A Dirty Death (17 page)

Romance was given little chance to blossom, however. For a start, it was raining quite hard when Lilah got up next morning. Two cows needed the AI man, and she had to decide which breed of bull to use. It was a matter which Sam flatly refused to help with, which Lilah regarded as perversely obstructive.

Then her mother twisted her ankle on the wet step out of the milking parlour and announced that she couldn’t possibly drive the tractor and trailer up to the top field, as she had originally offered to do. Roddy had insisted on going on the post-GCSE school trip to Alton Towers, which had entailed getting into school for 6 a.m. Lilah had driven him there, sleepily grumbling that he 
was needed on the farm, instead of gallivanting off on a pleasure trip at a time like this.

The weather continued grey and damp, which meant interrupting the hay harvest. Philip Jackson, from another neighbouring farm, had been contracted to come and assist, between his own crops, but Sam and Lilah agreed that it would be mad to proceed with rain in the air.

‘This is
impossible
,’ Lilah stormed at her mother. ‘It’s too much. We can’t go on like this. I just want to walk out and leave the whole stupid place to rot. Why don’t you phone Kippells and ask them to put it up for sale? We’ll obviously have to do it eventually, so why wait?’

Miranda looked out of the window beside the armchair where she sat with her foot up. The view was of their closest fields with the Mabberley woods in the distance. ‘Where would we go?’ she said, weakly. ‘What would we do for money? There’s a mortgage on this place, remember.’

‘When Daddy first died, you said you
wanted
to sell up and move.’

‘I do. But I really can’t face all the
effort
involved. I’ve never had to do anything like selling a farm. I wouldn’t know where to start. Anyway – you told me you wouldn’t move from here for anything.’

‘Well I’ve changed my mind. I want to be like normal people, with nice, easy nine-to-five jobs, 
evenings and weekends off. Imagine staying in bed all day Sunday. Imagine never having to get up in the night for some animal in trouble. No more going out in a blizzard, or getting soaked to the skin three times in one day. Oh, Mum, I’m so
tired
.’ And she slumped down opposite Miranda, like a small child.

‘Oh, God,’ tutted Miranda. ‘Don’t
you
go useless on me as well. Look, just have an hour’s rest. It’s too wet out there to do anything anyway. Sam’ll do the feeding. Everything else can just wait for a day.’

‘No, it
can’t
,’ shrilled the girl. ‘That’s what you never seem to understand. Farming isn’t like housework. You can leave dust and washing up and cobwebs, but you can’t leave animals. They get ill and die if you turn your back on them for a moment. And the hay will go mouldy if it gets wet. Then we’ll have to buy some in, which we can’t afford. We already buy far too much. Daddy called Jonathan lazy, but even Jonathan has to make sure his animals have something to eat.’ She shook her head in frustration. Everything seemed to be slipping away from her into a chaos that threatened to engulf them all.

‘You sounded just like Guy then,’ said Miranda with pain in her voice. ‘Working yourself up over a trifle, the way he always did. Overreacting. People like you two always seem to take life so 
hard – and make it hard for others in the process. You should learn the limits of your own power. That was something Guy never managed.’

Lilah thought about this, and smiled a little. ‘You mean like he was with the weather? Enraged because it wouldn’t do what he wanted.’

‘I always expected him to die of a stroke – or a heart attack – in the middle of a tirade against the elements. It still seems all wrong to me, that he should have died the way he did. Wouldn’t you think I’d have had some sort of premonition? My mother said he’d go off with a bang one day. She thought he was like King Lear. She was terrified of him.’

‘Poor Granny.’

‘She wasn’t the only one …’ Before Lilah could decide whether she had the courage to permit this piece of self-revelation, there was a noise at the door. Sam was kicking mud off his boots before removing them and coming in for his morning coffee. Miranda jumped. Normally, she would have it ready poured for him, knowing that he would appear punctually at half past ten for it. As it was, the water hadn’t even boiled.

‘Oh, Sam,’ she called. ‘We’re falling apart in here. It seems to be one of those days when everything gets out of step. Lilah’s coming to put the kettle on.’

The girl pulled a face. ‘What happened to my rest?’ she whispered, heaving herself out of the chair 
like an old woman. Her mother shrugged and smiled.

