The Lost Hours

‘Annie, thank God you’re here,’ Julia declared, her sweetly plummy voice doing as much as her rosy cheeks, cashmere sweaters and heirloom pearls to make her as gorgeously posh as she was unaffected and girlish. ‘Cocktail me up, darling, will you? I’m in sore need.’

Since this was a favourite greeting of Julia’s (and generally meant wine) Annie didn’t take her seriously, not at this hour anyway. ‘Was he that bad?’ she grimaced, going to pour two coffees from the machine behind her.

After a moment’s confusion Julia caught up and waved a dismissive hand, ‘Oh, the reporter. No, he was fine. I’m worrying about Moondance. Would you believe he lost a shoe while we were out this morning and the blasted farrier has just called to say he can’t come until tomorrow? Some people just don’t understand the meaning of emergency, do they?’ Her eyes twinkled self-mockingly. ‘Anyway, I guess it’s time for me to start my shift in the shop, and I’ll take a look at the website while I’m at it. It didn’t seem to be downloading properly when I had a go earlier.’ Amongst Julia’s many and often surprising talents was a gift for understanding technology in a way that eluded the rest of them. So, as well as helping to manage the school, run her stables and refuge, and pander to her mother’s beck and call, she also oversaw the smooth running of Hanley Combe’s – and her own – website.

As she wandered off to relieve Hans the shop’s manager, Annie began reading through Henry’s notes and raised her eyebrows to see so many new enquiries. Business really was booming, and everyone was going to be happy for that. Next she checked the free-standing blackboard where details of the Festive Flurry had been artfully chalked up by her father’s talented hand, and was about to go and find out what all the jollity was about in the gun shop when the door opened and David came in, as always closely shadowed by his beloved black Lab, Cassie.

It was funny, she thought, as she watched him remove his tweed cap and ear-defenders before running fingers through his mane of thick fair hair, how even after all these years sometimes simply looking at him could do things to her that she’d never want any other man to do. He was handsome, no one could ever say otherwise, and extremely physical, but it wasn’t only that which drew people to him, it was the way he could make someone feel the very centre of his attention simply by looking at them as he listened to what they were saying. Knowing him so well, Annie was aware that his thoughts could be miles away, but nothing in his expression showed it; he even managed to respond appropriately when she was sure he’d barely heard what had been said. It was something she often teased him about, only for him to hotly protest his innocence before giving in with a laugh and a promise to get her back one of these days.

Their marriage was strong, full of love and laughter, and very different to how she’d once feared it might be. Thankfully there was never any reason to think back to those dark and distant times now, no need to recall how difficult their first years together had been, when she’d threatened to leave him and had even believed she might. He’d pulled himself together so long ago that even the memories of what he’d put them both through had fallen away, turned to dust, had no more substance than the passing of time. Now, what she probably loved most about him was how central he was to their family, how safe and secure he made them feel, as if nothing could ever matter more than them, and she was sure that nothing did.

She could tell from the way his indigo eyes narrowed as they came to hers that he was feeling the same intimate draw to her right now as she was to him – and this kind of connection was only going to end one way.

Were they not so busy they might have taken themselves over to the house for a while, but as it was they made do with a kiss full of promise made perversely more erotic by the Perazzi shotgun resting against his left shoulder. It wouldn’t be loaded, she knew that, but it was a rule around here that all weapons when out of their slips or cases must be broken if not in use, and his was not. However, she wasn’t as much interested in that right now as she was in the way their bodies fitted so perfectly together, her slender five-foot nine inches melding into the encompassing embrace of his six-foot three muscular physique, making them seem so right and complete.

‘You know what I was thinking about on my way in?’ he murmured, gazing into her deep, brown eyes.

‘Tell me,’ she said huskily.

‘This,’ he replied, and she had to laugh.

Hearing voices approaching from the far end of the Byre, they broke apart and gave their attention to their various duties.

By the time an hour had passed Annie had made a dozen or more phone calls, responded to twice as many emails and dealt with plenty of enquiries about the Festive Flurry.

