Left alone with Linc, Nikki drifted round the half-panelled hall, humming and running her fingers over the furniture like a child. She stopped and looked in the mirror above the fireplace, then moving on, picked up an umbrella from the stand in the corner and, apparently inspecting it closely, said suddenly, 'She's a nice girl, your Josie. I like her.'
'Good,' Linc said, slightly surprised.
Nikki put the umbrella down and wandered up behind him.
'But I'm nice too, aren't I, Linc?'
'Of course you are. Cris is a lucky chap.' He could hear the wine talking and knew from experience that it would be best to humour her.
'But you had your chance, Linc, and you didn't take it. I would have been good for you. Your father likes me too.' Nikki came round to stand in front of him, gazing soulfully into his eyes from about six inches away.
'It wouldn't have worked, though,' he said gently. 'We'd have been at each other's throats all the time!'
She smiled at him, dreamily. 'Yes, but think of the fun we'd have had making up,' she murmured, and before he could stop her, she slid her arms round his neck and reached up to kiss him full on the lips.
Startled, Linc tried to draw back, but for a moment she clung tightly. She was surprisingly strong and even when he turned his head away she remained draped against him, forcing him to take her weight.
'Nikki, please!' he protested, trying to extricate himself from her grasp.
Across the hall a door opened and Josie came through, half-checking in embarrassment as she took in the scene. Almost simultaneously, Crispin reappeared from the drawing room.
Trying to shake off the feeling of being part of a staged farce, Linc said lightly, 'Come and collect your wife, Cris. She's come over all emotional.'
'I had a feeling this might happen,' Crispin sighed, coming forward. 'She and Beverley opened a bottle before they came out. Sorry, Bro.'
'Don't worry about it.' Linc prised Nikki's arms away from his person one at a time and transferred them to Crispin. 'I'll tell you something – she's a lot stronger than she looks!'
'She's been going to the gym, haven't you, Niks? Got a personal trainer.'
'I love Linc,' Nikki told her husband earnestly. 'And he loves me too.'
'We all love you,' Crispin said tolerantly. 'But just at the moment I'd love you more if you weren't standing on my foot. Those heels are lethal! I think perhaps I'll take her home now,' he added over her head to Linc.
At this, Nikki seemed to regain the strength in her legs and stood up very straight. 'I am home. This is my home,' she stated.
'I'll tell Beverley,' Linc said, moving towards the drawing-room door. 'Come in and make yourself comfortable, Josie.'
'Er, actually, I think I'll call it a night, too,' she told him, hanging back. 'It's been lovely but . . .'
'Oh, please. At least stay and have a cup of coffee.'
'No, really. I ought to go. It's getting late and I have to be in London tomorrow at ten o'clock. I'll just come and say thank you to your father.'
She looked resolute, and Linc didn't try any further persuasion.
After all the usual politenesses had been exchanged, and Crispin had departed for the Lodge with his two ladies, Linc helped Josie into her coat and she accepted his escort to her car.
It was a lovely starlit night but as they descended the steps Linc's mind was on other matters. Although Josie had said nothing to indicate that she was upset, she seemed a little reserved and had hardly made eye contact with him in the last ten minutes.
'Have you got a job on in London?' he asked as they reached the gravel.
'Yes. Something I was booked for ages ago. A car launch.'
Her E-type was parked not ten paces from the bottom step and they stopped beside it, both fidgeting awkwardly.
'I'm sorry about tonight . . .' Linc spoke first.
'Why? I enjoyed it,' Josie sounded sincere. 'It was quite an experience. And the house is wonderful. Thank you for showing me round.'
'Yes, but Beverley was a pain, and Nikki isn't normally like that, you know.'
'Oh, well. Dad always says you can't choose your relatives. But they were okay, really. I didn't mind.'
'Are you sure? I thought you seemed a bit quiet at the end there.'
'I'm a bit tired, and I've got a long day tomorrow,' she said, fishing her car keys out of her bag and jingling them in her hand.
'Okay, I'll let you go,' Linc said. Her body language was uncertain, so he reined himself in and had to be content with kissing her lightly on the cheek.
As he stepped back she bowed her head, opened the door of the low-slung Jaguar and slid into the driver's seat. Winding the window down, she smiled and thanked him again before gunning the engine and driving smoothly away.
Linc was left very thoughtful. Although she'd said it hadn't bothered her, Nikki's untimely display had definitely been the turning point in Josie's attitude. He was almost sure she'd been intending to stay for coffee until she'd walked in on that little scene.
