‘We’ve had this discussion,’ she said hotly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Ben looked hard at her. ‘I wanted you to go to Ireland. You wouldn’t go. I gave in to you, and look what happened.’
‘You won’t dump me like that,’ she said. ‘I want to be involved, not out on a limb somewhere waiting for you to call.’
‘Make a choice,’ Ben said. ‘Either you let me do this my way, or I walk. Hire another bunch of steroid-poppers to look after you. You’ll be dead in a week.’
Kinski glanced at him. Ben was playing tough tactics, but it worked. Leigh sank her head into her hand. She let out a long sigh.
‘I’ll go crazy,’ she said. ‘I’ll be worried all the time.’
‘But you’ll be safe,’ Ben replied. ‘And if I know you’re protected I can work better.’
‘He’s right,’ Kinski said.
She let out a long sigh. ‘OK,’ she said reluctantly. ‘You win.’
Ben nodded and turned to Kinski. ‘So now you need to tell me the way to this place.’
Kinski smiled. ‘I can do better than that.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kinski drove the Mercedes fast on the autobahn. They headed south past Graz, then Wolfsberg, Klagenfurt, and finally crossed over the border into Slovenia. Kinski’s police ID got the Mercedes waved through the border with no paper checks.
By the time they were approaching Lake Bled night had fallen and it was snowing hard. The forests were heavy with a canopy of white, and every so often a fallen branch blocked the road, snapped off by the weight of the snowfall. The roads became narrow and twisty, and Kinski had to concentrate hard as the windscreen wipers slapped quickly to and fro with a hypnotic beat. Leigh was asleep in the back seat. As Kinski drove, Ben went through everything he knew, telling it calmly, slowly, methodically.
‘The Order of Ra,’ Kinski snorted. ‘Give me a break.’
‘I knew an African dictator,’ Ben said. ‘He put a tin crown on his head and declared himself a deity. That sounded funny too, but people stopped laughing pretty fast when he had their arms and legs cut off and forced them to eat them in front of him.’
‘Holy shit,’ Kinski said.
‘I don’t care what these bastards call themselves. It doesn’t make them any less real or any less dangerous.’
Kinski didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he asked, ‘What happened to the dictator?’
Ben smiled in the darkness. ‘Someone ate him.’
Their destination was deep in the heart of the Julian Alps, situated in a long valley between snowy mountains. The only road leading to it was a rutted track, and the snowdrifts were deep. They had to stop and fasten snow-chains to the wheels of the Mercedes. Soon afterwards, Kinski pointed to a pinprick of light in the distance. ‘There it is.’
The old convent was almost in total darkness as they approached. The Mercedes’ headlights swept the craggy walls as they passed through a crumbling arch and pulled up in a little courtyard. The convent consisted of a rambling complex of buildings that looked as though they had grown up out of the valley and changed very little in the last five or six centuries. The main entrance was an iron-studded oak door, black with age and framed with ivy.
A warm glow of light appeared in an arched window as the Mercedes pulled up. The old door creaked open and little Clara Kinski came skipping out over the snow. Behind her stood a tall woman in a nun’s habit, carrying a lantern. She looked more than seventy, but she stood straight and walked with a firm step.
Kinski turned off the engine and they climbed out of the car, stretching after the long drive. Clara flew excitedly into her father’s arms. Max the Rottweiler also came running from inside the building and made a big fuss of him, jumping up and licking his hands.
The nun approached with the lantern. Kinski greeted her warmly and introduced Ben and Leigh. ‘This is my old friend Mother Hildegard.’
The Mother Superior welcomed them and led them across the courtyard, showing the way with her lantern. Ben and Leigh followed her. Kinski trailed along behind with Clara hanging on his arm and Max trotting happily in his wake.
They went through a dark cloister and under another arch. Ben could hear the soft lowing of a cow in a stall, and the rustic smell of fresh hay and manure wafted on the cold night air. Beyond the sprawl of convent buildings was a little farm with dry-stone outbuildings and enclosures. Mother Hildegard led them through a gateway to a simple cottage. ‘This is where you will stay, my child,’ she said to Leigh.
