A Rural Affair - By Catherine Alliott Page 0,120

that if I was to read in the financial press that the bank was being investigated I wasn’t to worry; it was purely routine. Financial press? I hadn’t even been reading the tabloids.

‘It’s routine, I gather,’ I repeated now, for Sam’s benefit.

‘Yes. Although …’ He hesitated.

I waited. ‘Yes?’

‘Well, it’s just there’s a certain amount of discrepancy within the accounting, apparently. A complaint from a client too.’

I shrugged. ‘Clients often complained if they felt their investment hadn’t paid off. Phil always said so.’ I smiled wanly. ‘For all my husband’s faults, Sam, he was as straight as a die. They won’t find anything.’

‘No. No, I’m sure they won’t. But it’ll be a while, I’m afraid, until the money comes through. Because of this intervention, everything has to be gone through with a fine-tooth comb now, so it’s not entirely straightforward.’

Nothing ever is, I thought miserably, picking up the soft toy which Archie had dropped. He’d liked my baby. Crouched in front of my baby. But everyone liked babies.

‘But I think that within six months we’ll have it all straightened out and, hopefully, a settlement in time for the summer.’

‘Marvellous.’ I managed a smile. Stood up.

He looked surprised. Was I ending the interview? Yes, I was. I extended my hand – no, no kisses, Sam – and he slowly got to his feet, removing his glasses.

‘And once again, thank you so much for your professional counsel.’ I sounded like a policeman. Any minute now I’d say: and in conclusion. But hey, I’d got through it. Escaped, some might say. But it didn’t feel like that. I felt I was deceiving him.

Hand shaken, I turned my sleeping child around. The interview I’d dreaded so much was over, and I was on my way. I was a wealthy woman too. The reality of that, the difference it would make to my life, would kick in soon, I was sure. Within moments probably, out there in the high street, when I realized I could buy everything in the shop windows. And then everything else would be put in perspective. Become minutiae, forgotten. Money had a way of talking, didn’t it? Quite loudly. Shouting other things down. It had a way of hushing things up – hushing people up – and shuffling assuredly to the top of the pile. And I was shuffling out. I felt rather light-headed. Was that the money, I wondered? No, I didn’t think so. I hadn’t had any breakfast, which didn’t help, of course. Hadn’t eaten anything at all yesterday, come to think of it. No breakfast before hunting – too scared. No lunch – too busy leaping ruddy great hedges. No supper – too shocked. No breakfast this morning – too scared. A bit of a pattern emerging there, then.

Aware that Sam was watching me, I called a cheery goodbye over my shoulder, but as I wheeled Archie through reception and passed a smiling Janice, I stopped. Felt a bit peculiar.

‘Are you all right, dear?’ She frowned up at me, concerned. ‘You look terribly pale.’

‘Yes. Fine, thanks.’ I took a moment. Was about to push on, then halted again. ‘Um, actually, d’you think you could watch him for me?’

‘Of course.’ She looked surprised. Delighted too, as she bustled round.

I turned and went unsteadily back into Sam’s room. Shut the door behind me. Then I approached his desk. He hadn’t sat down; was still standing thoughtfully, gazing down at the file, fingertips poised on the desk like those of a pianist lingering on a final chord. He glanced up. Looked pleased, if surprised, as I tottered back towards him.

‘I killed your dog,’ I croaked, clutching the edge of his desk.

‘My dog?’

‘Yes. It was me. Kicked it to death.’

‘But … Betsy? I just left her. Asleep in her basket …’

We stared at one another. Slowly the penny dropped.

‘Oh no, not that one,’ I said quickly. ‘The hunt dog. Hound, even.’

He frowned. ‘Peddler?’

‘That’s it. I kicked it. Or Thumper did. Same thing. And although I didn’t dig a grave, I did cover him in bracken. But it was instinctive, sort of – out of respect, like a blanket. I can see how it would look furtive, though. Like I was covering up a murder.’

Murder. I shut my eyes. A mistake. The room spun and I lost my balance, stepping backwards and letting go of the desk. I opened my eyes quickly and put out my hand to steady myself but there was nothing there. Instead my hand went to my forehead, which was

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