‘It’s a hundred and thirty quid per person,’ she’d tell the caller, knowing the details by heart, ‘to include four one-hundred-bird flushes, all clays and cartridges, and a midday roast. No alcohol for those on the afternoon session, but there will be drinks at the end of the day.’

While this was happening, Julia signalled that she’d shut up shop and was going over to the main house to find out what scandals were breaking there, while Henry returned from the stands with the eight-gun team he and David were taking over to Combe Sydenham sporting estate in the morning. After serving the clients drinks in front of the fire, Henry and David piled them into the Hanley Combe Range Rovers to drive them to the luxurious accommodation Annie had arranged for while they were on Exmoor. Since they’d arrived by helicopter last night and would return the same way when the shoot was over, they had no transport of their own, so were entirely dependent on the shooting school while they were here. It often happened this way, and Annie knew David would already have liaised with the estate’s gamekeeper to make sure everything was in order, from birds, to dogs, to loaders and beaters, to all catering needs for the time they were out. This was his side of the business; hers was behind the scenes. Although she was able to shoot, she just preferred her quarry to be of the clay variety, for she had no great love of blood sports. Strange really that she’d allowed herself to get drawn into setting up this enterprise all those years ago, but since it had been a way of capitalizing on David’s expertise while putting to good use the hundred acres of neglected farmland adjacent to his father’s, it had seemed to make sense at the time.

And neither of them had ever regretted it.

By the time David and Henry returned to the Byre at six it had long been dark outside, and a misty rain had begun to drift and thicken through the surrounding trees, working itself up into a fog. Annie had received a text a few minutes ago from Quin urging her to come and find him – a game of hide and seek was often his way of ‘tricking’ one of his parents into coming home. So she left the men to lock up (always a major operation considering the very expensive firearms on the premises), and let herself out into the dreary night.

Instead of running the couple of hundred yards over to the house she drove, making a mental note to thank whoever had thought to put the roof up before the damp night air had set in. It had to have been David or Henry, or Hans, but her best guess would be Henry. He was thoughtful that way, always noticing what needed to be done and acting without fuss or expectation of appreciation.

Following the unlit drive around the enormous weeping willow, whose dense and delicate foliage had finally fallen from the elegant branches these past few days, she came to a stop outside the rambling old New England-style villa that she and David had spent over a year constructing to an original plan that had finally been approved by the National Parks Authority. With its pale limestone walls, black tiled roof, tall casement windows and white wood wraparound porch, currently decorated with bright Christmas lights and fresh pine garlands, it seemed so proud of itself in its hilltop setting that they could never doubt its character.

Tugging on her reindeer hat to keep off the rain she eschewed the usual back door entrance – Quin would expect her to come in that way – and ran round to the front, up the wide wooden steps with their fairy-lit banisters and pots of creamy hellebores, and on to the veranda where she paused a moment to admire the luxuriant wreath that had appeared on the front door – no doubt put there by her mother.

‘Coming ready or not?’ she shouted into the brightly lit double-storey entry hall as she went inside and kicked off her boots. She glanced up the staircase with its black filigree railings that hugged two walls in its rise to the first-floor landing. There was no sign of life, although Quin and his grandpa would hardly try to hide in plain sight. Thinking it more likely that they were somewhere on this level – sitting room, snug, dining hall, probably not the kitchen, but maybe downstairs in the games room – she set off on her search. She just hoped it wasn’t going to take long because she was more than ready for someone to cocktail her up.

After making a quick scour of the lamplit sitting room with its ash-filled fireplace, many sofas, cosy chairs and colourfully lit Christmas tree, she checked the snug to find no one behind its sofas, desk or giant TV, then headed into the kitchen where her mother, Harriet, and Julia were already partway through a bottle of wine as they prepared something delicious-smelling for dinner.

