Ravens Gathering

by Graeme Cumming

  “Hello, Colin. What brings you here?” Not that she needed to hear the answer. It was a little over an hour since the ambulance had raced away from Lodge Farm. She guessed it had taken him that long to get himself dressed properly and walk down to the pub, calling at the Post Office first to share his excitement with anyone who happened to be in there.

  “Yeah, Colin, what d’ya want?” Walter sneered. The words he added were spoken more quietly, but only just. “Ya dipshit.”

  The familiar puzzled look briefly crossed Colin’s face, as if he had registered what Walter had said, but not understood its meaning. A lock of brown hair had fallen across his right eye. He reached up and absently brushed it away, and his smile returned as he did so.

  “There was an amb’lance,” he said excitedly, looking around all the faces near the bar. Presumably he was hoping to see similar levels of enthusiasm so he could share the experience fully. Instead he was met with cold eyes and sneers.

  Norma couldn’t help but feel sorry for the lad. But once again she knew it would be fruitless to say anything to the others, and they would only look for an opportunity to put the boot into her as a result. Colin, on the other hand, was so simple he wouldn’t even understand what was going on. And sure enough, the confused expression was back. Not offended or upset. Just confused by it all. So in the grand scheme of things, she reasoned, there would be no benefit to anyone for her to stick her oar in.

  “Peter’s been hurt.” Greg Williams was sitting on a stool at the bar a few feet to Colin’s left. He’d turned in his seat so he was facing the lad when he spoke, his voice calm and clear. Greg would often spend an evening playing darts with Peter’s dad, Nigel. Like everyone there, he knew that Colin and Peter were the same age. For a moment, Norma felt some relief, expecting Greg to engage with Colin and try to explain why his enthusiasm was inappropriate.

  Well, he engaged with him. Colin had turned to face him, head bobbing as he did so. Now he was giving Greg his full attention. “So fuck off, Colin. Go and get back in your cot, or your Wendy House, or wherever you hide during the day, and leave the rest of us in peace, you fucking cretin.”

  There was a venom in Greg’s voice that caused Norma to take a step back from the bar. It was only when she felt the till brush against her lower back that she realised she’d done it. Even so, she wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t heard Greg speak like that in the sixteen years she’d been there.

  And Colin hadn’t taken it well either. His head was twisting from side to side as if he was searching for something that would explain what had just happened. The bewilderment on his face was bordering on fearful. Then a hand appeared on his shoulder, and Norma looked past Colin to see the tanned face she had briefly flirted with earlier. The humour had left without a trace.

  “Colin,” the stranger said gently. “Sometimes people get very stressed and say things they don’t mean. I’m sure this gentleman -” he gestured to Greg – “didn’t mean what he just said.” He paused and looked meaningfully at the older man on the stool. “Did you?”

  In Norma’s experience, Greg had never gone this far before. Nevertheless, he wasn’t averse to verbal confrontation, and she seemed to recall stories she’d heard of him being involved in quite a few physical confrontations when he was younger. But at sixty-eight and with his weight focused on his midriff instead of upper body, he was in no shape for that kind of activity now. She watched as he licked his lips, and realised how nervous he was.

  His gaze flickered from the stranger to Colin and back again before he nodded. “That’s right, Colin,” he said, his voice not quite as clear as it had been a few moments ago. “I didn’t mean what I said just then.”

  “And I’m sure you’re very sorry, aren’t you?” the stranger prompted.

  “That’s right, Colin,” he added hurriedly. “I am very sorry.”

  Reassured by the kinder words and tone, Colin smiled back at Greg. “That’s all right, Mr Williams.”

  Behind Colin, the surfer smiled, though there was still no sign of humour there. He patted the lad on his shoulder. “I think we should get you home, Colin, don’t you?”

  The stranger led Colin to the door and opened it. She heard him tell the lad to wait outside for a moment, and he’d be right back. Closing the door, he headed back to the bar.

