Country Plot (19 page)

‘All right?' he asked.

‘Fine.'

‘How about a canter to settle them down?'

‘And to check if I really can ride?'

‘Don't take it to heart. I am responsible for you and the mare.'

‘Up to a point, Lord Copper,' she said, grinning.

He smiled too. ‘All right, then. You go first, or she'll try and race. There's a gate at the end of the lane that'll stop you if she gets away from you.'

‘She won't,' Jenna said, and gave the mare the office. She sprang into a rocking-horse canter which Jenna had no difficulty in sitting, and after the first few paces she settled down and stopped trying to gallop. She
was
fast! The hedges whipped by, the sweet air buffeted her cheeks, and she felt her plait thumping her back rhythmically. It was heaven! After about a mile – all too soon – the gate appeared up ahead, and she sat down and slowed the mare, who came back to hand very well, though she didn't want to stop cantering, and halted with a couple of bounces in front of the gate. Jenna turned her head to see Alexander – who had been keeping well back so as not to encourage the mare to race – pull down into a trot and then a walk as he approached them.

‘That was great!' Jenna said.

‘You looked comfortable,' he said, with a slight question in it.

‘She's lovely. An armchair ride. Did I pass muster, then?'

‘You have a nice seat,' he said. ‘I'm sorry if I've been a bit—'

‘Magisterial?'

‘Is that how it seemed to you? I'm glad you didn't say bossy. But I really didn't know how much riding you'd done, and you could have been—'

‘Boasting? Lying?'

‘I didn't say either of those things. Can we call a truce?'

‘Consider it called. I'll let you open the gate, though. I was never very good at that.'

He opened the gate with a masterly ease, and they passed through on to another track at right angles to the first. It had trees to its right and a low hedge to the left, beyond which was a stretch of open, rolling fields and a fine view of the hills.

‘Oh, this is better,' she said. He came up alongside her, and the horses adjusted their pace to each other, and walked along, heads bobbing, hooves making a soft thub-dub on the bare earth. The evening was clear and beautiful, the sunlight slanting and golden across the fields, illuminating a carpet of buttercups, and a million tiny flying things dithering in the warm air. Chaffinches and blackbirds were making their evening claim to territory, great tits were shouting
me too
,
me too!
from tree to tree, and now and then a robin thrilled the air with its wistful falling cadence.

‘What a perfect evening,' Jenna said, enjoying the rocking motion of Tabitha's long stride. ‘You were right about the weather.'

‘Of course I was,' he said.

‘Well, you needn't be too smug,' she said. ‘We had a pretty infallible way of telling the weather in Muswell Hill when I was a kid.'

‘You did?' he indulged her.

‘Absolutely. It was a special piece of seaweed.'

‘Oh, I've heard of the seaweed test,' he said, ‘but never understood it. How does it work, exactly?'

‘You put the seaweed outside on the window sill, and you look at it first thing every morning.'

‘And?'

‘If the seaweed's wet, it means it's raining. If it's dry, it means it's sunny. And if you can't see it, it means it's foggy.'

He smiling, shaking his head. ‘You do say the—'

‘Strangest things?'

‘Well, you do. I've never met anyone like you.'

‘Oh, I'm pretty normal,' she said. ‘It's the rest of the world that's odd.'

‘There you go again.'

‘Shall I stop talking?'

‘No, I like it. Everyone else I know is so – predictable.'

‘Not Kitty.'

‘No, she's an original all right,' he said. ‘I suppose that's why you and she get on so well.'

‘You think we do?'

‘I've never seen her take to anyone as quickly. I suppose—' He stopped.

‘You have a terrific line in unfinished sentences.'

He looked embarrassed.

‘Did you think that the fact I was able to charm her meant I was a con man? Or con woman?'

‘I didn't think that.'

‘But you worried that I might be.'

He didn't precisely deny it. ‘I'm very fond of Kitty. And she is all alone.'

‘Well, up to a point, Lord Copper.'

‘Why do you say that? That's the second time.'

‘It's a quotation. From Evelyn Waugh.'

‘I've never read him.'

