‘No.’
Lorna’s eyes widened. ‘Nice.’
‘I used to be a children’s nurse but gave it up a few months ago.’
‘Are you looking for something new?’
‘I’m not sure yet. My old job...I loved it but by the end I was exhausted. The pressures on the NHS are well documented. I might go back to nursing at some point, but I might try something completely new.’
‘Like what?’
Nancy threw up her hands. ‘No idea. I used to have achildhood dream of running a shop. Or a gallery.’ She laughed at her pretensions. ‘There’s an empty premises in the high street. Used to be a restaurant? Maybe I’ll make some enquiries.’
‘What,forthere?’
‘Have I said something wrong?’
Lorna glanced over at the kitchen. ‘No.’ She looked down at Nancy’s hand, at the wedding ring on her finger. ‘Is it just you? Or will Mr Miller be joining us?’
Nancy baulked.
‘Sorry,’ said Lorna. ‘I’m asking too many questions. My Simon says I should work for the secret service. Divorce, is it? There’s loads of single mums here. I’ll introduce you to some in the playground.’
Nancy nodded mutely.
A strange noise was coming from under the table.
‘Cooper!’ exclaimed Lorna as she peered underneath.
The dog had thrown up.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Lorna. ‘We tried him on some new food this morning. It obviously hasn’t agreed with him.’
Nancy seized the chance to make her excuses and leave.
SEVEN
Friday 4 September
Nancy pulled up in the yard of Hilldale Farm, being careful not to run over the chickens that seemed to have a death wish and kept strutting in front of her car.
As she got out, she immediately noticed the quiet. Nothing but the sound of birds. The sun lit up the round bales of hay, scattered through a field like giant golden playing pieces on a board game. The ground beneath them was now stubble. A large farmhouse was on her left, with pale grey stone walls and a green front door. Two outbuildings were opposite – essentially big wooden sheds. Nancy jumped at the sound of a loud whinnying and looked behind her to see a black horse staring at her over the fence. Behind it were more fields, stretching as far as the eye could see.
She went up to the house and knocked on the door but it was silent inside. Of course, she thought, farmers don’t sit around drinking tea. They’re out, working the land. She was starting to think she’d made a wasted journey when she saw a figure crouching down, a distance away in the fields. Nancy screwed up her eyes against the sun to seebetter. The person seemed to be dragging something along the ground. She thought it was Hannah up there so climbed the stile and walked the footpath that crossed the field.
As she approached, Nancy saw she was right. ItwasHannah. She was bent over, dragging something heavy, and then, in a sudden shock, Nancy saw what. A sheep lay dead on the grass, its limbs stiff and comically aloft, while Hannah pulled on two of those limbs.
‘Everything OK?’ asked Nancy, the words no sooner out of her mouth than she realized what a stupid thing it was to say.
Hannah looked up and her face was contorted with effort and anger. ‘No. A dog attacked my flock this morning, killed a ewe.’
Nancy looked down at the mangled creature, its coat matted with blood. Its neck was on show and she suddenly saw the inside of its neck was on show too. She gagged, then turned away, unable to stomach the sight of ravaged flesh and sinew.
‘A dog did that?’
‘I’ve seen worse. Some left without faces once.’
‘Where’s the owner?’
