by Rennie Airth
Helen smiled. ‘He turned up out of the blue just after Christmas. John set him up in one of the stalls at the farm with plenty of bedding and a stove. Luckily Tom Cooper went down with rheumatism just then. I say luckily, because Topper doesn’t like accepting charity beyond the odd meal. So we’ve turned him into a sort of substitute gardener, and he seems happy doing it.’
She paused. The figure had come to a halt just below the terrace and Sinclair took in the spectacle of the hat with its jaunty pheasant plume.
He watched as Topper removed it and bowed. Helen smiled to him in response.
‘Goodnight, Topper. And thank you the lovely flowers.’
Replacing his hat, he continued on his way without a word, disappearing around the side of the house.
‘John says he’ll pack up his bundle one of these days and move on, but I hope not. I don’t like to think of him wandering around. He’s too old. He needs a home.’ She was looking at the daffodils in her hand and he saw her brush something from her cheek. ‘My hope is he’ll find it hard to leave now. He so loves the children.’
‘The children?’ Sinclair glanced at the flowers she was holding, then at her face, which was turned away. ‘Aye… the children.’
‘Oh, dear…’ She made no pretence now about wiping away the tears which had started from her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Angus. I still haven’t got over that awful business. I lost my nerve for a while, and I’m not sure I’ve got it back. I’m afraid of the future. I see dreadful things ahead. Look what’s happened to poor Franz and his family. How many others will suffer in the same way? Who will help them? It’s as though some terrible dark night is about to descend on us all and I want to protect the people I love and care for, but I don’t know how, or even if I can…’
‘My dear…’ Seeing her distress, the chief inspector put his arm around her and tried to comfort her. ‘It’s because you’re still upset. These wounds take a long time to heal.’
‘Yes, of course…’ She touched his cheek. ‘Dear Angus…’
She collected herself.
‘I must put these in water. Come inside, if you like, or stay and watch the sun go down. I love the way the colours of the trees change as the light dies. John will be here in a moment, but I warn you he’ll be busy. As soon as the girls come down he’ll have to read to them. Lucy’s trying to teach Hana English and she thinks having her listen to The Wind in the Willows will do the trick. I believe Mr Toad is about to set off in his motor car, so the proceedings might get noisy. But come in soon. I want us all to be together.’
He waited until she had gone inside, then turned to look out once more over the deserted garden, his mind full of what she had said. The day was nearly over and only the topmost trees of Upton Hanger still glinted in the dying light. The rest of the long wooded ridge was already plunged in Stygian gloom, and the chief inspector was not disposed to linger. As he stood there a wash of light fell about his feet from the lamps that were being switched on in the drawing room and he heard the high-pitched cries of the children.
Drawn by the thought of the warmth inside and the many dear faces around, he hesitated no longer, turning his back on the end of the day.
And on the dark night that was coming.
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