Barking Mad

8 As Lorna’s great niece, somehow I had been accepted quite readily in Ashton Mead. Lorna had lived there longer than many of the present residents had been alive, and I was viewed as a kind of extension of my great aunt. By leaving me her house, it was as if she had tacitly vouched for me. In the absence of any such credentials, Richard seemed to awaken quite unjustifiable misgivings among the established villagers. But it was the meeting with Barry that appeared to rekindle Hannah’s interest in my new neighbour. ‘I haven’t seen much of him since we were at school,’ she murmured. ‘He always was tall but he used to be spotty too. Who would have thought he would have turned out like that?’ ‘Like what?’ Toby enquired, clearly amused by her preoccupation with Barry now that he had left the pub. ‘Like that,’ she replied. ‘So tall and –’ ‘You just said he was always tall,’ I laughed surprised by her interest in Barry, who had struck me as nice enough, but gauche. ‘Yes, but he’s so confident now. He used to be such a wimp.’ ‘Put a man in a uniform,’ Toby said, shaking his head. ‘Watch yourself, Hannah.’ She sighed and I had a feeling his warning was wasted on her. Hannah was curious, but Toby was adamant that I should have nothing to do with Richard. ‘We don’t know the first thing about him,’ he insisted. ‘You didn’t know anything about me when I moved in,’ I pointed out. But we all knew that was different. We spent the rest of the evening arguing about Richard, while Poppy slept peacefully under the table. We reached an impasse, and parted without reaching any resolution about how to proceed. The following evening I noticed a car on Richard’s drive next to his red Citroën. Wondering if he and his wife had reconciled after all, I hesitated to call, but my curiosity was irresistible and I rang the bell. Poppy sat down patiently on the doorstep, waiting. After a few moments, Richard opened the door. ‘I saw the car on your drive,’ I began and faltered. It was difficult to explain why I had decided to call on him just when he had a visitor. Once again, Poppy came to my rescue, barking and jumping up at Richard. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘She can’t bear to be ignored. She just wants you to say hello to her and then she’ll be quiet.’ Richard laughed. ‘You’d better come in then,’ he said, looking down at Poppy. She leapt forward and I followed, overcome with embarrassment, and wondering what Richard would think of me. It must have been obvious I was only calling out of curiosity. The man who rose to greet me was about my age. He could almost have been a model of Richard when he was thirty years younger. He had the same round face and penetrating dark eyes, but there the resemblance ended because he had a full head of light brown hair, and he was slim and a little taller than Richard. ‘This is my son, Ralph,’ Richard said, with a proprietorial beam. Poppy trotted over to Ralph and sniffed inquisitively at his legs. To my surprise, instead of pestering him for attention, she let out a low whimper and turned her back on him. Returning to Richard, she rolled over onto her back exposing her soft underbelly, inviting him to scratch it. ‘She’s usually very friendly with strangers,’ I told Ralph apologetically. He scowled. ‘I can see that,’ he said, resuming his seat. Meanwhile, Poppy was enjoying Richard’s attentiveness. After a few minutes, he bustled off to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine, with Poppy trotting eagerly at his heels. ‘And I haven’t forgotten about you,’ Richard added as he left the room. ‘It’s nice to meet one of my dad’s new neighbours,’ Ralph said stiffly, when we were alone together. I explained that I had been living in Mill Lane for about a year. Ralph had heard that the previous owner was insane, and asked me whether I had met her. Reluctant to rake up unpleasant memories of the past, I gave a vague answer to the effect that I had seen her coming and going but we hadn’t been friends. Ralph nodded. ‘It seems to be quite a closed community from what dad’s told me. Did it take you very long to settle in and feel accepted?’ While I was explaining how my situation had differed from Richard’s, he returned and poured us each a glass of white wine. ‘If you prefer red, that’s not a problem, of course,’ he said with a smile, ‘but this one is nicely chilled so I thought you might like to try it. I’ve only given you a taster. If you like it, we can fill our glasses.’ ‘I really wasn’t expecting to stay long,’ I remonstrated. ‘Yet you called,’ Ralph pointed out. There was a slight edge to his voice and Richard frowned at him, insisting that he was always pleased to see me. ‘And Poppy, of course,’ he added. She was dozing by his feet, but lifted her floppy ears when he mentioned her name and he laughed. We chatted for a while about my dog, and the conversation moved on to dogs in general. ‘You mentioned you were thinking of getting a dog,’ I said. ‘It’s a lovely area for them, with so much green space just across the lane.’ Ralph wanted to know why it was called Mill Lane, and whether there had ever been a mill there. The close proximity to the river meant that was highly likely, but I hadn’t researched the history of the village and wasn’t sure. Richard was interested in the question, and said he would look it up and let us both know. History was a particular interest of his. We chatted inconsequentially for some time, voicing our appreciation of the chilled wine, and discussing the locality, and I lingered, hoping to spot an opportunity to enquire about Richard’s wife. ‘So what brought you to Ashton Mead?’ I asked him at last, thinking a direct approach might, after all, be best. ‘I mean, until I was left a house here, I knew nothing about the village except that I’d seen its name when I wrote to my great aunt when I was a child. So how did you hear about it?’ Richard launched into an account of how he had wanted to relocate to the country, and had been eyeing properties in the area for some time. He explained that he hadn’t wanted to move too far from London. ‘I suppose you wanted to be near your wife,’ I blurted out and immediately regretted having mentioned her. Richard looked pained, and his son glared at me, making no attempt to conceal his anger. Responding to the change in atmosphere, Poppy sat up and barked, and for a moment I was preoccupied with telling her to be quiet. ‘I’m sorry, she doesn’t bark much. It must have been a fox outside. They’re everywhere. Apparently it’s increasingly a problem for the local farmers.’ ‘I hardly ever hear her bark,’ Richard conceded. Responding to his father’s composure, Ralph sat back in his chair, watching us both cautiously. ‘She’s a very well-behaved dog,’ Richard went on amiably. ‘She must be very happy living with you.’ ‘Let’s hope she isn’t the victim of an attack,’ Ralph added almost under his breath. It sounded like a threat and I turned to him in surprise. ‘An attack? What do you mean? What sort of attack?’ ‘Didn’t you just say there are a lot of foxes around here?’ he replied. ‘I would have thought they might attack a small dog like Poppy, if she behaves aggressively towards them, barking and that. For such a small dog, she does have a very loud bark.’ He laughed, as though his comment was intended to be light-hearted. Richard, meanwhile, was sitting quietly as though his son had said nothing untoward. Feeling uncomfortable, I assured Ralph that Poppy would be more than a match for any stray fox. She was stronger and more agile than he might think. I was tempted to add that I had a g*n at home, just in case he had any nefarious ideas, but decided against it. Not only would it be an outright lie, but knowing how fast word travelled in the village, I was afraid I might receive a visit from the police enquiring about illegal ownership of a firearm. It didn’t seem sensible to raise the subject of Richard’s wife again, and I left soon after that. Ralph watched me go with a louring expression that left no doubt in my mind that he was hostile, and possibly even violent. Poppy’s antagonism towards him only served to confirm my unease. It crossed my mind that if Richard had killed his wife, as several people suspected, then Ralph would probably know all about it and might want to protect his father. Ralph might even have had a hand in pushing his mother in the river. I would have to be careful.