Читать книгу The Warrior’s Princess - Barbara Erskine - Страница 12

7

Steph put the phone down and turned back into the kitchen where Kim was frying onions and tomatoes. She was frowning. ‘I’ve been trying all evening but there is still no reply from either phone.’

‘Perhaps she’s gone out.’ Kim threw some sliced zucchini into the heavy pan and added more oil. With her dark hair and eyes and her plump figure – a testament to her fondness for her own cooking – Kim looked every inch the Italian mamma in the making for all she had been born in Romford and attended the same college as Jess and Steph. ‘And she’s forgotten to take her mobile.’

‘That’s probably it. I’ve reported the line at Ty Bran. They checked. It is broken.’

‘Well, presumably someone will go and mend it.’ Kim reached for her wine glass and took a sip before turning her attention back to the sauce. ‘So, you can stop worrying, Steph. Jess is a big girl. She doesn’t need you checking up on her all the time. In fact you never have before, so why now?’

Steph shook her head wearily. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got a strange feeling, that’s all.’

‘What sort of strange feeling?’ Wooden spoon in hand, Kim paused in her stirring to gaze at her friend’s face. ‘You two aren’t twins, are you?’

‘You know we’re not!’

‘Then stop worrying. Go and see to our guests. Make sure everyone has got a drink. If you really want to know what is happening with Jess ask Carmella. She reads the cards. You’ll find a deck in Stefano’s old bureau.’

Steph wandered through the apartment towards the front door. From the grand reception room she could hear the sound of voices. Kim’s penchant for cooking frequently led to these impromptu parties where her guests marvelled at the talent of their English hostess who could cook Italian food better than any of them.

Steph resisted the urge to mention the cards, but as they sat in the salotto later savouring their dolci and coffee Kim brought the subject up again.

‘Steph needs some info about her sister, Carmella. Would you read the cards for her? Tell us what is happening over there in Wales?’ She levered herself out of the deep sofa and went to the bureau, rummaging around in the drawers.

There was a general murmur of interest from the other guests at the suggestion as she drew out the small box she had been looking for.

Carmella, a tall, elegant woman in her forties, held out her hand languidly and took the box. ‘I haven’t seen these since Stefano died. Do you remember how often we would read them?’ She smiled at Kim, raising one of her startlingly black, fly away eyebrows.

Kim nodded, suddenly wistful. ‘He loved to watch you do it, but he would never let you do a reading for him. Perhaps if you had –’

‘No!’ Carmella started shuffling the deck. ‘No, don’t think of that. What was to be, was to be.’ She flicked her dark hair out of her eyes and leaned forward to take a puff from the cigarette lying in the onyx ashtray near her coffee cup. ‘Now, let me see what the cards have to say. This is about your sister, Steph?’

Steph nodded.

‘Tell me her name.’

‘Jess.’

‘And do you have anything of hers with you? Perhaps a letter? A piece of jewellery to make the connection.’

Steph thought for a moment. ‘I have a scarf of hers. I liked it so much she gave it to me.’

‘That is good. Get it.’

Steph watched amused as Carmella cut the pack and then laid out the cards on the coffee table. It was years since she had seen anyone read the tarot. Probably not since she had been a student and done it herself. Carmella did it with superb style, she had to give her that. She lay back in her chair and sipped her coffee, watching as Carmella turned up the first card, Jess’s scarf lying on her knee, a splash of emerald against the black of the woman’s skirt.