  “How much do I owe you?” The banter was gone now. This was just a transaction.

  Norma took his money, gave him change, then watched as he returned to his table to pick up his rucksack. She wasn’t the only one. Surreptitiously, every eye in the room was on him as he walked back. He was heading for the door, but stopped halfway there, and turned back to look at them all. Reluctantly, they returned his gaze.

  As a group, these men had known each other for many years. In some cases, the relationships had lasted a lifetime. Within that closeness, even where there was antipathy, there was also camaraderie. And with that came a sense of safety that promoted confidence. At that moment, all sense of safety and confidence had gone.

  Satisfied he had everyone’s attention, the stranger spoke. “I think it’s time you found out who I am.”

  Four

  Tanya McLean wasn’t happy. To be fair, this wasn’t unusual, and hadn’t been for some time. This afternoon her main cause for complaint was that she had yet again been forced to make a twenty-five mile round trip to pick up some decent groceries. And having made the journey she now realised she’d forgotten to pick up some lentils and ginger. She didn’t stand a chance of finding that vital ingredient for the curry she planned to make this evening. At least not without returning to the Sainsbury’s at Westfield. The Post Office in the village only stocked the essentials, and even some of those were questionable. The local shops in the nearest villages were slightly better. Long Clayford actually had a mini-mart. But the chances of finding lentils or ginger there were pretty remote. Both at the same time would be damn-near impossible.

  This was her main cause for complaint this afternoon. But she was perpetually in a complaining mood, a fact she grudgingly admitted to herself as she walked back across the yard to her car. It wasn’t a state she was happy about being in. Some people seem to get a real sense of pleasure from moaning. That wasn’t something that suited Tanya at all. But since she and her husband had moved up here from Oxford, things just seemed to have gone from bad to worse. And, as time had passed, every little niggle that she would previously have just shrugged off seemed to become a major downer for her.

  She hadn’t been too impressed with the idea of moving north in the first place, but Ian had insisted that it presented a fantastic opportunity. It had turned out to be such a fantastic opportunity that he was currently with a bank manager in Nottingham trying to renegotiate the terms of a loan with them so they could afford to maintain the payments. Tomorrow, he would be with another bank manager in Westfield begging for mortgage arrears to be added to a different loan, because there was no way they were going to be able to cover the last three months’ payments. It was even questionable as to whether they could afford to pay anything in the coming months. But Ian was fighting for their financial survival, and buying time was the most important thing to do right now.

  In the mean time, Tanya could only curse his decision to come here, and look out for her own opportunities. Though the opportunities she was looking for were ways to escape – and not necessarily with Ian for company. She realised that wouldn’t be as easy as it could have been in the past. She also knew that it was her own fault that she was in the more difficult position. When she’d first married Ian, the house was in his name. With plenty of equity in it, Tanya hadn’t been too impressed that he did nothing to put that right. So when they were arranging the move up here, she’d subtly dropped hints about her own insecurity. The result – as anticipated – had been Ian asking if she’d mind becoming a joint owner. It would demonstrate their commitment to each other as husband and wife, he had explained. So she’d got what she wanted. And now she wished she hadn’
t.

  With debts in joint names, she couldn’t just walk away. If she didn’t have them, it wouldn’t be a problem, and the next gullible man would be more than happy to take her on. She knew she was attractive, and she always made the best of herself. Even now. She might have only been to the supermarket, but she was wearing a cream sweater that clung to all the right places, jeans that appeared to have been moulded to her, and five inch heels on black knee boots. Her long dark hair was styled so it bounced gently as she walked. Everything about her appearance was designed to attract attention.

  Reaching into the boot of the car, she lifted two carrier bags. They were quite heavy, and another five still lay there. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to take any more this time and reduce the number of trips she’d have to make.

