As he wheeled his bike round to the wooden shelter at the back of the Horseshoes, he saw Brian coming out of a store with a crate of mixers.
‘Hiya, Eco.’ The landlord put the crate down and watched Bede lock his bike up. ‘Good and early. Plenty of time to show you the ropes before the rush. Oh, and before I forget, any chance you could have a look at the car in the next couple of days? It’s cutting out, one of those annoying intermittent faults, you know?’
‘Sure. I’ll give it the once-over.’
Despite his hard-learned expertise, Bede had as little as possible to do with internal combustion engines these days, and Sunny Days had allowed him to leave the repair garage in Halbury where he’d worked when they first moved to Alderleat. But Brian’s was one he deigned to repair and service, especially since he ran it on the biodiesel the Sherwells made from waste oil, much of it from the pub kitchens – and since, to be honest, they needed the money.
Bede picked up the crate of bottles. ‘Let me help you with those.’
Brian indicated where to take them, then showed him the routines behind the bar. The easy part. He had no concerns about knowing where things went, working the till, the mental arithmetic of taking orders. It was the social side that felt daunting. He reminded himself of some of the curmudgeons he’d seen behind bars in his time and thought he could do better than that, at least.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Brian said before disappearing to join Angie in the kitchen. ‘Maisie’ll be here any minute. In the meantime you know where we are if you need anything.’ He moved to go, paused. ‘And remember – no preaching.’
Bede waved him away cheerfully. A couple of people had come to the bar and expressed surprise at seeing him there. As he served them, he listened to their chatter about the week of early summer weather they’d had and how they were now back to wind and rain if they were lucky, gloomy drizzle the rest of the time, and where had the proper seasons gone? Remembering Brian’s playful warning, he suppressed the obvious comment about humans’ irreparable devastation of the climate.
The usual Friday evening regulars were trickling in, giving him a chance to get used to things before it got busy later on. Maisie, an old hand behind the bar, seemed a little wary of him at first, but her coolness gradually faded as they worked together and both began to relax. He felt as though he could even begin to enjoy it.
He was stacking the glass washer, making a mental note to talk to Brian about eco-friendly detergent, when Silvan appeared. Maisie had gone to take a food order to the kitchen and Bede was on his own.
‘Evening,’ he said neutrally.
Silvan returned the greeting and ordered a bottle of exotic continental lager. Bede silently questioned the taste of someone who preferred that to the local ale in the pumps, not to mention the carbon footprint of an imported bottle – the final nail in the coffin of his initial impression that here was an interesting guy to get to know.
‘Sorry about last week,’ Silvan said as Bede poured the bottle into the appropriate glass. ‘That business with the logs.’
Bede passed his drink over the bar. ‘Forget it. I have.’
‘Seriously, mate,’ Silvan said. ‘I’m sure those guys didn’t mean to—’
‘I said forget it.’ He turned to put the bottle in the empties crate.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Thanks, but some other time. No alcohol on duty.’
Silvan raised his glass and glanced at the door as if waiting for someone. Bede willed them to arrive. He picked up a cloth and began to give the bar an unnecessary wipe.
‘I guess you don’t approve of why I’m here.’
Bede paused. ‘Who am I to approve or disapprove? I was surprised when I found out, that’s all.’
He attempted a smile as he straightened the bar towels.
‘It’s not exactly a vocation.’ Silvan leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I feel you’re the sort of person I can tell. I’ve been living in Birmingham these last few years, but my girlfriend, who’d stayed in Oswestry, heard about Philip Northcote’s job and persuaded me to go for it, come back homeward so we could be a bit closer together. Though it was just my luck that she finished with me almost as soon as I’d arrived. I have to say I’m missing the city, though I still go back for band rehearsals and gigs. Anyway, I’m enjoying the change of scene for now – seeing a bit of country life, finding out what goes on. You get me?’
He sounded as though he were implying something. Bede had no desire to get involved with him, though Elin might say his inside knowledge could be useful to the Frack-Free Foxover group and would probably chide him for a wasted opportunity.
‘Do you like what you’ve seen so far?’
‘Actually, I do. I didn’t expect an opportunity for music, for a start. Or to come across people on my wavelength, like you and Elin.’
Bede frowned: on his wavelength? ‘I was thinking more about your work.’
‘Oh, it seems fine. The birds, the dogs, the land – all well cared for.’ He smiled. ‘The keepers’ accommodation isn’t too bad, either. Though I’m not sure about the clients. Don’t know what it’ll be like when the season starts and the real hoorays arrive. They’ll probably treat us like dirt.’
Bede gave a brief nod of sympathy, but what did the guy expect? There was something else on his mind and he decided to get in first. ‘What did you think about the incident last week?’
‘The vandalism? Don’t ask me. Do you think it was something to do with your anti-fracking lot? Though I can’t see the relevance.’ He studied Bede, who kept his expression neutral. ‘I’ve heard there are a few people round here who’ve got it in for Philip.’