‘Hi darling,’ her mother said, glancing up from the Aga that dominated a black tiled recess on the far side of the central island. Her willowy height, pale golden hair and fine-boned features, as well as her manner, were so like her daughter’s that Annie didn’t need to wonder what she was going to look like in her late sixties – she saw it most days. ‘I’ve no idea what’s happened to Quin and Grandpa. We can’t find them anywhere.’

Guessing from this that they must be in earshot, Annie groaned, ‘They always beat me. I don’t know where to look next.’

‘Maybe you should try upstairs,’ Julia suggested, shaking her head to advise against it.

‘What a good idea,’ Annie replied, and started to tiptoe around the island towards the pantry door, taking guidance from Julia’s laughing grey eyes.

Annie paused, but was directed on to the next door that led to the back stairs, cloakroom and wine cellar. Receiving a nod, she started to turn the handle, preparing to whip it open and make her son jump, but it suddenly sprang from her grasp and she screamed as Quin yelled, ‘Found you!’

Laughing at the game’s typically bizarre reversal, Annie hugged her son hard, savouring the pleasure of his gangly young limbs in her arms before he wrenched himself free and ran into the kitchen.

‘Are you in there?’ Annie called out to her father-in-law.

Appearing from the darkness with a dusty bottle in one hand while smoothing the label with the other, he didn’t take his eyes from it as he said, ‘That son of mine is holding out on me. He’s got a 1959 Mission Haut …’

Annie quickly grabbed it. ‘It’s your Christmas present,’ she muttered. ‘You need to pretend you never saw it.’

Dickie’s still handsome, but weathered old face lit up, even as he whispered, ‘Never saw it. Putting it back right now.’

Handing it to him, she turned around to find Quin dipping a peeled quail’s egg into a saucer of celery salt before stuffing it into his mouth. ‘Is Dad coming back for supper?’ he asked through a spray of dry yolk.

Cupping her hands around the top of his head and chin, Annie said, ‘He’ll be here any minute. Who else is staying to eat?’

‘Just me and Dickie,’ her mother replied. ‘Dad’s got one of his round-table meetings in town tonight so he’s going to get something there.’

‘Henry and I are off to see Mommie Dearest and the Delightful Other,’ Julia sighed, helping herself to more wine. Though she often looked and sounded pained when talking about her mother and aunt, whose riding stables (the mother’s) and boarding kennels (the aunt’s) were close to Exford, she was extremely close to them. As was Dickie, whose friendship with Bob Tulley, Julia’s father, went back decades, and would probably still have been a mainstay in Dickie’s life had it not been brought to a painfully abrupt end when Bob had walked out on his responsibilities as a father and husband to go and live with another woman. The only good thing about that time, more than twenty years ago now, was the fact that Bob hadn’t tried to take Blackfare Farm away from Celine, nor should he have when it had come to them through Celine’s father. The betrayal and abandonment had, over time, brought the two families even closer together, as if Dickie and his wife, Geraldine, had felt the need to protect Celine and Julia, Ruth too when she’d set up her kennels at Blackfare. And no one knew how they’d have managed during Geraldine’s final days without Celine’s careful nursing and pragmatic ways.

‘BTW,’ Julia went on, ‘the old dears are wondering if they’re invited to stay on after the p.m. Flurry next week? They won’t, of course, they’re always too busy at the Horse and Hounds,’ (Julia’s name for her family home) ‘but they like to be invited.’

Filling a glass of wine for herself, Annie said, ‘Of course they can stay if they’d like to. We hope they do. The more the merrier.’

‘I’ll tell them you said that when I go over later. They’re getting the decorators in after Christmas so they want me to start clearing my old room. What a jolly task that will be.’

‘Are you going to have time to do the tree in the Byre?’ Annie asked. ‘Don’t worry if you can’t …’

‘I’ll have plenty of time,’ Julia confirmed. ‘It’s being delivered tomorrow and Dickie’s going to help decorate it.’

‘Me too,’ Quin piped up.

‘Of course,’ Julia agreed, making him grimace as she planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘We need someone to be in charge.’