‘At least you knew he was a him,' she said with a grin.

‘Thanks! I'm not a complete philistine. But what does it mean? The Lord Copper thing.'

‘He was an autocratic employer. It was his employee's way of disagreeing with him. He couldn't say outright to his boss “you're wrong”, so he said he was right “up to a point”.'

‘All right – setting aside the “autocratic” insult – what was I wrong about then?'

‘You said Kitty was all alone. But she has Bill and Fatty and Mrs Phillips.' She didn't add Jim in case he didn't know about that. ‘And you.'

‘It's not the same, though,' he said. The smile faded from his face. ‘It's not like being married.'

‘No,' she said, having been thinking exactly the same in the bath the day before. ‘Nothing replaces that.' She wanted to ask him about Stephanie, but didn't quite like to. He didn't seem the sort of person who would like knowing that two women had been discussing his broken heart behind his back.

‘So what are you
doing
here?' he asked after a moment.

‘You know that. Cataloguing for Kitty. And the longer I'm here, the more it seems the most terrible shame to think of her selling up and having to move. There
must
be a solution.'

‘Do you think no one but you has ever tried to think of one?' he said, sounding cold and annoyed.

Oops! ‘Of course not, but sometimes when a problem's under your nose it's harder to think clearly about it.'

‘So I'm not a clear thinker?'

Oh, do stop being touchy, she begged inwardly. The stuffed shirt was back. ‘I'm not trying to insult you. I'm just concerned for Kitty.'

‘Oddly enough, so am I.'

Was there no way not to tread on this man's toes? ‘I was wondering,' she said, cutting to the chase, ‘about the National Trust. Couldn't she give the house to them, on condition that she was allowed to keep living there?'

‘The National Trust doesn't take on properties any more, unless they have a large endowment attached to them. They don't want the expense of upkeep any more than the owners do.'

‘Oh dear,' said Jenna. ‘Another fine idea crashes and burns.'

‘I can't believe you don't realize that we've considered all options. Do you think we're all rustic idiots?'

‘No, I don't think that, and can we call another truce? I was so enjoying the ride, and I've no wish to quarrel with you.'

He was silent a moment, his nostrils expressive, and then he said stiffly, ‘Truce is duly called. I've no wish to quarrel with you, either.' He visibly sought for something neutral to say. ‘I like your hair done like that. Not everyone can wear a plait.'

‘Thank you. It needs bushy hair to give it substance, that's all. Thin hair makes a thin plait and you end up looking like one of Nelson's ratings.'

He managed a smile. ‘I don't see you as a jolly tar, somehow,' he said. ‘Caroline wears a plait sometimes, but it's the other sort – I don't know what you call it, but the plaiting goes inward rather than outward, if you know what I mean.'

‘Yes,' Jenna said. One thing she
didn't
want to talk about was Caroline. New subject needed. ‘You're supposed to be showing me the countryside. Tell me about the view. What are those hills over there?'

‘Oh, they're part of a larger range, but they're called the Black Hills locally. We'll go there another day, if you like – it's a bit far for an evening ride, but there are some good tracks up there, and the view is wonderful. There's a monument on the top – can you see it?'

‘Oh yes,' she said, digesting the fact that he was proposing another engagement. So he couldn't hate her entirely. More Tabitha – yippee! ‘What is it?'

‘Just a stone column. Everyone thinks it's a war memorial or something, but it marks the place where there was a Roman beacon. Some eccentric local landlord in the eighteenth century thought it was worth marking. How he knew there was a beacon there, I've no idea.'

‘And what's that cluster of roofs over there? I think I see a church spire. Is it a village?'

‘Yes, that's Chidding. That's where we're heading. Are you ready for another canter? There's a nice open stretch just along here – and a couple of jumpable logs, if you fancy it.'

‘I bet Tabitha does. She's got jumper's hocks if ever I saw them.'

‘You know a bit about horses, don't you?' he said with faint surprise.

‘Just enough,' she said.