‘People like Elin and me?’
Silvan’s expression was one of wide-eyed innocence. ‘Look, I’m an honest guy. I won’t pretend it didn’t cross my mind you might know something. So, spill the beans – you can trust me not to say anything.’
Bede shook his head. ‘First I heard of it was from the policeman who came to interrogate me.’
‘Shit, you had the pigs on your case?’ He frowned. ‘How come?’
‘No idea. Listen, Elin and I think it was as stupid as anyone would. Whatever we think about the shoot, there’s no point meeting senseless waste with senseless waste, is there?’ That raised a smile from Silvan. ‘Those rearing pens are on the edge of a patch of woodland we help to manage, as it happens. And we don’t want to risk losing it – and with it the opportunity to keep tabs on Northcote’s potential fracking site.’
‘Fair enough.’ Silvan looked round as a couple of lads Bede recognised as gamekeepers walked in. Silvan bought them a round and they all went to sit by the fireplace. They were followed soon after by Philip Northcote, who waved over at the keepers’ table as he approached the bar, his expression darkening when he saw who was behind it. Bede glanced at Maisie and excused himself with an unnecessary visit to the cellar. Better to avoid a scene on his first night. When he got back, he saw Northcote was still by the bar.
‘Didn’t expect to see you here,’ Philip said, ‘but I’m glad our paths have crossed. Can you spare a moment?’
Bede suppressed a sigh. ‘If it’s about last week—’
‘Not directly. I know I’m not likely to get a confession.’
‘Confession?’ Bede glanced around. No one was taking the slightest notice except Silvan, who gave him an encouraging grin from his place by the fire. ‘This isn’t the time or place,’ he said quietly, hands forming fists by his side, ‘but seeing as you insist, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around making false insinuations about me.’
Philip smiled unpleasantly. ‘So you were careful. I’ve got my eye on the pair of you.’
Bede uncurled his fingers and willed the tension to flow out through his fingertips. ‘I’ve got stuff to do, Philip. If that’s all…’
‘It isn’t. You brought that up. Actually, I’d like you to clear your equipment and all your other rubbish out of Holtwood.’
‘Yeah? What’s it to you?’
‘Have you seen Frank recently?’
There was a disconcerting edge to his voice. Neither Bede nor Elin had seen the farmer since the day after the incident, when he’d sounded indignant that anyone had even thought of accusing Bede. He shook his head.
‘Oh, I appear to have put my foot in it.’ It was obvious Northcote had intended every word. ‘I thought he’d have told you by now, sorry. Well, he won’t be needing you any more in Holtwood. We’re buying it back.’ He glanced sideways. ‘You’ve got customers need serving. Talk to Frank. And get your stuff out. I’ll give you a couple of weeks but after that I’ll have to dispose of it myself.’
He went over to the keepers’ table without another word. Bede breathed deeply and made himself concentrate, playing the genial host while suppressing the urge to call Brian through from the kitchen to take over so he could go straight to Frank’s and sort it out. Surely he hadn’t really caved in to Northcote? It was perfectly obvious he wanted the woodland for additional access to the drilling site, not to mention camouflage, keeping it out of the public eye. Frank had been at the first few protest meetings and in any case, he’d always promised to give the Sherwells first refusal. There was no way they could afford it right now, but still… He tried not to think of heavy machinery churning up the woodland track.
The pub car park was filling up – a typical Friday night. As Elin got out of the car and battled against the blustery rain shower, she wished she hadn’t answered the door. She wondered if Frank had been lying in wait for Bede to leave. If so, she liked to think that catching her on her own hadn’t spared him much; she could speak her mind as well as her husband when she chose to.
She entered the pub, greeting a couple of people. Behind the bar, Bede was talking cheerfully to Maisie, already looking as if he belonged there. He saw her and smiled. Perhaps she could forget about Frank Barnham, Philip Northcote and Holtwood for a while.
He pulled a pint for her, shaking his head as she offered him one.
‘You won’t believe who called to see me earlier.’ Damn. She hadn’t intended to say anything and risk spoiling his first night.
‘Frank Barnham,’ he said.
It wasn’t a question.
‘How do you know?’
‘Northcote was enjoying a good gloat earlier.’ He waved a hand towards the fireplace. She glanced over and saw an empty table. ‘Well, that’s good news, at least,’ he said. ‘They’ve gone. Northcote and his cronies. Including that young bloke, Silvan.’
‘He’s still here. I saw him as I came in, by the pool table,’ Elin said dismissively. ‘But what are we going to do about Holtwood?’
Someone was waving a tenner and yelling ‘Over here’ in his direction. He gave a barely perceptible sigh.
‘Sorry, love. We’d best talk about it later. But it seems like there’s not a lot we can do.’
He never ceased to surprise her. She could sense his anger simmering beneath the surface, but it was rare he even attempted to hide it like this.