‘Ah, il fante di denari. The page of coins; pentacles you call them, si? This is Jess. A page can represent a woman, you know that?’ She glanced round. Turning back to the table she ran her finger thoughtfully over the card. The eyes of every person in the room were fixed on her hands as she turned up the next and sat staring down at the layout in front of her. She was frowning. ‘Non capisco,’ she murmured to herself. ‘This is very strange. There are two different people here. We have two women. You see? Il fante di bastoni, the page of wands. But this one represents una ragazza. A much younger woman. Very important in the reading. They are linked in some way.’ She turned a third card. ‘And here with them we have il re di coppe al negativo.’ She paused, shaking her head. ‘Here is violence, scandal, treachery. A bad man in the lives of these two women.’ She glanced up, concerned. ‘And here. Il matto, the fool. He heralds a journey for all these people. I think not literally – maybe a step into the unknown. No, also a journey in reality.’ She turned up three more cards in quick succession. ‘There is so much here.’ She spread her hands over the cards. ‘They are on a quest. Your sister, Steph, has set out on a journey she cannot escape. She travels with another woman, maybe a child, and behind them follows this man. The cards never tell a lie, but this and this –’ Her hand strayed over the cards, stroking them, reading them almost like Braille. ‘This is too strange. There is love here; new love. Strong love, but also danger. And fear. And threats.’

‘Oh God!’ Steph whispered under her breath. She and Kim exchanged glances.

‘Perhaps,’ Kim said suddenly, clearing her throat, ‘this is not a good idea. Why don’t we have another drink and forget it.’

‘No.’ Carmella raised a commanding hand. ‘Aspetta! No, this is important. It is telling me something very important about your sister. She needs to be warned that she is in danger.’

‘Oh God!’ Steph repeated. She stood up as a murmur of concern ran round the room. Everyone was looking at her. No one seemed to doubt Carmella. No one was looking superior and cynical and scoffing as they would at a dinner party in London. They were all hanging on every word.

‘Carmella, stop it!’ Kim said. ‘That’s enough. You are frightening her!’

‘So, you don’t want to know? You don’t want to save her?’

‘Yes, of course I want to know.’ Steph sat down again. She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Go on.’

Carmella looked up at her for a moment, then she glanced back at the cards. ‘There is another man here.’ Her finger paused over the king of swords. She frowned. ‘Your sister’s father? He is wounded.’

‘Our father is dead,’ Steph put in sharply.

Carmella shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. This is definitely someone’s father. The other girl, perhaps. Do you know who she is?’ She looked up. ‘And there are soldiers here.’ She leaned closer to the cards for a minute. ‘And here, I see danger again.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘Here it is clear. There are two lives here and this,’ she tapped a card, ‘is your sister and someone wants to kill her!’ She sat back and stared at Steph, her eyes wide. ‘Dio mio, we are told never to forecast a death. Never! This is awful!’

‘And it’s tosh, Carmella!’ Kim looked really angry. ‘This was supposed to comfort her, not make things worse.’ She stood up. ‘Enough! Let’s have some Limoncello, then you should all go home!’

‘I’m going to ring the police!’ Steph hadn’t moved. She was sitting staring at the cards.

‘Don’t be an idiot! You can’t ring the police because of a tarot reading!’ Kim bent forward and swept all the cards into a heap. ‘That’s it. Finished. I am going to put them away.’

‘I’ll ring the Prices. Meg and Ken won’t mind going over to Ty Bran and seeing if she is all right.’ Steph stood up. ‘Don’t be angry with Carmella. I knew there was something wrong.’ She headed for the telephone, in the hallway, leaving the others all staring at each other.

The phone at Cwm-nant rang and rang. There was no reply. Steph slammed down the phone. Picking it up again she tried Ty Bran’s number. The line was still dead. Then she tried Jess’s mobile. It was still switched off.

‘Leave it, Steph.’ Kim appeared behind her. She had brought a bottle from the fridge in the kitchen and a tray of liqueur glasses. Pouring one out she put it down on the hall stand beside the telephone. ‘Get that down you. I’m so sorry. It was a stupid, stupid idea doing the tarot. I should have remembered how melodramatic Carmella can be.’

Steph picked up the glass and sipped it. The strong cold shot of lemon revived her a bit. ‘I don’t know who to ring, Kim. Jess is all alone up there. There is no one there I know well enough to ask them to drive up into the hills in the middle of the night to see if my sister is OK.’