He wandered back into the house and made his way to the drawing room where he found his father and Mary seated at either end of the sofa. There was nothing remarkable in this, but something about the relaxed way Mary was sitting, with her shoes off and her stockinged feet drawn up beside her, suddenly struck him.
'I'll say goodnight, then. And thank you.'
'I like your Josie,' Mary said warmly. 'She's a lovely girl.'
Linc thanked her, reflecting that it was the second time that evening that Josie had been described as his girl. He found he didn't mind at all, but judging by her demeanour, Josie herself wasn't so sure.
'You must bring her again,' his father suggested.
'I will, if she'll come. But it wasn't the most harmonious of atmospheres.'
'You say she comes from a big family. I should think she'd be used to it. All the same, Beverley was a confounded nuisance, as usual. Don't worry about it. I'm sure Josie won't.'
He seemed more mellow than usual and Linc looked speculatively at Mary. Lay the wind in that quarter? It was food for thought. Nevertheless, he couldn't help wondering if his father would have been so genial if he had known where Linc had arranged to spend the following evening.
SEVEN
LINC THOROUGHLY ENJOYED HIS evening at Ledworth greyhound track. Barney was a pleasant companion, and Linc found the charged atmosphere of the stadium on race night exciting. Absorbed in the preparation of the dogs and learning the order of things, he easily forgot his original reason for getting involved and it was with a sense of shock that he rounded a corner and came face to face with Marty Lucas, the unhelpful stadium worker he had met on his previous visit.
The man was wearing an official jacket and badge, and had his hands full of cardboard cartons which he nearly dropped as he collided with Linc in the narrow space behind the stands.
'Shit! Look where you're fucking going!'
'Sorry.' Linc made a swift decision to duck his head and carry on past but he couldn't resist looking back when he was well clear and Lucas was still standing there, staring after him with a slightly puzzled expression.
So much for keeping a low profile, Linc thought as he went on his way. He had no reason to suspect that Lucas was involved in anything illegal but it was quite possible that he'd passed on news of Linc's interest to those who were. Somebody must have said something to provoke the attack in Shaftesbury. And might well report this second appearance at the track, he supposed gloomily. If he ever found out, Rockley would not be pleased.
Later in the evening, after he and Barney had cheered his first runner to a close second place, Linc spotted Marty Lucas again, apparently having a beer with Sam Menzies at the trackside. He pointed him out to Barney, asking what he knew about him.
'Marty Lucas? He's Sam's son-in-law, or at least he was until he got divorced last year. He's a lorry driver and does odd jobs here and there. He's a bit of a chancer, but okay so long as you keep on the right side of him.'
It was a bit late for that, Linc reflected ruefully.
A little later, when he was walking back to the van with Barney and his second dog, they met Lucas and Menzies together. The trainer acknowledged Barney with a brief nod and scowled at Linc as he passed. Lucas ignored them both.
'Oh, dear. I'm afraid you've put our friend's nose out of joint, taking up with the opposition,' Barney said, shaking his head gravely but with a twinkle in his eye.
'I guess so,' Linc agreed, thinking that, in fact, being seen with Barney Weston might just save his bacon. His original story had been one of trying to track down someone called Barney or Barnaby to buy a dog; to any suspicious onlooker it would appear that he had done just that. Coming to the track might just have been a good thing after all.
Early the next morning, Linc rode out with Ruth, giving Noddy and Magic a steady hack with a short, pipe-opening gallop as they were both travelling to the one-day event the following day. Josie was still in London, having stayed on for a couple of days to look up some friends, according to Ruth. She apparently saw nothing unusual in this, and neither would Linc have done if it hadn't been for Josie's reserve when they parted on Wednesday night.
He gave himself a mental shake. He was almost certainly reading too much into it; after all, there was no formal understanding between them. Certainly their friendship had seemed to be flourishing but maybe that was all it was destined to be. Nothing had been said between them to the contrary. Deciding that dwelling on the matter was unproductive, he returned to Farthingscourt and immersed himself in the business of the day, refusing to acknowledge the faint depression that was dogging him.
The cross-country course for the following day was open to be walked from two o'clock on the Friday and, as it was fairly local, it had been Linc's intention to walk it that evening before going on to the Vicarage to plait Noddy. But, as on the night of the burglary, work commitments kept him longer than he'd anticipated. The delay on this occasion was caused by his father requesting an update on the restoration work at the mill, and suggesting halfway through Linc's report that he would rather like to see the progress for himself.
At any other time Linc would have welcomed the chance to show off his pet project, but just now he wanted to get away. It was unfair to leave all the preparatory work to Ruth, even though he knew she'd cheerfully do it. He'd not mentioned his plans for the weekend, but as he turned the Discovery into Mill Lane, he tried to rid himself of the suspicion that his father was aware of both his desire to get away in good time that evening, and the reason for it.
