That Still andWhispering Place

by Kathy Shuker

  ‘You see?’ said Claire. ‘There’s nowhere to go with this.’

  ‘Laura was at school?’

  ‘In Fowey. She came back on the school bus. It dropped her here, just this side of the bridge. You must have seen it – it’s the only place it stops in Bohenna. She didn’t see anything though. She asked where Gilly was when she got home.’

  ‘Someone suggested Neil used to get cross with Gilly. Is that true?’

  ‘Nothing out of the way,’ she said guardedly. ‘Who said that?’

  He hesitated. ‘Phil.’

  ‘Why would he say that? Neil was just a typical dad. I mean…’ She sighed. ‘…Gilly did annoy him sometimes. She didn’t always do what he asked her as quickly as he’d have liked. He can be impatient. He wouldn’t have hurt her though, Adam. He loved her.’

  He grunted ambiguously. ‘The problem is: no-one seems to have a motive.’

  ‘They haven’t. Gilly was a livewire but everyone liked her. Julia used to take her round the winery, showing her how things worked. Tim used to play with her up at the nursery in the afternoon. Even Eve spoilt her.’

  ‘And Phil?’

  ‘He never bothered much with either of the girls. Ploughs his own furrow does Phil.’

  Adam finished his beer, staring at the map. ‘So Danny left Gilly at the playground. She could have gone along the footpath to the bridge. Then where? Up the river to the next bridge or even the waterfall?’

  ‘Or she could have crossed the bridge and headed west.’ Claire pointed in among the woods on the northern bank. ‘Libby’s Wood. There’s a pond there that gets damselflies and dragonflies in the summer.’ She looked back up at him. ‘But there’s nothing else there. The truth is, she could have gone anywhere.’

  Kneeling, Adam bent over, letting his gaze wander over the map, at the clusters of buildings each side of the river, at the woods which book-ended them and the countless footpaths weaving in and out of it all. ‘I don’t know. There must be something we’re missing.’ He sighed, feeling dispirited and tired, and sat back on his heels. ‘You don’t think Laura knows something she’s not telling?’

  ‘No,’ she replied hotly. ‘If Laura knew where Gilly was, she’d have said. They were really close.’ She shook her head with frustration. ‘We’re just talking ourselves round in circles. It’s pointless.’

  He felt her eyes on him, waiting for him to contradict her but he couldn’t. He had raised her hopes with his self-important sleuthing and it was she who was going to suffer the most now his little game had come to nothing. He should have known better. He felt bad.

  ‘I’ll put some music on,’ he said, getting up.

  He put on - Prélude à l’après-midi d’ un faune by Débussy - music which he always found soothing - and they dropped the subject and talked desultorily of nothing in particular. Then Claire mentioned, casually, that Neil had turned up at her door with a take-away though what she thought about it wasn’t clear.

  ‘I thought there was something on your mind,’ he said.

  ‘Neil isn’t on my mind,’ she insisted, a little too vehemently. She hesitated. ‘I had a silent phone call before I came out. Not the first either. Someone’s trying to spook me.’

  He leaned forward. ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s the point. They don't speak. There’s just heavy breathing.’

  ‘You should tell the police.’

  ‘Maybe. But it’s probably just some moron who thinks it’s funny. I’m not going to be intimidated. The police won’t believe me anyway.’

  She finished her wine and stood up.

  ‘I’d better go. Thanks for the drink.’

  ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

  ‘I’d rather walk, thanks. The air’ll do me good.’

  He walked with her to the door, lifted a hand to open it but waited, fingering the door catch.

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘if I’m really upset about something, I get a sheet of paper and paint it out of my system. There’s no plan, I just daub paint on and let the emotion drive it. Colours, shapes…’ He shrugged. ‘…whatever comes out. It can help. Maybe you should try it. Put it on the paper so it doesn’t mess with your head.’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t think that would work for me. In any case, I don’t have any paints any more.’

  ‘I’ll drop some off at V and C then, just in case. Don’t be disheartened, Claire. I know we’ve hit a bit of a wall but we’ll think of something.’

  ‘Of course we will.’