She went over to join Carole and a group of regulars, and immediately got drawn into a fiercely-fought game of dominoes. It was good to be distracted. Trying not to brood, she let the clacking of the doms and the gentle chatter soothe her.
‘Bloody self-righteous creep!’
Elin and Carole exchanged glances as a young girl shoved past them, stumbling on her way back from the bar to join a small crowd around the pool table who were getting louder as the evening went on.
‘Isn’t that Kate’s Tamsin?’ Carole said.
Elin nodded as her neighbour’s sixteen-year-old daughter pushed her way onto a tiny space on the bench, ignoring two empty seats on the other side of the small table and the protests of the bench’s other occupants. She sidled up too obviously close to Silvan, protesting all the while.
‘Said didn’t I think I’d had enough? And he asked my age! Like, no one does that round here, do they? Maisie always serves me.’
‘Hey, chill your beans.’ Silvan made to rise. ‘I’ll get them in for you.’
He stood, clearly escaping. When he returned with a tray of drinks, he caught Elin watching and gave her a fleeting smile.
‘I meant to say, hope you enjoyed your birthday last week,’ he said cheerfully.
Elin smiled back with some comment about his music. She felt vaguely sorry for him, sitting with a crowd of kids for the sake of a game of pool; he must only be a few years older than them but his confident air set him worlds apart. She almost called him over to their table, but after observing him for a moment decided he was quite capable of joining them himself if he wanted to.
She won her hand of dominoes and enjoyed swirling the clacking stones around the table top in readiness for a new game. Tamsin was making a bit of a fool of herself around Silvan, and Elin winced at her increasingly desperate attempts to get noticed as the night went on.
At the end of the evening, Elin paused in the porch on her way out, to breathe a draught of the night air before venturing out into the rain. Distant voices punctuated by an occasional raucous laugh drifted towards her, and in the glow of the streetlights she saw the group from the pool table making their untidy way home. After a hearty round of goodbyes from inside, Bede joined her and they hurried over to the car. Elin glanced at his bike locked up under cover, and led him firmly past it.
‘Yes, I came in the car,’ she said defiantly. ‘Don’t start.’
‘Start what?’
‘I needed to get out, I wanted to support you on your first night, it’s pissing down, and what do you make the biodiesel for anyway?’
She paused, waited for a reaction. He merely held his hand out, palm up. ‘I’ll drive home if you like, love. I’ve had less to drink than you have.’
She handed the key over; she had to admit he was right. Rain drummed on the roof and the windows were impenetrably steamed up. Bede started the engine and turned the blower on full. Elin tried to suppress her impatience; her hands were itching to grab a cloth, but it wasn’t worth the argument – he always said wiping it left streaks worse than the mist itself. As they waited for the windows to clear he stretched, untied his hair and shook it out over his shoulders.
‘That’s better.’ He smiled at her warmly. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, you know. I saw the car when I took some crates out back. Don’t blame you, it’s a pig of a night.’
He leaned over and drew her to him. The overhead light went out as they kissed.
‘Sorry I was snappy,’ she said. ‘Let’s get home.’
A patch of the windscreen had cleared, big enough to see a deserted country lane through, and he set off, stopping as soon as they pulled out of the car park.
‘Isn’t that Tamsin?’ he said.
He indicated a huddled figure in the old brick bus-shelter by the bridge. She’d vaguely wondered how the girl was going to get home. It was less than a mile, but in this weather? Bede wound the window down.
‘No buses at this time of night, love. Can we give you a lift?’
The girl raised her head with a look of relief, which vanished as soon as she saw who it was. Panda-eyed with smudged mascara, she waved him away, got unsteadily to her feet and staggered a few steps. Her thin summer dress was soaked; she must be frozen. She halted, sank to her knees and threw up in the gutter. As she tried to rise, she almost overbalanced. Elin got out of the car.
‘Come on, let’s get you home.’
‘Gerroff my case.’
She managed to stand and walked off. An uneven kerbstone tripped her and Elin was there to catch her arm. Tamsin allowed herself to be ushered into the back seat, then slammed the door, making the car shake.
‘You!’ Tamsin spat the word, glaring at Bede, who did a theatrical double-take.
‘Yup. I was last time I looked in a mirror.’
‘Whaddya have to, like, show me up in front of my mates for? Who d’you think you are, my fuckin’ dad?’
He put the car in gear. ‘You’ve seen the signs behind the bar. No one wants any trouble. Anyway, it might mean you’ll have a slightly less pounding hangover tomorrow morning.’
‘Keep your nose out, fascist. I’m puffeck…capable of walking, y’know.’
‘Yeah, course, but no one wants to be out in rain like this, do they?’ he said as he drove off.
Tamsin sank back into the seat, energy spent, and the rest of the short journey passed in silence.
‘Mum’ll go ballistic,’ she said as she fumbled for the door catch.
‘If you tiptoe in she’ll never know,’ Elin said. ‘We won’t say anything – we’ve all been there. Get straight to bed and you’ll have sobered up by the morning.’
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