TV. I don’t think anything has been touched. The kids wouldn’t steal, would they? Wait here and I’ll check upstairs.’
She ran up to their bedroom and stared round. On the dressing table lay the gold chain and pendant which she had been wearing the night before. On Ken’s cabinet there was a wad of notes he had taken out of his wallet to pay for fuel for the boat and for some reason put down before transferring it to his pocket. She shook her head. Anyone who had come to raid the house would have taken it. She ran back downstairs.
‘I don’t think there is anything missing.’
‘Look.’ He had moved across to the coffee table and bent to pick something up. A handful of horseshoe nails, lying a-
midst a scattering of rust and dirt.
Zoë stared down at his palm. ‘You still think it’s the kids?’
‘Hmm.’ He was still looking down at his hand. He sniffed the nails cautiously then dropped them back on the table. ‘Did you mention putting bolts on the doors to Ken?’
‘Yes. He thinks it’s a good idea. He hasn’t got round to it yet. And perhaps we should change the locks as well.’
‘Leave me to talk to Jeff. I think I will bypass Sharon – she’s too volatile – but he might have an idea of what the boys are up to.’ He smiled at her. ‘Don’t let this scare you. No harm has been done and nothing is missing. It’s a prank, that’s all.’
‘And if it isn’t the kids?’
‘It is.’ He walked towards the window. ‘Do you want a hand with putting the chairs back? You had them in a sort of semi-circle, didn’t you?’ He moved across and heaved one of the chairs into place. Under it there were half a dozen more nails. For a moment neither of them moved.
‘I wonder where they’re getting them,’ Zoë said hoarsely.
‘Metal detector. Or they might have just found a stash of them around the grounds somewhere. Unlikely, though. They have been used. If they were new I would say someone has found a pot of them lying around – though that would most likely have been at my place as that was the forge.’
‘How long was it a forge, do you know?’
He shook his head. ‘No idea. The forge and the smith’s cottage have been converted into one dwelling now, of course, but I sense the forge itself is far older. On an old estate, it is probably as old as the estate itself. It’s in an ideal position for the farm and not too far from the Hall and the stables up there.’
‘Did you buy it because it was an old forge?’
‘No. In fact that almost put me off.’ He grabbed the next chair and swung it into position.
‘No nails.’
‘There can’t be an infinite supply of them.’ The last chair back in place, he straightened and headed for the door. ‘I’ll pop over to the Watts’s now, I think, and see if Jeff would be up for wandering over to my place for a bevvy. Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t come.’
‘Why?’ she said indignantly. ‘It is my house that has the problem.’
‘Exactly. I don’t want to put him on the back foot. Leave it to me, OK? I’ll let you know what happens.’
‘What is it, Dan?’ Susan was standing watching him. She had been stirring the pan on the stove and he hadn’t noticed her stop and straighten her back, letting the spoon drip on the floor for a moment while she studied him as he sat at the table staring straight ahead of him at the wall.
He jumped. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said, what is wrong?’
He shook his head. ‘Just tired, I reckon. One of the Suffolks came down today for a new shoe and I pulled my back a bit.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll have to watch it; I must be getting old.’ He forced a smile as he looked up at her.
She wasn’t fooled. ‘I’ve never known a horse get the better of you, Daniel Smith, not once in all our years together. Are you sure that’s it?’
‘Of course that’s it, woman!’ He pushed back the chair and stood up angrily, swearing as a twinge of pain hit him afresh.
She turned back to the pan and stood with her back to him. ‘If you say so,’ she murmured.
He went over to her and put his arms round her. ‘Sorry, Mrs Smith! You’re right, it never happened before. It’s a frightening moment, like a cold wind down one’s neck. Father Time is watching me.’
She reached up and gave him a kiss on the lips. ‘Father Time will have to fight me for you, Dan,’ she smiled. ‘And this little one too.’ She patted her belly. ‘Now you sit down and get some broth inside you.’
Going back to the stove, she reached for the bowls, trying hard to push down her increasing sense of unease. Normally when he came in from the horses he went into the back yard to the pump and swilled the cold clean water over his head before he came in for his meal; this time he had already done it at the pump in the yard, and even the wetness of his hair and the smell of carbolic from the soap they kept in a box near the pump for when they needed to scrub up before performing surgery on one of the horses, couldn’t hide the smell of scent – exotic, foreign, musky – the smell she associated with Lady Emily, clinging to his hair, his skin, even his hands.
She set the bowl in front of him and pushed the bread board over. ‘I’ll get cheese and ham from the pantry.’
He didn’t react. Once more he was in a world of his own. She walked across to the pantry door and went in. Only there, in the privacy of her own cold, well-stocked shelves, did she let her tears fall where he couldn’t see her.
‘Susan?’ He had followed her at last. ‘What is it? Are you in pain?’
She shook her head, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve.
‘Then, my love, tell me. What is it?’ She heard the fear in his voice.
‘You think I can’t smell her on you, Dan?’ She turned at last to face him, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘She’s been all over you!’
He didn’t even try to deny it. He stood there in front of her, paralysed.
She waited for him to say something, but he just shook his head. He backed out of the small room and headed for the door, grabbing his coat and striding out without a backward glance. His food lay untouched on the table.
She lay awake a long time that night, conscious every second of the empty half of the bed beside her. She had been too proud to go after him, or ask any of the men if they had seen him. Before she went to bed she had heard the horses come in late from the field, going straight into the old barn to their stalls next to the lame mare, Bella. She pictured them reaching up to tug at the hay racks and searching the mangers for chaff and oats. Once she thought she heard one of the men calling Dan’s name, but maybe it had been her imagination. The yard grew quiet and dark, and at last she had gone up the narrow box staircase to their bedroom. Tired of watching
