Pumpkin nuzzled into Claudilia, he wanted his head scratched, his neck stroked and a piece of apple or carrot.
Angus looked up at the mountain of horse in front of him. He’d told Claudilia he could ride and he could, sort of. As a child and on a quiet riding school pony, he’d just about managed it without falling off more than once or twice. But this thing was massive, what’s more it was being massive right in front of him. Rosie was looking down her face, a face about a mile long, expecting the same treatment from him as Pumpkin was getting from Claudilia.
“Shit, I’m going to die,” mumbled Angus. “What a crappy end to a crappy day.”
“What was that?” asked Claudilia, feeding bits of carrot to Pumpkin.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Was all he could manage.
For the first time in his adult life; Angus Macintosh, a successful self-confident, and well balanced business man, a man who prided himself on being able to read people and adapt to any situation, had no idea what he should do or say. “Why?” was all he could manage.
“Why what?” said Claudilia. “Why is she here? Why is she for you? Why do you need a horse? Why what?”
“Why to all of them?”
“She is here because I have borrowed her for a while. She is for you because you don’t have a horse of your own, and you need a horse because it’s an excellent form of exercise. But most of all Mr Macintosh, and this is the clincher, she is here because you look ridiculous dressed up like a pantomime fairy and peddling around on that stupid bicycle. Bikes have baskets on the front, they are to be used for getting to the pub, the church or collecting a pint of milk from the shop. Leave all that huffing and puffing to the French and their tour de what’s it called.”
“Okay” was about all he could manage in response.
Claudilia clipped the leading reign to Pumpkin’s collar, and Angus copied what she’d done. She opened the gate and Pumpkin quietly walked out of the field and across to his stable. “Okay Rosie, it’s just you and me,” he whispered as he stroked her massive neck. “So be nice and you won’t end up as a couple of dozen pots of glue and a set of novelty ashtrays.” It appeared that for now at least Rosie was feeling generous, so when he turned and walked towards the stables, the stables where there would be a dry bed, fresh hay and maybe even an apple or two, Rosie chose to amble along behind.
Claudilia showed Angus the stable she’d prepared for Rosie, where to fill her water bucket and how to clip it into its holder. She took him to the food store and they weighed out nuts and collected dry hay for both horses. Finally she showed him the bucket in the tack room where she kept the apples, carrots and other special treats.
It was gone nine when they got back to Bindweed Cottage and Angus realised he’d rather enjoyed the last hour. He’d hardly thought about Maggie, and he felt a little guilty about that. Fishing in his pocket for his car keys he found the little bag containing the earring and laid it on the table. …oh my God where did he get that? I knew I had lost one, but I thought it was crumpled up in my bed somewhere.
“I found this today. Could it be yours?”
“It certainly looks like one of mine, where did you get it?” She picked up the bag and looked carefully at the small gold horse shoe complete with tiny holes for the farrier’s nails. There was no question whether it was hers or not, it was one of a pair Helen had bought for her birthday a few years ago, a favourite, and one of the few items of jewellery Claudilia actually cared about.
“It was on the floor of the gym. I saw it when I was showing the police around this morning. But it was nowhere near the sauna, in fact it was at the opposite end of the room.”
“Did the police see it?” Claudilia asked as casually as she could manage.
“No, I didn’t think I needed to draw it to their attention, not before asking you about it first. Do I need to tell them about it Claudilia?”
“No, I don’t think it would interest them. I must have lost it when I sat down to think about what I’d just seen in the sauna. Yes that’s it, I lost it on Saturday afternoon. We don’t need to tell the police.”
“In that case I’m sure it’s of no consequence,” said Angus, “you’d best just put it with the other one, we don’t want to separate such a nice pair do we?”
Claudilia slipped the bag into her pocket before he changed his mind.
Angus sat still for a moment. “Is there anything else I shouldn’t bother the police about,” he asked.
“It’s just that I was going through the gas production figures, comparing the amount of waste we received from the council to the amount we’ve used, and something doesn’t quite add up. If the mixture was wrong and we used a higher proportion of kitchen waste, then it might account for the belly ache Daisy had over the weekend.”
Think, Claudilia think! You could be in some very hot water here if you’re not careful. “Okay, I admit it, you’ve caught me out. It’s a fair cop guv.” Claudilia held her arms out straight, wrists upwards as if she was expecting to be cuffed. “I’m a secret tractor buff, I like to play with the loaders and stuff when there’s no one else around. It’s not very ladylike so I only have a go when I’m sure I won’t be seen. I used to take part in all sorts of events when I was in the Young Farmers club. I did things like reversing trailers and loading logs with a grab. I was really good at it, I won loads of competitions, but Daddy didn’t think it was right for me, not ladylike apparently: so I concentrated on running the business, breeding and riding horses.”
“When did you use the loader at the site?” asked Angus.
“Sunday afternoon, I’d come looking for Maggie. As nobody was around I took the opportunity to have a go. I put a couple of scoops from the skip through the chipper which spat them into the digester. Then I topped it up with a load of silage from the clamp. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, and it cleared up that little mystery.” He smiled. “You’re going to have to learn about anaerobic digestion anyway, if we’re to be partners in the business. We can experiment with different ratios of feedstock, adding a bit of this and a bit of that, until we get the best mixture. You’ll need to load it yourself, so you’re sure of what’s gone in. Do you think that’ll satisfy your inner tractor driver?”
