BLINDFOLD (11 page)

`Please, have a seat. Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?'

Gideon sat down. `No, thank you. Later perhaps.'

Sitting on a big squashy settee to one side of the fireplace he was evidently more manageable, for the lady relaxed a degree or two as she settled in the chair opposite.

`Now,' he said gently. `Tell me what's been going on.'

`Well, I'm not really sure,' Jenny began, and Gideon could see her eyes shining over-bright in the muted light of the cottage. `As I told you on the phone, Willow's been acting so strangely these past few weeks ... I can't understand it. She's always been so affectionate but lately, well, she doesn't seem to want me to touch her and she's even growled a couple of times.'

`She's not in pain or uncomfortable in some way? You've seen a vet?'

`He can't find anything wrong.' Jenny looked distressed.

`Can I see the dog?' Gideon asked, and as she nodded, getting to her feet, `Alone, possibly?'

She paused, looking doubtful. `Well, I suppose so. She's not very friendly with strangers . . .'

`Just for a few moments. It'll be all right, I promise.'

She gave him another long look, then nodded again. Nevertheless, after letting the dog in she watched it approach Gideon before she withdrew.

He had picked up a magazine from a side table. From the corner of his eye he saw the dog, a handsome German Shepherd bitch, come slinking into the room and pause, but gave no sign of noticing it. As with the horse, it was important not to challenge; not to appear to threaten. When unsure, German Shepherds often prefer to circle and approach from behind. His position on the sofa was robbing her of this option but by keeping his eyes averted he was taking the pressure off her.

The bitch advanced, sniffed at one of his hands and wagged her bushy tail a little uncertainly.

`There's a good girl,' Gideon said quietly, still not looking directly.

Her velvety ears pricked enquiringly. `Lie down, then.'

The bitch hesitated. Across the room the door closed softly and she flicked an ear back. Uncommonly useful, German Shepherds' ears. They mirror the direction of their thoughts in the same way that horses' ears do.

Willow padded away and back again, coming closer this time. Gideon sensed that she wanted to make contact.

`Come and lie down,' he said, a little more firmly. With a sigh,

she sank down at his feet and quietly he put a hand down and gently rubbed the side of her face, looking at her for the first time. Willow returned his regard; a sign of a strong character.

`Good girl,' he told her again.

When Jenny Weatherfield put her head round the door a few minutes later, Gideon was sitting back on the sofa with Willow at his knee, her chin resting trustfully on his leg.

`Oh!' she said, a little wistfully. `She used to sit like that with me but she's stopped doing it since . . .'

`Your husband died?' Gideon hazarded.

`Yes, that's right.' Ready tears sprang to her eyes. `Did Pippa tell you? I asked her not to. People always sympathise and it sets me off. It's too recent.'

`I haven't spoken to Pippa,' Gideon said. `At least not about you.'

Jenny frowned. `Then how ... ?'

Gideon didn't really know. `A guess, I suppose. I think it's the root of the trouble with Willow, anyway.'

`But she wasn't close to him. She's always been very much my dog. Wouldn't go to anyone else. Until now,' she added thoughtfully.

`But you were close to him,' Gideon said gently. `Very close, weren't you? And it's hit you hard.'

Jenny sat down, her eyes fixed firmly on Willow who looked back but made no effort to go to her. She nodded wordlessly. `This dog adores you,' Gideon told her. `You're her whole world. And suddenly you've changed. You act differently. From being her rock, you've become unsure, unhappy and indecisive. She doesn't know what to make of you any more. She's worried and you see that, so you make a big fuss of her because you're relying on her to get you through the bad time. Hugging her, perhaps crying at the same time. Needing her.' He paused and jenny nodded, tears again in her eyes.

`She's totally lost. She feels insecure, and because she's anxious

she becomes defensive. When you behave out of character, she growls. You're hurt; she's even more at sea, and so the downward spiral begins.'

`Poor Willow!' Jenny exclaimed.

