Deadfall

by Lyndon Stacey

  'A bit heavy-eyed after last night, to tell the truth. We went clubbing and danced the night away,' she added for Linc's benefit. 'I haven't done that for absolutely ages!'

  'It was more exercise than I've had in years!' Sandy agreed, laughing. 'But it was good to see you let your hair down.'

  They fitted Magic for a saddle first, trying three before Ruth was happy with one, and chatting all the while about Linc's burgeoning eventing career. They had just put a headcollar on Cromwell when Josie finally appeared.

  She greeted Linc with a smile and a kiss on the cheek as he stood holding the grey horse, but he thought he detected a slight reserve and signs of strain around her eyes. His heart sank.

  Sandy said 'Hi' to her and took up the conversation where he'd left off. 'Yeah, I don't think you can really reach the top unless you're a kid with stinking rich parents or you find yourself a sponsor,' he said, agreeing with a remark Linc had made. 'I'd offer myself but I don't think my level of sponsorship would benefit you much! I might run to the odd sack of horse feed and a set of shoes, but that's about it! Are you going to hop up and try it, missus?' He looked at Josie.

  'I thought Noddy looked a bit sorry for himself this morning,' she said, accepting Linc's offer of a leg up on to Cromwell's back. 'What are you going to do about his saddle?'

  Linc shook his head. 'We'll have to leave it, I think. I don't really want to sit on him if he's uncomfortable and we can't fit the saddle properly without.'

  'No problem, I'll hang on to the two I brought for him. I won't have any trouble selling the one you don't want.' Sandy moved the grey horse's mane to get a clear view down the front of the saddle, checking for a good clearance of the spine. 'How does it feel to you?' he asked, looking up at Josie.

  She shifted her weight, settling deeper into the soft leather seat. 'Can you lead him forward, Linc?'

  After a circuit of the yard, she nodded to Sandy. 'That's fine. Very comfortable. What do you think?'

  'It's a very good fit, considering his build. Isn't your mum coming down?'

  'No. She's busy. Said she's happy to leave it to me.'

  It seemed to Linc that her answer was just a little too casual and she was careful not to meet his eyes, but it might have been his imagination.

  When Sandy had gone, Linc offered to help Josie fill the haynets for the night and Ruth tactfully went up to the house, leaving the two of them alone. Hannah was nowhere to be seen – for which he couldn't help but be thankful.

  Josie said little while they stuffed the nets with sweet-smelling hay but afterwards, straightening up and picking bits off her jumper, she asked Linc if he wanted to come up to the house for a cup of coffee.

  'Er . . . no, I think I'd better be getting back.'

  She paused, looking searchingly at him. 'Not because of Mum and Dad?'

  Linc couldn't deny it. 'I don't blame them, but I don't want to make things awkward.'

  'Linc, they don't really think you did it, you know. What Dad said at the hospital – he was just protecting Abby.'

  'I know he was, but I can't forget the look on his face . . .'

  Josie put her arms round his neck and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. 'Oh, Linc, I'm so sorry. And we were so happy . . .'

  Her use of the past tense didn't escape him but he didn't comment on it.

  'I just wish I could figure out why she said it,' he murmured after a moment. 'What are we missing? Why was she so sure?'

  Josie shook her head slightly, then lifted her chin to kiss him.

  Linc responded with sudden, leaping passion and when they finally drew apart, gazed deep into her eyes and said, 'Come home with me?'

  There was an infinitesimal withdrawal and Josie's eyes fell. 'Linc . . .'

  Immediately he released her and stood back.

  'No, it's all right. I understand. I've got things to do anyway.'

  'It's just . . . the way things are . . .'

  'It's all right,' he repeated. 'I'll give you a ring in a day or two.'

  He turned away and she didn't call him back.

  THIRTEEN

  THAT SATURDAY WAS LINC'S thirtieth birthday.

  Having spent the last few years away from home, he'd grown used to birthdays coming and going with the minimum of fuss and, somewhat naively, had hoped the same would be true of this one.

  Being a public day at Farthingscourt, it was business as usual, although Linc knew his father had a long-standing engagement that meant being in London for the best part of the weekend. So it was that when he called in to the library for what had become their habitual morning meeting, it was more in anticipation of wishing his father a safe journey than in any expectation of a birthday surprise.

  'Hear you had a turn up with Pepper yesterday,' the Viscount began as Linc settled himself into the wingchair opposite his desk. 'Have we seen the last of him now, d'you think?'

  'For a while, I should imagine. Caught in the act like that.'

  His father grunted. 'Didn't hurt you, did he?'

  'No, but not from lack of trying. I'm just glad he chose a crowbar for a weapon and not a hatchet! I don't think he thought it out very carefully.'