With what he felt was commendable strength of character, he managed to hide his frustration, reflecting that if his father were being deliberately obstructive, then any show of impatience would only gratify him.
In the event, they never made it to the mill. Halfway along the lane, at the edge of the wood known as Millersholt, Linc's mobile trilled and he fished it out of his jacket and flipped it open.
'Sir?' It was Reagan, sounding flustered.
'Jack. What can I do for you?'
'It's South Lodge Farm, sir! The barn's on fire!'
'Christ! Okay. Calm down, Jack.' Linc stood on the brakes and swung the Land-Rover one-handed into a convenient gateway.
'Has anyone called the fire brigade?'
'Yes, sir. They've just come. But—'
'Okay, I'll be right there.' Linc snapped the phone shut and dropped it in his lap so as to use both hands on the wheel. With regret he was forced to relinquish any hope of walking tomorrow's course this evening.
South Lodge and its accompanying farm were at the diametrically opposite corner of the estate from the mill, and much further away from the house itself. It took Linc the best part of ten minutes to get to it, even driving at a pace that had his father wincing and reaching for his seatbelt – a precaution often neglected within the confines of the estate. Retracing their tracks, they shot past the house and raced down the drive, over the bridge and up the other side through the avenue of beeches, before turning right along what was generally known as the top road. This led away from Geoff Sykes's home at the East Lodge and the turning to Farthing St Anne and, after a mile or so, took them past Jack Reagan's cottage and through the nearby copse.
Due to the wooded nature of the surrounding land, Linc and his father saw no sign of the fire until they were almost upon it. They burst out of South Lodge Wood doing close on fifty and Linc had to slam the brakes on hard to avoid a collision with a police car that was parked across the lane. Beyond it, two red-and-silver fire engines stood, their wheels spanning the width of the tarmac, and four men manned the hoses that were pouring water in silvery streams on to the burning wreck of the barn. A southerly wind was blowing the smoke away from the lane, and in the farmyard several other helmeted individuals could be seen going about their business.
One of the two uniformed police officers who had presumably arrived in the car swung round with startled anger on his face at the speed of Linc's approach, but bit any intended reprimand off short as he recognised the occupants of the vehicle.
Linc leapt out of the Land-Rover, hardly noticing the policeman; his attention immediately caught by the sight of an unkempt figure in blue overalls who was talking to another officer, a little further off. He couldn't see Reagan.
'What the hell's he doing here?' Linc demanded, marching round the back of the police car and glaring at Jim Pepper.
'Ah, Mr . . . er . . .?' the PC began. He was a young man, thickset and blond; Linc didn't recognise him either.
'Tremayne,' he supplied. 'What's this man doing on our land?'
'It was Mr Pepper who discovered the fire and called the fire brigade,' the policeman stated.
'Well, what a coincidence!' Linc exclaimed with heavy irony.
'Sir, I don't think this is the time . . .'
'You should be grateful to me,' Jim Pepper put in unctuously. 'I saved two of your tractors.' He pointed a grimy finger to where the machines stood in the lane.
'Yes, he did,' the policeman said, nodding and turning a little pink under the pressure.
'And I suppose you had to drive them through the new farm gate?' Linc observed.
'You should be thanking me,' Pepper said again.
'You shouldn't have been on my land in the first place.' The Viscount had caught up with them. 'You've been warned off more than once.'
'Mr Pepper thinks he saw some children running away from the barn just before the fire started,' the policeman interposed. 'I was just—'
'How very convenient,' the Viscount cut in. 'And then, seeing the smoke, I imagine he rushed to fetch the farm's own fire hose and put the fire out . . .'
Pepper shifted uncomfortably.
'Perhaps Mr Pepper wasn't aware of the fire hose?' the officer suggested reasonably.
'Oh, I think he was. After all, he used to work here three days a week.'
The policeman dried up, looking unhappily from the Viscount to Pepper and back again. His colleague passed behind the group, heading for the fire engines.
Linc had been scanning the area. There was no sign of Phil Sutton, who managed South Lodge Farm, but he could see Reagan now, watching the proceedings from a safe distance.
'Where's Phil?'
'He's took his wife to the hospital,' Jim Pepper replied, sulkily.
'Ah,' the Viscount said on a note of dawning understanding. 'So there was no one here except you? Oh, and the kids with the matches, of course, we mustn't forget them. No doubt, knowing Sutton was out, you felt you ought to come and see that everything was all right? Very neighbourly of you.'
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