  She smiled and leaned across to give him a brief kiss on the cheek. He wanted to hug her, tell her it would all be all right, but didn’t. He didn’t think it was true.

  He stood on the doorstep and watched her walk down the road. The clouds had cleared and half a waxing moon shed a bleak, white light. He thought about the silent calls and, on an impulse, grabbed his jacket and torch and followed her, being careful to keep well back. He wanted to be sure she got home safely.

  Reaching Long Lane, she turned right and he held back. She was walking more slowly than usual. The energy she had radiated over these last weeks seemed to have evaporated and she had an idle, empty air. There was no sign of anyone around though, just the usual night-time sounds: a scuffle under a hedge; the creak of a tree branch shifting; the plaintive hoot of an owl. Nothing sinister. Adam began to think he was fussing but he’d follow her to her house anyway.

  He watched her walk up the path to her front door, put her key in the lock and go inside. A light came on.

  He was about to turn away when a noise attracted his attention and he looked round sharply. It had come from the trees and sounded like wood cracking underfoot. As he stared, just for a moment, picked out in the dim moonlight, he saw a dark figure standing in the fringe of the woods, facing towards the house.

  Then a cloud drifted over the moon and he could see nothing. He swore under his breath and directed his torch that way but the beam was too weak. He moved closer, flicking the light side to side, picking out his path, trying to keep a fix on where the figure had been standing.

  ‘Hey,’ he called out.

  All he could hear was the distant call of a tawny owl. He edged further into the wood, shining the torch beam around wildly but he saw nothing. A patch of ground that looked a little flattened maybe. Or had the whole thing been a trick of the moonlight? There were some old tree stumps here. Perhaps his imagination had given one of them form.

  He abandoned the woods and went home. He thought he’d been brave enough for one night. But maybe it would be wiser if Claire stopped her searching after all.

  Chapter 16

  Up at the vineyard, the Pennymans had spent much of April bottling, corking and labelling, first the white wines, then the red. Then the bottles had to be boxed and labelled, stacked and stored or sent out to retailers. Even with the new bottling machine, it needed as many of them as possible, working as a unit, to keep the process as smooth and efficient as possible. Julia both loved it and hated it. It was the culmination of everything they had worked for all year but it was a nerve-wracking time too. She worried that the wines wouldn’t be as well received as the previous year’s, that perhaps she hadn’t got the blend of varieties quite right. She would only relax when the first reviews came in. At least, she hoped she would.

  Neil had been surprisingly supportive and she was grateful. She had almost forgotten what a hard-worker he could be, and efficient too, and his extra help these last days had been invaluable, especially since Phil had not been on his best form. Maybe her brother’s return was going to work out after all.

  On the last day of the month, with the bottling finally done, Eve called one of her regular meetings. She held them at the end of an afternoon in the dining room of the White House, sitting round the big oak table. It sometimes amused and sometimes irritated Julia that her mother behaved as if they were all executives of a huge multinational company rather than a small, family-run vineyard.

  As usual, Julia was the last
to arrive and she slid into the vacant seat next to Tim who offered her a brief, welcoming smile. Eve sat at the head of the table as she always did and Neil now sat to her right. His positioning wasn’t lost on Julia: Eve’s ‘right hand man.’

  ‘Thank you Julia,’ Eve said drily. ‘Now we can get down to business.’ She worked slowly through a list of items she had prepared on a sheet of paper, asking for occasional comment, passing on feedback. Julia let it wash over her, answering questions when necessary, her mind too full now of the sparkling wine she wanted to start fermenting.

  ‘And lastly,’ Eve was saying, ‘we have the possibility of buying more land for the business. There are two separate lots, I believe, which Neil has brought to my attention. Neil, you said you had a map of where the land is?’

  Julia sat up straighter.

  Neil bent down, pulled several sheets of paper out of a document wallet by the side of his chair and passed one to each person at the table.

