BLINDFOLD

by Lyndon Stacey

  `Thank you,' Rachel murmured. `I'm sorry to be such a nuisance.'

  Gideon repositioned the Merc, attached a tow rope to the back of the Mini and pulled it up to lift the rear wheels clear of the road, then climbed back into the driver's seat, thoroughly cold and wet himself. He smiled at Rachel, who responded in kind, and began the steady journey home, noticing as he did so that she had abandoned the protection of the spray can.

  FOUR

  THE SUN WAS JUST clearing the hedge at the bottom of his garden and beginning to melt the ice that had formed on the kitchen window, when Gideon lifted the cat from her customary position on the top of the Aga and replaced her with a pan of porridge. Elsa complained sleepily and he soothed her, draping her over his shoulder as he stirred the milky oatmeal.

  The frost-rimed garden looked magical in the watery sunlight, and Gideon was possessed of a momentary urge to fetch his camera and take a photograph to reproduce later in watercolours. The angle of the sun was wrong though, and the thought of venturing out into the cold effectively quelled the impulse.

  There was a movement in the doorway and the cat dropped lightly to the floor. He looked across to see Rachel standing there, warmly clad in grey slacks and a soft white jumper that reached halfway to her knees. She blinked at him, as though not fully comprehending the situation, and then smiled shyly.

  `I must have fallen asleep.'

  Gideon smiled in return. `You did. Twice. Once in here, over

  coffee, and again when you went upstairs to change out of your wet clothes.'

  `I'm sorry. I took your bed, didn't I?'

  'No problem,' he lied, restraining an urge to flex his stiff neck. The sofa was at least ten inches too short to be a comfortable alternative. `Would you like some porridge? It'll be ready in a moment.'

  `Thank you.' Rachel moved hesitantly towards the table. Elsa rubbed around her ankles and she put a hand down to stroke the cat, absent-mindedly.

  `Well, I'd put some shoes on if I were you. You'll freeze on this stone floor without anything on your feet.'

  Rachel had a way of watching him with dark-eyed intensity while he spoke, as if worried about what he might say. Now she smiled, relaxing visibly as she nodded and disappeared, presumably in search of some suitable footwear.

  She was a remarkably attractive girl when she wasn't looking like a lost kitten, Gideon thought, returning his attention to the Aga. By the time she returned the porridge was ready and divided into two steaming bowlfuls on the table.

  Gideon was finding spoons.

  `There's brown sugar, white sugar, golden syrup and/or cream,' he announced, hearing her take her place at the table. `Which would you like?'

  Rachel didn't answer and Gideon turned to find her stroking Elsa and looking away from him, out of the window.

  `Rachel?' he said quietly.

  She gave no sign of hearing him so he waved his hand slightly and the movement caught her eye.

  `I'm sorry,' she said, seeing him poised with the sugar and cream. `I was miles away. Did you say something?'

  `I was asking what you'd like on your porridge, but it doesn't matter, I'll put them all on the table and you can help yourself,' he said, suiting his actions to the words. Then, as he sat down, `Why didn't you tell me you were deaf'

  `I'm sorry,' she said again, colour rising in her cheeks. `I'm not completely deaf. I have some hearing in my right ear and I suppose I hope people won't notice.'

  Gideon helped himself to brown sugar and cream. `But why? It's nothing to be ashamed of.'

  Rachel shifted uncomfortably. `I know. It's just ... I don't know, I suppose I don't want to be pitied.' She tucked a section of her thick, dark hair behind one ear and reached for the syrup, her eyes flickering up to meet his and away again as if afraid that she would find him laughing.

  `You haven't always been deaf, have you?' he said.

  `No, I had an accident three years ago. I fell over and hit my head, and when I woke up in hospital I couldn't hear anything at all. After a few days I got some hearing back in my right ear but not the left. The doctors say it could still improve but it hasn't yet.'

  `Is that how you got the scar?' Gideon asked gently. A curving, slightly puckered, white line showed noticeably across her cheekbone against the olive of her skin.

  `Yes.' She unhooked the hair from behind her ear and let it fall forward, her hand stroking the blemish almost subconsciously as she did so. `People don't usually mention it,' she said then.

