Bella felt Wolfie's hand steal into hers. She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth to stimulate some saliva. "Who with?" she asked. "Why didn't she take Wolfie with her?"
"You tell me," Fox said dismissively. "I had some business to see to and when I got back she and the kid were gone. It wasn't my choice she left Wolfie. He was stoned out of his head when I found him… but he can't remember why. Her stuff was gone and there were signs someone had been in the bus with her, so I'm guessing she put the kids to sleep in order to score. Probably for H. She couldn't go long without it."
Wolfie's fingers squirmed inside Bella's hand, and she wished she knew what he was trying to tell her. "Where was this? Were you on a site?"
"Devon. Torquay area. We were working the fairgrounds. She got desperate when the season ended and the clients dried up." He lowered his gaze to Wolfie. "Cub was easier to carry than this one, so I expect she salved her conscience by taking the smallest." He watched tears limn the child's eyes, and his mouth thinned into a cynical smile. "You should try living with a zombie, Bella. It fucks the brain when the only thing in it is obedience to a craving. Everything else can go to hell-kids, food, responsibilities, life-only the drug matters. Or maybe you've never thought about it like that… maybe your own addictions make you feel sorry for them."
Bella squeezed Wolfie's hand. "My guy had a habit," she said, "so don't lecture me about zombies. I've been there, done that, got the sodding T-shirt. Sure, his brain was fucked, but I went looking for him every time till he OD'd. Did you do that, Fox? Did you go looking?" She stared him down. "It don't make no difference how she got her fix… she'd be on the streets again within half a second flat. So do me a favor. A lady with a kid in her arms? The cops and the social would have had her in safety before she even woke up. Did you go to them? Did you ask?"
Fox shrugged. "I might have done if I'd thought that's where she was, but she's a whore. She's holed up in a squat somewhere with a pimp who'll put up with her as long as he has access to hits and she does the business. It's happened before. She had her first kid taken off her because of it… made her so scared of cops and social workers she won't go near them now."
"You can't just leave her," Bella protested. "What about Cub?"
"What about him?"
"He's your son, ain't he?"
He looked amused. "'Fraid not," he said. "That little bastard's some other fucker's responsibility."
James wanted to discuss the travelers, for which Nancy was grateful. She wasn't keen to talk about herself or her impressions of photographs. On the various occasions that she and Mark exchanged glances across the table, she could see he was baffled by James's sudden curiosity about the squatters at the Copse, and she wondered what their conversation had been while she was in the dining room. The topic of mutilated foxes had been dropped very abruptly. "I don't want to talk about it," James had said.
"Make sure the table's clean, Mark. She's obviously a very well-brought-up young lady. I don't want her telling her mother I live in a pigsty."
"It is clean."
"I didn't shave this morning. Does it show?"
"You look fine."
"I should have worn a suit."
"You look fine."
"I feel I'm a disappointment. I think she was expecting someone more impressive."
"Not at all."
"I'm such a boring old man these days. Do you think she'd be interested in the family diaries?"
"Not at the moment, no."
"Perhaps I should ask her about the Smiths? I'm not sure what the etiquette is in these circumstances."
"I don't think there is one. Just be yourself."
"It's very difficult. I keep thinking about those terrible phone calls."
"You're doing great. She likes you a lot, James."
"Are you sure? You're not just being kind?"
James quizzed Mark on the law of adverse possession, land registry, and what constituted habitation and usage. Finally, he pushed his plate aside and asked the younger man to repeat what both Dick Weldon and Eleanor Bartlett had said about them.
"How very odd," he mused, when Mark mentioned the scarves over the mouths. "Why should they be doing that?"
Mark shrugged. "In case the police turn up?" he suggested. "Their mug shots must be in most of the nicks in England."
"I thought Dick said the police didn't want to be involved."
"Yes, he did but-" He paused. "Why so interested?"
James shook his head. "We're bound to find out who they are eventually, so why hide their faces now?"
"The lot I saw through the binoculars were wearing scarves and balaclavas," said Nancy. "Pretty heavily muffled, in fact. Doesn't that make Mark right… they're worried about being recognized?"
James nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "but by whom?"
"Certainly not Eleanor Bartlett," said Mark. "She was adamant that she'd never seen them before."
"Mm." He was silent for a moment before smiling from one to the other. "Perhaps I'm the one they're afraid of. As my neighbors seem fond of pointing out, they are on my doorstep. Shall we go and talk to them? If we cross the ha-ha and approach through the wood we can surprise them from behind. The walk will do us good, don't you think?"
This was the man Mark knew of old-Action Man-and he smiled at him before looking inquiringly at Nancy.
"I'm game," she said. "As someone once said: 'know your enemy.' We wouldn't want to shoot the wrong people by mistake, now, would we?"
"They may not be the enemy," Mark protested.
Her eyes teased him. "Even better, then. Perhaps they're our enemy's enemy."
Julian was brushing the dried mud off Bouncer's legs when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned suspiciously as Eleanor appeared at the stable door. It was so out of character that he assumed she'd come to tear strips off him. "I'm not in the mood," he said curtly. "We'll discuss it when I've had a drink."
Discuss what? Eleanor asked herself frantically. She felt as if she were skating blindfolded on thin ice. As far as Julian was concerned, there was nothing to discuss. Or was there? "If you mean those wretched people at the Copse, I've already dealt with it," she said brightly. "Prue tried to pass the buck back to you but I told her she was being unreasonable. Do you want a drink, sweetheart? I'll fetch you one if you like."
He tossed the grooming brush into a bucket and reached for Bouncer's blanket. Sweetheart…? "What do you mean Prue tried to pass the buck?" he asked, spreading the blanket over Bouncer's back and stooping to buckle it under his belly.
Eleanor relaxed slightly. "Dick couldn't get hold of his solicitor so she asked me to put Gareth onto it. I said I didn't think that was fair, bearing in mind we have no claim to the land and you'd be paying Gareth's fees." She was unable to suppress her hectoring personality indefinitely. "I thought it was a bloody cheek, actually. Dick and James's solicitor had a row about it… then Prue rowed with Dick… so you and I were expected to pick up the pieces. I said to Prue, why should Julian cover the costs? It's not as though we've anything to gain by it."
Julian made what he could of this. "Has anyone phoned the police?"
"Dick did."
"And?"