`Yes, "poor Willow", but that's not what she needs to hear,' Gideon said. `What she really needs is the jenny she used to know. She needs to know where she is again; needs some direction. You must be matter-of-fact with her. If she growls, remember that it's in response to your mood. Ignore her or brush it off lightly. You have to be strong for her. Put on a show and one day you'll find it isn't a show at all. You can help each other through this but sympathy isn't what either of you need right now, however much you deserve it.'

Jenny sat and looked at her dog, a mixture of doubt and hope showing on her gracefully ageing features. `I understand what you're saying,' she said. `But I don't know if I can do it.'

`I think you can, for her sake,' Gideon told her. `But if I were you, I'd get out of this house for a bit. Go and stay with a friend. Place yourself in a situation where you've no choice but to put on a brave face. Each day it'll be a bit easier and if you're happier, Willow will be happier. Spirals work both ways, you know.'

He got to his feet and reached for his jacket. `I'll ring next week and I don't want you to be here,' he said firmly.

Jenny achieved a watery smile and followed him across to the door.

`When you arrived I thought I'd made a big mistake,' she told him. `To be completely honest, if it hadn't been for Pippa, I probably wouldn't even have let you in. She said not to be put off by appearances and she was right, you have a gift.'

She did, did she? Gideon thought, filing that bit of information away for future use. `I understand animals, that's all,' he protested, mildly embarrassed.

`And people,' she added softly. `Thank you, Gideon. I'll let you know how we get on.'

Willow had padded across to stand behind her, watching Gideon leave. Jenny put a hand down and the bitch backed off a pace or two.

`Silly old girl,' she said lightly, and Willow looked up and waved her tail.

`That's fine,' Gideon said. `Don't crowd her and she'll come back to you.'

`I understand,' Jenny said, and he could see that she did. `Thank you so much.'

Sunday's ride went well. Rachel was a bit nervous at first but soon picked up the threads of her past experience and looked quite at home on Cassie. She was very taken with the handsome black horse that Gideon was riding and asked Pippa about him.

`Blackbird? He's a menace,' she said flatly. `He's the most devious horse I've ever had the misfortune to come across and he can be a sod to ride. You just can't trust him.'

Rachel considered the black horse for a long moment. He was walking beside her own mount with an expression of beatific innocence upon his good-looking face. Butter, quite plainly, would not even become soft.

Pippa followed the direction of her gaze.

`Oh, don't be misled by that look,' she advised. `He's probably planning something dastardly behind that saintly mask. Besides, our friend the witchdoctor there always sends horses to sleep. I don't know what it is, but put him on any horse and no matter how unruly it's been, within minutes it's walking like a seaside donkey.'

`It's a trade secret,' Gideon informed Rachel conspiratorially. `You have to belong to the SSHW.'

She frowned. `What does that stand for?'

`Don't listen to him,' Pippa said, exasperated. `He's having you on. He'll tell you it's the Secret Society of Horse Whisperers, but there's no such thing.'

Gideon pretended to be hurt. `Well, if you'd heard of it, it wouldn't be very secret, would it?' he reasoned.

Pippa looked heavenwards.

Monday morning brought a call from the garage in Blandford to say that the Mini could be picked up that afternoon. Both Gideon and Rachel needed to shop so they decided to travel in on the Norton, with Rachel driving the Mini back.

Once in Blandford they agreed to go their separate ways, meeting up again at a teashop before picking up the car. Gideon needed some art supplies, to call in once again at the police station, and to do a major grocery shop, which he arranged for Rachel to pick up in the Mini. What she needed she didn't say and, as it was none of his business, Gideon didn't enquire.

He arrived at the appointed teashop ahead of her and ordered cappuccinos and cream cakes for them both. He was a firm believer in healthy eating but an equally firm advocate of the value of what he called soul food, his theory being that if something was really enjoyable, then the satisfaction derived from eating it cancelled out any harm it might do in terms of cholesterol or calories.