  'And Reagan? What do you make of that?'

  Linc hesitated. 'I'm not sure. If he was behind it, it was very clumsily done. But it seemed to me he was completely bewildered by the whole thing. After the police had gone and we could actually get on with looking at the tree, he went from being angry to almost kind of dazed, as if he couldn't quite get his head round it. He didn't try and talk his way out of it or anything.'

  'But they were his initials on the note.'

  'Yeah, but that's what I mean by clumsy. After all, with Pepper in the frame of mind he was, a simple time and place would have sufficed, I would have thought. He didn't really need to take the chance of putting what was to all intents and purposes his name to it.'

  'But why would anyone try and set him up like that?'

  'I wish I knew,' Linc said, sighing. 'But I can't think Jim Pepper would've bothered to make it up himself.'

  'No.' The Viscount was thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. 'Anyway, other business. If I remember rightly, it's your birthday today.'

  Linc grimaced. 'The big three-oh. I'd hoped nobody would remember.'

  'Well, as a matter of fact, it was Mary who reminded me,' his father admitted. 'But, whatever . . . I decided that rather than buy you some expensive toy that you probably didn't want, I would give you something a bit more meaningful, so I thought you should have this.' He opened his desk drawer and removed a black drawstring pouch which he passed to Linc. 'It's been in the bank with the other things. It's up to you what you do with it – wear it or put it back – but by tradition it should belong to the heir.'

  Linc took the soft leather bag and pulled the top apart. Tipping it, a heavy gold ring fell out on to his palm, and as he dropped the pouch and turned the ring over he could see the elaborately chased design with the huge emerald at its centre. It was the ring that featured in so many of the portraits in the Long Gallery; most notably that of St John Tremayne, the family black sheep.

  'Wow!' Linc breathed, almost reverently. 'That's amazing! Thank you. Thank you so much. I didn't expect anything like this.'

  His father looked half-embarrassed. 'Well, it's yours, for God's sake! Should have had it before now, by rights, but you weren't here, were you?'

  Linc suppressed a wry smile. Since his uncharacteristic show of emotion after Linc's accident, his father had been more distant than ever. This brusque retort was more like the man he knew.

  'Well, thank you anyway. It's nice to have. I wasn't even sure it was still in the family.'

  Lord Tremayne grunted. 'Even that wastrel St John knew better than to gamble away the Farthingscourt Emerald.'

  'I'll look even more like him if I start wearing this. Perhaps I should get my ear pierced so I can wear the earring, too . . .' he mused.

  His father treated him to a
withering look but didn't rise to the bait. 'So, what are you doing with yourself today – to celebrate, I mean? Taking that girl of yours somewhere?'

  'Actually, Crispin and Nikki have invited us over for a meal,' he said. Crispin had, in fact, only just rung with the offer and he hadn't yet had a chance to put it to Josie. After last night, he wasn't sure how she'd react, and the thought was deeply unsettling. How had things become such a mess?

  'That'll be nice. Young Nikki's a pretty good cook. But we'll have a proper family dinner party when I get back. I'd like to see Josie again.'

  'Sure,' Linc agreed. He hadn't told his father about Abby's accusations and the present sensitive nature of his relationship with Josie. Time enough if anything came of it, God forbid.

  Crispin and Nikki's dinner party was a great success. When Linc rang Josie to relay the invitation she accepted instantly, showing none of the previous night's indecision, but scolded him unmercifully for not warning her of his birthday in advance.

  'What the hell am I going to get you?' she wanted to know.

  'You don't have to get me anything,' he said in the age-old and totally unrealistic way that people have in such situations. 'Anyway, how was I supposed to warn you? I could hardly just come out with it in conversation. "Oh, by the way, I think you should know it's my birthday next week." It's not exactly subtle!'

  'Well, I would have found a way,' she maintained, 'if it was my birthday – which, while we're on the subject, is on December the twenty-eighth.'

  In spite of her complaints, she turned up at North Lodge Cottage at the appointed time with a large, square silver-papered box under her arm. Crispin sent her through to the sitting room, where Linc was already drinking a beer and playing with the laptop computer which had been his brother's and Nikki's present to him, and went to fetch her a glass of wine.

  Putting aside his new toy, Linc got up to meet her, said 'Hi', and kissed her on the cheek.

  She responded in kind and then held out the package. 'This is for you. Many happies, and don't you dare say "you shouldn't have"!'

  'Thank you.' He took it meekly, but his eyes returned to her face, asking softly, 'Are we all right? Last night, I wasn't sure . . .'

  She nodded. 'We're fine. It's just, all this stuff going on . . . I feel like I'm being pulled in all directions. But I lay awake a long time last night, thinking, and I know now that whatever happens I'm with you. Nothing else feels right. So,' she added briskly, 'you're stuck with me, buster! Now open the bloody present, will you!'