‘I bet you she’s fine.’ Kim guided her back towards the kitchen and onto a stool by the table. ‘I tell you what. Tomorrow, if you can’t contact her by then, we’ll ring the police and you can explain how worried you are, OK? Honestly. I don’t think you can ring them tonight. Not on the strength of a card reading. They would think you were nuts. And they wouldn’t go. You know that as well as I do. There is no point in even trying.’

‘And what if someone is trying to kill her?’ Steph took another swig from the Limoncello.

‘Why on earth should someone try and kill Jess?’ Kim grabbed Steph by the shoulders. ‘Think about it, you idiot! What could Jess have possibly done that would warrant that!’

‘Will was trying to find her. He rang –’

‘Oh yes! And Will is trying to kill her? I thought you said he was still desperately in love with her.’

Steph shook her head. ‘I’m being stupid, aren’t I. I know I am. Sorry.’

‘At last! Sense. There was love in those cards as well, remember? Right, I’m going to send the others home. Go to bed, Steph. Sleep well. It will all be all right in the morning, you’ll see. The phone will be mended and you will find that Jess has been there all the time.’

For the second time Jess had locked the house and eased herself into the driver’s seat. Terrified that she would meet Dan’s car in the narrow lane she groped for the key and turned it in the ignition. The engine caught. With a little prayer of gratitude she eased up the clutch but as she began to turn the wheel to manoeuvre out of the yard the car engine coughed and died. ‘No! Please God, no!’ Leaning forward, her hands shaking, she turned the key again.

It was ten minutes before she gave up.

Nothing would persuade her to ring Rhodri again. She had her pride!

All she could do was take his advice after all, lock herself in and wait out the night. Perhaps Rhodri was right and Dan wasn’t coming.

The doors were locked and bolted for good measure, the windows closed, the curtains drawn, when Jess finally went to bed. Lying back on the pillows she stared at the window, not even bothering to open the book which rested on her knees. There was nothing to be afraid of. What could Dan do, even if he did come? She glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Outside in the wood she could hear two tawny owls exchanging calls, the low hoots of the female echoing round the hillside, the sharp response of the male so loud he might have been sitting in the courtyard. She shivered and slid further down in the bed.

Publius Ostorius Scapula stood in his tent looking down at the woman who had been brought before him. She was dark-haired, slim, beautiful and very pale, the bruises on her face and throat still visible. One of his spies had given him some background on this woman. The eldest daughter of the last king of the Silures, the local and oh-so-troublesome tribe of these accursed southern Cambrian hills, she was Caratacus’s second wife. The first had died in childbirth so he understood. This second he had chosen with great acumen from the tribe in whose lands he had settled to spearhead his opposition to Rome. And she had done him proud, giving him three children, two girls and a boy and, so he had heard, her unswerving loyalty and love. She had great dignity and courage, this Celtic queen, in spite of her position as his captive.

‘I have news for you, lady,’ he said at last. ‘Your husband has been found.’ He saw the flash of hope in those beautiful grey eyes. ‘He was severely wounded but is, I understand, on the way to recovery.’

‘Where is he?’ The question came out as a whisper. She looked at him nervously, trying to be brave, meeting him eye to eye.

‘He fled north,’ he said slowly. ‘To the land of the Brigantes, assuming he would find succour there.’ His voice gave no clue to his feelings. ‘He threw himself on the mercy of Queen Cartimandua, who is, I understand, a kinswoman of his.’ She was smiling now. He moved across to the table, covered in maps and rolls of parchment and sat down, looking up at her thoughtfully. ‘You do not, perhaps, realise, that the queen is a client of Rome, sworn to the Emperor as our ally and friend.’

Cerys went white.

‘She has done her duty to Rome and informed us that Caratacus is now her captive. When he is well enough he will be transferred to my custody. I shall have him taken to Camulodunum to await word of the Emperor’s pleasure regarding his fate.’

To do her justice she did not flinch. Her shoulders remained straight, her face after that initial pallor without expression.

