by Bill Kitson
As she walked out of the shop, the carrier bag in one hand and her cabin luggage in the other, Tina heard the announcement summoning her to the departure gate. This signalled the end of her delay, and if she needed further proof that the purchase was meant to be, this was surely it.
The delay had thrown her schedule into disarray, and she knew that it would be late afternoon before they touched down in the UK. Fortunately, Tina had the ability to sleep wherever she was, and ignoring the airline food and the complimentary drinks on offer to recompense passengers for their inconvenience, she managed several hours’ rest over the Atlantic.
When she emerged from the baggage reclaim and collected her hire car, she glanced at the clock and realized that if she set off on her trans-Pennine journey at that point, she would get snarled up in the very worst of the early evening rush-hour traffic. After almost two years since she had driven on the left, this was not a prospect she relished, nor was the alternative – a night in a hotel close to the airport – one she was prepared to consider.
She opted for compromise, and with the aid of the relevant software on her smartphone, selected a restaurant only a few miles from the airport. She made her way there and ordered a leisurely meal. Once she was happy that she had managed to avoid the worst of the traffic, Tina set off on the final leg of her journey.
When she finally arrived at the village, it took her some time to retrieve her keys from the next door neighbour, who was keen to hear of her experiences in America. After a quarter of an hour, by the end of which Tina was beginning to shiver from cold, the neighbour relented, and Tina was able to house the car in the double garage, collect her luggage and let herself into the house.
Tina was aware that her body clock was several hours wrong, that by rights she should be weary to the point of exhaustion, but the transatlantic nap had revived her, and coupled with the change in time zones made sleep impossible, for the time being, at least.
Her automatic reaction on entering the cottage was to reach for the light switch, but as she glanced across towards the bay window of the lounge, she caught sight of the sunset. The staggering splendour of the evening sky, lit by the setting sun in every imaginable hue of pink, was breathtaking, far too beautiful to be marred by artificial light, so Tina settled for the far less powerful competition provided by the small table lamp in the far corner of the room.
Tina had spent far too long in cities, far too many nights in hotel rooms with minimal views, if any, and the stunning scenery of the Yorkshire countryside was compelling and not to be missed on any account.
Even in the height of summer, England, particularly the north, seemed cold to one who had more recently been accustomed to the warmer climate of the southern states of the USA. Tina shivered, but was certainly not prepared to go to the trouble of unpacking one of her cases simply to retrieve a sweater. She thought of raiding her mother’s wardrobe, before she remembered her recent purchase. She reached into the duty-free carrier bag and drew out the lightweight cloak, a combination of cape and snood, in an attractive gunmetal grey. It was ideal for her immediate needs. Even her ears were cold, the result of her prolonged stay outside, so she pulled the hood over her head and stood for several minutes, watching the colours of the sky change as the sun sank further below the horizon.
At around the time when Tina was unlocking the door to go into her mother’s house, a few miles away, Phil and Corinna were leaving the rented cottage. As they pulled out of the lane, their departure was watched by Thornton and Mr Muscle. ‘They’ve gone; time for us to move. Drive down their lane and pull round the back. We can hide the car behind the hedge in the field where that straw or whatever it is has been wrapped in those round bales.’
Mr Muscle obeyed Thornton’s instructions. Thornton’s knowledge of agriculture might have been close to non-existent, but his choice of a hiding place for their vehicle was ideal. Even close inspection from within the cottage would not give them away. And if they needed to leave in a hurry, their position gave them the perfect route.
‘Bring the tools, and we’ll go in by the back door.’
Thornton took the jemmy from Mr Muscle and attempted to force the tool into the narrow slit between the door and jamb. After several fruitless efforts, he passed it back. ‘You have a go,’ he wheezed.
The contest was an unequal one and the door yielded with a loud splintering sound that echoed in the still night air.
‘Good, now let’s see what Miller and Corinna are up to.’
On their way through the small lobby, they failed to notice the sledgehammer leaning against the side wall. They passed through the kitchen with barely a sideways glance, before moving into the lounge.
Their search of the cottage took less than an hour, but by the end of it, they had found no trace of the diamonds. Thornton spent a good deal of the time examining a set of folders, which contained records of adoptions from a quarter of a century earlier. They aroused his curiosity, but although he felt sure they must have some bearing on Miller’s hunt for the stones, Thornton was unable to work out the relevance.
‘What now, boss?’
‘We keep following Miller. Sooner or later he’s going to lead us to the diamonds.’
‘What do we do about the door? They’re going to know someone’s been inside.’
