‘I’m afraid he won’t be back for a while. Sit down, though, have a drink.’ She waved him to a chair at the kitchen table and put the kettle on. ‘Coffee? Tea?’ His pause was perfectly pitched to make her add, ‘Something stronger?’
He had a knack for it. She was flicking the kettle switch off and heading for the utility room off the kitchen, where she kept her beer, almost before he replied.
‘How is he?’ Steve asked.
‘Great,’ she said, flicking him a wary glance before pouring the beers. ‘He’s working tonight – teatime shift, then they were off to a pool match.’
‘Working?’
‘He’s been playing mine host at the Horseshoes for a couple of weeks now.’
Steve’s lips curled in amusement. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’
‘He’s better at it than you’d think. Even manages to be nice to the customers – when it suits him.’
They exchanged a smile. Steve gingerly moved aside some withies to put his glass down.
‘He…he’ll be OK with me coming here?’
‘I never told him, if that’s what you mean.’
Elin was convinced Bede had suspected nothing in his fog of self-absorption during the months following Joe’s death. She’d woken one morning to find him gone. He hadn’t phoned her until that evening, when he mumbled something about being up north on a kind of pilgrimage to places he’d visited with his mum, and later, Joe. Laying old ghosts to rest and, though he admitted it was crazy, even daring to hope some other relative might appear out of the blue as Joe had done. Wasn’t she enough for him? Three days later with no further contact, Elin was beginning to wonder if he’d disappeared for good when Steve came looking for his erratic business partner. Sunny Days was soon forgotten as he offered her sympathy, comfort…and more. She’d succumbed. Once. It only made her realise how much Bede meant to her.
‘It was a mistake, Steve, a moment of weakness, and telling him about it wouldn’t have done anyone any good. I take it you never said anything either.’
‘What do you think?’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Maybe I should go. I could give him a ring tomorrow, or—’
‘Don’t be daft. Wait here, as long as you don’t mind watching me finish this. Though Bede’s likely to be late. You staying nearby?’
‘Well… I…’ This time she refused to fill his silence without prompting. ‘It got later than I realised. I was intending to get home. Bit late now, though.’
Elin continued to wait, feeling slightly mean.
‘Could I…? I don’t suppose…?’ He looked away, defeated. ‘Well, I’ve slept in the van before now.’
She relented. ‘I’ll make up the spare bed later.’
His look of relief was a picture as he picked up his glass. His mischievous eyes turned serious. ‘He’s going to be late, you said?’
Elin returned his gaze. ‘Probably.’ He continued to hold her eyes. ‘No, Steve.’ She began to resume her basketwork, then paused. ‘I could make some excuse about wanting to get this finished. About not knowing when he’ll be back. But actually, just no.’ He gave the slightest nod. ‘I regretted it then and there’s no way now that—’
He held a hand up. ‘It’s OK, Elin. That’s not why I came, believe me. But, you know…’
‘Ever the opportunist.’
‘It’s what makes me a successful businessman.’
‘Are you? We haven’t heard from you for a while.’
‘You know how it’s been.’
She raised her eyebrows.
‘I’m rushed off my feet at the moment. I’ve been working with someone else – sorry Elin, but, you know… Anyway he’s gone to pastures new and I don’t mind admitting he was never a patch on Bede. Knowledge, problem-solving…’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘Who needs a calm, cheerful temperament in a co-worker anyway? So, I’ve got the possibility of this new hydro contract and there’s no way I could do it on my own. You could say it’s Bede’s specialist subject – do you think he’d be interested in working together again?’
‘Who knows? I never did drag out of him what you two argued about.’
Steve looked away, picked up a withy and flicked it idly between his fingers.
‘Nothing in particular. He was bloody impossible since…the flood.’
‘Since Joe drowned.’
‘Yeah.’ He sighed. ‘Let me down on several occasions – which I admit was unlike him. When he did turn up, he spent most of the time biting my head off about trivia. Don’t worry, most of it was before…you know.’
‘I know his moods were enough to try the patience of a saint – and you’re no saint,’ she said. ‘I’m sure we can patch things up. He’s thought more than once about ringing you.’
‘He should have. Like I said, this hydro scheme in Wales – I had a quick look today and I’ll be going back tomorrow. I’d love Bede’s opinion before I quote, and then his help with the job if I get it. Sorry it’s short notice, but…’
Elin smiled, wondering how Steve ever managed to get anything done with his chaotic ways. They passed the time catching up with their news and laughing at his internet dating anecdotes. Eventually, she heard the door.
Bede shed his dripping coat, looking warily from one to the other.
‘Well, well. Mr Day.’
Steve grinned. ‘Hiya, mate. I’ve come with a proposition for you. Get yourself settled and I’ll tell you about it.’
Bede relaxed, shook his hand and gave him a clap on the back as if they’d parted the best of friends, before giving Elin a hug and a kiss. He looked at the basket she’d managed to complete, noticed the beer bottles and empty glasses, and went to fetch refills plus one for himself.