Leigh thanked her. ‘You’re sure it’s all right for me to stay here a while?’
‘Karl the groundsman lived here for many years,’ Mother Hildegard smiled. ‘But he is very old now, and has gone to live in a retirement home in Bled. His cottage is likely to be unused for a long time. The simple life we lead does not appeal to all.’
‘As long as I’m not imposing,’ Leigh said.
The nun laid a hand on Leigh’s arm. ‘Any friend of Markus’ is more than welcome here,’ she said.
She showed them inside the simple cottage. It was warm and cosy, and a fire crackled in the log stove. ‘I lit the fire for you, but you men will have to split some logs in the morning.’ She pointed to a cupboard in the small entrance. ‘In there you will find rubber boots and heavy jackets for the cold,’ she said. Keeping warm on top of the stove was a cast-iron tureen of delicious-smelling mutton stew, and the simple wooden table was laid with earthenware plates and cups.
The old nun was watching them closely. She knew all too well that they were in some kind of trouble, but she wasn’t about to ask questions. ‘And now, I will leave you. Clara, you may stay here for an hour, and then you must come straight back and be ready for bed.’
They were all tired, and Clara did a lot of the talking over dinner. They passed around the pot of stew until it was empty. Ben drank one of the bottles of the nuns’ home-made dandelion wine. Clara took a lantern and went running back to the convent building. Max wanted to stay with Kinski, refusing to leave his side. ‘You don’t mind if he shares the attic bedroom with you and me, Ben?’ Kinski asked.
Ben eyed the huge, slavering dog. ‘As long as he doesn’t sleep in my bunk.’
‘Well, I’m beat,’ Kinski said, yawning. He headed up the wooden stairs with Max at his heel.
Ben and Leigh were left alone. ‘I feel like walking,’ she said. ‘Want to come along?’ They found pairs of boots that fitted them, and went out into the night.
The moon’s reflection on the snow made it almost like day. The place was completely still, the scenery breathtaking even in semi-darkness. Leigh felt more relaxed than she had in days. ‘I didn’t want to come here,’ she said as they walked over the crisp snow, their boots crunching. ‘But I’m glad you insisted. I feel protected here.’
Ben nodded. Kinski had chosen well. There was no way anyone could find this place. He was glad that Leigh was happy. Tomorrow he’d be able to head back to Vienna with a clear mind, knowing that she was safe.
They walked on a while. She clapped her hands together. ‘I wish I had some gloves. My hands are freezing.’
‘Let’s go back.’
‘No, it’s beautiful out here. And so nice to be free to walk about without worrying that someone’s going to start shooting at you.’
Ben took her hands and clasped them in his own. ‘My God, they’re so warm,’ she exclaimed. ‘How do you do it?’
Their eyes met, and she suddenly realized they were standing there in the snow facing one other holding hands, and he was smiling at her in the moonlight. She drew back quickly and put her hands in her pockets. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled. ‘Maybe we should get back now.’
The nuns were up and about at six the next morning, attending to the animals and starting their morning chores before prayers and breakfast. Clara ran over to the cottage and thumped on the door.
Ben had risen early, and he was tending to the stove when he heard the child knocking. ‘Your father�
�s still asleep,’ he said as he let her into the cottage. She was wearing a quilted anorak and a pair of heavy woollen trousers.
‘Daddy always sleeps late when he can,’ she said brightly, hanging her anorak on the back of a chair. She sat down and swung her legs.
‘So you thought you’d come and wake him up before sunrise?’
She giggled. ‘I want to show him Sister Agnes feeding the piglets. They’re so cute!’
‘He can see them later, OK? He needs to sleep.’
‘Can I stay here with you?’
‘Sure. Want some breakfast?’
‘Mother Hildegard left some eggs in the cupboard,’ she said, pointing. ‘They’ve got so many chickens here that there’s always piles of eggs to eat.’
‘I guess we’re having eggs, then.’