  ‘We’d have to do some tests on the soil et cetera before committing to buy,’ said Eve, ‘but first perhaps we should discuss the issues.’ She looked to her right. ‘Neil, would you like to start the ball rolling?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ He stood up. ‘Well, of course the vineyard is doing well; no-one could deny that. And I know I haven’t been here these last years so I’m sure it feels like I have a cheek to come in suggesting change. It’s not criticism in any way.’ He glanced towards Julia. ‘The whole vineyard: the wine, the tours, the restaurant and now the Craft Yard - it’s all going well, isn’t it? But having been away I’ve had the opportunity to see how other people work and some of the latest developments and it seems to me that we’re going to have to change to keep up. We can’t afford to keep doing so much manually. We’ll have to mechanise or we won’t cope. It’s a basic tenet of business that you have to grow or you fail.’

  ‘Do you know, I’ve never understood that,’ remarked Tim lightly, and received a glare from his mother for interrupting.

  ‘Buying more land and growing more grapes is the obvious next step,’ Neil continued, ‘and will make mechanisation more cost-effective. I believe we should buy these lots and keep an eye out for more when they come along, even if they’re at a distance. We’ll be able to experiment with new varieties and a bigger vineyard will be more competitive in every way.’

  ‘Thank you, Neil. Julia?’

  Julia hesitated and saw everyone turn her way. She stood up as Neil sat down.

  ‘It won’t surprise any of you to know that I disagree. You know my approach to the business. There’s no way we can ever compete in quantity with the huge vineyards, however many little parcels of land we manage to grub up. The terrain around here just isn’t suitable for large-scale production. In any case, our strength is the quality of our wine and that comes from attention to detail and a hands on approach, both of which will rapidly go by the board if we try to extend ourselves too far.’ She could feel herself getting hotter as anger and passion took hold. ‘Our constantly increasing sales and the awards we’ve won prove the point. I see no need to suddenly abandon a winning formula. We’ve developed a niche in the market. If we extend and throw out our current practices, there’s a huge risk we’ll produce inferior wine and our reputation’ll suffer. It would amount to business suicide. In any case, don’t we make wine because we love it? Do we really want to go for big at the expense of the very thing we’ve striven so hard to develop: a really top quality set of wines? I don’t.’

  Phil nodded; Tim was frowning. She sat down.

  ‘That’s absurd, Julia,’ said Neil. ‘You can’t seriously be suggesting that all the big vineyards produce inferior wine? You just have to change your approach, develop different skills and practices.’

  They continued to argue about it for another half hour, repeating well-worn arguments, going round in circles. Tim took Neil’s side; Phil backed up Julia.

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything left to say,’ Eve said, to wrap it up. ‘Personally, I’m still undecided but the land isn’t being auctioned for another three weeks so we’ve got time to think about it and discuss it again.’

  Eve gathered her papers together and fixed Julia with a strained smile.

  ‘Julia, if I could just have a word?’

  Neil, Timothy and Phil glanced at them curiously but left without a word. Eve watched them go.

  ‘It occurred to me while we were discussing the land issue that we should invite Daniel to join us for these meetings sometimes, get him involved and understanding all the issues. After all it’s his future at the vineyard we’re discussing here.’

  Julia frowned. ‘He doesn’t know enough about the business yet to understand what we’re talking about.’

  ‘Well, it’s about time he did. I notice I still never see him in the winery. Times moving on. He’s got a lot to learn and you’re not making it easy for him.’

  ‘Well, I don’t…’

  ‘Speak to him Julia - or get Phil to. They’re close, aren’t they? Now that Neil’s back, I’m going to suggest he involve Laura too. It’s too much for one person to take on. Your father and I struggled and the place was a much smaller operation then. Of course, Neil will likely meet someone and might still have another family - he’s young enough - but that would be for the future.’

  ‘Neil is seeing Claire again,’ Julia blurted out. She stared at her mother defiantly. ‘I don’t think we can assume he’ll have more children, or, at least, not by someone else.’

  ‘Claire? No. Are you sure? He hasn’t told me.’

  ‘Do you think he tells you everything?’

  Eve frowned at her daughter.