‘So, how was the Horseshoes?’ she asked.
‘Fine. Big excitement earlier.’
‘You won?’
‘We did, but that came later. Nope, beginning of the evening. Philip Northcote’s got a new car – Bentley, I think. Something like that.’
She knew he’d have taken in every detail, down to the model and the year. ‘Go on.’
‘They were flocking round it like dogs to a lamp post.’ He looked at each of them in turn. ‘Honestly, I don’t need to say more, do I? When’s the world going to grow up?’
Steve shrugged. ‘Guess you’ve got to let them have their fun.’
‘Fun? How far do things have to go before people realise?’ Bede tapped his fingers in agitation against the bottle in his hand. ‘Well, no point preaching to the converted. What brings Sunny Days to Alderleat?’
Steve told him about the project he was quoting for.
‘OK. I’ll come and have a look with you tomorrow.’ Bede ran a hand through his hair, picked up a towel and began to rub at the wet ends. ‘Whether I can commit to working away for any length of time is another matter.’
‘You’re not serious,’ Elin said. ‘Of course you’ve got to—’
‘We can talk about it, love. Let’s see if he gets the contract first.’
Living in the real world
It was getting light – grey merging to a paler shade of grey – when Elin watched the Sunny Days van disappear down the lane. Small bubbles in the puddles settled, melting into the ever-changing raindrop circles on the surface of the water, and it seemed as though the only sun she’d seen for days was on the side of Steve’s van.
She turned and went in, casting an eye over the basket and noticing slight imperfections she knew no one else ever would, before moving it aside. She began to clear away and wash up the breakfast things.
Kip padded over and lay at her feet, then stirred and sat up as she became aware of tyres crunching on the gravel of the yard. The stuff of men’s dreams, Bede’s nightmares, glided in. Only a car like that could actually glide over their yard. She tried to maintain her vision of their ancient estate car as homely and practical rather than scruffy, as the Bentley pulled up alongside it.
She turned from the window to put some plates away. Although she was exp
ecting it, the force of Philip Northcote’s hammering on the door made her jump.
Dressed immaculately in grey suit and polka-dot tie, he looked imposing even with his waxed jacket draped over his shoulders against the rain. His eyes were blazing fit to evaporate the drops around him.
‘Morning, Philip,’ she said calmly. Years of living with Bede had made her immune to blazing eyes. ‘What can I—’
‘Bede in?’
‘Sorry, he’s just left. Can I help?’
He tutted. ‘Might have known. Couldn’t stay and face the music. It’s about time your husband grew up and started living in the real world.’
How far apart could their definitions of grown up and the real world possibly be?
‘You’d better come in and tell me what this is about.’
He shook his head curtly. ‘Isn’t it fucking obvious? See that?’
She looked at the gleaming Bentley, raindrops only enhancing the subtle glow of the paintwork, a condescending presence outside their house as though even the car didn’t want to be there.
‘I see it. And?’
‘How can you be so bloody brazen? As if the pair of you haven’t been having a good laugh at my expense. Well I hope you can still smile when you get the bill.’
Then she noticed. Two deep parallel scratches scored down the side. A mixture of apprehension and indignation rose inside her. She glared at him.
‘Look, if you think Bede would do something like that—’
‘I don’t think.’
How dare he? She folded her arms. ‘See him do it, did you?’
‘Didn’t need to. It’s obvious, isn’t it?’
‘Anything but. He was in a busy pub working and playing pool all evening.’
‘After letting me know in no uncertain terms what he thought of me and my car.’
‘Just words, Philip.’
He was shaking his head again. ‘I suppose this is meant to be some kind of protest for the planet. But there’ll be more of your precious resources used up in repairing it. And I’ll be sending you the bill.’
‘So you said. Feel free to send what you like.’ Elin dug her fingernails into her palms; losing her temper wouldn’t achieve anything. ‘Unless you can prove it was him, there isn’t a cat in hell’s chance of us paying it.’
‘I thought you protesters liked to claim “responsibility” for your irresponsible actions. I’ll have the police round.’
‘They’ll find nothing because there’s nothing to find.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘Like last time.’
He stared back. ‘So if it wasn’t him, who else could it have been?’
Was he actually accusing her? She wouldn’t lower herself to deny it. ‘I have no idea, sorry.’
‘You will be.’
He left.
Elin forced herself to close the door gently – slamming it would achieve nothing – and turned back into the kitchen. She stood for a moment, breathing away her anger. Kip was watching, hackles slightly raised but silent.
‘Fat lot of help you were,’ she said as she ruffled his ears.
Turning back to the draining board, she picked up Bede’s favourite mug to dry it, stowed it in its place on the shelf and stood for a moment staring at it.
