a restorative cup of tea did she lock the Range Rover, close the gate and cycle off towards the sea.

  It was an enjoyable ride, mostly easy going, but she remembered when she got to its northern danger point, that the track was called Widow Maker for a reason. It took her out across the face of a spur, and then around a hairpin bend at its end to come back along the other side. All the time, thirty feet below, the turbulent waters of the Beck beckoned the unwary.

  Unaware that she was holding her breath in fear, Sally carefully cycled across the face of the bluff, waiting for the muddy surface to grab a wheel and send her plummeting into the gorge. It wasn’t really intended for bikes.

  When she reached the other side, her sense of relief was so huge that she got off the Wildcat, and rested for a few minutes against the slope to steady her nerves. She’d have no such luxury when she was coming back the other way. She’d just have to do it.

  Refreshed, Sally cruised on down to the main road, which she took east towards Throcking, and then rode down the riverbank to the bottom end of the flying fox. There she turned off the track and into the trees.

  There was a natural hollow about fifteen feet from the track, hidden by a clump of bushes, into which Sally carefully laid her bike. She took off her wig, and with equal care, placed it in the bike’s backpack along with the lipsticks, soap, a face cloth, and two small towels which were already in there. With night coming, she didn’t worry about removing Mia’s makeup.

  Her last act before covering the bike with branches was to carefully secure a green plastic bag over the bike pack to keep off the rain. Then she walked carefully to the other side of the track, and waited.

  As dusk fell, so did the temperature, and she was relieved to see Emma cycling up to meet her.

  ‘All set?' whispered Emma.

  ‘All set.’ confirmed Sally. ‘Let's go. I could murder a cup of tea!'

  Sally carefully sat on Emma's carrier. 'Home James! And don't spare the horses!'

  'Cheeky cow!' shot back Emma. 'You'll find yourself walking back if you're not careful.'

  They both giggled as Emma struggled to get her bike going. She managed to get them as far as the coast, but
Sally had to get off once they started up the hill.

  ‘Well, we’ve left no footprints between my bike and here, and I can hop from stones to grass from now on.’ said Sally. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

  By the time they reached little Throcking, it was properly dark. Sally hung back out of sight of the road, while Emma rode home to get her car. She picked up a by now very cold Sally about ten minutes later.

  After being dropped off by Emma, Sally walked up The Narrows in the dark, moving briskly to try and keep warm. She dashed across the main road only when there were absolutely no cars in sight, and strode up her field as fast as she could, arriving at her door completely out of breath, but happily warm.

  She changed out of Selina's clothes while the kettle boiled, then cooked up some beans on toast to have with her tea, before sitting down with a groan to finish the remaining three boards of the day.

  ◆◆◆

  Freddy, hidden in the bushes for the second time that day, had watched Emma go past him at the Little Throcking end of the cliff track, and then return with Sally a short while later. He had no choice but to stay hidden while Sally waited for Emma to fetch the car, but then ran as fast as he could back to the house where he jumped into the Transit and headed for Throcking Castle.

  James’s greeting was remarkably gracious in the circumstances. ‘Where the @#%#$$ *&^$%^! !@#$#$%$^ !@#$%#$%!!!!!! hell have you been!’ he hissed.

  ‘Doing what we agreed this morning.’ riposted the aggrieved Freddy. ‘What are you so upset about?’

  James looked at him, pop-eyed. ‘I’m cold and I’m wet, and I’m more bloody bored than you could possibly imagine! I’ve had a wretched bloody birdwatcher boring the arse off me all day! It started about ten minutes after you left and went on all afternoon until just a few minutes ago. I was terrified the ghastly little oik was going to start a bloody owl watch, but thank God he said he had to get back to his wife for supper.’

  Freddy did his best to suppress a laugh, and was grateful it was dark. Unfortunately for him, the glow from the dashboard lit up his face.

  ‘Think that’s funny do you?’ snarled James. ‘Well what did you manage to achieve mister bloody comfortable van driver?’

  Freddy told him.

  James was stunned. ‘What do you mean you lost her?’

  ‘I’m sure she’s left it down the Widow maker somewhere.’ said Freddy lightly.

  ‘Oh you’re sure are you? You didn’t even see her drive in there! It could have been anyone!’

  Freddy recognised something in the voice that didn’t quite ring true. ‘So when did she come out the Widow Maker down here then?’

  ‘5:30 PM.’ replied James instantly.

  They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  ‘You cheeky bugger!’ gasped Freddy. ‘You knew all the time!’

  With James hovering over the heater vents, they joked their way back to the house. Freddy took a turn at the telescope, allowing James to make the tea so he could warm up by the kettle and stove.

  ‘Remind me why you didn’t want me to wait for them by the flying fox?’ asked Freddy.

  ‘Because if those two witches are going to kill Dick Harland tomorrow, the last thing we want are our tracks anywhere near theirs. Do you want your tea now, or wait for the beans on toast?’

  ◆◆◆

  It was just after 8 PM when Sally was able to put down her brush and look at the completed painting. There was no sense of satisfaction, nothing to savour. Her mouth twisted in disgust. She picked up the phone.

  ‘Oh hello Sally.’ said Peregrin, smiling into the receiver.

  ‘Could you give a girl a gin guvnor?’ she asked, sounding as helpless and waiflike as possible.

  Peregrin laughed. ‘Not from here! Why don’t you come over?'

