Ravens Gathering

by Graeme Cumming

But now she was curious. So she did as he asked, and as she let her gaze drift around her, she saw that there were more birds. Perhaps a dozen or so, perched among the trees that stood on the edge of the clearing. And yet more were arriving, swooping down through the gap overhead and landing on branches that overlooked them.

  The birds weren’t threatening, yet the sight of them all coming together in this dark and isolated spot was unnerving. Tanya reached a hand out towards Martin, and was relieved to feel him take it. She felt him move in behind her. After the uncertainty she’d experienced with him in a similar position only a few moments ago, she recognised the irony of her reaction. His closeness offered security.

  “You know what they are, don’t you?”

  Eleven

  During thirty years or so of working long, hard hours, there had been many days when Ian had come home feeling completely drained. He knew it wasn’t just the hours he put in. Because he took his work seriously, wanting to make sure he did the very best he could for clients, very often he felt a lot of tension building up. The tax office, for example, had cut-off dates for certain things. Naturally, the fifth of April was always a stressful time, but there were other times too. He always managed to meet the deadlines, but he generated a lot of sweat, and gave his blood pressure a hard time in the process.

  When he came home, though, he was able to switch off. There were certain things that worked, little routines that he used to get himself into the right frame of mind. To start, he had to have a shower. When he felt the water flowing over his body, it was as if it was washing all his troubles away. Very often he didn’t feel physically dirty, but he certainly felt as if he’d been cleansed when he stepped out of the shower. After towelling himself dry, he padded out of the en-suite bathroom.

  Some comfortable clothes would be next. Light and loose, giving him a sense of freedom. When he opened the wardrobe, he reached in for a favourite pair of cotton trousers. He didn’t need to look for them because he knew exactly where they’d be. Except they weren’t. The hanger was empty.

  He was side-on to the wardrobe. A chest of drawers was facing him, and he’d been about to pull one of the drawers open so he could get some fresh socks out. Confounding the critics, he was an accomplished multi-tasker. With his clothes kept in the same places at all times, it had been easy to develop a habit of producing his clothes in very short order. Surprised at finding the empty clothes hanger, he hesitated for a moment. The interruption to his habitual routine was confusing him.

  Very slowly, he turned to face the open wardrobe and studied its contents very carefully, occasionally shifting a jacket or shirt to one side to get a clearer view of the adjacent clothing. But the trousers were gone. For most people, it probably wouldn’t have been much of an issue. He recognised that himself. It was just so unusual for the trousers to not be there. They’d only come back from the dry cleaners a week ago, and he hadn’t worn them since.

  What was more puzzling, though, was that he realised one of his jackets was missing as well. It was thick tweed, ideal for wearing in the autumn when he went for walks. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have noticed it wasn’t there. Not at this time of year. If he hadn’t been searching for the trousers, its absence would have passed him by completely.

  A more thorough check told him there was a possibility that a couple of shirts were missing, but they could very easily have been put in the laundry basket, and be anywhere between that receptacle and the utility room waiting for him to iron them. Out of curiosity, he wandered back into the bathroom and checked the basket. Nothing resembling the missing clothes was in there.

  Shrugging to himself, he returned to the bedroom, found another pair of trousers and started to dress. It was strange, but not alarming.

  The next stage of winding down was a glass of whisky. It was especially effective if he could find something to watch on the television while he sipped it. Nothing too challenging – and certainly nothing serious. Comedy, action or adventure were ideal. It didn’t matter whether it was a film or TV programme. They helped him escape to a different world. If there was nothing suitable on the box, he had a collection of videos he could pick from. Some comedy in recent years didn’t seem all that funny. He didn’t get the so-called ‘alternative’ comedy. To his way of thinking, the alternative to comedy was...well, not comedy. But there was still plenty of material out there that appealed. When it came to the action and adventure, the video options were quite limited. Not many of the TV series he liked were available on video yet, which was a shame when he wanted to watch some in the late afternoon and early evening. Films were more plentiful, but not so practical. At that time of day, he’d probably have to break off at some point to have dinner or help in its preparation.

  Drinks were kept in a cocktail cabinet in the dining room, so headed there first. He had to pass through the kitchen to get to it. As he did, he was vaguely aware that the door leading to the annexe was ajar. While he poured himself a Scotch, his mind drifted between considering what to put on the TV and wondering where his jacket and trousers had got to. In a sense, this lack of focus was part of the process of relaxing.

  Returning to the kitchen, he glanced again at the partially open door. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but he was aware enough to realise afterwards that his subconscious might have already started to connect some dots. The words ‘utility room’ floated briefly across his mind, shadowy echoes from his earlier thoughts. He had been about to turn right towards the hallway and, beyond that, the living room. Instead he stopped. It would only take a moment to check the utility room. That might just solve the mystery of the missing clothes, then he could settle down and enjoy an episode of Cheers.

  One of the shirts he was looking for was on a hanger, suspended from a hook screwed into an oak beam in the ceiling. There were several hooks scattered across the four beams that supported the ceiling. He had never been sure what the Sullivans had used them for, but Tanya found them useful for the laundry. Apparently it cut down on the amount of time she spent ironing.

