Adam gave a couple of quick blasts on the horn to announce his arrival. The door opened and as Angela came out of the house she noticed the broken headlights.
‘Sorry, I can’t get out,’ he said, and leaned over to open the door.
‘What happened?’ she said, when she got in.
‘Somebody trying to tell me something, I think.’
‘Tell you what?’
‘That I’m not welcome perhaps.’ He explained what had happened earlier. ‘I suppose it could have been worse. I’ve been thinking about it. There was something about the way whoever was up there just stood watching me. I get the feeling he was thinking about doing more than smashing up my lights.’
Angela stared at him as she struggled to make sense of what he was saying. ‘Why would anyone do that? What were you doing up there anyway?’
‘I wanted to see for myself where the accident happened. As to why, I don’t know yet.’ He told her briefly about his visit to the protest camp, and also about Janice Munroe’s suspicions of council corruption, though he didn’t mention David’s name.
‘I can’t believe this,’ she said. ‘You’re saying that those lads had some kind of proof of all this?’
‘I’m saying it’s a theory, nothing more. I think they were probably asking questions and nosing around. Did you know a bunch of people armed with clubs went to the camp one night and started beating people up?’
‘Yes, of course. It was terrible.’
‘Maybe whoever attacked the camp was trying to scare them off. Ben’s sister said she thought he’d been threatened. Maybe somebody was worried about what they’d find out.’
Angela thought about what he was saying. ‘And you think all of this had something to do with the accident?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘My God.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Adam, are you sure about this? I mean it seems so, I don’t know, unreal I suppose. Things like this don’t happen around here. At least they never used to.’
‘But now?’ he asked, picking up on the inference.
She looked troubled. ‘The development has changed people. Or maybe it’s brought out what was already there. I’ve heard people say that they should just send in the bulldozers and if the protesters don’t move that’s their problem. When the camp was attacked some people were saying whoever it was didn’t go far enough. What scares me is the hate you hear in their voices. They really mean it. And now this.’
‘Like I said, it’s just a theory.’
‘But what about what happened to your car? That’s more than a theory. Have you been to the police?’
‘No. I don’t think there’s any point. I couldn’t give them a good description so there’s not much they could do.’ He didn’t add that he didn’t have a lot of confidence in the local police. ‘Anyway, let’s forget about it for now. What about lunch?’ He looked at his watch. He’d arrived an hour late and it was almost two.
Angela was distracted, still mulling over what he’d told her. ‘I was going to suggest going to a place in Alston. It’s a bit of a drive though, over the fells towards Hexham.’
‘Will it be open by the time we get there?’
‘It’s open all day I think.’
He knew the road, and the idea of driving over the fells with Angela appealed to him. From what he remembered of Alston it was a nice little town, built on a steep hill with partly cobbled streets. He turned around and headed towards the square and from there he took the road south. At the bridge they passed a group of four people walking into town. One of them had a shaven head and wore shapeless dungarees, another was dressed in an old-fashioned dress that trailed along the ground. She smiled and waved as they went past.
‘Protesters,’ Angela commented.
‘When I was up there I got the impression they’re quite a mixed bunch,’ Adam said. ‘Overall they struck me as pretty harmless.’
‘You wouldn’t think so the way some people react,’ Angela said. ‘Some of the shops in town refuse to serve them.’
‘So, the general feeling is more against them than for them.’
‘You heard David the other night. People are worried about their jobs and businesses. Without the development a lot of people are going to find it hard.’
‘What would happen, really, in David’s case?’ he asked.
‘It would put the sawmill out of business.’
‘But you’d be alright. I mean I know the sawmill means a lot to David, but you’ve got this American publishing deal haven’t you?’
‘I haven’t told David about that yet.’ Angela stared ahead out of the window for a while. ‘It’s not just the sawmill. It’s the town, everything here. David has never wanted anything else.’
‘And you, Angela, what about you?’
She glanced at him. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I remember once you said you’d like to see Paris.’
She looked astonished. ‘Did I?’
‘Have you ever been?’
She laughed. ‘No.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘What about you, Adam, have you travelled much? You always seemed to want to get away. You had plans, you always knew where you were going.’
‘Well, I wasn’t born here. And I’ve travelled a bit. Even to Paris.’
‘Is it as beautiful as everybody says? It can’t be.’
‘I think it depends who you’re with. It’s a city for lovers they say and I can see why. I think you’d like it.’
She smiled uncertainly, as if there was a vague inference in his comment. He hadn’t meant there to be. At least he didn’t think so. But then maybe he had. He glanced across at her. She was beautiful, he thought. Truly beautiful in a natural, unselfconscious sense. They lapsed into silence and drove the rest of the way without speaking much, though Adam felt their silence was a comfortable one. Once or twice he caught her eye and she smiled. Green fields and stone walls bordered the road, with the fells rising on one side in stark profile against a glorious autumn sky. At Edenhall they turned east and rapidly climbed above the valley. The landscape changed quickly. Fields and trees gave way to open windswept vistas that had a kind of stark, empty beauty of their own. The clutter of towns and the populated lowland fell behind, and a feeling of space overtook them. The sky seemed to expand overhead.
