Dax’s swagger dissolved in front of her. ‘You what?’
‘I filmed it – on my phone. I’ve filmed her twice actually. The first time she was yelling at someone else, then I filmed her kicking Elvie, and hitting her three times in the face. I’m not making this up. There’s no way you could call that self-defence, or restraining someone.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and I’ve also got photos of her leaving a donkey out in the snow all night. I don’t think that was self-defence, either.’
Dax sucked in more smoke. ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’
‘Well, I do. And, Dax, I really wish you hadn’t told her about me. It’s put me in a difficult position.’ She sighed. ‘Listen, can you just text me Frank’s number, and I’ll ring him and Tiggy.’
Dax threw down his cigarette.
‘All right – don’t get yer knickers in a twist. Tell you what, if you’re so sure, why don’t we ask Elvie. Where is she anyway? Mad said she weren’t around today.’
Upstairs the drill stopped. Hannah motioned for Dax to be quiet. It started again.
‘She was here earlier, but she’s run off,’ Hannah owned up.
He motioned at the bungalow. ‘You been round?’
‘Yes – I tried the intercom an hour ago. But she didn’t answer. I thought I heard her listening, though.’
‘Come on, then,’ Dax said, walking off.
‘Wait,’ Hannah called. She ran upstairs to the toolbox and found the torch, then tiptoed past their bedroom, where Will was drilling. When she returned, Dax was in the hall, examining her paintwork on the walls with a big, oily hand and an appalled expression.
‘Don’t say a word,’ she warned.
She followed him round to the side-lawn and through the wall-gate. A ghostly light shone through the peacock window onto the damp, shorn grass.
It was her first time in the smallholding. Mist hung in the air. It was interesting to see Tornley Hall from this angle. Its roof rose above the Victorian wall. She could see now how the walled garden was designed to complement the house’s setting.
There was a faint smell of manure, and solar lights illuminated their path to the bungalow. Dax banged on the front door, as Hannah stood back.
‘You in there, girl?’ Dax called.
It felt as if they were trespassing.
Dax peered in the unlit window.
Hannah leant in to check the other window. Just at that moment Dax stood back and they careered into each other. Her hand shot out to steady herself and she felt the hard muscle of his arm, and smelt cigarette smoke and the now-familiar diesel smell.
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘Aye-aye, five minutes on your own with me in the dark . . .’ Dax teased.
‘Han?’
A new torch beam shone out of the dark. She banged her leg into the lion statue by the door, startled.
It was Will. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’ The word came out too fast. ‘We’re just looking for Tiggy’s daughter. Dax is helping . . .’ Dax emerged from the shadows into Will’s beam, ‘. . . me to find her.’
Will’s eyes moved to Dax, then back to Hannah. ‘And why’s this your problem?’
‘It’s not. It’s just that Tiggy’s away.’
‘And . . .’
Dax folded his arms. ‘Ooh, you’re in trouble now, missy.’
A look of menace appeared on Will’s face that Hannah knew all too well. On the rare occasions a drunken moron had kicked her seat in the cinema, or bumped her on the Tube, she’d seen that same expression appear. It was usually followed by a murmured word, tight in the ear of her assailant, and then an apology to her.
‘Dax, I’m not – really.’ She wished he would shut up. This was a nightmare. She had to get Will out of here. She took his arm. ‘Come on. It’s fine.’
Dax laughed. ‘Got you under the thumb, in’t she?’
‘Dax, please, shut up!’
Will pulled his arm away from her.
‘Ignore him,’ she hissed, trying to take Will’s hand instead. ‘Come on. I’ll explain.’ But Will marched ahead of her back to the gate. ‘Wait,’ she said, running after him. At the peacock window she caught him up and yanked the back of his jumper.
‘Stop!’
He spun round. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’
‘Nothing! He’s a wind-up merchant. He thinks everything’s funny. Please. Don’t get upset about it. Not now.’
Will’s fists clenched.
‘Don’t!’ She touched his arm. ‘Look. There is weird stuff going on here, but I don’t want to talk about it till Barbara’s been. I will tell you, but right now it’s too distracting. Please. Can we just concentrate on tomorrow.’
‘Whatever.’ Will walked off into the house and she knew she was in for a massive sulk. ‘But I’m telling you, I don’t want to see that wanker round here again.’
‘OK. Fine.’
Seconds later the bedroom door slammed and the drill restarted.
Hannah sat on the hall stairs.
