Ebony didn’t bother to switch on the sat nav this time. She left the train station in the hire car and kept her eyes peeled for the junctions. The snow was starting to melt from the fields now, glossy and bright like wet icing on a wedding cake.
As she neared Carmichael’s farm the sun was bouncing bright off the top of the buildings. The cockerel weather vane glinted as it tilted and caught the sun. Bridget heard the car approach and stopped to listen. She knew it would be Ebony; Carmichael had told her to expect another visit. Bridget stood at the entrance to the stable and watched Ebony drive in and park. Rosie went over to say hello. Bridget locked the stable and wheeled the barrow across to the dung heap past the farmhouse. Tor came to stand with his head over the stable door and watch the proceedings.
‘Hello, Bridget. Is Callum in?’ Ebony screwed up her eyes against the low winter sun as she got out of the car.
‘No.’ Bridget tipped out the contents of the barrow and wheeled it back to stand against the woodshed wall.
‘Where’s he gone, do you know?’
Bridget shook her head.
‘How long will he be away?’
‘T’aint my business.’
Ebony looked about her. ‘Are you looking after things here for him?’
‘Aye.’ Bridget shut the barn door and walked across to the house. She scrutinized Ebony as she passed. ‘What do you want?’
Ebony followed her into the tack room. ‘He must have said how long he thought you would be looking after it?’ Bridget didn’t answer. ‘Can I scrounge a cup of tea? It’s a long way back. I promise I won’t stay long.’
Bridget looked Ebony over, weighing up in her mind what Carmichael would want her to do and what she could be bothered with.
‘Was stopping anyway.’ She prised off her wellingtons in the tack room and washed her hands in the scullery sink, then walked through to the kitchen.
Ebony followed her and saw Rusty tucked up in Rosie’s basket in the corner of the kitchen, a lamb in beside him. She knelt to stroke Rusty. Bridget slid the kettle onto the top of the Aga.
‘How’s he doing?’
Bridget nodded, softened. ‘Good.’
‘Who’s his new friend?’
‘We’ve had a lot of twins this year. This mother’s not the best at looking after her young.’
Ebony sat at the kitchen table where she’d sat opposite Carmichael just a couple of days before.
‘I’m hand-rearing this one and Rusty’s helping keep him warm.’
‘Can I use the bathroom?’
‘Upstairs. .’
‘Thanks. . be back in a minute.’
Ebony finished in the bathroom and she quietly turned the handle of Carmichael’s room. His bedding was neatly folded and placed on top of his bed. His wardrobe was empty.
Back in the kitchen, she asked, ‘Has he been gone long, Bridget?’
‘Not long.’
She handed Ebony a cup of tea.
‘Hours?
‘A day or so.’
‘Carmichael’s lucky to have you here, not many people would be able to look after things for him.’
Bridget stood with her back to Ebony as she put sugar in her tea.
‘Tis what I always do. Nothing queer in it. I got my dad to come down and help. We’ll manage the lambing.’
‘Do you know where he’s gone, Bridget?’
As Bridget put her own tea on the kitchen table and her eyes settled on Ebony’s face. Her eyes were the same colour as the dusky blue hat she was wearing. The lashes around them were thick and fair.
‘He must really trust you then to leave you in charge of the farm. You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?’
Bridget looked away for a few seconds then back at Ebony. ‘He took me in when I had nowhere else to go; taught me about rearing sheep, taught me how to look after things. . and myself. He never wanted nothing from me.’ She glanced up at Ebony. Ebony gave her a smile that said I know what it’s like to love someone and not get it back. ‘I owe him a lot. If he’s in trouble I want to help.’
‘You can help him, Bridget. Tell me where he’s gone and I’ll do my best for him. I promise.’
She could see Bridget thinking it over, her hands tight round the mug of tea.
‘I told you, he’s not one to trust; but he liked you.’
Ebony smiled ‘He’s facing a tough time.’
‘Will you bring him back here to the farm, to me?’
‘I promise to try.’ Ebony passed her over a card with her mobile number. ‘If he turns up or contacts you, let me know, Bridget. I am on his side.’
Bridget took the card. She turned it over in her hands. Ebony could see she wanted to talk. ‘If he phones I’ll tell him to call you.’
‘Where do you think he’s gone, Bridget?’
‘All I can tell you is that he’s taken their photo and he’s taken his gun.’ Her eyes flitted over Ebony’s face. ‘Never seen him so troubled. I think he’s gone searching for the people who murdered his wife and child. Don’t think he’ll ever be coming back here, save in a box, to be buried up there on the hilltop.’