Deadfall

by Lyndon Stacey

  'Rubbish! What was I supposed to do? Leave you there?'

  'I don't know. But thanks anyway. And your friend Al?'

  'No. It's okay. I can handle him. He just gets a bit hot under the collar. He'll calm down. Nothing you can do.' Something struck him as funny and he chuckled.

  'What's the joke?'

  Sandy shook his head, handing Linc his coffee. 'Nothing really. Actually, one thing you can do . . . Stop sending the bottles round here. It's bad for my reputation!'

  'Bottles?' Linc was bewildered.

  'Bottles and stoppers – coppers,' Sandy translated. 'They were round again today, asking about Saturday. Honestly, you do a bloke a good turn and all you get is grief!'

  'Yeah, I'm sorry. I should have warned you. They said they'd want to talk to you. But surely they didn't give you a hard time?'

  'No, not really.'

  Linc sipped his coffee. 'So what's with the rhyming slang? You're not a cockney, are you? You don't sound it.'

  'My old man was. I used to sound just like him but I found some of the hoity-toity horsy crowd didn't approve, so I try and remember to talk proper when I'm "ite and abite"!'

  Linc laughed. 'Well, I'm just glad you were "ite and abite" on Saturday night,' he said. 'Or God knows where I'd be now!'

  Sandy started to say something but was interrupted by the shrill tone of Linc's mobile phone. He paused while Linc retrieved it from his pocket and looked at the display.

  His heart skipped a beat as the caller was identified as Josie and, apologising to Sandy, he answered it.

  'Linc! It's happened! She's awake!' Josie was half-laughing and half-crying. 'She opened her eyes and smiled at us! She said "hello"!'

  'Oh, Josie, that's wonderful! She made it! I knew she would. Didn't I say she was a tough cookie?'

  'You did. But it's been so long. Oh, I can't believe it! This is the best moment of my entire life! We've all been laughing and crying – we can't stop!'

  'I suppose it's family only, at the moment?'

  'Yes. I'm sorry. And we were only allowed to stay for a short time. She's got to rest and then there'll be tests to do and stuff. But I just had to tell you . . .'

  'Thanks. Give her my love. Will I see you later?'

  'Probably. I'll give you a ring. 'Bye then.'

  ''Bye.' Linc cut the connection and looked across at Sandy. 'Abby's made it. She's come round!' he said, and his voice cracked a little with the emotion.

  'That's brilliant! What a relief!' the saddler said, smiling. 'Will she be okay? I mean, has she said anything yet? I know they were worried – you know – about brain damage.'

  'Well, she said hello,' Linc told him. 'So that's a start. It's looking good but I guess only time will tell.'

  'Yeah.' Sandy looked thoughtful. Then he raised his glass. 'Well, here's hoping!'

  'I'll drink to that. Even if it is just coffee.'

  TEN

  REALISING THAT THE HATHAWAY family probably needed space and time to take in their marvellous change in fortunes, Linc resisted the temptation to contact Josie later that day. The next morning he sent her a text message, simply asking if everything was still all right.

  The answer came back promptly: Yes. Everything fine. Am at Hosp. Call u L8R. J xxx

  She actually called less than an hour later, full of bubbling happiness. Abby, it appeared, was far better than anyone had dared hope and improving all the time.

  'She can't remember anything much about the night she was attacked,' Josie told him. 'Rockley came to speak to her but she couldn't tell him anything new. The doctor didn't let him stay long because of upsetting her. She's very easily tired and rather emotional.'

  'That's not surprising, I suppose,' Linc said. 'It's incredible, really, that she's as well as she is after – how many weeks is it?'

  'Four weeks, four days,' Josie supplied. 'It's hard to believe. I think it's going to take a while for Abby to get her head round it, too.'

  'Will you be at the hospital all day?'

  'No. I'm on my way home now, actually. We have to be careful not to overtire her. She's still very weak.'

  'Well, I don't know whether you feel like it but Farthingscourt is hosting a musical soirée this evening, and I wondered if you'd like to come. It's part of a season of concerts in stately homes and we've been lucky enough to land Mischa Barinkov playing Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto. You know, Number Two, the famous one. It should be lovely – if you like piano music, of course.'

  'I love it. And Rach Two is my absolute favourite. What time do you want me?'

  All the time, was the answer that sprang immediately to mind, but Linc bit his tongue. 'Half-past seven for eight,' he told her. 'There's a buffet supper afterwards, so it should be a good evening.'

