Martin Edwards - The Hanging Wood

‘What do you think happened?’ Louise asked.

‘I’d say there was a bit of horseplay between them, and then things got out of hand. And the upshot was that Hinds lost both a son and a brother.’

‘Now he’s lost his daughter as well,’ Sally said.

‘You don’t know for sure that he lost his son,’ Purdey said.

She’d been yawning, a young woman wearied by the dinner table chit-chat of her elders. She reminded Daniel of students he’d taught with a low boredom threshold. They liked to spice up their tutorials with an occasional bit of melodrama.

‘What do you mean?’ Sally asked.

‘Suppose Mike Hinds’ son is still alive?’

‘Darling, it’s not a joking matter.’

‘I’m not joking.’ Purdey gave an elaborate yawn. Lapping up the attention, Daniel could tell. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and he was sure that was what she’d aimed for.

‘Purdey, what are you talking about?’ Gareth demanded.

‘What I said, Dad. Mike’s son is alive and well.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I’m not being silly.’ Purdey’s silky smile made it clear she was about to play her ace. ‘In fact, I’ve met him.’

‘Marc, for God’s sake!’

The instant Hannah recognised him, her panic was lost in a surge of fury. He stood next to the front door of Undercrag, hands in pockets, his demeanour expectant yet tinged with irritation, as if she had no right to come home this late. She had to stifle the urge to rush up and throttle him.

‘Not the warmest welcome,’ he said. ‘I’ve been hanging around here for two hours, wondering where you might be.’

Deep breaths.

‘You’ve still got a key. Your name is still on the title deeds. It’s not as if I changed the locks.’

‘I would have felt like a trespasser. It’s your place at present, not mine. I meant to do the right thing, by not going inside and making myself at home without permission. I thought you’d understand.’

Aaaaagh! He hadn’t lost his flair for sidestepping her wrath, and putting her in the wrong. She knew him well enough to be aware that he’d see his behaviour as eminently reasonable — sensitive, even. Must it always be like this in a relationship between a man and a woman? Two different views of the world, because the two of you were never standing in precisely the same place?

‘What do you want?’

‘Hannah, we need to talk.’

‘It’s Friday night. I’ve been working all day.’ Well, a permissible exaggeration. ‘I’m knackered. All I want is to have a soak in the bath and then climb into bed. On my own, Marc, before you get any ideas.’

He waved away the gibe, as if swatting a bunch of midges, and took a stride towards her. The smell of his aftershave mingled with the fragrance of lavender in a large stone tub outside the living room window.

‘I may be crass, Hannah, but I’m not quite that crass. Listen, we can’t go on like this. We had something special together, and I fucked up big style. How many times do you want me to apologise? Not a problem, I’ll grovel as much as you like. We just need to move forward, that’s all.’

‘You don’t have to grovel,’ she said. ‘For what it’s worth, I’ve forgiven you. That isn’t the point; the question is what I want to do with the rest of my life.’

‘Spend it with me.’

He reached out an arm, but she skipped out of reach. ‘No, Marc, I’m not ready.’

As soon as she said it, she regretted her choice of words. Not ready implied that one day she would be ready. In the light from the halogen lamp fixed under the house eaves, she saw a spark of hope in his eyes, and cursed herself.

‘All right. It will take as long as it takes, I guess.’

‘Marc, you need to get over me.’ Horrible cliche, but what else should she say? She forced a smile. ‘Terri was asking after you. You could do worse than give her a call.’

‘Terri?’ He was hoarse with amazement. ‘Is that meant to be funny? How many times has she wrinkled her nose when she talked about my musty old books ?’

‘I didn’t realise she carried a torch for you either. Seems we were both wrong.’

For a few moments, a look crossed his face that she recognised, as he weighed up pros and cons.

‘No,’ he said. ‘She’s your friend. This is about you and me. Not Terri.’

‘Up to you.’

‘I’d better go.’ He took a couple of paces away from her, before halting, as if he half-expected her to call him back. Typical man, Hannah thought. Hope sprang eternal. ‘I parked down the lane.’

‘Goodnight, Marc.’

She fished out her keys and walked up to the front door. Not trusting herself to speak, far less to look back over her shoulder.

‘You may not believe this, but I’ve changed.’

Oh yeah ?

‘I’m sorry about your miscarriage, Hannah, more than I ever said. Heartbroken. But we can start again.’ He paused. ‘Try for a baby.’

Jesus .

She caught her breath.

I don’t believe I’m hearing this .

‘Hannah.’ His voice was clear as he walked away; in the quiet of the evening, it seemed unnaturally loud. ‘Don’t forget one thing. I love you.’

The key rattled in the lock. She felt clumsy and juvenile. Her hands began to tremble.

‘ Aslan Sheikh ?’ Fleur repeated. ‘I don’t believe it!’

‘You don’t have to,’ Purdey said. ‘I’m telling you what he told me. And I happen to believe it’s true.’

‘You’re making it up!’ Sham blurted out. ‘He never said anything about it to me!’

Purdey shrugged. ‘So?’

Gareth said, ‘I think you’d better tell us the whole story.’

For once, he sounded stern and humourless, like the Victorian paterfamilias who stared down from the opposite wall. Daniel snatched a glance at his fellow diners. Kit and Glenys looked bewildered, Bryan displeased, Sally agog and open-mouthed, hungry for fresh revelations. Hurt and angry, Sham had turned the colour of beetroot. Louise was frowning with concentration, keen not to miss anything. Only Fleur’s expression — or lack of it — gave nothing away. Perhaps her studied indifference was a clue; why make such an effort to appear unfazed? Daniel found himself admiring her gift for hiding what she really thought.

‘Yes,’ Purdey said. ‘Mike Hinds was his father, and Aslan had come back to check him out.’

‘Check him out?’

‘Correct. They’d never met, and Aslan was afraid he wouldn’t be welcome if he turned up on his father’s doorstep and introduced himself.’

‘Never met?’ Bryan was bewildered. ‘But if you’re trying to say that this man is Callum Hinds, then-’

‘I’m not saying that!’

She was dragging it out, Daniel thought, relishing her fifteen minutes of fame in the family circle.

‘What, then?’

‘Aslan wasn’t Callum. His mother met Mike Hinds in a bar. They had a fling, and Aslan was the result. By the time he was born, his mother had left Keswick for Carlisle, and before long she went back home to Turkey. Mike Hinds never knew anything about the child.’

‘This is bizarre.’ Gareth shook his head in disbelief. ‘I know Mike was a womaniser in his younger days, but …’

Sally said, ‘How on earth did you find this out?’

‘I met Aslan when I called in at St Herbert’s. Aunt Fleur asked me to drop off some financial statements for the principal. Aslan and I got talking. He invited me to meet up for a drink at a bar in town that night, and since I had nothing better to do, I agreed. That was when he told me his story; it only took a few drinks to loosen his tongue. He swore me to secrecy, but I think he wanted to impress me with his exotic life story. An illegitimate son of a Keswick farmer, raised in Istanbul, who has roamed the world for years and is now back in Cumbria in search of his roots. Fascinating if you like that sort of thing, but he wasn’t my type. When he invited me back to his flat, I made it clear I wasn’t interested.’