  The box, when he finally fought his way through the paper and sticky tape, contained a new crash hat.

  'I thought you might need that if you're riding Hobo tomorrow,' Josie told him. 'Since your old one is completely shattered!'

  'God! I hadn't thought of that. Yes, thank you very much.' Not having ridden Noddy all week, Linc had forgotten that – designed to absorb and disperse the shock from a fall such as he had suffered – his helmet would almost certainly need replacing.

  'It's the same size and make as your old one, so it should fit. Sorry it's not more exciting but I knew you'd need one.'

  'No, it's brilliant. I'd completely forgotten. Thanks.'

  After an initial protest for form's sake, Nikki gladly accepted Josie's offer of help in the kitchen, and it was decided by mutual consent that Linc and Crispin would go for a walk while the girls put the finishing touches to the meal.

  Although the day had been fine and fairly bright, a chilly east wind had sprung up as the sun started to sink and now the sky threatened rain. Crispin hesitated at the door, looking at his brother's canvas jacket.

  'That might be the height of fashion, Bro, but it doesn't look very weatherproof. Do you want to borrow a proper coat?' He indicated a miscellaneous collection of garments that hung on a row of hooks in the porch.

  'Well, I didn't know I was going to be trudging round the countryside in the dark, did I?' Linc pointed out. 'Thanks. I will borrow something, if I may. Actually, that's the downside of going out with a model. You've got a lot to live up to.'

  'You know Josie's not like that,' Crispin said, holding out an old and much-worn waxed jacket. 'Here, take this, we call it our utility coat. It's nobody's in particular and available for the use of the community – well, within reason anyway!'

  They walked for the best part of an hour through the gathering dusk, Linc enjoying the company of his younger brother more than he could ever remember. He supposed it was because they were both more mature and shedding all the hangups of sibling rivalry, but whatever the reason they returned to the cottage in light-hearted mood. The wind had become unseasonably cold as darkness fell and Linc slid his hands into the pockets of the borrowed coat amongst the jumble of bits and pieces they already contained. He tried not to analyse these, but the left pocket was being weighed down by what felt like a plastic tub, and by the time they got back to the house curiosity had got the better of him and in the light of the porch he investigated it.

  It turned out to be a pot of Vaseline, exactly like the one he'd bought to stop the pink skin around Noddy's mouth chapping. In fact, judging by the horse hairs stuck to a smear of grease on the outside of the pot, it was his. By the weight of it, there was a fair amount left, so he showed Crispin.

  'Somebody's pilfered my Vaseline,' he joked. 'I'd better have it back because I'm riding Nina's horse tomorrow, and she has been known to forget the odd item of kit!'

  Crispin nodded. 'Yeah, take it. I can't remember who was wearing that coat last Saturday. Must have been either Beverley or Niks. Let's blame Beverley, shall we?'

  'So, where is Mother-in-law this evening?' Linc asked. 'Have you sent her out for the evening, or is she gagged and bound in one of the rooms upstairs?'

  'Don't tempt me,' Crispin said, laughing. 'Actually, she's gone back to Surrey because her house-sitter couldn't stay another week. But,' he said, holding up a hand, 'before you cheer, she's coming back in a couple of weeks' time for the fair.'

  The inner door opened and Nikki peered round it.

  'Oh, there you are! When I said go for a walk, I didn't mean to Shaftesbury and back! You've got two minutes flat to go to the loo, wash your hands and be sitting at the table.'

  They made it, in due course, with just seconds to spare, arriving at the table almost at the same time as the prawn cocktails that formed the first course.

  Josie and Nikki followed them in, bearing two of these apiece and laughing about something that one of them had said. They were both flushed from the heat of the kitchen and appeared to have struck up a friendship.

  'Well, no need to feel guilty about leaving you two to do all the work,' Crispin commented. 'You've obviously been having a ball out there.'

  'Just as if you were feeling guilty anyway!' Nikki scoffed, putting a cocktail down in front of her husband. 'I bet you didn't even spare a thought for us. Well, as a matter of fact, we have had fun, talking about girl stuff. Comparing notes, you might say.' This last was said with a sideways glance and a wink at Josie, who smiled in return.

  'Oh, God! Now I'm feeling really nervous!' Crispin said. 'Comparing notes? On what?'

  'Oh, yes, we're really going to tell you. Get on with your starter.'

  Linc raised an eyebrow at Josie, who shook her head.

  'No. Absolutely not. It's girls' stuff. We don't ask what you guys talk about. By the way, have you seen the kittens? Nikki's going to let me have one when they're ready to go. I thought Abby might like it.'