At Alston they drove halfway up the steep cobbled main street and walked back down past the butcher’s and greengrocer’s to a little pub opposite the library. There were only a handful of other customers and the smells coming from the kitchen promised better than average food.
They sat at a table by the window, where Adam was glad to be able to take the weight off his leg. He’d been limping badly, and now his knee was aching. It was like somebody had taken up residence with a saw. A dull blade gnawing at the bone.
‘Are you alright?’ Angela asked, seeing him wince as he sat down.
‘I think I twisted it or something when I fell earlier.’
‘Does it bother you much normally?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘It comes and goes.’
She regarded him steadily from her wide blue eyes. ‘Do you think about it much, Adam? What happened I mean?’
He wasn’t surprised by her question. In fact it was inevitable that they would talk about the past. Perhaps especially because they’d so assiduously avoided any mention of it over dinner, which maybe had been due to David’s presence.
‘Do you mean the accident?’ he asked. ‘Not really.’
‘What about afterwards?’
‘You mean us?’ he said, with a prick of malice, which he regretted almost immediately.
‘Yes.’
‘Sometimes.’ He thought of Louise, and the way she had resembled Angela, though now he could see it was in type only. So many of the women he had been out with over the years shared common characteristics. Blonde, sometimes blue-eyed. Jesus, what would that psychologist he and Louise had been seeing have made of that?
Angela dropped her gaze for a moment. ‘It’s funny isn’t it?’ she said, when she looked up again. ‘I mean, it was such a long time ago, but in a way it feels like yesterday. I’ve always felt badly about the way things ended. You knew about David and I didn’t you? That day when we went for a walk in the wood and you told me you were leaving for university?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted.
‘How long had you known?’
‘I’m not sure. I suppose I sensed something before the accident. The way you used to look at each other. Then when you started visiting the hospital together it was sort of obvious.’
‘I knew you did. I wanted to tell you but it seemed such a lousy thing to even think with you in hospital. You know, nothing ever happened between us.’
‘It was a long time ago, Angela. It doesn’t matter any more.’
‘It does to me. I’ve always regretted not telling you that. Even though I knew you’d guessed, I wanted you to know that we hadn’t done anything about the way we felt. I mean, I felt bad enough just thinking it, knowing. We both did. I’ve always hoped you didn’t hate me, Adam. I suppose even that’s selfish isn’t it?’
‘I didn’t hate you,’ he said. ‘And I don’t think you were selfish.’
‘What did you feel then?’
‘I don’t know if I remember exactly. Hurt I suppose. My ego took a bit of a battering.’ He smiled, hoping he had managed to conceal what he was really thinking. How could he tell her he’d never really forgotten her? She was the first girl he had ever loved, and the emotions were far more powerful because their relationship had ended before familiarity bred pragmatism. Idealized through distance. He recognized this, but it didn’t change anything. Maybe she was the only woman he’d ever loved in a way, because how could he have really loved any of the others if he had even subconsciously compared them with her. Or because he’d always felt their relationship was unfinished and as such he’d held back. He knew it was this as much as Meg Coucesco which had fuelled his self-destructive work habits.
He saw that her brow was furrowed slightly as she looked at him, as if she sensed something of his thoughts.
‘What about David?’ she asked. ‘How did you feel about him?’
‘Like anyone whose friend just stole his girl,’ he said. ‘I struck him off my Christmas card list.’
She smiled, but he knew she must have picked up on the underlying bitterness in his voice.
‘He really did feel badly, Adam. That’s why he stopped going to see you. He just didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t face you.’
‘Look, Angela, it really doesn’t matter. Like I said, it was all a long time ago.’ He picked up his empty glass. ‘Another?’
He thought she would say something else. Try again to persuade him how badly David had felt. Poor David. She didn’t know it all. She didn’t know the half of it. She didn’t know that he’d always suspected that David had meant to shoot him. Perhaps he hadn’t planned it. In fact he was certain he hadn’t. But David had known better than to shoot at something before he’d properly identified it. She didn’t know the things David was capable of. She didn’t know about Meg.
Over lunch they kept to strictly neutral topics, but they couldn’t escape an air of tension that had developed between them. Or perhaps it wasn’t tension, more a slight unease. As they started back towards Castleton, Adam thought about the question she’d asked him earlier, about how he’d felt about David. There was an occasion when they were at school that stuck in his mind. The results of an early set of exams Adam had sat had been posted on the school notice board. He’d achieved the highest score in the school, but his achievement had been eclipsed by the school rugby team, captained by David, beating Penrith in the inter-school league final. During assembly the Head had heaped praise on the team, and the exam results, which might ordinarily have gotten a mention, were forgotten. In the hall afterwards he and David were walking to class when a junior had asked David for his autograph.
