‘My lips are sealed.’
Toby went to bed early. He was almost too excited to say goodnight to Haidee and all Rory got was one word said with breathtaking effect.
‘Six-thirty.’
‘If that means what I think it does, be sure you wear your waterproof,’ Haidee warned.
She was in the kitchen setting things ready for the morning when Rory discomfited her by strolling in. ‘At least it’s not deer in Cats Spinney. This time, believe it or not, I think he really has used his eyes.
‘Netting,’ he added tersely. ‘I hope to catch them at it tomorrow.’
Toby, ‘acting on information received,’ had that morning seen four men set a net on rough pasture outside the plantation fencing.
‘What for?’ Haidee asked, and was told for hares. They would be raised, driven into the net and taken away in boxes for use by coursing clubs.
She had closed her eyes, sickened, when a new thought occurred. Rory Hart on the side of the hares! It was incredible. She said so and he folded his wide lips. ‘Nobody takes my hares without permission.’
It took a second to get through. Then it was plain. The leopard had not changed his spots. ‘Are you saying you’d give permission?’
‘I’m saying I haven’t. I’m not having them on my land dropping cigarette ends and damaging fences.’
‘And the hares? They don’t come into it? You don’t care about the hares?’
‘In proportion. The way you should. If you would only think about it, Suzanne, control is a law of nature. If there were no guns and no traps weasels would still prey on rabbits and owls on mice and small birds. Species keep down species. What’s the matter?’ He had seen the despair in her face.
It was a very private despair. She shook her head.
‘What’s the matter?’ he repeated. ‘Say it. And put on your glasses, girl. I told you before you make me nervous without them.’
‘It’s nothing. Silly really. I thought—saving the hares was a—point of contact.’
He pointed. ‘You—me, you mean?’
She nodded.
His face seemed to be buttoned against laughter. ‘We can have that,’ he assured her. ‘Any time you like.’
His face, tanned, long-chinned and suddenly very serious, was magnetic. Hers seemed to go to meet it. They kissed strongly and at length. Amazingly she was neither scared nor affronted.
‘You did that to distract me,’ she said collectedly. ‘Because you don’t want to talk about the hares.’
‘I’ll give you one for that,’ he returned. ‘I don’t want to talk about the hares, I just want to nab the blighters who are after them. Coursing makes me sick.’
‘Makes you s...’ Haidee’s mouth fell open. ‘Why couldn’t you say that in the beginning?’
‘Because I want you to be rational. I’ll stamp on coursing and otter hunting. They revolt me. I will not go out waving my Beatrix Potter flag and looking at everything on legs as though it’s human. I respect the wild life round here, but I don’t sentimentalize over it. And that way—as you of all people should not need telling—I do it service. I control it, yes. When necessary—and humanely. More than that cat of yours does, and I get the impression he’s still fairly popular with you. Strange.’ The dig was unanswerable and his lips wore a quirk of triumph.
She couldn’t but smile at it, thinking in passing that Toby had inherited his father’s mobility of feature.
‘Suzanne, I am very serious about this.’ Rory’s funny face had vanished. ‘Animals are animals, people are people. Stop trying to know better. Our life together depends on it.’
‘We don’t exactly have a life together,’ Haidee said jerkily. ‘Not “for better, for worse, till death us do part” sort of thing.’
‘That is exactly what we opted for,’ he answered pertinently. ‘And you are Toby’s mother.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘That I’m tired of being on my own. I know I said I’d never risk it with you again, but the boy needs a woman and so do I.’
‘You make it sound so romantic!’ She could not justify the plunge her heart had taken. The tenderest and most loving words in the world could win no different reply. But need he be so brutally frank?
‘It’s meant to sound honest, a thing I haven’t had too much of in the past,’ he pointed out. ‘I don’t suppose to start our second try with a lie.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Tension made the words pop from her lips. He looked inquiring.
‘Our second try. Don’t worry. It won’t start.’ She moved a strand of hair. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t. I did say so.’
She thought his face would cloud as it had on Sunday. It remained impassive. ‘Your final word?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘In that case there’s something else you’ll have to do for me.’ The eyes were very still, the voice steady. ‘You’ll have to let me petition for a divorce.’