  `I'm sorry,' Gideon said mildly. `I didn't mean to be rude.' There was silence for a few moments as they both occupied themselves with their porridge, then Rachel said, `I don't mind really. I mean, you always know people will see it sooner or later, and sometimes they try so hard not to say anything that you feel like screaming at them, "Yes, I know I have a scar, but it's no big deal!" I think you're the first person to actually come straight out and ask me about it.'

  `Me and my big mouth,' he said with a rueful grin. `Still, I'm not exactly unblemished myself.'

  `I wondered about that,' Rachel said shyly.

  `I'm not surprised you were reluctant to accept a lift. The truth is, I was on the wrong side of a door that somebody opened in a hurry.'

  `Ouch!' Rachel said, wincing. `I bet that hurt!'

  She scraped her bowl, pushed it away and asked if he knew of a garage that she might telephone to see about her car.

  Gideon rang the garage he occasionally used, in Blandford, and they said they were busy but would send a truck out for the Mini sometime that afternoon.

  `I'm sorry if you were in a hurry,' he said, putting the phone down. `We could try somewhere else but I know they'll do a good job for a reasonable price. I wouldn't know who else to recommend. I can ring round if you like, or alternatively I can give you a lift to wherever you need to go and you can pick the car up when it's ready. I expect it'll be a couple of days.'

  `I'm not precisely in a hurry,' Rachel told him. `The room I was after will probably have gone by now. The landlady told me in no uncertain terms that if I didn't take it up by yesterday she would rent it to someone else. She said she had someone waiting.'

  `I expect that was just a ploy. We could ring her and find out if you like?'

  `Well,' Rachel said without much enthusiasm, `I guess it might be worth a try . . .'

  `But you're not keen?'

  `I didn't like her very much but it was the only place I could find other than a B and B, and that's outside my budget.'

  `Why are you moving? Not that it's any of my business.'

  `No, that's all right. I move around quite a lot. I'm an interior designer -just qualified - and I go where my work is. I can't afford to turn anything down. I was living in a rented flat while I studied and haven't decided where to base myself yet.'

  `Don't you have any family?'

  `No. Not really,' she said, looking down at her hands.

  Gideon read the signals and backed off. `So, where do you need to be?'

  `My next job's in Bournemouth but the people are on holiday for another week or so. I'm treading water at the moment until they get back.'

  Gideon got up and began to clear the table. `Well, there's a spare room upstairs you're welcome to until you can arrange something else,' he offered. `It's quite habitable once it's warm but I couldn't face it last night. In fact, if you're here for a few days, you can work your design skills on it. It could do with smartening up!'

  Rachel laughed, unsure whether to take him seriously. `Are you sure you don't mind? You've been so kind already.'

  `No problem. As I said, you're welcome.' `Well, er . . .'

  `There's a lock on the door,' he informed her.

  She turned pink again. `Well, thank you. If you're sure . . .' Later in the morning Gideon took the Mercedes back to the Priory, taking Rachel with him and leaving the Mini with its keys under the wheel-arch in case the garage tow-truck turned up early.

  Both Pippa and her brother were in, and when Rachel showed her delight
at the old house, she was given a guided tour of the building.

  As he followed Rachel into the sitting room, Giles raised his eyebrows at Gideon who lowered his and shook his head. Giles looked sceptical for an instant before turning to resume his narrative.

  `She's a pretty girl,' Pippa said in a low voice to Gideon as they trailed the others through the house. `If you don't act quickly, you'll lose her to Giles.'

  `She's not mine to lose,' he responded. `I only met her last night. Her car had broken down and she needed a place to stay.' `Ever the Good Samaritan,' Pippa teased.

  `Well, I couldn't just leave her there.'

  `I'm surprised she felt safe staying overnight with a strange man - I'm sure I wouldn't!'

  `She's just an extremely good judge of character,' Gideon said, tongue in cheek. `And I have this trustworthy, avuncular air about me.

  Pippa spluttered. `Says who?' Gideon affected deep hurt.

  An invitation to lunch was issued and accepted, after which Pippa took Rachel out to see the horses.