‘I shall send you there as well, with your daughter. I understand she was attacked by one of my men?’

Cerys looked him in the eye. ‘We were both raped by your men, General.’

‘As soon as they are identified they will be punished. You have my word on that, lady. As to your other children,’ his voice softened slightly. ‘I understand every effort has been made to locate them.’

This time she could not hide the pain in her eyes.

‘Has everything been done?’ He raised his gaze to that of the praefectus, Justinus, who stood at her side.

He stood to attention and saluted. ‘Sir. If they were there to be found, we would have found them. The search has been extended over a huge area. Either they have been found by local tribesmen and spirited away into the mountains, or –’ He paused, with a glance at his commander. ‘They are not there any more, sir.’ Wolves. The word hovered between them. Out of pity for the woman’s anguish neither man said it out loud.

Scapula was impressed by her dignity and courage. He sighed. He was as certain as maybe that the woman would never see her two younger children again. And he was prepared to waste no more of his soldiers’ time on looking for them. Her capture and that of her daughter was enough to give him leverage over Caratacus, if any were needed. Now he was sure of the man’s capture he had no real need of her at all, but no doubt parading them both before the people of Camulodunum, once the capital of this man’s father, would add to the impact of the defeat.

Back in the tent where her daughter waited for her, Cerys sat down next to the child and put her arm around her shoulders. ‘Your papa has been found alive, sweetheart. He is wounded but not too badly.’ No point in saying he was a prisoner. No point in saying that the Queen of the Brigantes had betrayed them, betrayed her blood, her kin, her oath to her gods and to her people. She clenched her teeth desperately. They would never see Togo and Glads again. That had been made clear by the Romans. They were not unsympathetic; she had read that much in Scapula’s eyes, but there was nothing more to be done. And never, never, she vowed as she cuddled her daughter to her, would she say anything that would cause Eigon to blame herself.

It was a game! Can we finish playing the game?

The voice echoed through Jess’s head as she slept.

Please, can we stop playing now?

The words came not from Eigon but from a smaller child, her sister.

Restlessly Jess turned over and punched the pillow. ‘She’s alive! She’s still alive! Glads is alive. Oh please, someone, go and look for her!’ She called out the words in her head but no one heard them.

The lamps were burning low; no one had come to replenish the oil and the tent was full of shadows. Cerys could see the silhouettes of the two guards beyond the leather flap of the doorway, their profiles black against the firelight. She could see their spears as a cross, black against the flames.

And again the thin little voice echoed round Ty Bran:

Eigon, where are you? Can I tell Togo to come out now?

In her sleep Jess gave a little moan.

Outside the house a figure crept across the yard and stood for a moment at the front door. It was just growing light.

Dan reached out and pushed the door experimentally, soundlessly rattling the handle, then he turned and tiptoed along the front of the house, pausing as he reached the corner. In the holly bush the blackbird fluttered up to its look-out post, shrieking a warning into the cold morning and upstairs Jess jerked awake suddenly, startled by the noise. The dream fled as she sat up.

She listened nervously. Something was wrong. Throwing back her bedcovers she eased herself out of bed and moving silently towards the window she peered down. The courtyard was empty, lost in colourless pre-dawn mist. Soundlessly she pushed the window open and leaned out. There was a car parked in the lane. She could see the dull gleam of the bonnet beyond the stone wall. She couldn’t distinguish the colour but she knew who it was. Closing the window silently she hurriedly threw on her clothes and tiptoed to her bedroom door, listening. She had locked all the downstairs doors and windows the night before; she remembered clearly touring the house one last time before she climbed the stairs to bed. He couldn’t get in. Not without breaking a window. Almost as the thought occurred to her she heard the sound of breaking glass from somewhere downstairs. Bolting the door, she flew to the phone beside the bed and lifted the receiver. It wasn’t until she had dialled 999 and waited, breathlessly, for an answer that she realised the line was still dead.

Oh please God, no. She shook the phone, tried again. Silence.

‘Jess?’

