“Not so incorruptible if the fraud was discovered.”
“Then it would be Grace’s mistake. Not yours.” She paused. “I’m not saying you asked Grace to lie. But perhaps she did it to please you.”
“You’re mad,” he said. “I don’t have that sort of power. You’ve spent too long in the hills.”
“Yes, perhaps I have.”
She sat on the grass beside him, a gesture of apology. She’d never gone in for conspiracy theories, but still she couldn’t quite let it go. “It’s not true then?”
“No, it’s not true.”
She believed him. “I’m sorry.”
They sat for a moment in silence. The light was going quickly now.
They couldn’t see as far as the horizon. The hills were black smudges.
There was a hazy moon.
“That’s all right,” he said. “You’ve been under a lot of strain. But rumours like that could do me a lot of harm.”
“I know.” She continued carefully, “But you were here on the afternoon Bella died, weren’t you?”
He didn’t reply.
“Peter?”
She thought he was going to lie but he saw sense, probably realizing there would be more credit in telling the truth.
“Yes, I was around that day.” “Why didn’t you tell me when I asked you before?”
“Because it was none of your business.”
“Of course it was my business.” “No,” he said. “This time it wasn’t.”
“Why were you walking?”
“I’d been in the office all week, sitting around, eating lunches with clients. I needed the exercise.”
“That much exercise? Walking all the way from Langholme?”
“I didn’t walk from Langholme. I’d parked the car up the track into the forest and walked through to Black Law that way. I came back over the hill.”
“The inspector thinks Grace’s attacker parked his car there.”
“Well, I didn’t kill Grace. I couldn’t have done. For Christ’s sake I was in a meeting with you at the time.” She didn’t answer and he asked roughly, “Are you satisfied?”
“I want to know what you discussed with Bella.”
“Business, Rache. That’s what I’m about now. Not conservation.
Business.” He turned so his back was almost facing her. “So I can afford the pretty wife and the nice house.”
“Don’t you dare blame Amelia,” she shouted. A startled coot scuttled out of the reeds and flapped over the water.
“No,” he said quietly. “No, that wouldn’t be fair.”
She felt herself being seduced again by his sadness. She had to fight the urge to comfort him and tell him she’d make everything all right.
What is wrong with us? she thought. Why do we do it? Is this how Bella felt about her little brother? Men turn pathetic and we step in to sort things out.
“I have to know what you said to Bella.” She kept her voice firm. “I have to know if anything you said made her kill herself.”
“Of course not. What do you take me for?”
“What was it all about, Peter?” “I’ve told you. Business.”
“Did someone send you there?”
“What?” The question shocked him.
“Whose business were you discussing? Yours? Godfrey Waugh’s? Or were you there on behalf of Neville Furness? Doing his dirty work?”
Peter didn’t answer. He stood up and pulled her to her feet, then faced her with his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve got to leave this alone,” he said. “It’ll make you ill.”
“No.”
“You’re a mate, but sometimes you’re too fucking serious.”
He took her hand and set off down the hill. She followed, laughing despite herself, and they ran, hand in hand, Hansel and Gretel towards the lights of the cottage.
Chapter Forty-Three.
The next morning, after an early count, Rachael went to Black Law farm.
She wanted to tell Vera Stanhope that the survey would be finished in a week’s time. It was reassuring to have this time limit. A deadline for them all.
She tapped on the kitchen door and walked in. The kettle was humming.
It bubbled to a boil then switched itself off. In another part of the house a door shut. She didn’t hear footsteps but suddenly Neville Furness appeared in the doorway. The way he walked softly on the balls of his feet made her think of a big cat. Rachael recovered from her surprise first.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was looking for Inspector Stanhope. I didn’t realize… “
“She’s not here.” She couldn’t tell what he felt about the invasion by strangers of what was now his home. “Nor the sergeant. They left early this morning to go to Kimmerston. They should be back at any time.” “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ll try later.” She was already backing out of the door.
“No! Please.” His voice was urgent. “I was just going to make some coffee. I suppose the police must have coffee in the place.”
“In the cupboard next to the sink.”
She stayed because she was curious. As he moved with a controlled energy about the kitchen, reaching up for mugs, squatting to lift milk from the fridge she tried to work out how old he was. Mid thirties but very fit. No grey in the dark hair. He wore jeans and an open-necked shirt. He turned suddenly to offer her a biscuit and saw her staring.
He smiled and she felt herself flush as if she was in the middle of a lecherous fantasy. There was a down of dark hair on the back of his hand and black hair curled from the cuff of his shirt. He smiled again. His teeth seemed very white.
Not a cat, she thought. A wolf. And I’m Red Riding Hood.
“Come through to the other room. It’s more comfortable.”
What big teeth you have, Grandma.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll not bite.”
He led her into the room with the French windows overlooking the overgrown garden and the view of the hill. Neville seemed too restless to sit still and after a moment got up to stand in front of the huge painting of the old mine workings.
“My mother did this,” he said.
“I know, Bella told me.”
“Did she?” He seemed surprised, pleased.
“We were good friends.” She wanted to stake an allegiance.
“I’m glad. She must have needed friends. It can’t have been easy looking after my father. All that work and no response.” “There was a response,” Rachael said sharply. “There still is… He understands more than people realize.”
“Oh?” He was polite but disbelieving. Perhaps it was an attempt to hit back at him when she asked, “Do you remember your mother?”
But he seemed delighted to have the opportunity to talk about her.
“Not very well. Nursery rhymes sung at bedtime. Some games. She loved dressing up. And they fixed a swing for me in the barn. I remember that. Swinging into the sunshine and back into the shadow.
Gran fussing because she thought I’d fall and my mother laughing. There was one party I was taken to at Baikie’s too. It must have been nearly Christmas, very frosty and cold. It was supposed to be a great treat, but Connie was so enormous that she terrified me. One of the smart ladies was wearing a fur coat and I cuddled into it, hiding. They all laughed.” He paced to the French windows and looked out over the hill.
“It’s not much, is it?”
No. But more than I’ve got of my father, she thought bitterly, and made up her mind that this time she would have to pin Edie down. She deserved to know her father whatever he was like. She’d put up with enough evasion. She’d have it out with Edie before they left Baikie’s.
As Anne had said, this was a good place to get it sorted. Neutral ground. It would be another deadline.
“I’m sorry.” She realized that he’d been speaking. “I was miles away.” “I said that Dad was heartbroken when my mother died. He didn’t take any interest in anything. I mean, he carried on with the farm work but I suppose that was some sort of release. It would tire him anyway so he could sleep. But he couldn’t take an interest in me. It was too much of an effort. Emotional, I mean. He’d given everything he had to my mother. I could tell even then. Kids can, can’t they? So I tried to keep out of the way.”