The rain had cleared and, before starting on her jobs, Elin went out to walk off her frustration. The dusty, sepia-tinged scent of the May blossom hung on the air, taunting her as she pulled her jacket tighter against the fresh breeze. Ne’er cast a clout till May is out – it was hard to remember the false early spring and the week of sunshine they’d enjoyed in April when Fran and Jeff were there. It was as though they’d taken the good weather home with them. Well, they’d had it for a month now – time to give it back. Except she knew it had been as wet in Manchester as in Foxover.
The hawthorn didn’t seem to mind. The white sprays arching from the hedgerows and single bushes dotting the hillside created a photo in negative of the landscape, and the scent came in waves as she followed the path that wound its way over the hillside.
The lone bushes looked like abandoned brides, forlorn. An occasional breeze moved their trailing lace-trimmed fingers in a dance to attract their men back. She smiled as she recalled the day she and Bede had first conjured the image, taking it in turns to add details. One night they’d slip down to the river and drown themselves in a tragic ritual on realising their errant husbands-to-be would never return. When they’d planted the willows, he said they provided a safety net, keeping the beautiful hawthorn brides in their place until the summer returned and persuaded them they didn’t need husbands to make their lives complete. The only reminder of what might have been were the berries like an annual display of blood-red tears. He hadn’t mentioned his mum, but the errant husbands had been his idea.
Kip was running rings around her, following scents, sniffing out burrows. As the path led into Holtwood, the dog gave a small bark, looking back at her, tail waving a beacon. Shaking off the feeling of being a trespasser in a place she had once found reassuring, she followed him into the trees, heading towards the river. She was stopped short by an angry yellow sign glaring at her like a searchlight. Private Land. Keep Out. And another: Danger. Shooting in Progress.
She felt in her inside pocket and drew out a couple of the crumpled flyers and a small tin of drawing pins she carried for such opportunities. The flyers were impossible to smooth fully, but it was the principle; they’d be gone in no time anyway. She tacked Frack-Free Foxover over the harsh yellow warnings – it had become habit although she knew it would achieve little more than to make her feel better – then started down the path. Despite the sharp yet homely smell of the wild garlic, and the small carpets of bluebells pooling to either side, the sound of the wind stirring the leaves blended with the birdsong and nearby rushing of the river to play on her nerves like a tense film soundtrack punctuated by the distinctive chak of the captive pheasants.
Kip vanished from view. She heard a girl’s voice, annoyed at first, then soothing, playful. Crossing the track, which seemed more rutted every time she came, she followed the path to one of her favourite places, a hollow in the land by the river, where the arms and fingers of alders and willows spread in welcome to the clearing they formed. She saw Tamsin there, fussing the dog.
‘Hello.’ Elin smiled. ‘I haven’t seen you here before.’
‘Oh, I used to come here a lot. We loved playing in the woods when we were little. I realised recently I hadn’t been for ages. Needed some peace and quiet. I’m in the middle of revision. Exams coming up, you know?’
She picked up the stick Kip had dropped in front of her and threw it, badly. It splashed into the shallows. Elin watched the dog leap in after it, shuddering as she imagined the shower to come. A dark hollow in the undergrowth on the far bank caught her eye.
‘Did you know there are water voles over there, on the opposite bank?’
Tamsin smiled. ‘Yeah. I was kind of looking out for them. They’re shy, though. I’ve seen the burrows but no sign of the little beggars.’
Kip came bounding out of the water and shook himself.
‘Ratty’s certainly not going to show himself while you’re around,’ Elin said, grabbing the stick and throwing it behind them into the undergrowth. ‘I’m glad to see the voles are still there, even with all the disturbance on this side of the river. It’ll be a sad day if they go. This place has special memories for us. Bede showed me the burrows and we came here to watch for the water voles the first time he brought me to Foxover.’ She smiled. ‘Joe told me to make the most of it – said it was as close to romance as Bede was likely to get.’
‘That’s incredible!’ Tamsin was staring into the water.
‘Really?’ Surely it wasn’t that surprising.
‘Oh, I mean…that would’ve been before the floods, yeah?’ Elin nodded. ‘I meant I’m surprised they came back to the same place after the waters went down.’
She heard evasiveness in Tamsin’s voice, but her expression
gave nothing away.
‘Maybe they’re less disturbed by flooding than we are,’ Elin said.
‘Too right. Mum’s still fussing about the damage it did to the gardens and the ground floor of the house. Twice now. The first one seemed the kiss of death for the B&B. She and Dad had blazing rows about what a mistake it was coming here, blaming each other. As if they could’ve known. But, well, they were already at each other’s throats all the time anyway. I mean, it’s not as if we get floods every year is it? Both times I just thought it was, like, fun – a good excuse not to go to school.’ She stopped suddenly, glanced at Elin. ‘Oh, I’m sorry… Until we heard…’
‘It’s OK.’
‘It must have been horrible, losing his dad like that.’
Kip nudged Elin. She took the stick from his mouth and threw it again. ‘Joe was Bede’s uncle. He never knew his dad.’
‘Oh, that’s sad. I mean, I have my moments with my dad, and he was a complete bastard over the divorce, but… How did he die?’
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