'I've been meaning to have a word with you about the old oak out on Piecroft Common. You know, the one the children play on. One or two of the branches look pretty rotten. I'd like your opinion. Can we go out and have a look at it – tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? It's no good trying to stop the kids using it, they've been doing it for years and their parents before them. But we might need to take a couple of those branches off. I just hope we don't have to have the whole thing down – they're bound to think we did it to spoil their fun.'
Reagan nodded. 'It does need looking at. What sort of time were you thinking of? I shall be at the timber yard most of the day, so it doesn't matter to me.'
'Okay. How about after lunch, then. Two o'clock? Good. Otherwise we'll just keep putting it off and there'll be an accident and hell to pay!' Linc wrote it in his diary and underlined it, before turning to other matters.
When he'd parted from Reagan, Linc headed for the mill to inspect the subsidence the millwright had mentioned. There was in truth little to see from the bank, and as Saul had said it was difficult to tell how bad the damage was. It had probably been caused by shrinkage now the pond was empty and had begun to dry out. Linc could only hope that there wasn't a cloudburst before they got round to reinforcing it. He had a word with the workmen on the roof and returned to his office for yet another meeting, this time with a picture restorer who was due to start work on cleaning all the pictures in the house. It was a job that would take months and cost tens of thousands of pounds.
By the end of the day he was dog-tired and happy to accept a spur-of-the-moment invitation from Crispin to spend the evening 'vegging out on the sofa' as he put it, with a few beers, a pizza and a DVD. With their atypical upbringing, it was the kind of normal, brotherly behaviour they'd missed out on.
'So where are Nikki and Beverley tonight?' Linc asked as they settled down in front of Crispin's top-of-the-range home cinema complex.
'They've gone to see a play. Beverley thought it would probably be terribly provincial, but she's gone anyway. I hope it isn't for Nikki's sake or she'll never hear the last of it.' Crispin made a face. 'If Bev's pining for the cultural delights of London, why the hell doesn't she go back there and leave us in peace?'
'Poor Cris!' Linc sympathised. 'Is she driving you mad?'
'Well, I wouldn't have minded if she'd only stayed the week, as she originally said, but she's made no mention of leaving, and yesterday, when Nik was telling her about the Georgian Fair, she started talking about what costume she would wear if she went to it! Honestly, I could have strangled Nik! I mean, that's not for another ten days or so.'
'You'll have to set a deadline. Can't you tell her you've got someone else coming to stay and will need her room?'
'She's not an easy person to lie to,' Crispin said. 'I've tried it and she always seems to know. She just keeps asking questions until she trips you up. Besides, I don't want to upset Nikki at the moment. She's . . . well, she's in what you might call a delicate condition.'
'Pregnant?' Linc exclaimed, and his brother nodded, beaming. 'Well, congratulations! That's brilliant! I bet you're over the moon!'
Crispin nodded again. 'But a little bit apprehensive, too.' He paused, then corrected himself. 'Actually, to tell the truth, I'm absolutely bloody terrified!'
Linc laughed. 'You've got time to get used to the idea. When's the baby due?'
'Oh, not for ages yet. She's only nine weeks.'
'Is she pleased? I mean, was it planned?'
'Well, not as such,' Crispin admitted. 'But – yes, she's very happy.'
'What about the dragon?'
'Hmm. We haven't told her yet. We wanted to wait a week or two. Make sure everything's all right, you know . . .' He snapped open a can of beer. 'So how are things between you and the gorgeous Josie?'
Linc sobered up instantly. 'Aside from the fact that her sister's accused me of assault and her parents don't know whether to talk to me or not, everything's looking rosy.'
Crispin sat up. 'Who's accused you?'
'Abby. I went to see her in hospital and she threw a wobbly. Somehow she's got it into her head that I was there when she was attacked. In fact, she told Rockley that it was me that actually attacked her! She seemed genuinely terrified when she saw me – it was awful! And the look on her father's face . . .'
'But surely they don't believe you did it? I mean, they know you. Anyone who knew you would realise you'd never do anything like that.'
'She's their little girl,' Linc reminded him.
'Yes, I know . . . But what about Josie? What does she say?'
'Josie's been wonderful. Rock solid.'
'She's an amazing girl. I'll never forget that night at her place. I mean, you were so out of it, Bro, and then when you started throwing up we were all panicking but she stayed really cool. Even the doctor was impressed. If I were you, I'd marry the woman!'
'You never know, I might even do that,' Linc told him calmly. 'But I don't think her family would be very receptive to the idea just now.' In fact, he and Josie had decided, whilst drinking coffee in the hospital lounge, to put the announcement of their engagement on hold until happier times.