  ‘Stop this Julia. I know you think you’re in some sort of competition with Neil but you’re wrong. You’re a good winemaker. But Neil has gifts too and my concern is this vineyard. I’ve got no time for petty rivalries. Neil told me he’d tried talking to you about the land for sale.’ Eve’s gimlet eyes bored into her.

  ‘He did say something about it yesterday while we were bottling. I was busy.’

  ‘Don’t brush him off, Julia. He knows what he’s talking about.’

  Julia opened her mouth to speak but Eve kept talking.

  ‘We need to make use of all the talent we’ve got and we need to be adaptable - and that includes you. Suppose you’re not well for some reason? I want us to have back-up. I want this family to work as a unit. And, whether we extend our acreage or not, we need Daniel to show some interest and step up to the plate. Stop being so woolly with him. You’re not giving him the opportunities he deserves unless he at least learns what’s involved here. You and Phil are just letting him sleepwalk into…what?’ She shook her head impatiently. ‘At Christmas I heard him tell Claire he wanted to be a bass guitarist. Really? A few months ago, he wanted to be a rugby player. He’s aimless. Give him something to focus on for goodness sake. Give him a chance and make him feel wanted here.’

  Eve took her papers and stumped out. Julia ran a hand through her wiry hair so it stuck up, then swore loudly, something she rarely did. She hoped Eve had heard her - swearing wasn’t allowed in the house - though it was a pathetic act of defiance. She went back to the yard and found Phil leaning against the winery wall, smoking. He turned as she joined him.

  ‘What did she want?’

  Julia gave him a brief summary of Eve’s demands, then leant her head on Phil’s shoulder.

  ‘God, I’m weary,’ she said.

  ‘If we’ve got the money, maybe we should consider growing and mechanising,’ said Phil. ‘You do too much.’

  She straightened up and shook her head. ‘No. I’m fine. It’s these battles I could do without.’

  She glanced into the winery; it was empty but still she dropped her voice.

  ‘Have you heard any more about Claire?’

  ‘In what way?’

  He had that faraway look in his eyes again. She wished he’d stop smoking whatever rubbish it was he rolled up in those cigarettes because it w
as frying his brain. But she saw his gaze start to focus. Claire’s name had done it.

  ‘I wondered if she’d been asking any more questions?’

  Phil took another drag on his cigarette, brows furrowed.

  ‘Not that I've heard.’ He looked at her accusingly. ‘I thought you said Neil was seeing Claire again?’

  ‘He is. I overheard him telling Tim. I told you they’d get back together.’

  ‘But I was talking to that painter bloke a few days ago and he gave the impression he was still seeing Claire. And he said she doesn’t talk about Gilly much. But he did. He was asking all about what happened to her.’

  ‘Was he?’ Their eyes met. ‘What did you tell him?’ said Julia.

  ‘Nothin’. Just what everyone knows…about how she went out to play and didn’t come back.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Julia, what did you think I’d say?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just…’ She hesitated. ‘Anyway it doesn’t matter what either of them asks, does it, as long as they don’t bother Danny…and we stick to our story.’

  ‘No,’ he said slowly, his dark eyes on her face. ‘Exactly. So let it go, will you?’

  He dropped the stub of his cigarette to the floor, ground it down and wandered off moodily. He had been cutting the grass between the rows of vines and Julia watched him climb back up in the tractor, start the engine and set off down the hill again.

  She had often wondered why he hadn’t made it up to the house that day for tea but she had never had the courage to ask. And that was assuming he could remember…

  *

  The village Duck Race was an annual event which took place, come rain or shine, on May Bank Holiday Monday. It was organised, and raised funds for, Bohenna Primary School and Adam found the idea intriguing; he had never been to a duck race before. According to Jane Sawdy – his principal informant – yellow plastic ducks were put in the river just upstream of the road bridge and ‘raced’ downriver to the finishing line by the end of the village green, as demarcated by bunting stretched across the river. Rather than a number, the children had given each of the ducks a name which was written on the side in indelible ink, and punters paid money to sponsor as many ducks as they could afford. Each race was allowed a limited number of ducks and several heats were run during the afternoon with the ducks collected in a net beyond the finishing line each time and taken back up to the bridge.