  “Excuse me.” The voice came from behind her. It was softly spoken, but not in a prissy way. She guessed he might have lowered it so as not to startle her. Always aware of a potential opportunity, she stayed where she was for a moment or two longer than necessary. Giving him plenty of time to admire the view of her jeans-clad bottom.

  Pulling back from the car, she turned.

  He was standing about ten feet away, and slightly to her left. He wasn’t facing her directly, which suggested that he’d probably come up the main track to the farmyard from the village. The same track she’d driven up ten minutes ago. She glanced towards the opening, but there was no sign of a vehicle there. Nor, now she came to think of it, had she heard one. If he’d walked, he must have pretty much followed her off the main road. She couldn’t recall seeing him down there, but that didn’t mean anything. The mood she was in, she might have missed Tom Cruise.

  She was glad she’d seen him now, though. He looked as if he was about her age, early thirties. The surfer look was good, if a little incongruous. She could also imagine him as a ski instructor. Both images reminded her of happier times, when it had been normal to jet off on holiday three or four times a year, and have occasional extra fun while Ian was otherwise engaged. Sometimes he insisted on taking work with him while they were away, so what was a girl to do when she wasn’t getting the attention she deserved? Already, she was wondering whether this newcomer might provide her with some welcome distraction.

  “Sorry to disturb you.” The stranger smiled. He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either. Blue eyes, even teeth, slightly crooked nose, as if it had been broken in years gone by. More importantly, there was a masculinity about him that she found very attractive. There was also something vaguely familiar about his face.

  “No problem,” she said. “Just bringing in the shopping.”

  “Would you like a hand?”

  Depends where you plan to put it. She smiled back at him. She was flirty, but she wasn’t stupid. He could be an axe murderer for all she knew, no matter how tempting he looked. For now, she ignored the offer.

  “What can I do to help you?”

  “I’m looking for Patrick Gates. I was told by his son that he was still working here.” He added: “Colin,” as if she needed further explanation.

  Tanya nodded. “That’s right. He’s working on one of the houses.”

  The stranger frowned. “Houses?” He seemed confused by her response.

  “The development?” she offered, but he just looked back at her blankly.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought he still worked on the farm.”

  Tanya smiled warmly, amused by the situation. He responded in kind, clearly not taking offence.

  “Did Colin tell you that?”

  “Not exactly,” he admitted. “He just told me his dad was working up at the Sullivans’ place. I put two and two together...”

  “And got twelve?” Tanya suggested.

  A wry smile. “Maths never was my strong point.”

  “What is your strong point?” The words were harmless, but the tone was suggestive.

  The smile broadened. “That would be difficult to explain,” he said.

  “So you’d need to show me?”

  “Something like that.”

  There was a pause in the conversation. She guessed that, like her, he wasn’t sure where to go next with this. It had been over a year since she crossed this line, and she suddenly felt apprehensive.

  “I take it you don’t know about the development,” she said at last.

  “No. Enlighten me,” he invited. There was still a playfulness in his voice, but she sensed he was backing off a little. No doubt he had recognised that she had done the same.

  “We’re having some houses built.” She gestured to the opposite side of the yard. A couple of hundred yards from where they were standing was another gateway that led on to a track. About half a mile along that track there had once been some old barns. They were virtually falling down when Ian had bought the farm. Now they were in the process of conversion. Already eight houses had been created, and five more were under construction. Unfortunately, only five of the eight had been sold, and two of those had gone for less than they expected. Hence Ian’s meetings with the banks.

  “What’s that got to do with...Patrick?”

  The hesitation was brief, but she was aware of it.

  “He’s helping Matt. They’re working on it together.” She saw understanding begin to creep into his expression. “I don’t think he could get any other work when the farm was sold.”

  “Sold to you?”

  She cocked her head, then looked down at herself. “Do I look like a farmer?” She was aware that she was taking them back in a direction she’d already shied away from.

  “I wouldn’t have said you were typical. So what’s the story?” He gestured to the farmhouse. “I take it you’re not just visiting?”

  “Could be.”