The kitchen seemed to rock. She felt her eyes dilate. ‘Are you serious?’ He was, of course. And justly. For ten years he had lived with uncertainty. Here was an obvious chance to tie the loose ends.
‘Perfectly,’ he said coolly. ‘I must put my house in order. As a matter of fact I’ve already had legal advice on having you presumed dead.’ He halted sharply as Jennie came in, dressing-gowned and looking for a glass of milk.
It was three next morning before Haidee managed to sleep and at six-thirty she was wakened by Toby’s excited voice and Rory peremptorily shushing it. The light of a torch swung as they crossed the car apron and made their way into the wood.
At something past seven Jennie in anorak, trousers and boots came to her room, ‘In case you’re looking for me, Suzanne, I’m. going to see what they’re up to.’
It was the spur she needed. ‘I won’t be looking for you, Jen. I’m coming with you.’
It was an hour to sunrise and all the shadowed brakes seemed alive. Twigs crackled to the right and left and once a fir cone hurtled down from nowhere and bounced on the path ahead. To hide up and watch was tempting, for the night life of the forest was on its way home. But the other need was more pressing. Jennie led and Haidee followed, bewildered at times by the speed with which they dived under slapping branches.
The last dive brought them into vapoury dawnlight and wet grass. Below was a green mist-swirled amphitheatre. Jennie caught her arm and pointed. At the far end a net about sixty feet long and three feet high had been stretched on stakes. Figures moved along the sides of the pasture, figures with sticks and a dog. As they watched a hare chased desperately up field.
The rest was satisfying but undramatic. The Garda sergeant, known to Jennie who mentioned him by name, had obviously been waiting to see an animal trapped. He came forward now from wherever he had secreted himself but with no particular rancour. It might have been a parking offence. One of the accused produced a paper which was scrutinized and returned with a shake of the head. Then names were taken and finally the hare was freed. It was a big one, its coat greying for winter, and it went in one long-bodied streak, long ears flattened, dark-topped scut down.
‘Big deal!’ Jennie scoffed unkindly as she and Haidee made their way home. ‘With the fuss Toby was making I thought at least they were taking pot shots at the deer.’ Going home had been an added peeve. She had wanted to scramble down and join Rory, Toby and the sergeant who were now talking together.
‘Toby’s due a celebration breakfast and I don’t want him late for school,’ Haidee had skimmed adroitly over the truth that on her own it would take her twice as long to find the way.
It was fuel to the flame. ‘Celebration breakfast! What for? Toby didn’t do anything.’ ‘Oh, easy on, Jen. It was he spotted them yesterday and told Sergeant Murphy where to come.’
‘How do you know?’ The round of Jennie’s face in the anorak was plump and pink. She answered her own question. ‘Rory, I suppose. I think that’s rotten, Suzanne. I asked and he wouldn’t tell me.’
‘Onl
y because Toby was in the room,’ Haidee said quickly.
‘I’m not so sure,’ Jennie returned sulkily. ‘I think there’s something fishy about you and Rory. Lots of people think so. Mrs. Ryan and Mrs. Byrne—’
‘Jennie, have you been gossiping in the shops?’
Breeding, as she had half hoped it might, came to the fore. ‘Oh well, no, not exactly,’ Jennie looked shamefaced. ‘But they both said he must be glad you were back. “Charmed” was the word, actually.’
‘Water under the bridge would be better.’ It took an effort to sound light. ‘A lot of water. I might say a lot of choppy water. I stuck a knife in him once.’
‘He still tells you things,’ Jennie muttered.
‘Yes,’ Haidee acknowledged, to wit that he intended suing for divorce. The morning’s events had temporarily ousted this. Now worry came flooding back. Jennie was helping none. This emotive reaction went far beyond the bounds of the situation. As Sunday’s reaction to the comment that Rory was fond of her had done. Put two and two together and you got a pretty clear total.
Schoolgirl crush or not, love was there, revving up into jealousy and resentment and the darker areas of suspicion. So far it had contained itself in smouldering looks. There was no telling when they might blaze.