Dan’s voice was right outside her door. She saw the latch lift and heard the creak of the hinges as he tried to open it.

‘Jess, come on. Open the door. I’m not going to hurt you. But we do have to talk, don’t we.’

‘What the hell are you doing here, Dan? You can’t just break in! Go away. Now. I’ve called the police.’ Her voice came over as remarkably strong. ‘Don’t be a fool. You are going to make things worse than they are already.’

There was a moment’s silence. She thought she heard a chuckle. ‘No, Jess. You haven’t called the police. Your phone is dead, I tried it. I have your bag, and your mobile is here, in my hand.’

She spun round staring wildly about the room. She had left her phone downstairs, plugged in to charge. The thought that he had found it and that he had rifled through her bag as he was prowling through the house at five o’clock in the morning sickened her.

She tiptoed towards the window and peered out. Could she climb down? She doubted it. Anyway he would hear her.

‘Go away, Dan. Please. I’m not coming out so unless you’ve got all day, in fact all week, you may as well give up now. Threatening me is not going to make things any better. Go and we can talk on the phone.’ She clenched her teeth.

‘Come on, Jess. You must realise I can’t allow you to put everything I hold dear in jeopardy. I need you to make me some promises.’

‘I’ll promise nothing, Dan. Go away.’

There was a short pause. ‘Open the door and we’ll talk about it.’

‘You know I’m not going to do that.’

‘So you don’t trust me, but I am expected to trust you?’

‘There is a reason for that as you must realise.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve never lied to you, Dan.’

‘Yes you have. You just told me that you had called the police. That was a lie, wasn’t it.’ His voice was silky.

She closed her eyes. ‘I may not have called the police, but I’ve told someone what happened to me,’ she said defiantly. ‘And I have told him it was you. If anything happens to me he will go to the police for me and the truth will come out.’

‘That was a mistake, Jess. We could have talked about this. I could have explained.’ There was a long pause. ‘Did he believe you, this person you talked to?’

‘Of course he did!’

‘You amaze me. No one else will, once the facts come out.’ He laughed. There was a long silence. ‘Really, Jess. There’s no need for all this. We can talk it through.’ There was another pause. ‘We don’t have to have a great confrontation. If I misunderstood what you wanted, I apologise. I thought you wanted it as much as I did. You did. How can you say you didn’t? After all you can’t remember anything about it, can you. So, you do need to take my word for this.’ She heard his footsteps as he paced up and down the landing, then he was back outside her door again. ‘No one needs to know anything about it. Come on. Open the door. We need to talk. You’ve been depressed, Jess. Things get out of all proportion when one is depressed. That is why you’ve been behaving so oddly; your friend Rhodri will confirm that.’ There was another pause. ‘Of course, it was Rhodri you talked to.’ Another pause. ‘It was, wasn’t it? Large, extrovert, noisy Rhodri! Well, you didn’t have to tell him how you were paranoid about ghosts in this house, how you hallucinated about people smashing up your paintings, how you broke bottles of wine and accused me of doing it. He knows. He saw it all.’ She heard his footsteps again, heavy, angry, turning sharply at the end of the landing and returning to stop outside her door again. ‘You realise I could break this door down,’ he went on at last. ‘You can’t avoid me, Jess. Much better to talk about this. You don’t want to make me angry. After all, if something happened to you, who would ever suspect me? I would tell them how depressed you were when me met in Hay. Rhodri would confirm that, I expect! So, if you were found to have killed yourself, Jess, I doubt anyone would query your suicide. Look how strangely you’ve been behaving, even at school. Resigning. Not giving them notice. Refusing to go in even to collect your stuff. Oh Jess, no one would be surprised if it came to that. But we don’t want it to happen, do we. Come on. I’ve got all the time in the world. I could just wait here!’

