I Am Watching You(15)
‘Oh.’ Her demeanour changes immediately, along with her tone. ‘That woman.’
‘Yes. I am aware from Mrs Longfield how you feel about her, and there is no intention, I assure you, of adding to your distress by bringing this up. But Ella is keen to try to put a stop to the mail without involving the police. She doesn’t want them distracted. From the main focus. Finding Anna.’
‘Bit late for that now.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She shrugs. Staring at him now. More defiant.
‘Look. I understand it must be very, very tough, Mrs Ballard. But I was in the force myself. There are good people doing their very best, I am sure of that. And the anniversary appeal. TV coverage normally helps to—’
She doesn’t take the bait. ‘Look. These letters – whatever they are. It’s probably better that you talk to my husband.’ She is standing up. ‘He doesn’t always hear his mobile and the signal isn’t always great, but I can try giving him a ring if you like?’
‘There’s no need to disturb him. So you can’t think of anyone who might send unpleasant mail to Mrs Longfield? Anyone else in the circle who has been particularly upset about everything. Spoken up angrily. About her part—’
‘Everyone’s upset, Mr Hill. My daughter is still missing. The vigil is tomorrow. And now, if you will excuse me.’ She is belatedly pulling herself together, overriding her manners as she realises, apparently, that she does not have to speak to him at all.
Matthew knows from experience that this realisation normally morphs swiftly into anger.
He holds out his card, which she takes, hesitating for just a moment before placing it in the pocket of her apron.
‘Have you told the police team about this hate mail?’ Mrs Ballard is still looking him very directly in the eye.
‘Why do you ask that?’
She does not reply.
‘Well. If you hear of anything which you think might be relevant – you will call? Yes?’
She nods.
‘The thing is, Mrs Longfield is going to have to take this to the police if the mail continues. And that’s not the way she wants to go. She thinks you all have enough to deal with.’
‘Does she?’
Matthew tightens his lips and nods a farewell.
Outside, he can feel Mrs Ballard watching him as he starts up the car and swings through a tight circle before pulling once more onto the impossibly narrow road.
He checks the screen for his hands-free set-up. Nothing from Sal. He tells himself not to look back. To keep the upper hand.
And then he continues, steering ever so carefully and trying very hard to erase the image of Barbara Ballard’s eyes.
CHAPTER 9
THE FATHER
Henry sees the car approach the house as he is checking the sheep in the farm’s highest and most exposed field. The wind is vicious up here, and he zips his coat right up to his chin, all the while watching the farmhouse below.
This part of the farm has always been a problem logistically. Tricky to access except by quad bike, and Henry has always had a difficult relationship with the quad bike on the hills. He has nearly turned it over more times than he will admit to Barbara. Once on the steepest gradient, he seriously thought the stupid thing was going to topple right over at high speed. Two wheels left the ground and he could feel the whole weight shift. It was just how they tell you. A flash of imagining: wondering how they would all cope when he left them behind.
He hears the echo in his head again. Anna’s voice.
You disgust me . . .
That day with the quad bike had so frightened him that he went straight home and into the office alongside the boot room, and arranged online to increase his life insurance. Later, it caused the most terrible row with Barbara.
We can’t afford more life insurance, Henry. What are you doing that for anyway? Don’t be so morbid.
He promised he would cancel the extra premium while secretly wondering if he should reconsider the offer from a neighbouring farm to take on the awkward fields, which were a better match for their own livestock. But it was a question of pride. Still trying to pretend he was a proper farmer, not a tourist manager.
He stands now watching the car leave, the driver clearly nervous of the access road. Taking it slowly. No, Henry has decided he will not lease out or sell off any more of the land that his father and grandfather worked so hard to acquire. So what if the tourist side makes more sense on paper? The holiday lets. The campsite. He is still a farmer in his heart. And so he is thinking of his few sheep and his cattle, and also the increased life-insurance premium still in place.
He did not recognise the man who was just at the house. Tall and slim, but too far away to make out his face. For a moment Henry wonders if it was the police and experiences the familiar jolt of adrenaline.
A year on and, unlike his wife, Henry is not waiting for their daughter to turn up alive.
Henry watches Barbara emerge on the doorstep to make sure the visitor has gone.
He is just thinking that he ought to head down there and find out what the hell is going on when there is a bleating behind him. He turns to see two of the ewes slipping on mud at the lower end of the field, sliding precariously close to the stream. Damn. He will have to go down there. Encourage them up to the higher and safer ground.
This exercise, with the ground so sodden, takes longer than he would like.