The carefully prepared breakfast was not an unqualified success.
‘I’ve never seen so many hares,’ Toby declared extravagantly, ladling cream on to peaches and fruit and nut cereal. ‘I don’t know how many, Johnny. ’Bout fifty. I’d an awful job getting them out of the net.’
Rory coughed warningly.
Jennie did more. ‘You’ve sloshed the cloth, you stinking little liar!’
‘What did you say?’ Rory demanded incredulously.
‘He’s telling lies again. There was only one hare and he never went near it. We saw. We were on the bank.’
‘What were you doing on the bank?’ Toby asked sweetly. ‘Were you afraid to come down?’ He sucked revoltingly at his spoon.
‘Oh, heavens!’ Jennie said with a shudder.
This time Rory leaned to her side. ‘Do that once more,’ he informed his son, ‘and you can forget about the pup.’
‘Pup?’ It was a thread of sound. Toby’s eyes opened unbelievingly. His spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.
‘Watch the cloth,’ Rory said curtly. ‘If you don’t want the dog say so.’
Speech returned but action spoke louder. The plate still half full was pushed aside. ‘Can I get him now—’ Toby demanded hoarsely. ‘If I run all the way can I get him now?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Saturday Rory tapped the barometer and said with satisfaction that rain was on the way. Other parts of the country had had some, but in Glenglass the precipitation for nearly five weeks had been nil. It was a worry Haidee by this time appreciated to the full. In the woodlands the bone-dry broadleaves with their copper shell foliage would blaze like tinder and for the seedlings up in the peat trenches the need of water was nearly as desperate as it had been in the spring.
The morning, however, remained dry. Rory was marking spruce for thinning and further along felling was actually in progress. It was a rhythmic and disciplined business. First, the axe blade chopped out bark-covered wedges, then the saw bit into the trunk and steel wedges were driven into keep the cut open. Eventually the tree leaned and crashed to the ground. It was then prepared for transport. Two men sawed the trunk into lengths while another lopped off the branches.
Haidee got into conversation with him and put the question which Rory could not be asked. Where in Glenglass would you find deer?
The young worker grinned and shook his head. ‘You’d do better to ask Mr. Hart. I’ve never seen any myself, but then I haven’t been here that long. Joe,’ he called to a companion, ‘the lady wants to know where she can see deer.’
‘Do you know Powerscourt?’ Joe, who had been heaping branches, came across to join them. ‘Do you know the waterfall? There’s a place up near the back of the waterfall. I’ve seen them there. I don’t know if I could describe it to you from here, but you’ll see bits of antlers first lying round on the ground.’
It sounded exciting, but it was a disappointment. ‘Not in Glenglass?’ Haidee pursued.
‘Near enough,’ Joe allowed. ‘This forest goes back in the general direction of Powerscourt, goes back a long way. I don’t know myself now, I’m not sure, but I think there’s a way out of here brings you up near the place I mean. You could ask the boss, miss. There’s not many twists and turns he doesn’t know.’
‘He’s very busy,’ Haidee hedged. ‘I really don’t want to bother him.’
‘Or I tell you what you could do,’ her companion suggested. ‘If you don’t want to ask Mr. Hart you could go and see Willie Byrne and ask him.’
Willie Byrne, the men explained, was an ex-forestry worker pensioned off last year because of failing health and now living with a married daughter on the back road past Powerscourt Demesne. Willie had had a natural affinity with animals and used to spend nights badger-watching and deer-stalking. ‘Used to take the boss with him sometimes when he was a kid,’ Joe volunteered. ‘Used to take all the kids, in fact.’
‘Oh, Willie was a great character in his day,’ the first young worker affirmed. ‘Nothing he’d like better than to tell you about it.’
It seemed a line of approach, but Powerstourt was some miles away, so it depended, on being able to get transport and perversely it looked as though this could not be. At lunch Rory declared his intention of making a further check on his peat beds and soon afterwards Haidee saw him getting into the van.
With members of the public now allowed access to most parts of State Forests the weekend seldom passed without visitors, and a car-load was driving past at that moment.