She had broken out into a sweat. He was threatening to kill her. She took a deep breath. ‘You could never break this door down, Dan. It’s solid oak.’ She paused. ‘OK. We’ll wait then.’ She kept her voice as light as possible. ‘After all it won’t be long. Rhodri will be here after breakfast. I’ll just read till he comes, and you can wait there, on the landing.’ She padded barefoot across the room and sat down on the bed. Turning on the lamp, she reached for her book.

In seconds she had put it down again. She listened hard. There was no sound from the door. Outside the blackbird had started whistling, its song beautiful as the sun rose in a blaze of stormy red.

Have the nasty men come back?

The voice was clearly audible in the room suddenly. Jess looked round, her heart thudding. ‘Yes, they have.’ She spoke out loud. ‘Where are you, sweetheart?’

‘What did you say?’ Dan’s voice was slightly muffled. He had obviously moved away from the door.

‘I wasn’t talking to you.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ She gave a grim smile. She turned and addressed the empty space between the bed and the window. ‘Can you fetch help, Glads?’ Was it the younger child again? She thought so. The voice was lighter, more tentative. ‘Can we find someone to make the nasty man go away?’ She spoke softly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make out her words.

‘Who are you talking to?’ For a moment he sounded suspicious. Then he laughed. ‘OK. You had me fooled for a second there, but only a second! I can wait all day, Jess.’

‘Just till Rhodri comes!’ She turned back towards the window. ‘Are you still there, Glads?’

There was no reply. She sighed. It was insane to think there would be. For twenty minutes neither she nor Dan spoke, then at last she heard him walking across the landing. She didn’t hear him come back. Had he moved away then? Exploring the house perhaps? She tiptoed towards the door. ‘Dan? Tell me the truth. You might as well. Was it you who pretended to wreck my pictures? Was it some sort of practical joke?’

‘And how exactly do you suppose I set up this joke?’ His voice was very close to the door after all. Perhaps he was leaning against it. ‘I brought glass and blood and a duplicate sketchbook with me, did I?’

‘Doesn’t sound very likely, does it!’ she admitted ruefully. ‘So,’ she went on, ‘where does Natalie think you are this morning?’

‘London. So you don’t have to worry about her expecting me back any time soon, Jess.’ His voice had a mocking ring to it.

She retreated to the bed and sat down. What were the chances of someone coming to call? None at all. Unless Rhodri took it into his head to come over again before he went away. He might phone and find the line dead and worry about her. Was that likely? She bit her lip. It was as she could see her only hope.

Half an hour later Dan’s voice woke her from a semi-doze. He sounded as though he was eating. ‘I’ve helped myself to some breakfast, Jess. I hope you don’t mind. Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Toast? You must be feeling hungry by now.’

She grimaced. ‘Thank you, Dan. I’m fine!’

‘What time did you say Rhodri was coming?’ He sounded amused.

‘Soon.’

‘I’ll be waiting for him if he does.’

Shit! What was she going to do now?

There was water to drink in the bathroom, and she could go without food for the time being, surely. She wasn’t hungry anyway, she was too scared. She could wait him out.

She tried to read but she couldn’t concentrate. She did some sketching, thankful for the small sketchpad she had left on her bedside table and after a while she dozed. When she woke two hours had passed. Levering herself to her feet she went to the door. ‘Dan? Are you still there?’

‘Oh yes, sweetheart, I’m still here.’

‘Just checking!’ She forced herself to laugh.

It was almost dark when she finally heard his footsteps outside in the courtyard. She ran to the window, dizzy with hunger and exhaustion, dodging just in time behind the curtain as he turned and looked back at the house. He obviously hadn’t seen her and in seconds he was once more heading towards the gate. Where was he going? Why had he given up? She didn’t give herself time to think about it. Pulling a sweater on over her shirt and jeans and ramming her feet into her shoes she ran to the door and flung back the bolt. In seconds she was down the stairs and in the kitchen, unlocking the side door with shaking hands. Moments later she had ducked behind the studio out of sight of the front of the house and was running across the lawn towards the hedge.