He was smiling again. He was like one of those spring days with sunshine, fast-moving clouds and occasional showers. He was a bit of a challenge, and no mistake; but she liked a challenge. And Kitty wanted them to be friends, so she determined to put her best foot forward and try to avoid tricky subjects for the rest of the ride. Given her normal nature, it wasn't like her to take so much trouble. Kitty should be grateful. It could only be for love of Kitty she contemplated it.

When they reached Chidding – a nice little village of pretty stone cottages, and a tiny church with an oversized spire – she discovered the reason for the halters under the bridles. Alexander led the way to the village pub, The Hart In Hand, and rode down the side of it to a tarmacked car park, at the far end of which was a patch of grass, a few apple trees still casting the last of their blossom, and a stout wooden fence with a wooden horse-trough standing against it.

He halted and dismounted in one fluid movement, and caught Tabitha's rein as Jenna came up beside him. ‘It's such a nice evening I thought you might like to stop for a drink,' he said, looking up at her. ‘They're used to horses here – they keep this patch of grass for the purpose. Is that OK with you?'

‘Lovely,' Jenna said. ‘What a nice idea.'

She jumped down, and they ran up the stirrups, loosened the girths, and tied the horses to the fence with the halter ropes. Then together they walked towards the back door of the crooked little inn, and ducked in to the low-beamed bar, where the light from the tiny windows bounced companionably off a large collection of brass and copper objects, and the metal bits of horse collars and the like. There were only two other customers in there, young men who looked like farm workers from their red faces and knotty forearms, who were having a game of darts.

The bartender came forward to greet them. ‘Evening, Mr Latham. Nice evening for a ride.'

‘Evening, Ted. Two tied up out the back – all right?'

‘That's what it's there for. What'll it be?'

‘What will you have?' Alexander asked Jenna.

Jenna surveyed the taps. ‘Oh, a pint of best, I think, thank you.'

‘A pint?' Alexander said with faint surprise.

Jenna's nostrils flared. No doubt Caroline would never do anything so unladylike as drink beer, let alone in a pint glass. But she bit down any such comment. ‘It doesn't taste the same in a small glass,' she said pleasantly.

Ted laughed. ‘A girl after my own heart,' he said. ‘You're not wrong, either. Two pints, then, is it?'

When they were pulled, Jenna took hers from the bar and said, ‘Thank you, Alexander.'

‘Oh, please,' he said, ‘call me Xander. All my friends do.'

‘Well,' she said, ‘I'd certainly like to be numbered among your friends, so: thank you Xander.'

‘Thank
you
,' he said. ‘I'd like to count you among mine, too.'

And they exchanged a look which was tentative, enquiring, invested with good will; and, if it was also a little speculative, who could blame them? A ride on a gorgeous summer evening can have that effect.

They went and sat on a wooden bench in an alcove by one of the little crooked casements, put their pints on a round wooden table before them and leaned back against the ancient oak wainscoting. The low beams emphasized Xander's height and size – medieval buildings like this were designed for a race of smaller beings.

Jenna said, ‘Cheers!' supped some of her pint and remarked: ‘Nice place.'

‘Glad you like it,' he said. ‘It's my local, more or less. At least, there is another pub slightly closer to me, but there's no place to tie up a horse, so The Hart wins on points. Besides, the other pub's called The Silent Woman, and the pub sign shows a coffin, so you have to be careful who you take there.'

‘I can see that,' Jenna said. ‘How did that get past the PC brigade? I didn't know you lived in Chidding,' she commented. ‘Well, I had no idea where you lived, so I don't know why I'm sounding surprised.'

‘I've got a little place here – just a tiny cottage. It isn't anything, not even especially nice, but it was all I could afford. I put all my money into the business. I don't have any to waste on homemaking.' There was a bleakness to his tone when he said this that warned her they were probably near Stephanie-territory.

‘I don't think being comfortable is ever wasted,' she said lightly.

‘Where do you live in London?'

‘Nowhere, at the moment. I was sharing a flat with a man, and we split up in painful circumstances, so in fact I'm homeless. Fortunately I was able to stay with my brother in the short term. Didn't Kitty tell you my story?'