In the morning Jack was up before Belle was even awake. She showered and went out into the kitchen. The door was open and the day was bright. A massive horsebox was backing into the yard in front of the stable block, Jack waving the driver back, back, back . . . there. He slapped the side of the truck. Enough.
Belle walked out into the yard and looked a question at him.
‘Mate of mine runs a racing stable over in Berkshire,’ he said. ‘Lady and Goldie and the chickens are going there for the time being.’
Belle frowned at him. ‘You really think there was someone out here last night? That they’d hurt the horses?’
‘Why take the chance? They were going to cut you up, and they did for poor bloody Trix, so who knows what else they’re capable of?’
Belle patted Lady’s glossy neck and went into the barn, returning with two apples from the store, one for Lady, one for Goldie. Then she went back into the kitchen so she didn’t have to watch the horses and the chickens being loaded up into the transporter. It was too sad. She’d actually been happy here, hidden away from the world, and seeing the livestock go was drawing a line under it all. Almost saying goodbye to it.
Rain set in within the hour and they passed the day indoors, watching TV and cooking a meal. Jack didn’t go swimming, and Belle couldn’t ride Lady out. In the afternoon they sat on the couch and dozed, both aware that this was somehow an ending.
That night, they made love in Jack’s bed and then slept for a while. Belle awoke in the small hours and crept to the window. She tugged back the curtains and looked out at the silent, moonlit countryside. The rain had stopped and the concrete yard glistened like a mirror, tossing back the moonlight. Water plinked from the leaking guttering over the window.
It might be just about ready to fall down, but I’ve loved this place, she thought.
Then there was movement behind her and Jack’s warm skin was against her back and buttocks, his hard-muscled arms snaking around her and holding her tight against the front of his body. He kissed her neck and looked out, just as she was looking.
‘What is it? Can’t sleep?’ he murmured against her throat.
Belle shook her head. Suddenly she felt choked.
When she did manage it, her voice was low but steady.
‘Jack?’ she said.
‘Hm?’
‘I’ve got to go back.’
‘Back . . . ?’
‘Harlan started this . . . and I’ve got to finish it.’
She’d been thinking about this ever since Ludo and Nipper had burst into their private world and pulled it apart. The way she saw it, there was no choice. She had to somehow stop this – or she would be looking over her shoulder forever, because Harlan wouldn’t let this go. You didn’t say ‘no’ to Harlan Stone, so it was inevitable: one day someone would show up and kill her, maybe quickly if she was lucky or slowly if she was not, and she was afraid of that. Terrified. So she had to strike first.
Jack was silent for a moment.
Then he said: ‘These people fight dirty.’
Belle turned her head and in the blue light of the moon Jack saw her scarred cheek pucker as she smiled.
‘So do I,’ she said.