Eleanor Jones - Shadow On The Fells

Chrissie saw them heading for where the rough grass gave way to rocky scree just above an outcrop. She started to run, but she was too far away...

It was just as the ewe disappeared over the ledge that Chrissie saw the man.

CHAPTER TWO

PARKING UP IN FRONT of the gray stone farmhouse he now called home, Will Devlin grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat and climbed out of his newly acquired Range Rover. The satisfaction he felt as he took in his surroundings was shaken as a heavy banging floated over from the barn. So the men he’d hired must be here to fix the roof, he realized, and suddenly he wished he’d left it a bit longer before getting the builders in.

He’d only just moved into the farmhouse a few days ago and found himself enjoying the isolation of the place so much that he hated the idea of it being infiltrated by hammering and loud voices and music. This morning, when he went to the bank in town, all he’d been able to think about was getting back to the peace and silence of his new home. Strange, really, when just six months ago he’d reveled in the busy buzz of the city.

When a tall, gray-haired man approached, his hand extended, Will took it briefly.

“Jim Wentworth,” said the man. “I’ll be supervising the work here. You must be Mr. Devlin. All we can do at the moment, of course, is redo the roof before it falls in, but I have the plans with me, and I wondered if you wanted to look them over before we put them before the local council. Roger Simmons, your architect, asked me to bring them along. He says he’ll drop by later today to see if you have any comments.

Will’s response was immediate. The whole idea of workmen buzzing and banging about the place depressed him. “I can’t right now,” he said, turning abruptly away. “Maybe later.”

Will hurried into the house, breathing in the silence as he closed the old oak door behind him. But that only made him feel stifled. He’d go for a walk up the fell, he decided. That should clear his head.

The farmhouse backed onto a small garden, fragrant with wildflowers, and beyond that was the vast space of the open fell. Well out of sight of the builders, thought Will thankfully as he headed out through the back door, not bothering to get changed. He stopped for a moment to take in the scenery that never failed to move him, breathing in the cool, fresh air and willing nature’s yawning silence and the sweet scents of spring to refresh his zest for life.

Why had he left it this long to return to the Lake District hills? He had come here on holiday just once, with his parents when he was small, but its beauty and isolation had lingered in the back of his mind all this time, reemerging when his life became too much for him to bear. Yesterday had been his birthday—thirty-five years—but he felt as if he’d lived forever. And he had, if you counted all the drama he’d been involved with in the past ten years.

Calling for Max, the big daft labradoodle he’d bought on a whim when he decided to move here, he went through the rickety garden gate. The dog bounded ecstatically around him as he headed up toward the open fell, enjoying the clear air and drinking up the silence. Already he had hope that the beauty and tranquility of this place might heal his hardened soul and gradually eradicate all the cruelty and brutality that had consumed his life.

At twenty-five, a young and ambitious lawyer, he’d been honored to be offered a job with Marcus Finch. After he won his first big case, his reputation had spread. At first he had basked in the glory, pleased to be termed a hotshot defense lawyer who could get anyone acquitted if he put his mind to it. Playing with words like a cat with a mouse had been his forte.

Eventually, though, his mind had become clouded by the violence and inhumanity of the cases he was being asked to take on: murder, extortion and meaningless depravity. It had all come to a head when he was in the middle of a particularly gruesome and high-profile case. Will had looked at the man he was being paid a fortune to defend and realized with sudden clarity just how badly his ambitions had been compromised. He had come into law to defend the innocent and ended up doing the exact opposite; his client didn’t deserve to walk free. And with that thought, he had just walked away, out into the fresh, clear beauty of the autumn afternoon.

He’d never gone back, despite the threats and pleas of his superiors. “At least finish this case,” Roy Wallis, the senior partner, had begged him, but Will had turned a deaf ear. He was done. Done with listening to lies and defending those who didn’t deserve it. Done with the darker side of mankind. And that was when he had remembered the holiday all those years ago and realized that the silence of the Lakeland hills might still the buzzing in his head.

The private doctor he’d been persuaded to see had diagnosed a breakdown caused by mental exhaustion, but Will had known that wasn’t true. He was just sickened by humanity; that was the truth of it. When he’d handed in his notice at Marcus Finch, Roy had pleaded with him to reconsider, offering paid leave, but Will had been adamant. He needed more than just time to breathe; he needed a whole new life. And so he’d come back here to Little Dale, and found to his relief that it had hardly changed since he was a boy.

He’d been drawn to the window of the real estate office as he strolled along the street on that first day here, reliving his childhood memories. The picture had seemed to jump right out at him and he’d stopped to read the advertisement. Craig Side, a whitewashed farmhouse with gray stone outbuildings set way up the fell, with fifty acres of land and rights to graze the fell for as far as a man could see. Isolated, totally peaceful and everything he wanted.

Will Devlin wasn’t usually one to act on a whim. He thought things through, planned his every move...but not this time. He’d booked a viewing that very afternoon and made an offer right away, his head brimming with plans. The barn and outbuildings would make ideal holiday rentals. Money was no problem for now, but it wouldn’t last forever and if he never went back to law then he’d need some kind of income. And he wasn’t going back to law. Ever.

Within six weeks he had finalized the purchase and hired an architect to start drawing up plans. Only when he moved into the farmhouse had he realized he might have jumped into things too quickly. He should have waited awhile, taken time to appreciate the peace and solitude before putting his business plans into action.

Excited by the prospect of a walk, Max leaped up at his master in his usual unruly manner, appearing to smile as his pink tongue lolled from the side of his mouth, exposing sharp white fangs. The dog’s attitude was what had drawn Will to him in the first place. Max loved everyone and everything, albeit a little too enthusiastically at times.

“Come on, boy,” Will said, increasing his pace. He regretted not changing into more suitable footwear; the dampness on the vegetation was beginning to soak through his smart leather shoes. No matter, he decided. He wasn’t going back now, and there was no one here to notice, anyway. He’d just throw the shoes away if they got too badly damaged.

For the next fifteen minutes, Will climbed the steep slope, hearing only the heavy sound of his breathing. He stopped for a moment to rest his aching legs, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

“Max,” he called. “Here, boy...come here.” The big dog raced up to him, collapsing onto a patch of rough grass. Will smiled, pleased that, for once, the dog had done his bidding. “Why, you’re no fitter than me, boy,” he teased.

He could see the low huddle of buildings at Craig Side way below him now, surrounded by the bright green of the home fields. Farther down, at the base of the valley, the lake sparkled in the spring sunshine as if ten thousand diamonds had been scattered on its surface.