‘I like them boiled, just a little bit runny with a piece of Schwarzbrot to dip in them. Please,’ she added.
‘How come your English is so good?’ he asked as he filled a saucepan with water.
‘Because I go to St Mary’s College.’
‘What’s that, a bilingual school?’
She nodded. ‘Most of our lessons are in English. Daddy says it’s the most important language to learn nowadays.’
‘By the time you’re twenty, kids your age will all be learning Chinese.’
She leaned her little elbows on the table. ‘Why’s that?’ she asked.
‘Because the world changes all the time,’ he explained. ‘That’s grown-up stuff you don’t want to know about.’
‘Does your friend Leigh sing in Chinese? They have Chinese opera, don’t they? I saw it on the TV.’
He laughed. ‘I think that’s a little different.’
‘I’ve seen her on TV too. She sings in Italian and French and German.’
‘She’s very clever.’
‘Daddy bought me her Christmas album last year,’ Clara said. ‘It’s called Classical Christmas with Leigh Llew— Llew—’ She smiled. ‘I can’t say it right.’
‘It’s a Welsh name. They speak funny in Wales.’
‘Wales is part of England, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t say that in front of Leigh.’ Ben smiled.
‘Is Leigh your girlfriend?’ Clara giggled, dimples appearing in her cheeks.
He turned and looked at her. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’
‘That’s how I learn things.’
‘You’re too young to learn about things like that.’
‘She should be your girlfriend,’ Clara said seriously, playing with a wooden spoon. ‘I think she wants to be.’
‘Oh really? And how might you know that?’
‘Last night at dinner she was looking at you. You know. Like this.’
Ben laughed. ‘She was looking at me like that? How come I didn’t notice?’
‘And when she speaks to you she does this with her hair.’ Clara sat back in her seat, raised her chin and brushed her fair hair back with her fingers. ‘That’s a sign that a woman likes a man.’
Ben nearly choked. ‘I can see I have a lot to learn from you. Where did you get that from?’
‘I read it.’
‘Not in one of Mother Hildegard’s books, I hope.’
She laughed. ‘No, it was in one of Helga’s magazines.’
‘Helga?’
‘My sitter. Daddy likes her, I think.’
The eggs were ready. Ben spooned one out into an egg-cup and put it down on the wooden platter in front of her. ‘Anyway, little lady, I think you think too much.’ He smiled. ‘Now shut up and eat.’
‘That’s what Daddy says, too.’ Clara shrugged and cracked the top of her egg.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Leigh emerged from her room half an hour later to the smell of coffee, toast and eggs. There was animated talking and laughter coming from downstairs. Peeping down the narrow stairway, she could see Ben and Clara sitting at the table together building a house out of cards. Ben was delicately putting the last card on the top. He took his hand away tentatively. The house wobbled slightly, but remained standing. Clara watched it, entranced, then her cheeks puffed out and she blew it down. Cards scattered across the table.
‘Hey, that’s cheating,’ Ben said. Clara giggled and rocked in her chair.
Leigh stood quietly at the top of the stairs. She watched Ben play with the child. For a man who had never settled down and would probably never be a father himself, he had an amazingly easy way with kids. Clara obviously liked him a lot. That hardness Leigh had seen in him was completely gone. Suddenly, she was looking at the Ben she’d known from years ago.
Never go back, Leigh.
Clara saw Leigh coming down the stairs and smiled shyly. ‘I think Daddy’s awake too,’ she said, cocking her head at the clump of footsteps above. ‘Leigh, you’d better get off the stairs.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if Daddy’s getting up, Max will get up too. And when he runs down the stairs he won’t stop for anyone, and he’ll send you flying. He does it all the time.’ Her eyes filled with delight as the dog came thundering down like a huge black cannonball. ‘Here he comes!’
Leigh quickly stepped aside to avoid being bowled over. Clara jumped down from her chair and ran out of the room with the dog. ‘Come on, Maxy. I’ll get Sister Agnes to fix your breakfast.’ The door banged and she was gone. The cottage was suddenly much quieter.
‘Nice kid,’ Leigh said.
