halfway up the stairs. ‘I lost a child too and did I fall to pieces? We had more backbone in my day.’
Could he go? Darn right he could.
Without looking back, he slipped out of the door and ran across the street to his car. He’d left his coat behind but it seemed a small price to pay. He looked at his watch. If he drove as though all the devils in hell were after him and spent less than two minutes in the shower, he’d still be twenty minutes late. He really had no more time to waste.
So why was he picking up the phone?
Duchess’s hooves were clattering on the concrete of the livery yard when Evi’s phone started to ring. She reached inside the pocket of her coat and glanced at the screen. Oh!
‘Evi Oliver,’ she said, as Duchess edged closer to her box.
‘Hi, it’s Harry Laycock,’ said the voice on the phone. She’d known who it was. His name had appeared on the digital screen. Just the one word: Harry.
‘Oh, good morning.’ Was that right – friendly but with a faint note of surprise? ‘How are you?’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘In a bit of a rush. Listen, I’ve been thinking. This bonfire thing. I think you should go. I mean come. Come with me.’
He was asking her out. Was he? ‘You told me you were going nowhere near it,’ she pointed out.
‘I’ve changed my mind. There’s something not quite normal going on up here, Evi, and I need to know what it is. And if you really want to get to the bottom of what’s bothering Tom Fletcher, I suspect you do too.’
She could see him? That night? ‘I’m not sure, Harry,’ she said. ‘It seems a bit …’
‘I could pick you up at six thirty and drive you up there. Help you over the rough ground. Not that you need any help, I fully understand that. And it wouldn’t be a date, or anything. Strictly professional, you know – work – for both of us.’
‘Thank you, I know what professional means. I was going to say, it seems a bit intrusive. The Fletchers might think I’m spying on them. Maintaining trust is really important when you’re working with a family.’ Oh, shut up, you silly cow, you’re going to talk him out of it.
‘I’ve already spoken to Alice. She’s fine with it. And we’re both invited for supper afterwards but, I repeat, it’s definitely not a date.’
‘Yes, I got that bit too. I quite understand.’ A date with Harry. She was going on a date with Harry. Duchess started backing away from the box, was twisting round on the concrete. ‘Look, you’ve caught me on the hop a bit,’ Evi said. ‘It might be a good idea but I’d have to talk to Alice myself. Can I call you back this afternoon?’
‘Of course. Now I really have to run. I’ll talk to you later.’
He was gone – and what in the name of all that was wonderful was she going to wear?
44
AS QUICKLY AS HE COULD, BUT NOT FORGETTING TO watch out for anyone who might be lurking, Tom ran through the churchyard entrance, skirted round the ruins, past the church and into the graveyard, then dived behind a stone to get his breath back.
It was four thirty, and a few stripes of orange and pink in the sky showed where the sun had been not five minutes earlier. The cloud cover was thickening rapidly. The light would fade fast now. He hadn’t much time.
He set off again, keeping as close as he could to the boundary wall. If anything happened, he could be over it and in through the back door in seconds. She was fast, Tom knew that, but he was fast too.
At Lucy Pickup’s grave he crouched low again. Someone had left a bunch of tiny pink roses on it and – it looked so sad somehow – a small cream teddy bear with a pink ribbon round its neck. He remembered, then, the reason why the town had its bonfire tonight instead of on November the fifth; November the second was the Day of the Dead. Harry had told them all about it. It was the day when people remembered and honoured all those they loved who were dead now. In Heptonclough people visited their graves, prayed for them, left presents. They honour their dead in Heptonclough, Harry had said.
Tom looked all around. Still enough light. And he was very close to the wall.