“Yes. I think that’s an excellent idea.” She smiled. “But Angus, is the waste actually any good at making gas?”
“It’s fine,” he replied. “It would be better if it was in its own digester, but for now it works and I’m sure we can sell it to the council. It’s an excellent way of disposing of organic matter, anything that’s kitchen waste can go in. You saw how well it handled the stuff we tested. I recon you could feed a person through that machine, if you wanted to make them disappear.” He laughed.
… Oh my God, he’s worked it out. I knew he would. he’s worked it out and by the morning I’ll be in that cell with Hairy Mary.
They sat in an awkward silence for a moment. “Right, I’d better be off, best get back and check emails and stuff, in case there’s a message from Maggie.”
Claudilia locked the door behind him and Hamish. She tidied up the kitchen, and taking a glass of water with her, she and Max went to up to bed. She hoped she was wrong about Angus. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last night she slept in the comfort of her own home.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Day Fifteen. Wednesday
Angus had been in his office for more than an hour when Tish burst through the door. He was on the phone when the personal trainer dressed in shorts and a slightly too revealing crop top came storming in. “Sorry Mr. Macintosh,” said the secretary from close behind his unexpected visitor, “She just barged past me saying something about the police?”
“Rob, I’ll have to call you back. Give me an hour will you,” Said Angus and he put the phone down.
The boss of Macintosh Energy wasn’t pleased to see Tish, he never was. Even before Maggie disappeared he felt the woman had too much influence over his wife. Now that he had read, and re-read last night, the emai
ls between them he wanted nothing more to do with her.
“The police came to see me!” said Tish, pacing around the room like a caged animal. “They banged on my door. They interrupted a session with a very important client. We were having a one-to-one and that bloody copper saw him.”
“PC Tipton or the Detective Sergeant?” interrupted Angus, wondering where this was going.
“Yes, whatever. Anyway, he saw my client. He was dressed in his special work-out clothes.”
“So why’s that a problem?” asked Angus.
“Jeff, my client, is a regular customer. He’s there every Wednesday morning from eight thirty for an hour and he has some…” She paused looking for the right words, “special, exercise requests and he pays very well.” Tish stopped, she might have said too much. “Anyway, it turns out that the one in uniform.”
“PC Tipton,” said Angus.
“That’s him, anyway he knows Jeff and Jeff’s wife from the school playground, they pick up their bloody kids at the same time.”
“So what?”
Tish was still pacing the room. “Are you stupid or something?” she snapped across the desk. “God, what does Maggie see in you? If the policeman tells his wife, she’ll tell Jeff’s wife. The shit’ll hit the fan and Jeff’ll be kicked out. I’ll lose a client, a very good payer too, and it’s all your fault. She’s very strict, Mrs La-de-dah iron knickers, very uptight and buttoned down. She doesn’t understand his needs and won’t entertain anything out of the ordinary. It’s birthdays and Christmas only with her, all done in ten minutes, lights out, curtains closed and try not to leave a mess.” Tish stopped, finally realising she’d said too much.
“Tish, I really don’t care what you do with your other clients. I’ve been through the emails between you and Maggie, who by the way has not come home yet, but thanks for asking. She’s not got in contact and hasn’t been found by the police.”
“So where the bloody hell is she. We have a session booked and she’s already missed two this week. Today’ll be the third.”
“She’s not here, I don’t know where she is and what’s more I don’t know when, or if, she is coming back. But I can tell you this.” Angus got up and walked around the desk. “The sessions are cancelled. You’ll get no more money from my wife, and if she does come home I’ll tell her she’s not to contact you again. Now please leave, I have work to do.”
“But she needs me,” protested Tish in a nasal wailing voice. “if she doesn’t do her exercises she’ll get all fat and ugly.”
“No she won’t, but she might look more like a proper woman, a bit less like a stick insect!” replied Angus gesturing at the door.
“Where is she, I have to talk to her,” spat Tish. “You can’t keep me away from my friend.”
Angus was getting angry. “I’ve already told you she’s not here and she’s not been in contact. I’ve read your emails Tish, they’re all about how she should leave me, and now she has. You’re not her friend, you’re an evil bitch and you’ve been treating her like a cash machine.”
Tish stood with her mouth open. She’d not seen her friend’s husband like this before, normally he was just somewhere in the background, getting on with his work and leaving Maggie and Tish to do whatever they wanted. She’d underestimated him, and now Tish realised she couldn’t push him around, not in the same way as his wife did.
“But we’re going to use the gym for the Woman’s Institute exercise classes. I need to help those fatties get fit,” she replied, a bit more restrained than before. “Especially that Butcher lady from the big farm, she needs it more than anyone, I mean, have you seen her?” she continued, trying to make a joke of Claudilia to lighten the mood.