‘She’s great.’
‘She likes you.’
‘I like her.’
‘You never wanted kids, Ben?’
‘Wrong life,’ he said.
He made her coffee. Last night’s tension was gone, and she was smiling and relaxed. They sat and drank the hot coffee. They could hear Kinski thumping about upstairs.
‘Are you and he leaving today?’ Leigh asked.
Ben nodded. ‘Later, maybe in the evening.’
‘It’s going to seem strange without you around.’
‘It’s better this way.’
Leigh sipped her coffee. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘First port of call, the Meyer family.’
‘You think they’ll talk to you?’
‘I can only try. Hey, look at that,’ he said suddenly, looking up above the door. ‘I didn’t notice it before.’ A wooden rack over the low doorway cradled an old double-barrelled shotgun. He went over and lifted it down. ‘Nice,’ he said.
‘Looks old.’
‘Probably a hundred years. Good condition, though.’ He ran his eye along the elegant lines, the hand-checkering on the stock and the hammers. Modern weapons were brutish and functional. They did their job efficiently, but they lacked grace. This had been crafted with loving artistry and skill. Hand-finished wood and engraved steel, not hard black rubber and polymer plastic.
‘I wonder if it still works,’ Leigh said.
‘These things were built to last forever,’ he replied. ‘The old groundsman here probably used it to pot a rabbit now and then.’ He tested the action. The hammers clicked back with a sound like winding up an old clock. Three loud clicks. They locked back solid. There were two triggers, one set behind the other. He tried each one in turn. They had a light, crisp let-off, a little under two pounds. The action was well-oiled and the twin bores were smooth, unpitted and clean. He flipped the gun over in his hands. ‘I have to have a go,’ he said. He searched around, and soon found a box of cartridges in a drawer.
The sun was shining bright on the snow outside. ‘Mind if I come too?’ she asked.
‘Be my guest.’
Ben carried the gun over his shoulder as they trudged away from the convent in their snow-boots. The sky was clear and blue and the air smelled fresh. When the convent was sinking out of sight behind a snowy ridge, he looked back. ‘We should be OK here. I don’t want to give the nuns heart attacks.’ He looked up at the mountains in the distance. ‘I don’t think we’re going to start any avalanches.’ He propped the shotgun against the
trunk of a pine tree. ‘Here, help me.’
‘To do what?’
‘Make a snowman.’ He crouched down and started gathering up armfuls of snow, heaping it in a pile. She joined him, clapping handfuls of snow onto the heap. ‘I haven’t done anything like this for years,’ she said, laughing. ‘I remember when Olly and I were kids and we used to lark about in the snow. But it always ended up with him shoving a load of it down my back and me clobbering him with the spade.’
Ben smiled and gathered up more snow.
Leigh watched him with a curious look. He saw her face. ‘What?’ he asked.
‘I still find it hard to believe,’ she said.
‘Find what hard to believe?’
‘You and Theology.’
He paused, rubbing snow off his hands. ‘Really?’
‘You studied it where?’
‘Oxford.’
‘Impressive. What were your intentions?’
He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. ‘You mean was I going to make a career out of it?’ He smiled. ‘Maybe. At the time, I thought about it.’
‘You were seriously going to become a clergyman?’
He clapped another handful of snow onto the growing snowman. ‘It was a long time ago, Leigh. Before I knew you.’
‘How come you never told me?’
‘That part of my life was already over. It didn’t seem relevant.’
‘Did Oliver know about it?’
‘Why should he?’
Leigh shook her head. ‘You, in a white dog-collar, living in a little ivy-fronted vicarage somewhere in the south of England, shepherding your flock. The Reverend Benedict Hope. What made you change your mind?’
‘Life happened,’ he said. ‘I drifted away from it.’
‘An angel,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘What?’
‘You didn’t drift that far,’ she said. ‘You just found a different path to do the same thing. You became an angel. You’re the guy who comes down and saves people, looks after the weak.’
Ben didn’t reply.
The Ben Hope Collection: 6 BOOK SET Page 51