  There was no sign of the other missing items of clothing, so he came out of the utility room and into the corridor. As he turned to close the door, he noticed the door to the guest bedroom was half open. On another occasion, he probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But with the other strange things happening – Tanya’s unexplained absence, the missing clothes – this additional inconsistency grabbed his attention.

  They did generally keep this part of the house closed up, especially when the heating was on. Tanya begrudged all of the little economies he was asking for, but he knew that the collective effect could mean a big saving overall. And he knew that deep down she realised it too. Which was why she generally went along with his requests.

  A part of him considered going back to his bedroom first. During the course of his negotiations with the Sullivans, they had discussed a range of different aspects of farm life. Although Ian and Tanya wouldn’t be farming, living in a farm house about half a mile from the village, there were certain experiences they could have which were significantly different to the lifestyle they had been used to. Foxes, for example, weren’t rife in Oxford. And you needed to learn how to deal with them. Like a lot of people who enjoy watching action and adventure films, Ian had never contemplated actually using a firearm himself. Buying the shotgun had been a real wake-up call. His life was changing dramatically.

  The gun was kept in a locked cabinet in the bedroom. Tanya wasn’t happy about it being there, but the alternatives were even less appealing. She didn’t want it in the kitchen or other living areas, and the hallway wasn’t secure enough. She also accepted that, if they were going to be so remote from the rest of the village, there was an increased risk of them being broke into at night. If that was the case, it was pointless having their primary means of defence on a different floor, or even a different bedroom.

  Ian’s thoughts of retrieving the shotgun were fleeting, though. This was the real world, not some suspense thriller.
Whatever the explanation for the guest room door being open, it was hardly likely to involve a psychopath waiting for him with a long knife. It was more likely that Tanya would be down there. He couldn’t guess what she’d be doing, but the last thing he’d want to do is confront her with a gun barrel. Things were strained enough.

  Still, he was cautious. He didn’t march straight in. Instead, he paused at the doorway and gently pushed the door open. As his view into the room widened, he saw a rucksack on the bed. It was leaning at an angle, like it had been dumped there by someone in a rush. He knew it didn’t belong either to him or to Tanya. For a start, they didn’t have need of one, so they’d never bought one. And there was no possibility in his mind that Tanya might have suddenly acquired an appetite for outdoor living.

  There was no other obvious sign of occupation. Not from the doorway in any event. He stepped inside, still cautious, and carefully looked around the bedroom and en-suite. A damp sheen in the sink and a crumpled hand towel were the only other indications that anyone had been there recently. But who was it? And why were they here?

  As he returned to the kitchen, he mulled over those questions. But no answers were forthcoming. Suspicions perhaps. About Tanya. He had no evidence that she had been unfaithful to him over the years, but that didn’t stop him having his concerns. She was nearly twenty years younger than him. She was beautiful, and sexy, and very physical. He had no doubt that other men would find her attractive – and probably pursue her. The doubts were as to whether she would respond to them.

  Surely she wouldn’t bring a lover into the house, though? The thought horrified him. He had his suspicions about her, and they came with a familiar gnawing in his stomach at the thought of her being unfaithful.

  A year after they’d moved here, she had decided to return to work, and had got a job as Marketing Director for a small firm in Westfield. Soon after starting there, she’d begun to spend a lot of time working late and attending meetings that needed her to have overnight stays. It had been agony for him. His jealousy had known no bounds. Wondering what she was up to – and with whom.

  Many times he’d wanted to confront her, to find out whether his suspicions were true. He was afraid of the answer, though. And he was afraid of losing her.

  Then she’d left the firm. He’d sold the first few houses, and they seemed to be making some money at last. She’d told him she could be of more help with the development. Her reasoning didn’t really make sense, but he wasn’t prepared to question her. In part, he didn’t want to show her how vulnerable he felt. He also didn’t want to hear the truth about the reasons for leaving the company.

  The familiar insecurities crept over him, as he wandered through the kitchen. He was going to get that Scotch, see if that helped. As he passed the window, movement in the yard caught his eye, and he looked out. Tanya was coming towards the house. Beside her was a tall blond man. Ian felt his guts twist as he realised they were holding hands.

  Twelve

  The walk back from the clearing was uneventful. That didn’t mean Tanya felt any more comfortable.

  “What happened back there?” she’d asked when they had been walking for a while. A look back had told her that the clearing was hidden from view, and there was no sign of any birds following them.

  “I don’t know.” Martin shook his head thoughtfully.

  “But you were expecting it.”

  “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

  “But something?”

  He stopped walking and looked warily around them. She wasn’t sure if he was genuinely worried, or just trying to keep her scared. In fairness, it didn’t really matter. She had been unnerved by the appearance of the birds. And now she had something else to consider.

  “Yes. I was expecting something.”

  “Crows?”

  “I doubt it. They were too big.”

  “Ravens then?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t.” He sounded as if he was almost as bewildered by the incident as she was.