'No, probably not.' Crispin looked thoughtful for a moment, then brightened. 'Right. Enough of the emotional stuff! What we need is a dose of sheer escapism – bring on Rogan the Dark Destroyer!'
Linc cringed. 'You haven't . . .'
'Your face!' Crispin exclaimed, laughing. 'No, I haven't. Actually it's the latest James Bond. Didn't think you'd have seen it.'
Linc relaxed. It could have been a lot worse. 'No, I haven't. Put it on, little brother. Let's escape . . .'
When Linc parked the Land-Rover on the edge of Piecroft Common just after two o'clock the following afternoon, Reagan was nowhere to be seen. His own lateness was due to the fact that he'd mislaid his mobile phone and spent ten fruitless minutes looking for it. Nikki had been in and out of the house and office all morning and it occurred to Linc that she might have picked it up by mistake, but he couldn't find her either.
'Oh, she's having her hair done, I think,' Crispin told him, when asked. 'Don't ask me why, it looked fine to me as it was, but that's women for you.'
Piecroft Common, on the north-eastern edge of the Farthingscourt land, was and always had been a favourite playground for the estate workers' children and those of Farthing St James, the nearest village. Although at the moment the common was deserted, Linc had no doubt that soon after four o'clock this area of sheep-grazed turf and the old oak tree with its two rope swings would once again be host to numerous energetic youngsters.
He wandered along the edge of Piecroft Copse to where the old oak stood. The ground beneath the huge, dipping lower branches was smooth and bare, hollowed by the tread and scuff of countless scores of children's feet. Two short pieces of stick hung suspended from it on separate lengths of knotted rope, trailing their frayed ends on to the earth below. It all looked extremely hazardous but Linc remembered himself and Crispin playing on just such a swing when young and couldn't recall any serious injury having befallen either them or their friends.
At first glance the tree was strong and healthy but looking up into the branches, he could see two dead limbs, devoid of bark and foliage, and one that still supported leaves but was to all intents and purposes just a shell, its core rotted and fallen away. The trunk of the tree was enormous, fully six feet in girth, and bore the penknife scars of centuries of adolescent sweethearts in its rough bark.
Glancing at his watch, Linc turned away from the oak to look back to where he'd parked the Discovery. From this position, the vehicle was just out of sight round the edge of the copse and the common was devoid of life, the sheep at present turned out elsewhere.
'Come on, Jack,' he muttered. Although he could see the potential problems with the oak himself, Reagan was a trained tree surgeon and much better placed to estimate the severity and extent of the damage. It wasn't like him to be late, though. Even if his attitude was sometimes question
able, he was normally reasonably punctual. Surely he hadn't forgotten their arrangement altogether?
'Looks like he's not comin',' a rough voice observed from behind Linc.
He spun round and came face to face with the unshaven, yellow-teethed leer of Jim Pepper. His heart sank. How had this happened?
'Looks like it's just the three of us,' Pepper said. 'Nice and cosy, eh?'
Linc glanced from side to side but saw no one else. As far as he knew, Davy was still in custody.
'Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't introduced my little friend.' Pepper moved his right hand away from the leg of his navy boiler-suit to reveal a hefty, four-foot-long steel bar. 'Actually, it's not so little, is it?' he commented with an unpleasant smile. 'My mistake.'
Linc's spirits dropped even further. He returned Pepper's arrogant stare with an impassive one of his own, trying to concentrate on figuring a way out of the situation, but in reality not getting beyond wondering how fast Jim Pepper could run. He was fairly sure that reasoning with the man was a waste of breath, given his reported state of mind, and although he wasn't much more heavily built than Linc himself, the crowbar put all thoughts of physical contest firmly into the realms of crass stupidity.
'This is crazy,' he said, taking a step back. 'What d'you hope to achieve?'
Pepper stepped forward, lifting the bar menacingly.
'Satisfaction,' he said. Silly question, really.
Linc took another step back
'You're in enough trouble already. Don't make it worse.' He strove to keep his voice steady. 'Put the crowbar down and walk away.'
'Fuck you!' Pepper spat, stepping forward again.
That wasn't promising. Linc stopped moving. He could hardly walk backwards all the way across the common, even supposing Pepper let him. He wondered briefly what would happen if he took a step forward, but wasn't curious enough to find out. Where the hell was Reagan?
'What'cha going to do now, Mr Honourable Tremayne?' Pepper sneered. 'I don't think your friend Jack is coming. Or is he your friend, I wonder?'
Was he indeed? Linc's mind raced, remembering Nikki's report of seeing Pepper and Reagan together outside the pub.
'Maybe I know a thing or two you don't, Mr Public School Education.' Pepper pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his boiler-suit pocket and waved it in the air. 'I bet you'd like to know what this says, eh? Maybe I'm not the only one who's fuckin' sick of being told what to do by a toff!'
