Ravens Gathering

by Graeme Cumming

  Never, Patrick thought, but kept it to himself. Instead he watched Matt play acting. The elder son looked at his watch for a moment, then glanced around him again, as if he was assessing how long they would need here. In practice, Patrick knew they could knock off whenever they wanted. They weren’t being paid for this work anyway.

  Eventually, Matt said: “We really need to get this wall finished today. I can’t see that happening for a while yet. Maybe the best thing would be for us to meet up tonight.”

  “Good idea,” Martin said. “What time do you want me to come around?”

  Matt’s glance at his father was surreptitious, but Patrick was sure it didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Well, I was thinking of us maybe coming to see you wherever you’re stopping,” Matt said.

  Martin nodded, apparently in agreement, though his words soon put them right on that score. “It’s a nice thought. Unfortunately, I don’t know where I’ll be stopping. I had wondered whether you’d be able to put me up -” Patrick hoped to God that his horror at that prospect wasn’t showing on his face – “but, as we’ve already established, things are already somewhat crowded there. So I haven’t sorted any digs out yet. Do you know of anywhere in the village?”

  “No, I don’t.” The pub did Bed and Breakfast, but Patrick didn’t want to volunteer that information. With any luck, Martin would head to Westfield and find somewhere to stop there.

  Martin bent slightly, and reached down for something hidden behind the wall. As he straightened up, Patrick saw he’d picked up a rucksack. Which gave him an idea.

  As he pulled the rucksack over his shoulders, Martin looked at them both in turn. “So what time shall I call round?” he asked.

  Matt was hesitating. “How about eight o’clock?” Patrick suggested. “We’ll all be in by then, and we’ll have had time for a bath and some dinner.” He ignored the sharp look from his firstborn. He had a plan forming in his mind.

  “Eight it is then.” Martin seemed a little put out, but it was only later that Patrick realised he might have expected to be invited for dinner. He raised a hand in a farewell gesture, then turned and walked back up the hill towards the farmhouse.

  They watched him carefully until he had disappeared over the rise. At no time did he look back. Nor did this strike them as at all odd.

  As soon as they were confident he was out of earshot, Matt turned on his father.

  “What the hell did you do that for? Why’ve you invited him back?”

  Patrick gripped his son’s shoulder firmly, and leaned in to him. “He invited himself,” he reminded.

  “Yeah, he did. And I was trying to find a way of keeping him away.”

  “Well, I’ve got a way,” Patrick said with a grin. “Did you see the rucksack?”

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  “Why would he be carrying it?”

  Matt shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a rucksack. That’s what you do with them.”

  “True. But why wouldn’t he leave it in his car?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have one,” Matt pointed out.

  “Exactly. And if he doesn’t have one, he’s going to be stuck if he can’t get a bed for the night in the village.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if he has to stop in town, he’s going to find the bus service is pretty limited.” They both knew the last bus back from Westfield was at six o’clock, because that was the one Anne and Janet Gates caught back from work. The last bus into the town was at quarter past seven. One of the hazards of living in the sticks.

  “Good idea, Dad, but The Oak does B&B, and he’s bound to try there.”

  “He is. But what if we have a word with Norma first?”

  The penny dropped. Matt looked back in the direction his brother had gone before looking at his pick-up which was parked facing the other way.

  “Brilliant!” He patted his father’s back. It was both affectionate and congratulatory. “I’ll be fifteen minutes. You stay here in case he comes back. If he asks where I am, I had to nip to get some supplies.”

  Neither of them noticed the ravens return. The birds settled into the shadows, and watched the truck race off, and the older man resume his brick-laying.

  Seven

  After putting the shopping away, Tanya had toyed with the idea of having something stronger, but opted for coffee. The phone had rung as she’d settled down to drink it, and by the time she had finished arguing with her husband it had gone cold. The temptation for something stronger rose again as she emptied the mug down the kitchen sink. If she thought for a moment that it would be possible to patch things up again when Ian came home, she would have headed for the cocktail cabinet. As it was, she realised it might be better to keep a clear head. Whether that would be so she could continue the argument coherently, or drive away later without fear of failing a breath test didn’t matter. Alcohol wouldn’t be a good idea right now.

  What she could be tempted by appeared in the farm yard while she was standing at the kitchen window finishing off her second coffee.

  She assumed he hadn’t worked out yet that he could get to the village more rapidly by continuing past The Barns. He would come out at the edge of the village, but overall the walk was shorter. Not that she was complaining. A good looking bloke, who looked as if he had all the stamina she might need. All right, he came from the village, but he wasn’t like the rest of the deadbeats who frequented the local pub. He’d seen that there was life outside the village. She couldn’t imagine him wasting his time in this backwater. He’d seen the world. Well, some of the sunnier parts of it anyway.

  A fling with someone like this could just be enough to help make life bearable at the moment. It could be dangerous, but it would certainly make life interesting. And, frankly, she didn’t really feel she had a lot to lose right now.

