I’m not used to rural silence after London, that’s all.’
There was a chuckle the other end of the phone. ‘My dear, if you think London is noisy, try Rome! Listen.’
Jess guessed the telephone was being held out of the open window the other end. A muffled unspecified roar punctuated by the staccato wail of a car alarm confirmed her guess.
‘Listen, Jess. Kim’s come back with our panini and the giornali. I’ve got to go.’ Steph was on the end of the line again. ‘I’ll call you again in a few days, OK?’
‘Wait, Steph!’
But it was too late. Steph had hung up. ‘Let me have your number, in case I need to get in touch …’ Jess finished the sentence softly to herself as she put down the phone. All her life Steph had been doing this to her. Talking so hard and so fast Jess had either forgotten what she was going to say or she had given up trying. She gave a wry grin. Well, at least they communicated which was more than many sisters did. And there was always Steph’s mobile.
The Prices were her sister’s nearest neighbours. She remembered their warmth and friendliness from her previous visits and even the thought of going to see them cheered her up enormously. She glanced round the kitchen. The house felt welcoming and warm. There was no trace of anything spooky here now.
The spookiness, she reasoned to herself firmly, was tied up with the dream and the dream was tied up to what had happened to her. Rape was not something she was going to shrug off and forget just like that. The experience had wounded her in a way she would probably never completely recover from. But she was here in the peace and quiet of this beautiful countryside to do just that, she was a strong woman. She would get over it. Dan’s words. Get over it.
The walk down the lane and up across the fields to Cwm-nant, the Prices’ farm in the next valley, was a long one but she enjoyed it. She had done it several times before with Steph. Meg and Ken Price ran a sheep farm but had still found time to help Steph when she had first moved in, to welcome her whenever she looked in and to treat her as family. Jess was pretty sure of a pot of tea and some gossip in the farmhouse kitchen. Unused to country walking, she was exhausted by the time she climbed over the last fence and dropped down into their lane, noting the fields were empty. The sheep must be up on the hills for the summer. She walked into the yard and greeted the two collies who ran up to her.
The back door of the farmhouse was opened by a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard and light blue eyes. He must have been in his early forties. Dressed in jeans and an open-necked shirt he filled the doorway with his bulk as he clicked his fingers at the dogs milling round her heels. They slunk away across the yard towards the kennel.
Jess’s heart sank at the sight of the stranger. ‘Are Meg and Ken in?’ It hadn’t occurred to her to ring first. Steph never did.
He shook his head. ‘They’re on holiday.’ His voice was deep and mellow but not particularly friendly. Her disappointment must however have been obvious for he raised an eyebrow. ‘As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m their son, Rhodri. Can I help?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. I just thought I’d call in to say hello.’ She gave him a tentative smile.
He glanced over her shoulder towards the gate. ‘Just passing, were you?’
The lack of a car and the fact that the lane dead-ended at the farm made that unlikely. She stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Jess Kendal.’ He ignored the hand and she dropped it, suddenly embarrassed. She hadn’t even realised the Prices had a son. She didn’t think Meg or Steph had ever mentioned him. ‘My sister is a neighbour,’ she ploughed on. ‘Across the fields. Ty Bran?’ She waited for a sign of recognition as she waved an arm vaguely in the direction of the ridge above the field beyond the lane. It looked deceptively close in the warm sunshine. ‘I’m staying there for a bit while Steph is away. I just thought I would come over to say hello to Meg, that’s all. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘You haven’t. Not so far.’ He frowned.
She smiled uncomfortably. This was not the man in whom to confide her fear of ghosts or her fear of anything for that matter. Nor, clearly, was he going to offer her the hoped for cup of tea. Or even a civil smile. ‘I’ll be on my way.’ She hesitated, not quite sure how to terminate the conversation. She needn’t have worried. He was already shutting the door. ‘Rude bastard!’ She addressed the dogs with feeling as they reappeared, tails wagging as soon as the door was safely closed. ‘I hope he’s feeding you properly.’
The walk back seemed endless. Far more of it was uphill on the return journey and it was strenuous. She was breathless and thirsty by the time she reached Ty Bran and was diving into the fridge for a glass of cold juice when she noticed a large black 4 x 4 turning in at the gate. It drew up beside her Ka, the door opened and Rhodri Price climbed out. She saw him stand for a minute, glancing round the yard.
‘Shit!’ He was not someone she had been expecting to see again so soon.
He approached the open door of the house with what might have been a sheepish grin as he caught sight of her watching. ‘I think I may owe you an apology.’
She stood her ground in the doorway, glass of orange still in her hand. ‘Why?’
‘I was rude.’
‘Were you? I thought that must be your normal manner.’ She could feel herself bristling.
He shrugged. ‘Touché! It probably is, if I’m honest. I’m not very keen on fans tracking me down when I’m off duty, and I assumed you were one of them. My mother says it was unforgivable of me. She rang just after you left and she put me right. Forgive me.’ He was wearing a contrite expression completely at odds with his squared shoulders and confident, upright bearing.
‘I don’t see why you should be rude to your fans, if they have taken the trouble to track you down in the middle of nowhere,’ she retorted. ‘Who are these fans? Are you a popstar or something?’
It was strangely satisfying to see him stare at her, genuinely shocked. ‘You don’t know who I am?’
‘No.’ She met his gaze and held it. ‘Should I?’ She had taken a huge dislike to this man with his smug arrogance and she was, she realised with sudden shock, feeling quite intimidated by him. Both emotions were unusual for her. Through most of her life she had found herself inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt; liking them until they gave her a good reason not to. But then he had done just that, hadn’t he! He had made her walk all the way back across the fields without her cup of tea! She took a deep breath and stood a little straighter. She was not going to make it easy for him.
‘It was nice of you to come over but there was no need, I assure you. I shouldn’t have intruded on your privacy.’ Stepping back into the stone-flagged passage, she gently pushed the door closed in his face. She listened intently, her ear to the solid oak. She could hear nothing. He didn’t move for several seconds, then he turned on his heel and walked back to his car. In a moment he had backed out of the gate and disappeared down the lane.
‘Oh God! I shouldn’t have done that!’ She bit her lip. As she walked into the kitchen she found