‘In that case, we prove it beyond doubt. We mess the place up, take that computer and printer, and the cash we found upstairs in the bedroom. That way they’ll assume it was a burglary.’ Thornton smiled. ‘The money will pay for that dump of a hotel we’re staying in.’
chapter thirteen
The road leading to Margaret Fawcett’s cottage curved from the outskirts of the village in a long, shallow bend. As Tina watched the light show in the evening sky, a car passed, heading towards the village green. Tina went through to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. She looked inside, smiling at her mother’s thoughtfulness. She had left a carton of long life milk for her. Tina switched the kettle on and brewed herself a mug of coffee, which she carried back into the lounge, in time to see that the reds and pinks of the sunset had given way to an equally impressive array of purple and blue shades. As she watched, her attention was caught by a most evocative sound, a sound that truly signalled her return home. It was the rusty croak of a cock pheasant. Saying goodnight to the ladies of his harem, Tina thought. She turned her head slightly towards the source of the sound, and as she did so, the gentle illumination from the table lamp fell on her face.
A little way past the cottage, Corinna pulled to a halt. She turned and looked back at the house, before transferring her gaze to her companion. ‘I thought you said the woman had gone away and the house would be empty. How come there’s a light on, if that’s the case?’
‘Relax, that’s what people do. They leave a light attached to one of those timers, so it comes on at the same time every night to fool burglars into thinking someone’s home. I’m willing to bet that’s what she’s done. It’ll be a table lamp or something like that, you’ll see. But just to be on the safe side I’ll go take a dekko and if it’s all clear, I’ll come back for you.’
From behind a bank of bushes inside the front gate, Phil Miller saw the apparition at the window. As her face came into sharp focus, he felt the short hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end; his jaw dropped open and his eyes bulged. He remained transfixed, wanting to be away from this place, from that sight, yet unable to move. Then, even as he stared at it, the figure vanished leaving him uncertain as to whether she had been there at all.
He blinked, shock coursing through his whole body. As the spell was broken, strength returned to his limbs and he turned, vaulting the wall and bolted; arms and legs pumping like an Olympic athlete, lungs bursting from the unaccustomed effort until he reached the safe haven of the car.
He flung himself into the passenger seat and gasped, ‘Get moving. Get out of here. Now!’
Corinna stared at him. ‘What on earth’s the matter? You look as if you’ve s
een a ghost.’ As she spoke she started the ignition, and as the car pulled away, Miller cast a final, fearful glance through the rear window, as if expecting to see something or someone following them.
‘That’s it,’ he gulped in reply to her question. ‘That’s exactly what happened. I have seen a ghost.’
She drew the car to a halt. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Her cold hard logic was the catalyst that caused his common sense to return. ‘It was probably nothing more than a trick of the light, added to the reason for you being here. The combination probably caused the suggestion to enter your mind.’
‘In other words you think I was seeing things?’
‘One thing’s for certain, you weren’t seeing what you thought was there. That I do know – and so do you. The only way to make sure the house is empty is to go back and watch.’
He agreed, reluctantly. As they drove back past the cottage, they could see the light still glowing in the downstairs window. ‘That doesn’t prove anything, one way or the other,’ she told him. ‘It could mean there’s someone inside or it might be a lamp on a timer, as you suggested originally.’
They parked where they were able to get a good view of the front of the house. It was almost forty minutes later before the light went out and they stared at the darkened facade of the building. They waited several minutes longer just to be on the safe side, before he said, ‘You were right, it was a timer after all. The rest must have been my imagination, just like you said. Come on, let’s get it over with.’
They made their way cautiously to the front boundary of the property, where they paused alongside the gate. ‘We’re better going over the wall,’ he told her, ‘that won’t squeak. The gate probably will – and we don’t want to alert the neighbours.’
Miller climbed over and turned, stretching out to help Corinna cross the obstacle. She had just grasped his hand when he noticed a change in the light value. He looked at Corinna who was staring over his head, her expression one of shock. He turned and followed her gaze. For a brief second, backlit by the illumination from the ceiling light, they caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure in front of the upstairs window. It was only momentary, then the figure vanished and the curtains were drawn.
Although the figure was unrecognizable in the deep shadow, the watchers could tell beyond doubt that it was a female. Enough was enough. He re-scaled the wall and they hurried back to their car. This time there was no reconsideration, no second thoughts. As they drove rapidly out of the village, neither of them had the slightest intention of returning that night. Although, as Corinna pointed out later, ‘That clears up your ghost theory; ghosts don’t open and shut curtains. At least, I’ve never heard of one doing it. That means the house isn’t unoccupied. So we’ll have to rethink our plans.’
A further shock awaited them on their return to their cottage. As soon as they entered the building, they knew there had been an intruder. Papers from the adoption files were strewn across the lounge carpets. The laptop and printer that had been on the table were gone, and when they checked upstairs, they discovered that over three hundred pounds in cash had vanished from the dressing table.
‘Do you think this is to do with why we’re here?’ Corinna asked.
‘How can it be? Nobody knows where we are. For all they know we could be in Spain. I told you before, I hate this place. Now you can see why. Burglars, ghosts, hour after hour of bloody silence during the daytime, and then the minute you try to get to sleep, a load of weird noises that might have come off the sound track of a horror film. Give me a city any day.’
Although Corinna had mocked his dislike of the countryside, for once she had to agree with him. ‘The sooner we get this sorted, the better. Then we can go back home and put our retirement plan into action.’