‘My hero,’ Adam had said sarcastically.
David had grinned with embarrassment and then a minute later had produced a small package. ‘I nearly forgot. This is for you.’
It was a boxed pen. The kind David’s dad used to give to his good customers, but this one was inscribed with the words:
FOR ADAM, CONGRATULATIONS
‘What if I hadn’t passed?’ he remembered asking through his amazement, to which David had shrugged.
‘I knew you would.’
The following year the gypsies had arrived. After that nothing had ever really been the same.
‘Adam, what is it?’
He turned to Angela, startled. He realized he was gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white and his jaw was clamped tight. ‘Nothing, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘Just my leg.’
When they were near Castleton again, he said, ‘Can I ask you something? You can tell me it’s none of my business if you like, but the other night I got the feeling that things are a bit strained between you and David.’ She looked away, avoiding his eye, and he thought maybe he’d overstepped the mark. ‘Look, forget it. It really isn’t any of my business.’
‘No, it isn’t that. You’re right, things have been difficult lately. I suppose I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s just the business.’
‘I meant what I said the other night, if you need to talk. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who’s removed from the situation.’
‘That sounds as if you’re speaking from personal experience.’
‘I was.’
‘You were married once weren’t you?’
‘For a while.’
‘What was she like?’
How had the conversation swung around to him, he wondered. ‘I thought we were talking about you?’
‘Sorry. Anyway, to be honest I wouldn’t know where to start. David has changed. I suppose you must have noticed how much he was drinking.’
‘He did seem to be knocking it back. I saw him in the pub last night, did he tell you?’ He could tell from her surprised look that he hadn’t. He wondered about that. If somebody he hadn’t seen for almost twenty years practically accused him of bribing council officials, wouldn’t that be something to mention when he got home?
‘He doesn’t tell me much these days,’ she said.
She looked both sad and angry at the same time. ‘Nick was there too, and Graham. Actually I went by the cottages where Nick used to live yesterday.’
‘He still lives there,’ Angela said.
‘I wondered if he did. I ran into a girl there, a young woman anyway. She seemed a bit strange.’
‘Mary. She and Nick live together.’
‘Is there something wrong with her?’
‘I think she has some kind of mental illness. She doesn’t go out much. How was David anyway when you saw him?’
‘He was alright. We had a bit of a disagreement actually. Seems that the media poking their noses in aren’t too popular with some people.’
‘Was he drinking? I mean did he seem drunk?’
‘Not especially.’
‘He’s been drinking a lot lately,’ Angela said. ‘He never used to be a heavy drinker at all. He might go to the pub with Nick or somebody once a week and have a few pints, but that’s about it. He hardly touched spirits before, but you saw the way he was hammering the Scotch the other night. I don’t even know how much he’s getting through now.’
‘Is it the business? I suppose he’s been worried about it?’
She shook her head, a gesture of what he wasn’t sure. Was it frustration, or did it mean there was more to it than worry about the business?
‘He won’t talk to me. That’s the whole bloody problem.’
‘Communication breakdown. Sometimes there are things one partner can’t tell the other.’
She looked at him curiously. ‘Is that what happened to you, Adam? Is that why your marriage broke up?’
‘Partly.’
‘Sorry, now it’s my turn to say it’s none of my business.’
‘No, it’s okay.’
‘What was your wife’s name?’
‘Louise.’
‘Do you still see each other?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘The truth is we should never have married in the first place. We only lasted a couple of years anyway. Not like you and David.’
Angela frowned. ‘I suppose that’s what I don’t understand. I used to think I knew him so well, that we knew each other. But none of this is like David. Sometimes I wonder if I really know him at all. I can’t help feeling that there’s something eating at him. Something he won’t tell me about. He doesn’t even sleep in our bed any more.’ She stopped short, and he had the feeling she was surprised at herself for revealing such a personal detail, even embarrassed. ‘Anyway, all marriages go through this sort of thing at some point I expect,’ she added.
There was a note of closure in her tone, and he got the impression she didn’t want to talk about it any more so he let the subject drop. They were almost back in Castleton anyway and ten minutes later he pulled up outside her house. She thanked him for lunch, and leaned over to kiss his cheek.
‘Don’t get out. And thanks for listening.’
‘Any time. Look, before you go, there’s something I meant to ask you.’
‘Yes?’
‘The journalist I mentioned earlier who works at the Courier? She said that David was lobbying the council on behalf of the Forest Havens development, is that right?’
‘Yes, as a representative of the local small business association. He worked hard to get support for the development. Why do you ask?’
‘No particular reason. It just surprised me when his name came up, that’s all.’
‘Right,’ she said, though she wore a slight frown as she got out. He watched her go to the door, and returned the brief wave she gave him.
As he drove away her scent lingered in the air.