  “Not if you’ve got that much shopping. Besides, you said ‘we’ are having some houses built. I take it that means you own the land? I also take it that means there’s more than one of you?”

  Plus there’s the incriminating evidence of the gold band on my left hand, she thought to herself.

  “Been watching a lot of Inspector Morse?”

  He looked at her blankly. “Inspector...?”

  “John Thaw?” she offered helpfully.

  “The guy out of The Sweeney?”

  “Well, yes. But he plays Morse nowadays.”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t seen much TV for a while.”

  “Been away?” Stupid question really, considering the colour of him. And he must have recognised that from the look he gave her.

  “You could say that.”

  Her reference to his detective work had clearly fallen by the wayside now. Although she did contemplate bringing Columbo into the conversation, there was no point really.

  “You’re right,” she said at last. “This is our house. It belongs to my husband and me. We bought the farmhouse and a few extra acres. But most of the land was sold to Mr Lambert at Lodge Farm.”

  “So that’s when he would have lost his job?”

  Tanya shrugged helplessly. “I imagine so. It was before we moved here. From what I can gather, the land was sold a few years earlier.”

  The stranger smiled awkwardly, as if an uncomfortable thought had just struck him. “I’m sorry. I’ve just realised I must sound as if I’m interrogating you.”

  “Not at all.” And that was true. It hadn’t even occurred to her. Their dialogue had seemed quite natural. Now she considered it, she could see that his questions had the potential to be intrusive, but they had felt perfectly natural.

  He nodded at her hands. “And your arms must feel as if they’re about to pop out of your sockets.” He glanced behind her at the open boot. “Let me help you take these in, then I’ll leave you in peace.”

  Her reservations about him were gone, though she couldn’t have explained why. Well, maybe there was good old-fashioned lust getting in the way of common sense. But she suspected it was more than just that.

  “
Okay.” She stepped aside to let him get to the car. He reached in and lifted all of the remaining bags out. Slamming the boot shut, she followed him to the kitchen door. “Go on in,” she told him when he paused outside. A gentleman? she wondered. Not wanting to be too pushy. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  The other carrier bags were on the big wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. They stood on either side of the table, and added to the collection.

  “I’m sorry to have troubled you,” he said, genuine apology in his tone.

  She gave him a warm smile. “You’ve been no trouble at all. It’s nice to get some company for a change.”

  “Surely your husband doesn’t leave you on your own?” The flirtatious look was back.

  “He does have other things to attend to as well.” She was careful not to overplay the wide-eyed innocent.

  “I’d be very careful if I was in his position.” Intentional innuendo?

  “What position would that be?”

  A broad grin. “I think we’d better leave it there for now, don’t you, Mrs...?”

  “McLean. But please call me Tanya.”

  He reached out with his hand. After the banter, the offer of a handshake seemed almost ridiculous, but she took it. His palm was harder than she expected, as if it was used to manual work. Having said that, it wasn’t as coarse as the hands of some of the men who had worked on the development over the past year.

  “I’m Martin.”

  “Martin...?”

  “Gates. I’m Patrick’s other son.”

  Five

  The Barns provided peace, privacy and the countryside right on your doorstep. Every house stood in its own grounds. That was what the marketing blurb said anyway. Close inspection might have suggested that the word “grounds” meant something a little larger than the 1/8th of an acre of land that formed the gardens for each property. It also implied that the houses were detached, but the reality was that each unit was attached to at least one other. Even so, they had been laid out in such a way as to offer the maximum privacy. And with the main road half a mile away, the peace was definitely there. The main road through the village wasn’t especially busy or noisy anyway, but that only added to the sense of quietness. The only noise you were likely to suffer here would be the occasional aircraft from the small commercial airport on the other side of Westfield or – more likely, though still infrequent – a lively summer barbecue held by one of the neighbours. As only five of the houses were occupied, and three of those by people commuting to London every week day, it was very peaceful.