  The evening was indeed a great success. It was the first time Farthingscourt had participated in the concert series and tickets had sold out weeks before. It was stipulated that people should turn up in eveningwear and, with very few exceptions, they did. Softly lit, and with its richly dressed occupants, the state drawing room at Farthingscourt looked almost as it must have done in its heyday, in the time of St John, the ill-fated Third Viscount.

  Even in a room filled with glamorous people, Josie turned heads in a long slim dress of burgundy silk. Her modelling experience gave her an air of calm elegance and Linc guessed that he was the envy of many of the other men. He'd have been less than human if he hadn't enjoyed the sensation.

  The young Russian pianist gave a beautiful performance on a Steinway that had been loaned to Farthingscourt for the occasion, and the applause was long, rapturous and entirely genuine.

  When Linc turned to look at Josie at one point during the recital he was touched to see her eyes shining with unshed tears.

  'No need to ask if you enjoyed that,' he murmured, as they stood up to file into an adjacent room where the kitchen staff had set out a buffet on two long refectory tables.

  'Oh, it was beautiful! What a gift to be able to play like that! And he's only – what? – nineteen.'

  'Yes. It makes one wish one'd practised more as a child, doesn't it? My mother was a very passable pianist. She would sing, too.'

  'I wish I'd met her. She looks such a lovely person in that portrait. I'm really glad you showed it to me.'

  'Would you like to see it again?' Linc asked. 'We can slip away after supper. I'll show you the rest of the house, too. The bits we didn't get round to before.'

  'Yes, please. I'd like that.'

  They joined the queue for the buffet and, in due course, took their food and wine to a window seat where they were joined by Crispin and Nikki. But when the second part of the evening's entertainment was announced and the guests drifted back to the drawing room, Linc and Josie waited behind and then made their way out into the hall.

  'There's only about forty minutes more and it's mostly chamber music. You don't mind missing that, do you?'

  'Not at all. Chamber music isn't really my thing. I'd rather remember that wonderful piano playing,' Josie assured him.

  'I'd like to have been able to introduce you to him but his manager told us he'd be whisking the poor lad off to appear on some late-night chat show as soon as he'd taken his bows. I should imagine they'll be cutting it fine, even then. He's doing the publicity thing for his upcoming tour. It must be a bit daunting when you don't speak very much English.'

  They climbed the main stairs to the first floor and entered the long gallery. Linc flicked a switch to illuminate the portraits and they made their way along, pausing at each picture. Josie seemed genuinely fascinated, wanting to know as much of the Tremayne family history as Linc could dredge up from his memory.

  Stopping every few feet, they made slow progress, but as Linc's hand lay on the body-warmed silk of Josie's hip, and she had hooked her thumb in the back of his waistband, he was not about to complain.

  'And here's the infamous St John, your alter ego,' she teased. 'What a romantic figure he is, to be sure. I think you should try your
hair like that. You'd look rather dashing with long hair tied back with a ribbon.'

  'There are some things I won't do, even to please you,' Linc responded firmly. 'And growing my hair is one of them. Besides, I don't think I would look so dashing on dressage day at a three-day event, if I had to put it in a hairnet!'

  Josie giggled. 'You may have a point there.'

  They wandered on, talking in muted tones, heads close together, eventually reaching the far end of the gallery.

  'Whereabouts are your rooms? In the dungeons with the rats and spiders?'

  'No. The opposite. Up in the roof. The old housemaids' dormitory.'

  'Bare boards and a straw mattress?'

  'Yes, but the housekeeper lets me have a blanket in the winter. And I'm lucky to have found employment at all in these hard times,' Linc said, putting on a Dorset accent. 'Actually, it's not at all bad up there. Do you want to come and see?'

  'Er . . .' Josie hesitated, avoiding eye contact. 'Is this an invitation to come and see your etchings?'

  Linc's heart rate doubled. 'That depends.'

  'On what?' She was studiously inspecting a marble statuette.

  'On you,' he said carefully. 'You're welcome just to sign up for the standard package, comprising guided tour of the apartment, view from the window – not great in the dark, I admit – a cup of coffee and a biscuit. Or you can go for the deluxe version which is a made-to-order package and may take considerably longer.'

  'Um, I think I'll start with the standard deal, if that's okay?'

  'Of course it is,' Linc assured her, gallantly hiding his disappointment. He crossed the corridor and opened a small door in the panelling. 'This way, madam. Mind the stairs, they're rather steep.'