  Martin was halfway across the yard when she came out of the house.

  “Did you find him?” She had to raise her voice. They were about thirty yards apart, and he was clearly lost in thought. So much so that he took a couple of steps more before stopping and looking up.

  The smile was slow in coming, but it seemed genuine enough. “Hi. Sorry, I was miles away.”

  She crossed the yard to join him, speaking as she went.

  “I could see that. Penny for them?”

  Once again, she was flirting. Not her words, but her tone conveyed a level of intimacy that they hadn’t achieved. Yet.

  “Wouldn’t be worth the cost,” he said, still smiling. He was deflecting her, she knew, but the challenge just added to the fun.

  “I could argue that, as the buyer, I should be the one to make that judgement.” Before he could respond, she went on: “But I wouldn’t dream of being so rude. They’re your thoughts, and you’re entitled to keep them to yourself if you want to.”

  She had reached him now and was standing only a few feet away, her head tilted back a little so she could look into his face. She was a little over five and a half feet, and in her heels was almost as tall as him. This close, though, she still needed to look up slightly.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “did you find your dad?”

  He nodded slowly, hesitantly. The smile had gone now. “Yeah.”

  “You don’t sound very sure.”

  “It was definitely him,” he said, more positively.

  “I’m guessing it didn’t go too well.” Tanya knew she was taking a risk with this comment. But then, she was taking a risk by just coming over like this and talking to him.

  The smile came back, but it was a wry one. “You could say that.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He gave her a look. “Now?”

  She spread her arms slightly, palms towards him. “No time like the present.” Catching him glancing around the yard, she gestured towards the house. “I didn’t mean out here. We can go and sit inside.”

  His look became more questioning. “Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous, Mr
s McLean?” She knew the formal address was deliberate, a reminder that she was married. And she recognised it for what it was: a request for clarification of her intentions.

  Grinning, she said: “Well, as the buyer, I should be the one to make that judgement.”

  He grinned back. “I’ll remember that next time.”

  She turned to lead him back to the house, but his next words stopped her. “It’ll have to be another time, though.”

  Puzzled, disappointed, and – if she was honest with herself – a little angry, she stared at him. She’d thought he’d understood. Was he stupid, or something? She was offering herself to him on a plate.

  He must have recognised something in her expression, because he shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Tanya. I really do have to get on. I’m supposed to be meeting up with my dad and the rest of the family this evening. And in the mean time, I’ve got to find myself somewhere to stay.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s already nearly three-thirty, and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to get a room round here. I’ve been away a long time, so I’m not even sure where to start.”

  For a moment, Tanya thought she had just made a fool of herself. But listening to him talk, she realised that the situation could yet be salvaged. It might even give her an opportunity to really get back at Ian.

  “How long are you stopping for?”

  Martin shrugged. “In all honesty, I don’t know. Depending on how things go tonight, I could be gone tomorrow morning.” He paused, allowing his gaze to wander. It was as if he was taking in his surroundings, and possibly something more. “I doubt it, though,” he said at last. “I suspect I’ll be around for a few days at least.”

  A few days, eh? That prospect had plenty of appeal.

  “Where were you planning to try?”

  “The obvious place is the pub, but I don’t know if they even have any rooms.”

  “They do,” Tanya said, “but they’ll probably need to know exactly how long you’ll be stopping for.” She hesitated, pretending to think things over. “You know, Ian and I have been making plans to offer B&B here.” Which wasn’t entirely true. They’d included it among their lists of options when looking at how to improve their financial situation. But they hadn’t taken the discussion any further than that. “We’ve got an annexe at the side of the house that has a bedroom and its own bathroom.” Which was true. David Sullivan had used it as guest accommodation when his children came to stay with their families. “We haven’t started to offer it, so we don’t have any bookings at the moment. If you wanted to, you could use that, and we could treat it as a trial run.”

  “Well, it would solve a problem for me,” Martin said thoughtfully. “But how will your husband feel about it?”

  “Frankly, he’ll probably just be glad of the money.” And he’d be suspicious as hell, but that was his hard luck. “So what do you think?” She was resting a hand on her hip provocatively as she asked the question.

  “It’s a very attractive proposition,” he replied, and she was well aware of his eyes on her as he said it.

  “I’m glad you think so.” She was surprising herself at her own brazenness. But as she watched his reaction, she knew it was being well received.

  They discussed cost as they walked over to the house, and by the time he had sat down at the kitchen table, everything was agreed. The terms she was offering would have been difficult to refuse.

  Although she was eager to move things along, she also realised there were some practical issues she had to deal with first.

  “Obviously the room isn’t ready yet,” she explained, “so I’ll have to sort it out for you before you settle in.” She was quite happy to give Ian cause for concern, but she wasn’t going to be too bloody obvious. If he came home to find a stranger in the house, the guest room not made up, but his own bed looking recently used, she might as well suggest he sit and watch her being unfaithful.

  “Would you like a drink while I get things ready?” She was already reaching for the kettle as she asked.