One more bloody day.
The next day it was almost as though the sun knew Barbara was coming.
It drenched the fields in a shimmering gold, as if it had been saving the best for today. The sky was a brilliant blue. A heron flew across the green sea of the marsh.
Hannah stood with a cup of tea, surveying the garden.
They’d made it. Not without complications, but they were there.
The pictures were almost all up.
Elvie had not appeared during the night.
Tornley Hall looked almost beautiful.
Barbara was on her way.
By the end of today there might even be news.
Inside, Will was drilling the last few holes. He’d been barely civil last night, using the drill to drown out any conversation. She prayed he’d warm up by eleven.
Hannah showered, then dressed in a summery dress she’d bought for this occasion, a brand-new white cardigan and sandals. She blow-dried her hair straight and pulled it back into a neat bun, applied make-up for the first time since her last meeting with Barbara, and powdered a sheen of nervous perspiration on her cheeks and forehead. She wondered if Barbara had ever visited the house of a potential adopter who did not dress as if they were about to attend a job interview. Did anyone ever dare to leave dirty dishes in the sink?
Will packed away the drill and went for his shower. When he returned, he’d pulled his jeans back on with the white shirt that she’d ironed.
She frowned. ‘Can’t you wear your grey trousers? The smart ones?’
‘Why?’
‘Er – to humour me?’
Ignoring his eye-rolling, she remade the bed with the fresh white duvet cover, silk cushions and coffee-coloured cashmere and silk throws that she kept for Barbara’s visits.
We are a sophisticated, measured, calm couple with time to enjoy life
, the bed was designed to say. She hoped it would also distract Barbara’s eye from the shabby wallpaper.
‘Where’s Laurie?’ she asked. ‘I want to run through things with her – she was making me nervous the way she was talking at the weekend.’
Will pulled on his grey trousers. ‘She knows what to say.’
As if on cue, a car drew up below.
Hannah glanced out. ‘That’s her.’
She turned.
‘You look nice,’ Will said quietly.
Hannah twirled. ‘Fragrant, maternal, trustworthy?’
‘Nuts, obsessive, loon?’ He dodged the pretend punch she threw at him.
On impulse, Hannah leant down and kissed him, and saw the surprise on his face. It made her heart sore.
‘I can’t believe we’ve done it,’ she said, wiping lipstick off his upper lip. On impulse, she kissed him there again, for a second longer. A tiny jolt of forgotten desire flickered through her. She stood back. ‘Please, can this be it?’
‘It’s going to be fine,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry.’
They held each other’s gaze – allies again.
‘Can you let Laurie in, and I’ll open the windows up here and see if I can get rid of more of the paint smell?’ Hannah said.
As Will went downstairs, she reached up to the window catch as Laurie emerged from her car below. Thank goodness she’d made an effort. Beige linen skirt, white blouse, wedge sandals, subtle make-up. Touched, Hannah noticed that she’d put in rollers to give her hair ‘height’, as if having hair that rose up like a cliff was a guaranteed way to added extra smartness. She looked perfect: like the professional village nursery teacher and respectable mother of three that she was.
‘OK,’ Hannah muttered, scanning the bedroom. Laurie was fine. This room was fine. They were nearly there. She headed out to the hall, checking her lipstick.
A shape loomed out of the shadows to her right.
Hannah’s hand flew up to stifle a scream.
Elvie stood at the door to the small bedroom.
‘Elvie! What are you doing here?’ she gasped. ‘How did you get in?’
Outside, the car door slammed. She heard Will and Laurie chatting on the forecourt.
‘Elvie, you have to go. You can’t be here,’ Hannah said, sweat breaking out on her forehead. ‘Come on, quickly.’ She motioned the woman downstairs with an urgent hand.
Elvie lolled clumsily behind her. She wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and the sour smell had returned. Her fringe had parted at an even more extreme angle, and there was a new greasy sheen on her hair.
Hannah grasped her leathery hand and pulled, hardly able to breathe.
There was a burst of voices and the front door flew open. Hannah swerved backwards, pushing Elvie behind her. ‘No! Go!’ She couldn’t explain this to Will. Not now. Not with Laurie here.
She searched for an escape route and saw the attic stairs.
‘Come on.’ Hannah pulled Elvie up the old stairs and shut the attic door, muttering, ‘Shit, shit, shit!’
It was stuffy up here. The spring air had risen and become trapped under the eaves. Hannah opened the skylight, trying not to creak the rafters.
