George was content, more so than he’d felt for a long time. And yet, at the back of his mind, the place where he kept all his little, niggly problems, something was amiss. Tess was quick to pick up on his mood. She gave him a mild dig in the ribs as they walked.
‘So, how about you, George McConnell? How’ve you been?’
Her voice was still a little hoarse, hesitant from lack of use, but her strength was improving every day. He’d intended to just spend the weekend with Tess and her parents, but she’d persuaded him to extend his stay for a week. The previous morning she’d brought him a cup of tea in bed, and before he was fully awake had slipped her hand into his. Nothing could have been more natural, more perfect, and yet, more than twenty-four hours later, he still had difficulty believing that his feelings for Tess had finally been reciprocated.
Now, as they walked hand-in-hand along a tree-lined footpath, watery sunshine dappling the contours of the footpath ahead, he wondered why the elation he should be feeling was proving so elusive. What was nagging at his subconscious?
He gave a noncommittal grunt. ‘Me? I’ve been fine. Busy, as always, but all right, in the main.’
‘In the main?’
‘Yes.’
Tess laughed. ‘You’re such a man, George.’
‘Where have I heard that before?’
She nudged him again. ‘Probably from your other girlfriend.’
‘Ha ha. Like I have time for more than one.’
‘You have a point, there.’ Tess grinned. ‘What with working for the guv, and all.’
‘The last one,’ George shook his head, ‘the Emma Hardy case, wow, it was an emotional ride for sure. It got to all of us.’
‘I know. I get that. I’d have been the same. That poor girl, all those years, she never knew about her past?’
George opened the stile gate to allow Tess to go through. They were on the edge of Roegreen Woods, a popular dog-walking spot. The footpath stretched ahead of them between two fields, one freshly ploughed, the other showing signs of new growth – corn or wheat, George wasn’t sure. A line of trees directly ahead, punctuated by gaps in the foliage, invited the walker to choose an entry point, any one of which might lead in different directions through the woodland.
‘Aye, it was a shock, right enough. But she’s a toughie, Emma Hardy. She’ll cope.’
They walked in silence for a bit. Above the treetops, two red kites circled in the up-current.
‘You still haven’t answered my question.’ Tess tilted her head playfully.
‘Truthfully? I’m glad on two counts: one, that you’re on the mend, and two, this peace and quiet is something I could get used to. I like it here. I can feel myself starting to unwind a little.’
‘Good.’
Should he mention his disquiet? No, best not. Don’t spoil the moment, George…
Besides, there was truth in what he said. He did like it here, and he was beginning to unwind … except…
‘Ah, we’re not alone.’ A figure had appeared in one of the gaps. They were still too far away to make out any detail, but George caught a glimpse of black hair, a red top, a flash of denim. Then the figure was gone, swallowed by the woods.
‘Oh.’ Tess laughed. ‘You scared them off, George.’
George responded with a laugh, but it sounded hollow. For a moment his heart had stopped. Up until now he had dismissed his concerns as paranoia, tiredness. Now, he was on full alert, but he daren’t share his thoughts with Tess, not now.
‘Probably lost their dog. It’s a warren in there.’ Tess kicked a stone. It went spinning off into the ploughman’s furrows.
‘Yep, expect so.’ George was thinking furiously. Should they turn back? Take another route? He didn’t want to freak Tess out. Or maybe … maybe he was just being paranoid. The distant figure could have been anyone, in truth. But there was something about the posture, the attitude.
Since Tess had mentioned Connie Chan during a recent phone conversation, George had begun to wonder. Chan was still at large. Tess had worked on a case involving the Malaysian murderess before, while she was at Southampton. She’d learned enough about Chan to be scared at the prospect of an in-the-flesh encounter.
He’d thought better of calling DI Charlie Pepper before he’d set out from Reading, but now perhaps it might be advisable. Charlie would have the latest, whatever that might involve. Recent sightings, fresh leads … just a quick phone call, to set their – his – mind at rest…
‘George. Come back.’
‘Mm? Sorry. Daydreaming.’
Tess caught him by the shoulder and he stopped, surprised. She took his chin, held it, looked him right in the eye. ‘George. One thing I ask, just one thing.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t hold anything back from me. Tell me the truth. Always. Can you promise me that?’
‘Yes, of course.’
She held his gaze for a moment, then let him go.
They walked on. George wrestled with himself for a bit, then said. ‘My previous … problem. It’s all good, these days. I’m doing well.’
‘Say the word, George. It helps. Let’s address the elephant in the room.’
‘In the field, anyway.’ He laughed. ‘OK, the drinking. I haven’t had a drink for over twelve months. I still go to the odd meeting, but I’m OK.’
‘I can tell the difference. I’d know if you relapsed.’
‘Well, I’m not planning to.’
‘Good to hear.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘OK, so woods or stay in the field?’
They were on the threshold, by the first gap. The trees were packed densely together – it was an old forest, planted way back, probably sometime after the Norman invasion. Tolkien’s Fangorn came to his mind, and George felt a shiver run down his spine.
‘You know what? I feel like staying out in the open today. The air is so clear.’
‘Fields it is, then.’ Tess grinned happily.
They followed the footpath around the wooded perimeter, and as they turned the next corner, a vista of irregular fields stretched before them like the patches on a pair of jeans George had once worn at University. The ground sloped gently downward, creating the illusion that they were floating high above the earth, a king and queen of all they surveyed.
‘Pretty, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, it is that.’
They walked on, George resisting the urge to glance behind him as the woods receded into the distance.
Just paranoia, George, that’s all…