  “Do you make a decent cup of tea?” he asked. “It’s one of the few things I’ve missed.”

  Fortunately she did, and a few minutes later he had a mug filled with a strong, sweet brew. Satisfied that he was settled, she hurried from the kitchen and into the annexe.

  Four doors led out of the kitchen. The first was into the yard. Almost directly opposite that was the doorway into the dining room. If you made a left turn as you faced the dining room, you found the door that led into the hallway – a huge open space that led to the sitting room, living room and the way out to the garden. It also contained the staircase to the upper floor. Since they’d moved in, at Tanya’s insistence, a lot of work had been done to the house in order to “make it more bearable”. The hallway, a dark space made all the darker by the oak beams and the wide oak staircase – had been the final area she planned to change. Unfortunately, the money had run out before they got to that part.

  The fourth door was in the same wall as the entrance to the dining room. This one was to the far right of that wall. It led into a corridor that housed three rooms. The first of these, on the right hand side of the corridor, was a utility room, though it was rarely used for anything other than housing the many and varied pairs of boots Ian used for tramping around the woods and building sites. Next to that was a sitting room which served no purpose to the rest of the house, but was useful if you were a guest – or if you wanted your guests out of the way. It was furnished with an armchair, two-seater sofa, coffee table, television and a small writing desk. Opposite the door to the sitting room was another door that led out into the garden, so anyone stopping in the annexe didn’t need to disturb the rest of the house to come in or go out. Between the entrance and sitting room doors was the final door, which led to the bedroom.

  Furnishings in the bedroom weren’t lavish but they were comfortable. While work on the master bedroom had taken place, Tanya had demanded that they sleep in the annexe because it would keep them away from the dust and debris. It also meant she still had access to an en-suite shower room and could maintain a suitable distance between herself and the workmen. She might be happy to stray, and even to simply tease other men, but she felt no inclination to put herself in any compromising positions with relatively local tradesmen. Especially if there was a chance her husband would employ them to work on The Barns.

  So she had spent a few weeks using the guest room in the past and knew it would be comfortable. In spite of the double bed, the large wardrobe with matching dressing table and chest of drawers, the room didn’t feel cramped. And the shower room also had plenty of space in it. At a push, they could have installed a bath, though that would have left anyone using it having to practically sidle around the room.

  Tanya expected to be less than five minutes getting the rooms ready. She wasn’t the most enthusiastic at housework, and tended to do the bare minimum. When they had employed a cleaner, it hadn’t been an issue anyway. She, unfortunately, had been one of the first casualties of the McLean cash-flow problems. To be fair to him, Ian did help out. He’d lived on his own for a while before she met him, and had proven to be fairly well house-trained. He could change a bed, wash and iron, point a hoover in the right direction, and even put together a more than palatable meal. Even so, Tanya did miss having someone else to come in and do the more menial work.

  And she was disappointed to realise that the guest bedroom and shower room hadn’t seen any attention for some time. Keen to make the right impression, she overcame her natural disdain for cleaning, and set about putting things right. By the time she was satisfied that the rooms would pass muster, the planned five minutes had become almost half an hour.

  A glance in the mirror told her that her efforts had not only transformed the appearance of the guest rooms, but also her own. In her case, not for the better. Her hair seemed to have lost its bounce, loose tendrils hanging scrappily across her face. She was also aware that her exertions had le
d to an unwelcome dampness under her arms and elsewhere. Reluctantly, she acknowledged to herself that she was going to need a little more time yet before completing her seduction. And with Ian due back at any time from five thirty, that was going to cut things fine.

  Quickly tying her hair back in an attempt to disguise its current shortcomings, she returned to the kitchen. Martin was still sitting at the table. He had found a copy of the local paper and was flicking through it, looking up as she came in the room.

  “It’s all ready for you,” she said hurriedly, and gestured back through the doorway.

  “Just the room?” he asked, an eyebrow raised quizzically. A good sign, she thought. He hadn’t lost interest during her absence.

  “For the moment,” she said carefully. “I just need to...” She hesitated. She barely knew his name. It didn’t seem quite the done thing to tell him she needed a wash. Fortunately he misinterpreted the reason for her pause.

  “...Slip into something more comfortable?” he suggested. He was on his feet now, walking towards her, bag in his hand.

  “Close enough,” she agreed.

  He stopped in front of her. “Is that close enough?” he asked.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” He glanced at his watch. She noticed it was a heavy one, with three buttons on the side instead of a single winder. The strap was metal – stainless steel, she assumed – and there was a bezel around the watch face. She had seen similar watches before when she’d been on holiday. Divers, she seemed to recall. He, of course, was oblivious to all of this going through her head. He nodded down the corridor. “Which room?”

  She pointed straight ahead. “That’s the bedroom.” Something flickered in his eyes as she said that, and something stirred inside her in response. “The door to the side is a sitting room, and you can use that if you want it too.”

  “That’s very good of you.”

  “Will you need long to settle in?”