‘Elvie, what are you doing here? Are you OK?’
Elvie’s eyes were fixed above Hannah’s head. Her mouth dropped open and a low bellow started to emerge.
It was a spider.
‘No! Shh!’
Hannah cupped it in her hands and chucked it out onto the roof tiles. ‘Look. Gone.’
Elvie stuck out her bottom lip. Hannah watched in despair.
No. This was a disaster.
She tried to think.
‘Listen, Elvie, you have to stay here. For a little while. You can’t come downstairs. But you’ll be safe up here, I promise you.’
She took the woman’s coarse hands in hers. ‘And you have to be quiet, or you’ll get me into trouble. Please.’
Elvie watched her blankly.
Hannah felt the panic rising in her chest. It was all going wrong. She was clearly never meant to be a mother.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked desperately.
Elvie nodded.
‘OK. Now, stay here. I’ll see if I can find biscuits.’
Hannah rubbed the sheen of desperation from her upper lip and walked to the door.
From that angle, with the sun shining in, Elvie’s brown eyes suddenly seemed familiar. But Hannah was too panicked to work out where she’d seen them before.
Nails digging into her palms, Hannah went to the kitchen, trying to appear normal.
Laurie carried in two baskets of lurid blue and pink petunias from the car.
‘Hi, Hannah. Where do you want these?’
‘Oh, thanks – just by the door,’ Hannah said, trying to compose herself.
‘You look very tense,’ Laurie said, peering through her big glasses. ‘Listen, it’ll be fine. I promise not to tell them about Will getting strip-searched by the police on his way to Glastonbury. Ha!’ She reached up and ruffled Will’s hair. Hannah forced a grin.
She felt his eyes on her. ‘Lor’s right, Han. You’ve gone white.’
‘I’m just nervous.’ In the kitchen she ripped open the posh biscuits they’d bought for Barbara, took three and found a bottle of water in the scullery. She crept back into the hall, terrified of finding Elvie on the stairs.
What if she just asked her to leave? She could see it now: Elvie shouting, ‘My house!’ just as Barbara turned up, and refusing to go.
Where the hell were Frank and Tiggy? She looked on the hall table for her phone, to see if there was a message from Dax or Barbara. Confused, she turned. It wasn’t there. Where was it? She looked around, then gave up and ran up the stairs. She had to keep Elvie hidden.
In the attic she gave Elvie her snack, and held her finger to her lip.
‘You must be quiet. OK?’
Finally the woman spoke. ‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
It was far from good. It was a disaster.
Downstairs, Hannah found Laurie banging a nail into the portico. Will was laying out plates.
‘Have you seen my phone?’ Hannah asked, checking the worktop.
‘No. Han?’
She turned. ‘What?’
‘Seriously,’ he said. ‘You look wired.’
Suddenly it was all just too much. She bit her lip. ‘I am, a bit.’
‘What’s up?’
She rolled her eyes, knowing she had to tell him. She checked that Laurie was out of earshot, then walked over to him. ‘I’ve done something really stupid.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve got involved in something that—’
Laurie walked in. ‘Right, what’s next?’
Hannah shook her head at Will. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’
Through the door Laurie had left open she saw Laurie’s blue people-carrier.
‘Laurie, did you shut the gate on the driveway behind you?’
‘Yes, was I not supposed . . . ?’
Hannah charged past her and down the driveway, ignoring Laurie’s ‘God, what have I done now?’
She opened the black, rotten gate and shoved it far out of sight into the bushes, then held it in place with a rock.
There was no time now.
Desperate as she was to tell Will about Elvie, it was ten to eleven. Barbara was due.
‘What if she can’t find the house?’ Hannah wiped the kitchen worktop for the third time. ‘What if she gets lost, like we did, and gives up? Or tries to ring us and can’t get a signal? Or what if she’s trying to ring and I can’t find my phone?’
Will read a newspaper, ignoring her.
Laurie fetched four mugs from the cupboard. As she filled the kettle, Hannah replaced them with matching white ones that she kept for Barbara. Laurie and Will exchanged amused glances. Hannah ignored it. They could fuck off, with their secret cousins’ code.
‘Listen, Laurie. Can we just go through it again? It’s possible Barbara might invent a situation – say, I had food poisoning and was throwing up all day when Will was in London – and ask what you would do to help. Or if I had to go to hospital. Or Will was—’