would be betraying the memory of his father and grandfather. They had sweated and toiled to make the place what it was so that it could be passed on to him. His father had taught him that it was a man’s duty to provide for his family and those sentiments, engrained from childhood, were difficult to eradicate. As Andy climbed into the Land Rover he looked at himself in the rear-view mirror but found that he couldn’t hold his own gaze. The eyes that had looked back at him had looked lifeless. There was no fire. No ambition. Only tired resignation. Even if his mind wouldn’t accept that his days on the farm were finished, his eyes already betrayed that realisation.
‘Come on, Sam,’ he called, slapping the passenger seat.
A black and white collie bounded across the farm yard and leapt up onto the seat. The animal looked around expectantly at Andy as he reached over and closed the door behind it. He ran a hand affectionately over its sleek head then twisted the key in the ignition and pressed down on the accelerator.The engine purred into life and Andy drove across the yard towards the dirt track that led into the small range of hills about half a mile away. The sun was rising behind those hills, spilling a cold white light across the land. Birds were already singing in the trees. Nocturnal predators were returning to their lairs. The night had retreated again.
The collie sat upright on the passenger seat, ears pricked up as it gazed out at the countryside.
‘What are you thinking?’ Andy asked, glancing at the dog. ‘That I should sell up? You’d be just as happy living in the town, wouldn’t you?’
The dog turned its head when it heard his voice.
Andy ruffled its fur with one hand.
‘You don’t care, do you?’ he murmured. ‘Why should you? It’s not your problem. I wish to Christ it wasn’t mine.’
He guided the Land Rover around a bend in the track, flanked on one side by a barbed-wire fence and on the other by a high hedge. The fence posts were missing or broken in several places and Andy shook his head wearily.
‘Better get that fixed too,’ he murmured.
The dog started to bark.
‘All right, calm down,’ Andy said, lowering the sun visor in the Land Rover as the early morning sunshine momentarily blinded him. ‘I’m not asking you to help.’
Still the dog barked, rising from its seated position on the passenger seat now.
‘Sit down, Sam,’ Andy snapped, pushing the dog’s hindquarters back towards the seat.
The collie barked even more loudly, its head pointed straight ahead, its ears sticking straight up. It resisted Andy’s attempts to calm it, the sound of its barking filling the vehicle, ringing in the farmer’s ears.
‘Sam,’ he shouted, slowing the Land Rover down to negotiate a gently flowing stream that snaked across his land.
The dog’s barking now subsided into deep guttural growls. Still it was gazing ahead, as if it could see something that Andy couldn’t.
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ he muttered.
The growls were punctuated by subdued yaps now and, as Andy glanced again at his dog, he saw that its hackles had risen. It had also slunk backwards, as if trying to push itself through the seat. Its lips were drawn back from its teeth as it continued to growl, head still pointing directly ahead.
Andy brought the Land Rover to a halt, swung himself out of the vehicle then walked around to the passenger side and flung the door open.
‘Out,’ he snapped, clapping his hands.
The dog wouldn’t move. It remained on the passenger seat, growling.
12
North London
Peter Mason paid the taxi driver and stepped back from the road as the vehicle pulled away.
He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his keys, wondering why his hands were shaking slightly. He’d been fine leaving the hospital, fine inside the confines of the cab with the smell of his own freshly laundered clothes strong in his nostrils.
Mason stood
‘Come on, Sam,’ he called, slapping the passenger seat.
A black and white collie bounded across the farm yard and leapt up onto the seat. The animal looked around expectantly at Andy as he reached over and closed the door behind it. He ran a hand affectionately over its sleek head then twisted the key in the ignition and pressed down on the accelerator.The engine purred into life and Andy drove across the yard towards the dirt track that led into the small range of hills about half a mile away. The sun was rising behind those hills, spilling a cold white light across the land. Birds were already singing in the trees. Nocturnal predators were returning to their lairs. The night had retreated again.
The collie sat upright on the passenger seat, ears pricked up as it gazed out at the countryside.
‘What are you thinking?’ Andy asked, glancing at the dog. ‘That I should sell up? You’d be just as happy living in the town, wouldn’t you?’
The dog turned its head when it heard his voice.
Andy ruffled its fur with one hand.
‘You don’t care, do you?’ he murmured. ‘Why should you? It’s not your problem. I wish to Christ it wasn’t mine.’
He guided the Land Rover around a bend in the track, flanked on one side by a barbed-wire fence and on the other by a high hedge. The fence posts were missing or broken in several places and Andy shook his head wearily.
‘Better get that fixed too,’ he murmured.
The dog started to bark.
‘All right, calm down,’ Andy said, lowering the sun visor in the Land Rover as the early morning sunshine momentarily blinded him. ‘I’m not asking you to help.’
Still the dog barked, rising from its seated position on the passenger seat now.
‘Sit down, Sam,’ Andy snapped, pushing the dog’s hindquarters back towards the seat.
The collie barked even more loudly, its head pointed straight ahead, its ears sticking straight up. It resisted Andy’s attempts to calm it, the sound of its barking filling the vehicle, ringing in the farmer’s ears.
‘Sam,’ he shouted, slowing the Land Rover down to negotiate a gently flowing stream that snaked across his land.
The dog’s barking now subsided into deep guttural growls. Still it was gazing ahead, as if it could see something that Andy couldn’t.
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ he muttered.
The growls were punctuated by subdued yaps now and, as Andy glanced again at his dog, he saw that its hackles had risen. It had also slunk backwards, as if trying to push itself through the seat. Its lips were drawn back from its teeth as it continued to growl, head still pointing directly ahead.
Andy brought the Land Rover to a halt, swung himself out of the vehicle then walked around to the passenger side and flung the door open.
‘Out,’ he snapped, clapping his hands.
The dog wouldn’t move. It remained on the passenger seat, growling.
12
North London
Peter Mason paid the taxi driver and stepped back from the road as the vehicle pulled away.
He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his keys, wondering why his hands were shaking slightly. He’d been fine leaving the hospital, fine inside the confines of the cab with the smell of his own freshly laundered clothes strong in his nostrils.
Mason stood
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