‘Afternoon, sir,’ she heard Rory address the driver from the cab of the van. ‘No camp-fires, please, and careful with cigarettes and matches.’
A pity he had taken the van. It would have been a good chance for research. Jennie had gone off on some ploy of her own, Toby was taking Punch for a walk. ‘Keep Your Eyes Open’ week had suffered a slight eclipse. Since Tuesday Toby had had eyes for only one object, the pup.
Haidee was wondering about overtaking them when a car pulled up and a tall figure sprang out and slammed the door. The flop of brown wavy hair and the sleepy-lidded eyes whisked her back over the weeks to Brompton Road Air Terminal, ‘Brown Waves’ and ‘Fair Chignon’ and how she’d admired their looks. It had been fateful admiration landing her in a packet of trouble, but even now the smile was hard to resist. She went quickly to meet it.
‘Paul, am I glad to see you!’
‘Is it safe to talk? Where’s the “Wicked Woodman”?’ He shuddered playfully when she started to explain. ‘Spare me, lily maid. The question was rhetorical.’
‘Rhetorical or not,’ Haidee retorted, ‘he’ll be back soon. Let’s not invite trouble.’ With luck they could talk undisturbed in the woods and Paul might even be able to drive off again without being recognized.
‘Carried unanimously,’ he said cheerfully. ‘How quick can you be?’ His eyes seemed quite unaffected by her state of bewilderment. ‘My child, this is a rescue operation. Get moving.’
‘I don’t understand...’
‘Well, it’s not that difficult. I got you in, I admit it. Now I’m getting you out.’
Her head spun. ‘I can’t go just like that.’
‘Why?’
‘They don’t know.’
Paul’s laugh sounded a trifle hysterical. ‘That is the purpose of the exercise.’
‘Paul, I can’t. Not Like that.’
‘Like what, then? Tell me.’
‘Honestly, for a start. You needn’t smile. I’ve thought it out. When Antonia dies and Jennie’s over the shock and back at school, Rory won’t need me any longer. I’ll tell him the truth and go.’ It was a relief to put it into words.
‘Bringing me into it, I suppose?’ Paul challenged
.
She was silent. They had gone quite a distance into the woods. He pulled nervously on his cigarette. She had said: ‘Watch that match. Is it out?’ and he’d gestured irritably. He was afraid of something, that was obvious.
‘I won’t be bringing you in. You’re there. You brought me. And you’d better tell me, hadn’t you? Honestly. What was the idea?’
‘Old friends.’
‘No, Paul. I said—honestly.’ The suspicion she had been harbouring, though unbelievingly, had to be faced. ‘Was it the reward for tracing Suzanne?’
The answer was written in his discomfited expression. “Don’t labour it, for Pete’s sake. Don’t you think I’m kicking myself? The ad. was in the paper before I went to Sweden. A hundred pounds. At that time it was like money for peanuts. I thought I could find her between changing planes in London. I couldn’t. Nor on the way back. And then I bumped into you.’
‘And thought why not?’ Suddenly she could keep cool no longer. ‘Paul, you idiot!’
‘Don’t look at me like that as though I’m a petty thief. I mightn’t have got the cash anyway. I wasn’t going to put in for it, not officially. I was just going to tell them Suzanne had come and leave the rest up to them. I can spend a hundred pounds as well as the next one. Why let it go to waste?’ It made things no better but more comprehensible. Paul was not a criminal. He just liked easy money, finding a bargain, doing a deal. He was a flier of kites, a gambler. She knew the type.
In a different way she herself had been as rash, as eager to play God. Thread after thread had tangled into a noose. Simple things like asking where the deer were would expose to Rory her complete ignorance of Glenglass. And yet, wrong as the enterprise had been, it should not go for nothing. On Friday Antonia’s pulse had been weaker. Time was at last running out. Then, as she’d said, she would face the music, but in her own way. Paul was too slick an operator. He had deceived her once already.
‘You knew Suzanne a little better than you told me,’ she said straightly. ‘Didn’t you? I don’t mean fifteen years ago when she lived here. I mean ten years ago in England.’
Dear Deceiver Page 13