‘Bring me a cup, there’s a pet,’ she said.

Sam was shining with the rain. His hair was flat to his head, and his face was wet. He had taken off his coat, but the shoulders of his shirt were dark where the rain had penetrated. ‘It’s getting a lot heavier,’ he said. ‘Can’t think that Rod’s having much fun on his big dippers, in this.’

‘They’ll hardly be there yet. The forecast was better for the east, anyway.’

‘What’s it say for us?’

‘More showers all week. When can Philip come again?’

Sam shook his head. ‘Hard to say. This has thrown everything out. He’s worried about his own baling now. Your Dad would be in a state about it all.’

‘I’m in a bit of a state myself,’ she admitted.

‘So I see,’ was all he replied. It struck her then that they were all so locked up with their own grief and worry that no one had anything left over for the others. They were like the stone creatures in the Narnia book – all turned to cold, unresponsive statues by the death of Guy. What they needed was someone from outside to come and warm them up. Someone like Den, who had asked her to go out with him. Nursing the memory, she immediately felt better.

‘Sam, do you think we’re going to be able to keep 
on like this for much longer? So much depends on you, and you’re supposed to have reasonable time off. There never seems to be a moment for any proper discussion. We’re just staggering from one day to the next.’

Sam rubbed his face, taking his mouth and cheeks in his great hand and moulding them like a slab of clay. Lilah could remember him doing just this since she’d first known him. It always made her smile, the way he could be so rough with himself. It seemed to have a reviving effect; he straightened his shoulders and looked directly at her.

‘That’s all you need to get by on a farm,’ he told her. ‘Take the jobs as they come up, and don’t worry about what hasn’t happened. We can get through the summer easy enough. See how things look at the end of August, and have a think then. Things’ll have settled down a bit by then. Your mum’s the one with the say, don’t forget. We can be patient and just let her take her time. Don’t bother about me and my time off – I never knew what to do with it when I had it. My place is here, and it’s pleasing to be useful.’

Poor Sam
, she thought.
It’s probably the first time he’s ever felt like that
. One of Guy’s favourite words for him had been ‘useless’, at times when he was slower than Guy required, or when he let an animal escape past him.

But the problems kept nagging at her for the rest of the day. There was no avoiding the fact that things wouldn’t get any better. Never before had she worried about her future, or even given it any serious thought, but now when she glimpsed the years ahead, she quailed at the prospect. Despite her horror when Miranda had first mentioned selling up, it now seemed to her that she could only hope for a reasonable life if they sold the farm and moved away completely. If Sam couldn’t have his due time away from work, then neither could she. There was virtually no possibility of any kind of respite for her in the foreseeable future. Grimly, she hoped that Roddy was making the most of his day at the theme park. At this rate, that would be the only break any of them would manage all summer.

Miranda had apparently been thinking along the same lines that day, but had reached a different conclusion. ‘I’ve been thinking I might get over to Nottingham and see that woman,’ she said when she and Lilah were drinking coffee after a hurried lunch.

Lilah had to think a moment. ‘Who? Barbara, do you mean? What for? How would you get there? It’s the other side of the country.’ She half expected her mother to ask her to provide the transport.

‘It’s a small country. I’d drive.’ 

‘I thought you had a bad ankle.’

‘I’m not going
now
, you idiot. It’s probably not much more than two hundred miles. I’ll have to look it up. I went to Sheffield once. It’s probably quite near there. Come to think of it, Roddy’s gone to within a few miles of there now, and getting back all in one day. That proves it.’

‘There were plenty of people outside school this morning grumbling that it’s insane, actually. Chessington would have been nearer.’

‘They enjoy the ride, though. Singing and fooling about.’

‘He ought to be here, pulling his weight.’

‘He’s only young, Li. Be reasonable.’

But she didn’t feel at all reasonable, or inclined to listen to her mother’s blind optimism. And wasn’t
she
young, too? She was quiet for some minutes, fiddling with a small hole in the knee of her jeans. Then she remembered her mother’s initial remark.

‘Why does she live in Nottingham, anyway?’ she demanded, sullenly. ‘Dad never lived there, did he?’

‘Not to my knowledge. They were in Bristol when they were married, and before that Southampton, for a short time. Then she went to Liverpool after the divorce. I didn’t know anything about the Nottingham bit. Your guess is as good as mine. But wouldn’t you be curious, if you were me?’ 