  Sally paused in alarm. She hadn’t thought about that! She had literally no form of transport she could use at that moment except the Mini, and she wasn’t driving that down Peregrin’s driveway!

  ‘Nah.’ she said. ‘I just needed to talk to someone to assuage my guilt before I go to bed.’

  ‘Good heavens! What have you done? You never feel guilty!’ Peregrin shot back.

  ‘That’s because I rarely do anything to feel guilty about darling.’ she said in her May West voice.

  Peregrin laughed loudly. ‘Oh well, if we’re going in that direction I’ll have to hand you over to Hilary.’

  The hand over took less than two seconds because Hilary was standing right next to him, trying to overhear what Sally was saying.

  ‘What have you done you naughty girl?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve decided to give up on my weather paintings. I just can’t take the boredom anymore. I don’t know how these weather people do it week after week.’

  Hilary nodded sympathetically, even though Sally couldn’t see her. ‘Well, four weeks was a long time. I’m surprised you’ve stuck it as long as you have to be honest. Hardly something to feel guilty about! You had Peregrin’s police radar twitching away in curiosity.’

  ‘Just over ambitious as usual! I don’t like giving in. It feels like a failure somehow.’ laughed Sally.

  ‘Rubbish! If you’re bored, what do you think the audience is going to feel?’ asked Hilary bluntly. ‘So what do you want to do now?’

  ‘Anything! Absolutely bloody anything!’ said Sally still laughing. ‘As long as it’s not in the house. I need to get out and about again and see something different. I thought I might go to Dalton tomorrow and draw the park, or the river.’

  ‘That’s a great idea. I’d come with you, but I promised Peregrin I’d make him a steak and kidney pudding for lunch tomorrow. He’s been on at me ever since he came back from that farm house and the smell of her stew clawed its way into his heart.’

  ‘Well, I’d never get between Peregrin and that! I wouldn’t hear the end of it!’ said Sally. ‘Okay. I feel a lot less guilty, so I’ll pour myself a gin and go to bed I think. See you soon. Thanks for acting as father confessor.’

  ‘What the hell was all that in aid of?’ asked Peregrin.

  Hilary smiled in amusement. ‘You know she doesn’t like giving up when she sets a target. She just needed to cleanse her soul about stopping those silly weather paintings.’

  Peregrin tossed his head. ‘About time too. Damned silly idea! Who on earth did she think would be interested in buying that? A demented weather fetishist? So did she say what she was doing tomorrow?’

  ‘Going to Dalton to paint the park, or the river. Anything but the view from her own windows.’

  Peregrin moved back to his seat by the fire. ‘Makes sense to me. It’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow.’

  Sitting next to her own fire, Sally was contemplating a risky move. She’d planned to ply the Little Throcking road in the Mini until a police car bit and started a pursuit. It would be so much sweeter if she could hook Peregrin himself.

  23 View halloa

  Shortly after 8 AM, Emma the decoy pushed her bike out into the morning sun and locked the door behind her. Clad completely in her “escape outfit”, only her face detected the miniscule amount of warmth provided by the sun, and even that vanished the instant the bike began to move.

  She ordered bacon and eggs with a pot of tea at the Cutty Sark café, deliberately dropping her change to cause a minor inconvenience to the person in the queue behind her, just to make herself that little bit more memorable.

  At a quarter to nine Emma left the café, cycled down the cliffs to the mouth of the Sky, and then up the riverbank to the bridge. She made a point of riding through the mud at regular intervals, to ensure the tyre prints could be easily tracked.

  At the bridge she took out her camera and waited for a sign branded vehicle that could be used to pinpoint her at the bridge at that exact moment. A police car did the job nicely.

  Smiling happily, she got back on her bike, and rode up to Throcking Castle, where she took a picture down the valley, so the tree shadows could show the tim
e of day. Then a nice run through the lanes got her to Throcking in time to have morning tea at Jenks Café, surrounded by officers from the police station next door.

  ‘This is going well!’ she thought to herself. ‘At least one of these trained observers will remember I was here.’

  Her next port of call was the harbour, where she rode out to the very end of the pier to photograph a fisherman replacing the wooden surround of his boat’s front window. Then it was back to the Skye river, to meet Selina at the bottom end of the flying fox.

  ◆◆◆

  Enjoying the morning sun, Freddy watched much of this from Throcking Castle. He’d had some fun with James, suggesting that he might like to take the Throcking Castle spot to give him another chance to meet up with his friend from the day before. James had been quite firm about this, restricting his response to words of one syllable, which clearly conveyed the view that it was Freddy’s turn to spend the day on that infernal hill, while he James sat in comfort in the house with the telescope!

  In fact Freddy felt that he’d got the best of the deal again, with no signs of the birdwatcher, a nice warm sun and a fabulous view to look at. James by comparison was compelled to watch Sally’s windows and there wasn’t a lot to see this morning.

  ◆◆◆

  Sally had allowed herself the unbelievably delicious treat of sleeping in until nine. After so many days having to start work at eight on those wretched paintings, she’d almost forgotten the simple pleasure of snuggling under the blankets while the rest of the world was at work.

  She took her time over a small, but exquisite, high energy brunch, carried out a final check of her equipment and did her stretching exercises before changing into Selina.

  At five to twelve she opened the garage door and checked for witnesses. To her consternation there were two people standing at the top of the zigzag track, holding a map and arguing with each other.