Rites of Spring

73

Just after nine she calls the veterinary hospital. Emee’s condition is stable, but the vet wants to keep her in for a couple of days just to be on the safe side. He wonders whether Thea has any idea how Emee came to ingest glycol, but she doesn’t have an answer. She’s thought about it, but hasn’t come up with anything. The forest is still the most likely location, but she remembers that Emee seemed anxious when she returned to the surgery after the information meeting. The door was locked, but she already knows she’s not the only one who has a key.

Could someone really be so cruel as to try and kill her dog? She gives herself a mental shake and goes back to where she was before her father called.

Hubert Gordon was in love with Elita. He gave her his favourite poetry collection, in spite of the fact that Elita was four years younger than him, and came from a family that his father would never accept. Could Hubert have been the father of her unborn child? Thea finds that hard to believe. It seems more likely to have been something else – unrequited love, rejection, jealousy?

She has to find out more.

Thea takes the poetry book and heads for the castle. It’s a complete circus over there, with at least a dozen cars and vans and twice as many people carrying supplies into the east wing.

David is in the middle of the kitchen, waving his hands and yelling orders in all directions. He stops as soon as he sees her.

‘There you are – how’s Emee?’

‘Better, but they’re keeping her in for a little while.’

‘That’s fantastic!’ He spreads his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone last night – I didn’t hear it.’

A lie. David sleeps with his phone virtually under his pillow.

‘I was right outside the castle, sounding the horn and flashing the headlights.’

‘Were you? I must have been in a really deep sleep.’

Another lie. In David’s case they’re pretty easy to spot, because he’s better at lying than telling the truth.

‘You weren’t there, were you? You slept somewhere else.’

He moves closer, places a hand on her shoulder. Looks around, worried that someone will have heard her.

‘We’ll sort everything out as soon as the dinner is over,’ he says quietly. ‘No more secrets. You can ask me whatever you like, but please help me to get us through this first.’

He smiles, tries to make her do the same.

‘OK.’

Through the window, almost opposite the stone steps, she sees a group of men building a Walpurgis Night bonfire. One of them is Little Stefan; he’s erecting a familiar T-shaped frame in the middle of the bonfire.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s Walpurgis Night – obviously we’re having a bonfire.’

‘And will you be burning the Green Man?’

‘It was Mum’s idea. She’s got some local experts to make an effigy for us. It’ll be here in a few hours – it’s going to be brilliant!’

David is pretending that everything is fine. He almost succeeds, but not quite.

Walpurgis Night is here at last. Nature is hungry, and the Green Man is riding through the forests.

And nothing will ever be the same again.

Thea heads for the west wing and uses the heavy knocker on Hubert’s door. He doesn’t answer. The car is there, so she knows he’s home. She tries again, knocks a little louder this time. She suddenly feels nervous. It’s only a few hours since they were sitting in the same car, and yet it’s as if the way she looks at him has changed.

She knocks again; he appears after the fourth attempt, an irritated furrow between his eyebrows. Maybe he was lying down, recovering from last night’s adventures.

‘Hi – sorry to disturb you. Were you sleeping?’ She makes an effort to sound normal.

Hubert shakes his head.

Thea holds out the poetry book. ‘I just wanted to return this. I think I’ve worked out which is your favourite.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘“I Dreamed That I was Old”.’

‘Good guess.’

She wants to ask about Elita, whether the unrequited love he wrote about in the inscription refers to her, but then she realises he still hasn’t invited her in. He also seems uneasy, almost as if he’s been caught out doing something he shouldn’t.

She looks over his shoulder and up the stairs. The door of the chapel is open. He follows her gaze.

‘If there’s nothing else, I’m a little tired . . .’ He begins to close the door, which piques her curiosity.

‘I wanted to ask you . . .’

He stops.

‘Won’t you come to the dinner? Please? Give me a chance to thank you for your help with Emee?’

The frown disappears. ‘Have you heard any more from the hospital?’

‘I can bring her home in a couple of days.’

‘That’s great.’ His relief seems genuine.

‘So how about it? Will you come? Please say yes!’

She manages to coax a smile out of him.

‘OK, I’ll come.’

‘Brilliant – see you there.’

The door closes with a heavy, metallic thud that echoes through the building.