‘I might be, I suppose. I’m more interested in her children. They’re my half-brothers. Didn’t you ever see them?’

‘No, never. You saw the letter. The younger one was born only a year or so before Guy left her, and he was only a toddler when she sent him to Ireland, poor little devil.’

‘Ireland’s meant to be a great place to bring up children. I’d be more likely to feel sorry for the older one. He knew more of what he was missing, presumably.’

Miranda hugged herself for a moment, as if cold. Lilah could see she didn’t want to think too much about that side of the story. As Miranda grew less communicative, Lilah found herself feeling more so. She realised how much she wanted to ask her mother, how many details of Guy’s life were a blank to her. And where exactly did Sam fit in? This evening, she promised herself, when everything was finished for the day, she’d broach some of these issues.

Meanwhile, there were things to do outside, as always.

Miranda was left wondering whether her ankle would allow her to finish reorganising the bedroom. There were still piles of shirts and underwear to be disposed of. The sensible thing would be to give them to Sam, but Sam was still in Coventry, so far 
as Miranda was concerned, and she could see no way of forgiving him enough to start handing him presents. She wasn’t sure he’d take them, anyway. Apparently there was a vein of sensitivity within him that she had previously never suspected.

A ‘Coo-ee’ at the door saved her from this particular decision.

‘Hello!’ she responded. ‘I forgot you were coming. What a relief.’

‘Trouble?’

‘Not really. I’ve hurt my ankle. Typical me. Lilah’s exhausted, poor love. She spent all yesterday really
sobbing
, after we got home. It really hit her, all of a sudden, losing her Daddy. She hasn’t got anyone to take his place.’

‘She should have a boyfriend.’

‘Well, she seems to like the tall policeman. It’s Den Cooper. He was on the same school bus, umpteen years ago. Can’t imagine what Guy would have thought about that.’

‘He never seemed to encourage followers.’

‘
Followers
! Sylvia, what a word. Positively Victorian.’

‘Well, he was Victorian, when it came to Lilah and boys.’

They talked for their habitual three hours. Miranda related the story of Barbara’s letter and the idea of a visit. Sylvia recounted the latest village gossip. 

‘Tim and Sarah are getting beyond a joke,’ she said. ‘I just hope neither of them has a gun. They sometimes seem intent on killing each other.’

‘Does anyone know what their problem is?’

‘I often think it’s a kind of terrible game they can’t stop playing.’

‘Yet they’re both quite pleasant, individually.’

‘I know. Tim helps me now and then. He’s good company on his own.’

‘Even Guy rather liked him, which is saying something.’ They lapsed into another Guy-centred silence, pouring more wine, sitting close together on the deep and well-worn sofa. Miranda never ceased to enjoy Sylvia’s undemanding company, her obvious affection and the hint of a future where they could be together wherever they liked, free of the demands and disapprovals of husbands.

They were interrupted by Lilah rushing into the house. ‘Mum! There are gunshots coming from Jonathan’s woods, and somebody screamed. I think we should call the police!’ The girl was white and trembling.

‘Jesus!’ said Sylvia on a long breath. ‘Whatever next?’

‘People are always shooting in the woods,’ said Miranda calmly. ‘And you’re obviously safe.’

‘And Roddy?’ pressed Sylvia. ‘Is he okay?’

‘He’s at Alton Towers,’ said Lilah quickly. ‘Somebody
screamed
. And Jonathan doesn’t let 
people shoot in the woods, especially at this time of year. It upsets Cappy’s birds and sends Roxanne psycho.’

‘Call the police if you like,’ said Miranda carelessly. ‘But I still don’t think it’s much to worry about. Somebody’s killing crows where they shouldn’t. You could get Sam to go and take a look.’

‘Oh, you’re
useless
!’ Lilah cried. ‘Somebody could be lying dead out there and you wouldn’t even care.’

She slammed out again, looking for Sam. He was in the big barn, making space for the coming hay bales. ‘Did you hear those shots?’ she demanded. ‘Have you still got Dad’s gun?’

‘I heard ’em,’ he said, slowly straightening his back. ‘Some fool woman shooting rooks.’