“Her name is Belcher, Claudilia Belcher, and she’s a very dear friend of mine,” said Angus. “She’s twice the woman you’ll ever be. And I don’t mean in size. Now get out of my office, get off my land and stay away from my wife.”
To her credit Tish put on a good performance. She squeezed out a tear and protested that she had never been talked to like that before. She said she didn’t know what Maggie had seen in Angus and that she hoped her friend really had left him. Tish said that if Maggie contacted her she wouldn’t tell Angus or the police, then she walked out and slammed the office door behind her. When she pulled away in her car it was with enough wheel spin to spray gravel against the side of his Porsche.
Chapter Forty-Nine
There was no sign of his wife and only rabbit food in the fridge, so Angus went to the pub for lunch. It was just after twelve and he felt on edge, he decided a walk would do him good. He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl in the office kitchen and called Hamish from his basket. Dog and master left the car at home and set off down the lane to the village.
When he got to the green he could see it had been marked out for the fete. He walked between the lines and could pick out the general shape of the stands. He could see where his shooting range would be, it helped that the large square bales had been put in place along the sides of the range. There were bright red warning signs on the opposite bank of the river, they announced the temporary closure of the footpath.
At the Belcher’s Arms he ordered a cheese ploughman’s and a pint of Summer Lightning, a soft golden beer the colour of straw. It was the perfect drink for a warm lunchtime with its delicate aroma of hops and a lingering aftertaste. Maggie wouldn’t have beer in the house, she said it was empty calories. Angus didn’t have the opportunity to enjoy a quiet pint very often, so standing in the lounge bar he savoured the moment. After three deep draughts he’d almost finished his pint, but felt he’d not completely committed the moment to memory. He’d need to order a second to be sure it was as good as the first. After a long draw on the delicate golden ale Angus declared it excellent. He took what was left out to the garden where he and Hamish could enjoy the sunshine.
By two Angus had finished his lunch. He considered a third pint but it was a long time since he’d drunk at midday, he was feeling a little light headed. Angus and Hamish went back into the bar, thanked the publican for the excellent meal and returned his empty glass. He knew he should go back to the office. He should call the police for news of his wife. He should bury his head in spreadsheets and gas production reports. Instead he left the pub, turned left and walked past the shop and Bindweed Cottage, then left again and up to the stables.
Claudilia was already there, he knew she would be. She was wheeling a barrow of straw and droppings from one of the stables to a trailer parked in the yard. When the heap on the trailer got big enough it was spread on a nearby field. Nothing was wasted on the Belcher estate, not even the horse poo.
“I wondered if you’d come today,” said Claudilia
“I’ve just had lunch at the pub.”
“The Belcher’s Arms I hope. You’d better not be patronising the opposition,” She laughed.
“Yes I went to your pub, I had a very good ploughman’s and two excellent pints of their Summer Lightning.”
“And now you’re here. Why didn’t you go back to the office?”
“I wanted to introduce Hamish to Rosie, I’ve even brought her an apple. Horses do like apples don’t they?” he asked grinning.
“Angus, are you drunk?”
“Certainly not. But one more pint and I might be a little.”
“Well I think it’s best if we have a cup of coffee. I’ve got some in the tack room.”
Angus followed her into the tack room and settled into an old wooden deckchair, the type you would hire on the beach, with faded stripes on the material and a tendency to collapse. The room was warm, it smelled of leather, cleaning soap and horse blankets. Angus relaxed as Claudilia busied herself with the kettle, finding coffee and rinsing a couple of mugs under the outside tap. His hand dropped to the side and found Hamish, he’d taken up position next to the chair. The dog was quite comfortable and ready for an afternoon nap. It would be rude not to join him thought Angus, he let his eyes close for a moment. Wh
en Claudilia returned with steaming cups and the packet of biscuits she found both dog and master sound asleep and snoring gently. She put down the mugs and returned to her wheelbarrow ...That’s bloody typical, I get a man to myself and he immediately falls asleep while I’m left to shove shit.
“Aunt Claudilia. Do you know there is a man asleep in your tack room?” giggled Helen an hour and a half later. “It’s Angus Macintosh, why’s Angus Macintosh asleep in your tack room?”
“He came to see Rosie, but he got waylaid at the Belcher’s Arms. He’s sleeping off his lunch. The last few days must have been quite stressful, and I think it’s caught up with him.”
“But it’s Wednesday, we go riding on Wednesday. Are you just going to leave him asleep in there while we are out? You’re not going to cancel are you, I’ve got Merry all done up and everything.”
“No, I’m not going to leave him, he’s coming with us. Help me get Rosie ready and I’ll put Hamish and Max in the cottage, then we can see what sort of rider he is.”
“I bet he falls off,” said Helen with a smile. “At least if he’s drunk it won’t hurt too much. Do you know why drunks walk away from car crashes so often, it’s because they’re relaxed on impact.”
“He’s not drunk, he’s just tired, and I don’t expect him to fall off. We’ll have a gentle walk along the river and then go round Monk hill. It’s too hot for a gallop. Rosie’s just a big old arm chair, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“Who’ll be fine?”
The voice made the two girls jump, Angus had woken up and come out of the tack room.
The Village Fate Page 26
