Simon Green - The Dark Side of the Road

Penny turned back to me. ‘I don’t normally throw myself at people, Ishmael. It’s just … there’s something different about you.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘There is.’

‘I have to say, I usually expect more reaction from a man when I stick my tongue half way down his throat.’

‘I hardly know you,’ I said steadily. ‘And I will be leaving here, once I’ve finished my business with the Colonel.’

‘So?’ said Penny. ‘Carp that diem, that’s what I always say. Don’t you like me?’

‘I haven’t decided yet,’ I said.

She looked at me. I don’t think she was used to such plain speaking. ‘Is there … somebody else?’ she said, finally.

‘No,’ I said. ‘There hasn’t been anyone else for a long time now. Love … is for other people.’

‘You know,’ said Penny, ‘for someone who’s only a few years older than me, you do talk like an old man, some-times.’

‘I get that a lot,’ I said. ‘As a wise man once said: it’s not the years, it’s the mileage. Now, tell me about the other buildings.’

‘You’re sure that’s what you want to talk about?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re a mystery, Ishmael Jones,’ said Penny.

‘I get that a lot too,’ I said.

We walked on. Penny didn’t try to hold my arm any longer. She pointed out the terraced row of Victorian cottages, set out on one side of the manor house, and the medieval tithe barn on the other. Just great dark shapes now, looming out of the thickening fog. Again, no lights anywhere, and not a sound to be heard.

‘All the cottages are locked and boarded up for the winter,’ said Penny.

‘No signs of habitation,’ I said.

‘Daddy rents them out as guest cottages, from spring to autumn,’ said Penny. ‘The weather’s always too harsh, come winter.’

‘And the tithe barn?’ I said.

‘Oh, that goes way back. Fourteenth century, if I remember right. Certainly it was here long before the manor house. Just a big old barn, originally, for storing the village’s grain. And then, more recently, for storing heavy farm machinery. If you’re thinking James could be hiding out in there, forget it. No doors, you see; just two great openings, front and back. Open to the elements … He’d be frozen solid, if he was in there.’

‘Think I’ll take a look anyway,’ I said.

Penny shrugged, making a good show of indifference. I led the way, slamming my boots through the thick snow. Penny had to struggle to keep up. Our boots sank in deep, making loud crunching noises, as though warning the barn we were on our way. The front opening turned out to be an arch ten feet high and almost as wide. Great drifts of snow had blown through, covering large areas of the heavily ridged stone floor. I had to climb up and over the main drift to get inside. Penny made hard going of it, so I reached back, grabbed one arm, and hauled her up and over. She let out a loud squeak of surprise at how strong I was, and hung on to me with both hands till she got her breath back. I let her. I knew it wasn’t fair to encourage her, but I’m not always as strong as I should be.

Inside, the tithe barn was just a huge open space, deep and dark and gloomy, with long shafts of grim grey light falling through slit windows high up on the bare stone walls. Rough stone, thick and solid, rising up to a high-raftered wooden ceiling. Just a place to store things. The only way the Colonel could have survived any time in here would have been to build an igloo, and I didn’t see one anywhere. I looked carefully into the shadows, but nothing looked back. Great hulking shapes took up most of one end of the barn: ancient farm machinery, under drooping tarpaulins.

‘Ugly old place, isn’t it?’ said Penny. ‘Daddy would love to tear it all down and improve the view, but officially this is a listed building. Part of our great English architectural heritage. So we can’t touch it. Even if it is butt ugly and half as useful. Even though one good fire would do millions of pounds of improvement. Honestly, darling; just because a thing’s stood around for a few years doesn’t automatically make it a thing of beauty and a joy forever.’

I went back to the front opening to stare out over the still and silent world. Cold and white and pearly grey. Penny came to stand beside me.

‘How very peaceful,’ she said, after a while. ‘Such a shame it won’t last.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It won’t. I can feel the storm building, all around us. Piling on the pressure till it breaks; and then the wind will hit us like a battering ram, and the snow will come down like the wrath of God.’

‘You’re not the most cheerful person I’ve ever met,’ said Penny. She put her head right back, to stare up at the iron grey sky past the rim of her fur hat, and then she looked at me. ‘Can you really feel a storm coming?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s a gift. But we’ve still got some time. Tell me about your family, Penny. The Colonel’s family. He never told me anything about you.’

‘If you like,’ said Penny. ‘I don’t mind. If you’re hoping for dirt, I’m afraid there isn’t any. Or, at least, nothing interesting. The Belcourts have lived in the manor house for generations, though Daddy will probably be the last to live here. He’s going to have to sell off the Manor soon, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. I don’t think he’ll really care all that much. He’s only hanging on now out of a sense of family duty. Mummy’s the one who’s desperate to stay on. If it hadn’t been for her, Daddy would have sold up and moved on long ago. To somewhere cheaper, and warmer. Daddy could use the money to prop up his business. That’s why Alex is here.’

‘What about you?’ I said. ‘This is supposed to be your inheritance. How do you feel about selling Belcourt Manor?’

‘I can’t honestly say I’ve any real fondness for the old place,’ said Penny. She stood staring out into the mists, her hands thrust deep into her pockets, her eyes far away. ‘And I’d hate to have the expense of running all this. The Manor’s upper floors were abandoned when I was a kid. I used to go exploring up there, even though it was strictly forbidden. Well, probably because it was strictly forbidden. I was always a wilful child. I used to steal the keys and unlock rooms at random, just to see what was in there. Searching for treasure and enjoying jumping at shadows. Pulling open drawers and peeking under the dust-sheets, making a mess … Eventually Mummy got tired of that, and all the other wilful things I did; and when shouting at me didn’t work, I was sent away.

‘I spent the rest of my childhood at boarding school and my adolescence at a very proper finishing school in Grenoble, Switzerland. From which I gained a first-class education, a posh accent, and a deep and abiding hatred for all forms of authority. I only ever got to come home for the holidays. Like being sent down to Hell, and then allowed brief trips back to Heaven. Just so you could appreciate how bad Hell was.’

She turned her head, to look at me. ‘You’re really very easy to talk to, Ishmael. You know that?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Was school really that bad?’

‘No … But it’s the principle that counts!’ She looked back at the snowy expanse. ‘I loved the grounds here, and the luxury of the house, but I would have loved anywhere that wasn’t school. With all its petty rules, and regulations … What were we talking about? Oh yes … The family. The Colonel’s family …’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Daddy mostly gives in to Mummy, to keep the peace. He divorced Diana because she started looking her age, and he wanted a beautiful wife at his side. He met Mummy at a sales conference, where she was tottering around on high heels, handing out gourmet nibbles from a tray, while wearing hardly anything at all. Really; I’ve seen the photos. It’s a wonder she didn’t catch a chill. Daddy took a shine to her and brought her home with him. And just like that, Diana was on her way. Replaced by a newer model. With a good enough settlement that she wouldn’t fight it. She’s always invited back for Christmas, and she always turns up. Daddy seems happy enough to see her. Mummy, less so, though she’s always polite. Mummy is still very wary of Diana, even though she won Daddy away from her. Heavy lies the head that bears the tiara …