  At the top of the narrow flight of steps they emerged through another small door into Linc's living room and he watched with pleasure as Josie's eyes lit with surprised appreciation.

  He'd adorned the basic canvas of natural oak beams, cream-painted walls, stripped floorboards and dark leather suite with colourful rugs, tapestries and cushions of South American origin. He was rather pleased with the overall effect himself, and Josie's reaction was gratifying.

  'Wow! It's lovely! Did you do all this?'

  'Yes. Don't sound so surprised,' Linc replied indignantly. 'Come and see the kitchen while I rustle up a cup of coffee.'

  The kitchen followed the theme, with aged oak cupboards, granite worktops, cream walls, and tiles in hot, peppery colours behind the sink and cooker.

  'Go and have a look at the rest,' he suggested, taking mugs out of the cupboard and putting the kettle on to boil.

  Josie wandered off down the passageway that led to a small study, a big airy bedroom with a sloping ceiling, and a neat en-suite bathroom with a roof light over the roll top bath. Linc had spent many a blissful half-hour soaking in there and gazing up at the stars.

  She came back just as he was putting the milk back in the fridge.

  'It's absolutely gorgeous!' she exclaimed. 'I'm green with envy!'

  Linc was pleased. He handed her a mug and led the way back to the sitting room.

  'I thought you said there was a biscuit included in the standard package,' Josie reminded him playfully.

  'I lied. Though I might have a bit of cake somewhere.'

  She shook her head. 'No, I'm fine, really.'

  Linc sat on one end of the sofa and, after a moment, Josie joined him, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs up beside her. They sipped coffee in companionable silence for a minute or two and then Josie looked sideways at him with what could almost have been described as a shy smile.

  'So what does the deluxe package consist of?' she asked softly.

  'Ah, but I didn't think madam was in the market for that,' Linc countered.

  'I'm an impulse buyer. Sell it to me.'

  'I can do better than that,' he offered, leaning across and taking her mug out of her hand. He placed both mugs on the low table. 'I can give you a free demonstration. No obligation to buy.'

  Josie slid over the smooth leather seat to nestle within the circle of his arm.

  'That sounds fair enough.' She undid one of the buttons on his cotton shirt and slid her hand inside. 'Is it okay to handle the goods?' she murmured, her head somewhere beneath his chin.

  Linc took a deep steadying breath.

  'Oh, yes. That's part of the deal,' he assured her.

  Linc woke first in the morning and lay looking up at the squares of sunlight on his bedroom ceiling with a feeling of rare contentment. Snuggled by his side, Josie slept on. Turning his head, he could just see the dark sweep of her lashes on her golden skin. As if aware of being watched, she suddenly stretched luxuriously and opened her eyes.

  'Morning,' he said softly. 'So, what did you think of the deluxe package? Can I interest madam in signing up for further tours?'

  'Um . . . I might need to think about it,' she hedged. 'You know, shop around and compare prices.'

  There was a moment's silence, then Linc asked, 'Is madam by any chance familiar with the phrase "hard sell?" ' and rolled over to pin her arms on to the pillow, either side of her head.

  Some minutes later, when things had quietened down, Linc lay looking at her from under his lashes.

  'What?'

  'I was just wondering what you'd say if I asked you to marry me,' he replied frankly.

  She blinked, then said matter-of-factly, 'I'd say yes.'

  'Just like that?' Linc queried. 'Don't you even want time to think?'

  'I've already done that,' she told him. 'That first time you showed me round and I saw the portrait of your mother, I tried to imagine what it would be like to come here as a bride and I just couldn't get my head round it. That sounds arrogant, I know, because I don't suppose the thought had even crossed your mind then, but I knew I was getting involved and I needed to sort myself out. If I couldn't handle the idea of Farthingscourt and the title and everything then I was on a hiding to nothing. Whichever way it went with you, I was going to lose.'

  'That was when you went away to London?'

  'Yes. I needed space to think. Though I did need to go anyway, to sort out something about the flat.'

  'And?'

  'And I decided that it was too late anyway. I decided that I'd take my chances, because if it came to it and the feeling was right, then nothing else mattered.'

  'And it feels right?'

  'It's always felt right,' she stated simply. 'Hey, this is very one-sided! What about you? When did you know?'

  'I think, in the restaurant in Shaftesbury. Though I thought what happened later might have blown it for me. And as for the other night . . .'

  'You certainly know how to show a girl a good time!'

  'Don't I just,' he said ruefully.

  'And what about your father? Will he approve?'

  'He likes you. Not that it would make any difference if he didn't.'