‘We are not alone.’ Phil Miller was standing gazing out of the cottage window.
‘What? Has what happened last night affected you? Next you’ll be saying you believe in aliens, flying saucers and beings from other planets.’
He grinned, a little shamefaced at this reminder of his belief that he had seen a ghost. ‘No, I mean there is someone watching the house.’
‘How do you know that? Are you sure, or has last night’s burglary made you paranoid?’
‘I saw something in those trees. A few minutes ago. Just briefly.’
‘Something? What sort of something? Was it a woman in a long grey dress walking through solid objects? Or a troop of soldiers dressed like beefeaters? A headless horseman, perhaps? Or a phantom stagecoach flying through the air?’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Corinna’s sarcasm was beginning to irritate him. ‘I saw the sunlight reflecting on glass. I think it might have been binoculars.’
She looked out of the window but could see nothing untoward. ‘It was probably a birdwatcher. Twitchers, I think they’re called. Quite apt, I suppose, because this place is making me twitchy, and it’s definitely doing it to you. In case you hadn’t noticed there are a lot of birds around here. Very noisy birds, that wake me up at some ungodly hour singing their bloody heads off. So what you thought you saw was nothing more sinister than some peasant with nothing better to do than gawp at a lesser-spotted something or other. You can’t blame them. Christ knows, there’s bugger all else to do around here.’
She paused and looked outside again. ‘Either that, or somebody dumped their old TV in the woods and the sun’s reflecting off it. Pull yourself together, Phil, we’ve been through all this once before. Nobody knows we’re here, or anywhere near here. Therefore, nobody can possibly be watching us, right?’
‘I suppose so.’ Her cold, logical argument made him realize how irrational his reaction had been. ‘Yes, of course, you’re dead right, Corinna. Like you said, it was probably all down to what happened last night. What do you suggest we do about that, by the way?’
‘I think our best bet would be to go out there during the hours of daylight and have a good look around, see if we can spot the woman we thought we saw last night.’
‘What time do you want to go?’
She drained her mug of coffee. ‘I’m going for a shower. Then we’ll have a late breakfast and set off after that.’
Tina hadn’t slept at all well the previous night; the residue of her jet lag, she assumed, coupled with the unfamiliarity of the bed. She was up and about early, showered, dressed and drinking her first coffee of the morning by the time the eight o’clock news bulletin came on the radio.
She decided her first task should be to go into Helmsdale and do some shopping. Although Margaret had left her freezer well stocked, her ideas of food and Tina’s were quite different. Added to that, Tina was of an age that had become addicted to one-stop supermarket shopping. Even the thought of Good Buy’s home delivery service didn’t occur to her.
By ten o’clock she was on the road, determined to reach Helmsdale and complete her shopping before the tills got busier around lunchtime. Having spent so long in America, Tina’s idea of a decent cup of coffee was radically different from Margaret’s instant brand, so she added a cafetière to her shopping list. Once she had completed her purchases, she decided she would pop into Helm Café for a sandwich before returning to complete her unpacking. The text she received from her boss whilst entering the supermarket changed all that. ‘Give me chance to touch down, for goodness’ sake,’ she muttered as she read it.
Nevertheless, she changed plans and decided to drive through to Leeds. Better to get the work side of things out of the way, she thought, then she could have a decent break. She had left her laptop at the cottage, but fortunately everything she might need for the meeting was on the flash drive in her handbag.
At around the time Tina was reading the text, a car pulled up outside Margaret’s cottage. In daylight, the house looked empty, deserted. ‘The curtains at that window are open,’ Corinna pointed out. ‘Somebody must be living there, and yet you said you were sure there was nobody else in the house when she went away, didn’t you?’
> ‘I’m absolutely certain of it. The way she locked up, you could tell she was leaving the house empty for longer than a couple of hours or so. She tried the front door twice after locking it, which is what convinced me.’
‘Maybe last night was a burglar. There seems to be a lot of that going on around here.’
He smiled. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Alternatively, she could have employed one of those house-sitters. You know, they come and look after houses whilst you’re away on holiday.’
‘That’s probably far more likely. If that’s the case, they don’t look to be in residence at the moment. Shame we can’t do it now, but it’s far too risky.’ He pointed down the road towards the village green, where several of the residents could be seen. Two of the older inhabitants were making their way towards the pub, which also housed the village shop, whilst a young mother was watching her two small children clambering over the play equipment on the green itself.
‘So, when do we come back?’
‘Late tonight.’
‘What about the house-sitter, if there is one?’
‘It’s not going to be the best job they’ve ever had. We go ahead with it anyway, and if they get in the way, tough. By what I’ve seen of this place, it’ll be days before anyone realizes anything’s wrong. Even the stink won’t be noticeable amongst all the others around. Talk about fresh air! All I can smell is shit, most of the time.’
‘I suppose the only advantage of operating in a place like this is there is absolutely no danger. Not like at home. Nobody’s likely to stick a gun in your face here.’