  `Well!' Giles breathed as the two girls went out. `If I ever stop to help anyone they always turn out to be a toothless granny or a lump of a girl with pigtails and braces on her teeth. Trust you to pick up a stunner.'

  Gideon laughed. `She didn't look so stunning last night, I can assure you. She looked like a half-drowned kitten. And what's more, she fell asleep on my bed so I had to sleep on the couch. I don't think my neck will ever be the same.' He rubbed it, grimacing.

  Giles laughed. `A white knight with saddle sores,' he observed. `It doesn't happen in the fairy stories.'

  `So, how did it go with the ostriches yesterday?' `Ah. Pippa told you about that, did she?'

  `Mm. She's not too keen.'

  `Well, I've gone off the idea myself, a little,' Giles admitted. `They have this way of looking at you ... I

  'They can be very dangerous, I believe.'

  Giles looked crestfallen. `The guy I spoke to didn't say that. In fact, he said they were very easy to keep.'

  `He wasn't trying to sell you some, by any chance?' Gideon asked, eyebrows raised.

  `Okay. Point taken. It was just an idea.'

  `If you want to do something, why don't you build Pippa a decent cross-country course to school the horses over,' Gideon suggested. `You could even hold a one-day-event yourselves. You've got room.'

  `Does she want one?' Giles asked doubtfully. `She's never said.'

  `She'd be tickled pink,' Gideon assured him. For all his lively mind and abundant generosity, Giles often missed what was right under his nose.

  `Yeah, maybe. Anyway, what's the news on your front? Confronted any more desperate criminals?'

  `Not for a day or two,' Gideon said. `No. No news. I should think that's probably the end of it.'

  `Well, I call that downright poor-spirited!' Giles exclaimed. `Where's your sense of adventure, man? Don't you want to know what it was all about?'

  `Not enough to get beaten up for it. Or worse,' he added darkly. `Besides, I wouldn't even know where to start looking.' Giles wasn't about to give up. `Well, what about the barn they took you to? Couldn't you look for that?'

  `I did.' Gideon told him about his search.

  `Ah, so you do have some red blood in your veins, after all.' `Yes,' he agreed dryly. `And I'd like it to stay there, if it's all the same to you.'

  `I like your friends,' Rachel told Gideon as they walked back to the Gatehouse.

  `So do I,' he responded flippantly.

  She ignored him. `Pippa has offered to take me riding if I stay long enough.'

  `Well, I should take her up on it,' Gideon advised. `If you want to, that is. The garage may very likely take several days, I should think. Do you ride?'

  `I have done, but I'm not very good. I'd love to try again. Would you come too?' She watched his face for his response.

  `I might. It depends when you go.' Rachel looked pleased.

  Gideon's resolve to spend the best part of the next day working on his much-neglected exhibition pieces, was tested first by the allure of the cold, bright, frosty morning and secondly by a telephone call from Naomi, shortly after breakfast.

  Rachel, in spite of his slightly embarrassed protests, had taken him up on his joke about decorating the spare room, which she

  temporarily occupied, and had begun to plot its transformation. Gideon gave in, seeing in her a need to justify her presence, if not pay her way. And the room was sorely in need of attention, it had to be said. Giles would be pleased.

  Gideon dutifully set out his easel and pastels, sat for a full twenty minutes staring at the paper with its half-completed painting and seeing nothing, and then got up and made a cup of coffee he didn't really want. Tramping upstairs with a cup for Rachel, he found himself telling her he was going out for a couple of hours.

  Rachel assured him she'd be all right, and within ten minutes he was on the Norton, bound for the wildlife sanctuary and his sister.

  Fleetingly it occurred to him that he might return to find Rachel gone and all his valuables with her, but the idea didn't seriously take root in his mind. Unless she had an accomplice with transport, she wouldn't get far with very much.

  What if she'd been planted by Curly and Co.? he wondered in an amused flight of fancy, and dismissed the thought just as easily. Rachel's big, expressive eyes were a mirror for her soul and in their troubled depths Gideon sensed traces of some unspoken fear, but they were the eyes of a frightened child, not a scheming criminal.