Pepper jabbed the sharp end of the crowbar into the compacted dirt at his feet and Linc couldn't help looking at the three- or four-inch dent it made.
'Saw a man put one of these through his foot, once. Made a hell of a mess.' Pepper lifted the bar and lunged forward without warning, aiming the point at Linc's stomach.
Taken unawares, he stumbled back out of range, cursing himself in the next instant for not having tried to make a grab for the weapon. He steadied himself and waited with his hands spread in front of him, his curiosity over the possible contents of the note sidelined by more urgent concerns.
Pepper laughed derisively but hesitated, and it occurred to Linc that having got this far, the former estate worker quite possibly had little idea what to do next. It was one thing to make threats, but a heavy crowbar wouldn't be the easiest thing to wield successfully, especially when your opponent had the run of an extensive open space. It seemed that Linc's first instinctive reaction might well be the answer, after all. He was no great sprinter but he was confident he could outstrip the older man, especially if he insisted on holding on to the crowbar. If he discarded it, the competition would be closer, but Pepper without a weapon was an entirely more manageable proposition.
Linc took one more careful step backwards, poised in preparation to turn and run, and felt something bump gently against his back. Such was his state of tension that he didn't immediately think of the rope swing, hanging from the branches, but instead jumped in alarm and instinctively turned to meet the new threat. In that instant, Pepper attacked.
Honed by years of riding at speed, Linc's reactions saved him as they had done on the night Abby was assaulted. As Pepper moved forward, swinging his arm back preparatory to launching the crowbar like some overweight javelin, Linc caught sight of the movement on the edge of his vision. Even before his mind consciously had time to readjust he'd grasped the wooden crossbar of the swing and hurled it towards Pepper.
Because of the dragging effect of the rope, the stick didn't fly true but it achieved the desired result. Pepper ducked, and in doing so his aim with the crowbar was spoiled. The point lanced harmlessly past Linc, the whole shaft landing with a muted metallic ringing on the turf behind him.
Linc leaped at Pepper with his head bowed, catching him in the midriff with his shoulder, arms spread like a rugby prop-forward, and carrying him back and down to hit the ground with a satisfying thud. Pepper writhed beneath him, gasping obscenities and doing his utmost to throw him off. He was stronger than Linc had bargained for. In spite of the fact that he'd fallen with one arm twisted behind him, he was still making it very difficult for his captor to hold him down. Linc managed to shift until he was kneeling across Pepper's stomach and using both his hands to keep the man's one free arm pinned to the ground.
'You're breaking my fuckin' arm!' Pepper grated, through clenched teeth, trying to get his feet into play.
'Forgive me if I don't get too upset,' Linc told him. 'If you'd lie still it wouldn't hurt so much.'
Pepper didn't seem inclined to heed this advice, and gave Linc a rough couple of minutes before he finally conceded defeat.
'So what are you gonna do now?' he panted.
Linc honestly didn't know. This was where he needed his mobile phone more than ever. Breathing heavily, he sat on his boiler-suited captive and considered the possibilities.
It didn't take long. There were really only two: remain sitting on Jim Pepper until Reagan or someone else arrived, or let him get up and run the very real risk of having him break loose again. For the time being, he chose the former. For one thing, Reagan was – presumably – on his way; and for another, the longer he kept Pepper with his right arm trapped underneath him, the more useless it would hopefully become. Optimistically, Linc pushed the uncertain elements of his plan to the back of his mind.
'You're breaking my fuckin' arm, you bastard!' Pepper shouted at the top of his voice, his face livid. 'I'll sue you for assault!'
And probably win, Linc thought bitterly, but was saved the necessity of answering by the eminently welcome sound of a shout from the direction of the road.
'Over here!' he shouted in reply, twisting to bring deliverance into view. The voice had been unmistakably female but although he would have preferred Reagan or one of the other estate workers, he wasn't in a position to be too choosy. Now he could see that the person running across the turf towards him was in fact Nikki.
'Linc! Are you okay? What's happened?' she asked, slowing up a little breathlessly. Then, tilting her head to get a good look, 'Is that Jim Pepper?'
'It is,' he confirmed.
'So what happened? He didn't attack you, did he?'
'He tried, but he's not very good at it,' Linc said, deliberately adding a touch of scorn. He'd had a bellyful of the Pepper family.
Pepper's response to this was predictably obscene and Linc bounced on him a time or two.
'Shut up, okay?' he advised. 'I don't suppose you've got your phone on you, have you, Nik?'
'Yep. Well, actually, I've got yours,' she told him apologetically. 'The battery was flat on mine and I must have picked yours up thinking it was Cris's. That's why I came looking for you.' She held it out.
'Er, I think you'll have to do it for me. I'm a little busy.'
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