Under a Silent Moon Read Free

and—”
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    â€œJason Mercer.”
    â€œJason, please , find me someone in time for the briefing at four, and someone else who’s prepared to do the late shift.”
    A heavy sigh. “For sure.”
    Definitely Canadian, Lou decided.
    13:15
    After.
    Flora had spoken to her father and at the time she’d been calm, almost serene. She’d asked the right questions: When? How? And then she had put down the brush that was still in her hand, stared at the canvas that she knew already she would now never complete, and left.
    When she drove past Yonder Cottage there were police cars blocking the drive, an ambulance on the gravel outside the house. The PC who was standing beside the fluttering tape in his fluorescent jacket regarded her closely.
    She went on to the next turn, the main entrance to the farm. She drove up the driveway, which, at the top, curved round through the yard and back down toward the cottage. She parked outside the farmhouse.
    Flora’s mother, Felicity Maitland, was sliding into comfortable oblivion. Nigel Maitland had poured her a tumbler of brandy in the hope of calming her down before she made it into a full-on panic attack.
    Following her call to the police, Felicity had been looked after by the ambulance crew, and the police had taken an initial statement from her at the cottage. Then she’d been walked back to the farmhouse by someone in a uniform.
    Now, hours later, Felicity was still in a state, vacillating between shuddering sobs and unnatural, staring stillness.
    â€œIt was so utterly horrible,” she said now. “Blood all over the walls, everywhere! The whole place will have to be redecorated, and we only did it last summer.”
    There were times Flora wanted to slap her mother, hard. She went to make toast for everyone, not least to soak up the brandy. The plainclothes police officer who’d been assigned to them was leaning against the breakfast bar, fiddling with her mobile phone.
    â€œWould you like me to do that?” she asked, when Flora came in.
    â€œNo, it’s fine, thanks. Do you want some tea?”
    And at that moment Felicity’s voice rose again in a wail: “Oh God! Who’s going to do the horses?”
    â€œI’ll do them,” said Nigel.
    â€œOh God! I’ll have to put an advert in the paper, then it will be interviews! I can’t bear it, I can’t!”
    â€œWhat about Connor, Dad?” Flora shouted. “I thought he was supposed to be a groom?”
    Nigel didn’t reply. Other than the phone call, he had not spoken directly to Flora.
    â€œHe can’t be trusted,” Felicity wailed. “Polly said he was always slacking off. I don’t know why you insist on having him here, Nigel, he’s more trouble than he’s worth, and—”
    â€œOh for God’s sake!” Flora called sharply. “I’ll do the bloody horses.”
    The toaster popped up and Flora applied herself to the task of buttering, slicing into halves. Tea. Must make the tea. What had the police officer said to her offer, yes or no? She couldn’t remember. She would make one anyway, not wanting to ask again, aware of the way the woman was watching her. Pretending to be here to help, but they were being watched, that was the truth of it. And right now the policewoman was watching her .
    Flora could remember the exact moment of the exact day when she fell in love with Polly Leuchars. It was on the fifteenth of December, almost a year ago. Half past ten in the morning and Polly was sitting at the kitchen table in the farmhouse, her long blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, wearing a sweater, jeans, and thick socks. Her boots were on the mat.
    â€œWhere’s my mum?” Flora asked, wondering who this was.
    â€œAre you Flora? My, you’ve grown up since I last saw you,” the person said, with a beautiful smile. “I’m Polly. You