  Riding along the Dorset lanes in the bright sunlight, he couldn't have said with certainty just what had prompted him to visit Naomi again so soon. It wasn't anything she'd said; more what she hadn't said. Although they had spoken for almost a quarter of an hour, she had rung off without ever really saying why she'd called.

  It was possible, he supposed, that the lure of a ride on the bike on such a morning had influenced his decision to check on her but he didn't feel it was entirely that. Whatever the reason, he hadn't been in the mood for painting, and a visit to the Sanctuary was as good a way to spend the morning as any.

  He was barely a hundred yards from the place when it happened.

  Riding along the narrow lane, the Norton doing forty or so, Gideon was totally unprepared for the small figure that came hurtling out of a gateway to his left, almost under the wheels of the motorbike.

  He swore and swerved violently, the Norton skidding on the loose stones at the side of the lane as he tried to brake. Mounting the grassy verge, the bike pitched and bucked like an unbroken horse and finally succumbed to the forces of gravity, throwing Gideon off sideways into the hedge.

  He was not best pleased.

  He extricated himself from the brambles and broken twiggery, supposing he should be thankful there hadn't been a ditch, to find himself under the scrutiny of a scruffy, tow-headed and apparently entirely unrepentant child.

  `My brother says people shouldn't ride big bikes if they can't control them,' the child announced, looking from Gideon to where the Norton had come to rest, its engine still ticking over and back wheel spinning. `He says half of them should never be allowed on the road.'

  Gideon nearly choked. `And what does he say about running out into the road without looking?' he asked irritably, taking his helmet off and removing a hawthorn twig from the collar of his leather jacket.

  The lad stared up at him through narrowed, insolent eyes. `My brother's bigger than you,' he said with the air of one who thought that answered everything.

  `Well,' Gideon said, `if you want to get any bigger, you'd better start looking where you're going. I only missed you by inches!' `You were going too fast.'

  `And so were you!' Gideon retorted, unwarily allowing himself to be drawn into the childish argument.

  He reached down and switched the motorbike's engine off, pulling it upright with an effort. He was relieved to see that it seemed to have escaped serious damage. One bent mirror and quantities of grassy mud plastered in every conceivable nook and c
ranny appeared to be the extent of it. He removed the worst of the mud and straightened up to find that the lad was still watching him. `It's not a bad bike,' the kid said judiciously in his curiously sing-song voice. He stood there in denim dungarees and a nonetoo-cleanjumper, his blond, tousled head tilted slightly to one side and bright blue eyes regarding the Norton with reluctant admiration.

  Gideon's sense of humour came sidling back.

  `But your brother's bike is better,' he suggested, with the ghost of a smile.

  `Well, it will be,' the urchin asserted, `when he gets it going. He's gonna take me out on it.'

  `So, where's your brother now?' Gideon asked, feeling that it was high time somebody else took responsibility for the brat. He looked back at the driveway from which the child had hurtled. `Is that where you live?'

  He was rewarded with a look of deep scorn. `Me! Live there? Get real!f

  'Well, where then?' Gideon asked with what he felt was commendable patience. `And what were you doing in there, if you don't live there?F

  'None of your business.'

  `No, I guess not,' he agreed. `But I expect whoever lives there would be interested to hear what you've got to say.'

  The child regarded him sullenly for a long moment. `I was looking for my dog,' he said finally. `He saw a squirrel and ran off. I went after him but this man chased me.'

  `What man?'

  `The man that came out of the house. He 'ad a stick,' he added for good measure.

  `What were you doing?' Gideon asked suspiciously.

  `Nothin'. Just trying to catch Tyke. I didn't touch anythin'. Honest!'

  If Gideon thought the child's denial was a little too vehement, he kept it to himself.

  `Well, we'd better go and see if we can find this dog, then,' he said reluctantly. `But if I find you've been lying to me, I'll hand you over to the man with the stick!'

  The blue eyes widened and the curls shook. `I haven'. Honest!' Wondering what he'd let himself in for, Gideon wheeled the Norton back along the lane and into the curving driveway, where he propped it on its stand, screened from the road by the hedge. As they set off towards the house they exchanged names and he learned that the diminutive figure determinedly trying to match strides with him went by the name of Jez and purported to be twelve years old. This last he doubted, but he held his peace.