  “I’ve never seen birds like that. Not gathering together like that, anyway. It was like something out of a Hitchcock film.”

  Martin shook his head, clearly unable to verbalise any coherent response to that. “I don’t think you need to worry about being attacked by them...”

  “Probably not, but you scared me bloody shitless!”

  “Seriously, Tanya, I don’t know...”

  “Anything? Do you know anything at all?”

  She was looking up at him, trying to see what was going on behind his eyes, but was thwarted by a combination of the fading light and his apparent unwillingness to return her gaze.

  “Probably not enough,” he said eventually.

  “But you know something. What is it?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I’m guessing from the way you said that, you’re not planning to give me a chance to, either. Are you?”

  He glanced around them, searching for something. She was frustrated with him, and that made her annoyed. But she was also still frightened. The birds had continued to gather, landing in the branches of the trees like an audience arriving. To watch a performance of some kind – a play or a sporting contest? At first she had tried to keep a count of them, assess how many there were. Within minutes, she’d realised it was an impossible task. There were too many of them. Easily dozens, possibly over a hundred. And they had continued to take their places as Martin had guided her out of the clearing. For all she knew, there could be hundreds of them by now.

  Martin had been expecting something. His behaviour had told her that, and now he’d admitted it too. She wouldn’t have said he was frightened, but he was certainly on edge. The light shining down through the trees had been all but blotted out by the ravens descending through the opening. Things always seemed worse in the dark. She knew that from her childhood, going to bed after listening to her parents arguing. Afraid it would mean they would split up. Lying in the dark and imagining the consequences, all too terrible for her to bear. And when they had eventually gone on to separate and divorce, it had been terrible – but not as bad as it had seemed in the darkness.

  In the clearing, with the ravens perched all around them and the light virtually gone, fear had become an intrinsic part of her being. She had felt it building up inside her. Until Martin took her hand, and led her away.

  Now the fear had abated, but she was aware of the darkness creeping into the woods. She checked her watch. It took a moment or two in the half-light, and she was surprised to see it was nearly ten past six. How had all that time passed? She didn’t want to be here at night, and the sun would set in little more than half an hour.

  “I’m obviously not going to get much more out of you right now,” she complained. She tried to sound annoyed, but wasn’t able to mask her apprehension. “We might as well go.”

  Without thinking, she reached for his hand, and was comforted to feel it grasp hers. For the first time since she’d met him, she stopped thinking of him as a potential lover. As they walked back to the farm, it was like being held by her father.

  Thirteen

  “Take a deep breath,” Ian murmured to himself. He had stood well back from the window, but was watching Tanya and the stranger covering the last few yards to the kitchen door, safe in the knowledge that they couldn’t see him. The last thing he wanted was to expose himself for the coward he felt he was. Tanya had little enough respect for him these days. Seeing him virtually hyperventilating wasn’t going to help matters.

  He did as he’d instructed himself to do. Inhaled deeply through his nose, filling his lungs with air, before letting it all out slowly. He only managed it twice before the door opened. It wasn’t enough to mask his nerves, he knew. But he hoped it would cover some of them.

  “Oh, Ian!” Tanya said as she stepped into the room and saw him standing by the table. “You made me jump!” And she did look startled. Or was he being generous? Was it guilt?


  Swallowing, he opened his mouth to speak, but then the blond man appeared behind her. He smiled at Ian, but there was an underlying shiftiness about him. Again, it could be guilt. Or was he trying to hide something? Maybe both.

  Stepping past Tanya, the stranger came towards him, hand outstretched, and nowhere near Tanya’s. “Pleased to meet you, Ian.”

  Without thinking, Ian raised his own hand in response. As he did, he realised what a fool he was about to make of himself. But he also realised that if he suddenly withdrew the hand, it would seem even more foolish. So they shook, the husband and the lover. It made his insides curl.

  Having closed the door, Tanya was making her way to the dining room. “I need a drink,” she said sharply.

  Ian glanced at the tumbler he’d put down on the table. She wasn’t the only one. He felt an urge to snatch it up and drink it in one swig.

  “Where’ve you been?” he called after her as she disappeared. The other man had stepped back, but was still standing in front of him. Their eyes had locked briefly, but Ian didn’t feel he had the strength to stare him down.

  “Up in the woods.” The reply was distracted. Much as Ian was. Which was why it took him a second or two to register what she’d just said.

  “Where?” he said incredulously. For a moment, his fears about her infidelity were lost behind the near impossibility of what he had just heard.

  Footsteps could be heard coming from the wooden dining room floor. “The woods,” she said again before appearing in the doorway. The expression on her face was challenging, as if she wanted him to ask her why she had gone to the woods, when she had refused to go with him at any time in the last three years. The very fact of that challenge was enough to convince Ian he needed to avoid it for the time being.

  She looked over at the stranger, and raised the tumbler she held in her right hand. It was filled with a clear liquid that he took to be gin. She hadn’t had time to add any tonic. “Do you want a drink, Martin?”