Forcing herself through a gap laced with sheep wool, she was through, bleeding with scratches from the hawthorn and brambles and out into the field. Running as fast as she could she doubled back out of sight of the house and in moments she was in the shelter of the trees, gasping for breath. Desperately she tried to control her gulps for air as she listened for the sound of Dan’s footsteps. Had he seen her? Why had he left unless it was to lure her out of her bedroom? All she could hear was the wind rustling in the treetops and the sudden sharp call of the owl. Below her in the valley it was already dark.

It seemed an age before she dared to move. Beyond the trees the sky was flooding with a colour wash of crimson and scarlet shot with green, silhouetting the distant hills. Cautiously she moved forward through the trees towards the house again, her eyes straining into the shadows until with a gasp of fear she saw his car below her, looming out of the darkness of the lane. She was far too close, coming out above the lane, much nearer to the house than she had expected and Dan was obviously still there. Somewhere. Her hope that he might have given up and driven away was a vain one. As silently as she could she melted back into the shelter of the trees and found her way back to the track. What now? There was only one option. To try and find her way across the fields to the Prices and pray that Rhodri was still there.

She glanced up at the sky between the branches of the trees. There was still a glimmer of light in the north west but down here amongst the trees it was growing pitch black as the sun slid behind the rim of the hill leaving nothing but a red glow on the highest branches of the summit trees. She glanced behind her. Was Dan following her or had he gone back into the house to wait for her? She didn’t have the courage to retrace her steps to try and find out.

All day she had kept the idea of Rhodri, with his broad shoulders and his deep strong voice in her mind, hoping against hope that just by conjuring him in her imagination she could bring him physically back to Ty Bran. It hadn’t happened, but he would protect her if she asked. Just by being there he would protect her from the madman in her house.

With a shiver she knew she dared not wait any longer. Carefully she began her descent of the steep escarpment, sliding through the soft leaf mould, clinging to the branches, feeling her way between tree trunks rough with lichen, protecting her eyes with the crook of her arm against sharp twigs and whipping saplings.

At last she reached the fence that bordered the wood. She felt along the barbed wire cautiously looking for the wooden footrail of the stile and finding it at last, climbed over, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. The clouds had rolled back and the night was bright with stars. On the horizon there was still a bright green line of reflected light, the last trace of the dying sun. Far behind her a pheasant launched itself suddenly out of the treetops with a deafening squawk of alarm. She held her breath. Something up there in the wood had scared it. She listened, her fingers still clutching the top rail of the stile.

Togo? We’ve stopped playing now. Where are you?

The voice echoed softly through the trees, barely a breath in the wind.

The moss under Jess’s fingers was damp. She could feel the moist warm velvet oozing under her nails. For a moment she clung tightly to the rail, paralysed with fear, then with a deep breath to strengthen her resolve she released it and set off across the field. It was rough under her feet, strewn with stones, uneven tussocks of grass and mudslips with here and there a patch of rushes catching at her ankles as she slid down into deeper puddles.

She felt horribly exposed as she crossed the field, but at least she could see in the starlight. As she reached the far side she found herself once again in the dark under the branches of a stand of ash trees as she made her way cautiously towards the gate.

She didn’t know how long it was before she finally found her way to Cwm-nant. Almost weeping with exhaustion, she pushed open the heavy gate and let herself into the farmyard. The farm was in darkness. As she hammered on the back door she realised suddenly that the dogs were not there. Nor was Rhodri’s car.

‘Oh no!’ She knocked again, beating on the door panels with her fists. ‘Please, please be here!’

She already knew he wasn’t. She was too late. He had gone. Too tired to do anything else she sank down into a huddle there in the porch, with tears of despair and exhaustion rolling down her cheeks.

Eventually she pulled herself together enough to climb to her feet and circle the house checking for open doors or windows. Rhodri had done a good job locking up and the dogs had gone. Feeling her way through the darkness into an outbuilding on the far side of the farmyard, she found some old sacks in which she could huddle as exhaustion finally overcame her. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that at least here Dan would not find her.