His session with the Blandford police had been singularly unsatisfactory. He'd called them on Friday morning to report his findings about Joey, which had been received, if not with warmth and gratitude, then at least with interest. Today, however, his reception could at best have been described as tepid.

There were, he was told, seven Joseph Fletchers in the Chilminster area; three of whom were pensioners, two of school age, one out of the country and the last five foot four, bespectacled and a hairdresser. Gideon had laughed at this, which hadn't improved the warmth of his welcome, but the idea of his Joey as a hairdresser, with hairpins in his mouth and a towel over his shoulder, was hilarious.

They had also drawn a blank with the van. It wasn't registered, as Gideon had dared to hope, to Joey's partner-in-crime Curly, but to a bona-fide heating engineer called Ray Barratt. Barratt was unhelpfully away on a fortnight's honeymoon at present, but had apparently been described by those who knew him as skinny, dark-haired and quietly spoken, none of which could have applied to Curly. Nobody seemed to know where his van was, except that it might have gone in for a refit.

The coffee and cakes arrived, and taking one cup, he stirred the froth into the liquid, hoping Rachel wouldn't be too long.

She wasn't. By the time Gideon's coffee had cooled to remotely drinkable she appeared, laden down with shiny bags and looking very pleased with herself. She slid into the seat opposite him, depositing her purchases upon the floor beside her where they promptly subsided and slid across the tiles.

`Here,' Gideon said, holding out his hand. `Put them over this side between my chair and the wall.'

When the bags were safely stowed, Rachel heaved a sigh of pure pleasure. `Oh, I love shopping!' she said. `It just gives you such a high. It's great!'

Gideon made a face. `Whereas I spend the whole time thinking of all the other things I could be doing. The quicker it's over and done with, the better I like it.'

`Isn't that just typically male?' Rachel exclaimed, shaking her head in exasperation. `All I can say is, it's no wonder most single men have nothing edible in their larders and a wardrobe full of jeans and tee-shirts!'

`Ouch!' Gideon said, laughing. `A cruel indictment against the male of the species.'

`But true, nonetheless,' Rachel pointed out.

Gideon had to acknowledge defeat. `The defence has no further comment,' he said stiffly. `But it wishes to go on record as saying that it regrets buying Miss Shelley that huge and extremely expensive cream cake.'

`Oh, a poor loser!' Rachel said giggling. `I wouldn't have thought it of you.'

`I'm renowned for it,' he told her seriously, but she was getting used to his teasing and turned her attention instead to the eclair.

He thought how much she had come out of herself in the few days he'd known her, and supposed her deafness must make it difficult for her in her first dealings with strangers. It was a shame she allowed her fear of pity to rule her life, though. In reality it was more of a handicap than her deafness, making her appear offhand and unfriendly. Nothing could be further from the truth. When she got past that first hurdle she revealed a warm and generous nature. And for himself, he found her intense way of watching him as he spoke quite appealing.

Coffee and cakes consumed, he paid the bill and they gathered up their collective purchases and made their way out into the cold once more. Rachel was ahead of Gideon and just turning to say something, when suddenly her face froze into an expression of shock.

`What is it?' he asked, and when she didn't answer, he turned to follow the direction of her gaze. The pavement was relatively empty. Nobody was looking their way in particular. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

He turned back. Rachel was as white as a sheet, her eyes huge. `What's the matter?'

She dragged her fascinated gaze away from the street. `I thought I saw somebody,' she said in a small voice. `It doesn't matter. Please, can we go now?'

`Who?'

`Please,' she repeated, starting to move. `Let's just go home.' She would say nothing more and so Gideon led the way to the garage to pick up her car, telling her about the groceries to be collected from the supermarket, as they went.

As the mechanic at the garage explained what they had done to the Mini and produced the bill, Rachel gave the distinct impression that her attention was somewhere else entirely. The repair bill was very reasonable, to Gideon's mind, but he felt they could have added another two or three noughts and Rachel would still have thanked them and handed her credit card over with the same slightly dazed expression.