Quin laughed, knowing he was being teased but happy to go along with it. ‘I don’t know what any of you would do without me,’ he informed them, and helped himself to another egg as he climbed on to a stool. ‘Mum, where’s Max? I thought he was coming home today.’

‘He’ll be back tomorrow,’ Annie assured him. ‘Did you text Sienna to find out if she’ll be home for dinner?’ she asked her mother.

‘I didn’t realize I had to,’ Harriet replied, and drew her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. ‘Where is she?’

‘In town with friends, which reminds me I need to get her bags out of the boot.’

‘I’ll go,’ Dickie offered.

‘All done,’ David declared, coming in through the door. ‘They’re in the hall. I’ll take them up later. Hey, Harriet, something’s smelling good.’

‘Grandma brought the Christmas puddings over today,’ Quin told him. ‘They smell lush.’

David frowned as he looked down at his younger son. ‘Who’s that in there?’ he asked, parting the curly fringe of thick fair hair, very like his own, and suddenly starting with surprise. ‘Goodness, it’s you,’ he cried.

Laughing, Quin ruffled his own curls as he cried, ‘The girls like it long, so I’m keeping it.’

With raised eyebrows David looked at Annie, who shrugged and drank more wine before taking a beer from the fridge for him.

‘Where’s Henry?’ Julia asked, refilling her glass. ‘I thought he was with you.’

‘He’s in the loo. Dad, can we rope you in for some assistance tomorrow? Bashy just rang to say he can’t make it.’

‘Loading or beating?’ his father asked, clearly up for either.

‘Beating.’

‘Has Bashy’s wife given birth yet?’ Harriet wanted to know.

‘It’s imminent, which is why he feels he shouldn’t come tomorrow.’

‘Good decision,’ Julia approved.

Since most men from the villages around acted as loaders and beaters – when not out shooting, hunting or fishing themselves – there was a pretty good number to draw on, but the Crayce family knew how much it meant to Dickie to feel he was coming to the rescue. He was, in fact, a director of the shooting school and could turn his hand to just about anything, and often did now he was no longer running the farm that had been in his family for three generations. He and Geraldine had handed it over to Henry and Julia six years ago, around the time Geraldine had found out her cancer was back, and had moved into the much more manageable cottage near the gates of Hanley Combe – it was where Geraldine had passed three years ago, ripping the hearts from her family. Dickie had remained there, although as often as not he was at the main house with Quin, or at Blackfare Farm, or elsewhere on the Hanley Combe estate helping out where needed. But for him there was nothing like being part of a shoot to make him feel truly valued, especially when it was being run by his sons.

‘Any news from Sienna yet?’ Annie asked her mother as Harriet checked a text she’d just received.

‘No, it’s from Dad. I’ll give her half an hour and if we haven’t heard then I’ll ring to chivvy her along.’

‘OK, I’m off for a quick shower,’ David informed them. ‘But before I go perhaps someone can enlighten me as to the whereabouts of my elder son?’

‘He’s staying with friends tonight, back tomorrow,’ Annie replied, starting to lay the table.

‘It’ll be a girlfriend,’ Quin stated knowingly.

Annie and David exchanged glances, aware of how wrong he was about that. His brother’s lack of romantic interest in the opposite sex was the source of some frustration for many females of the area, since his smouldering dark eyes and curly black hair had made him the object of several crushes over his fourteen years. He had told Annie and David last year that he was gay and they couldn’t have loved him more for feeling able to confide so readily in his parents.

An hour later Henry and Julia had left for the Horse and Hounds, the Blums and the Rowbothams (old friends from Simonsbath and Monksilver) had popped in for a rowdy few drinks and left, and now the meal was ready but there was still no word from Sienna.

‘She can be so inconsiderate at times,’ Annie remarked irritably. ‘She’s probably turned her phone off so she doesn’t have to argue about what time to be picked up.’

‘We should go ahead and eat,’ David decided. ‘We can always warm some up for her later.’

‘Grandpa, can we go on manoeuvres after supper?’ Quin wanted to know. ‘It’s really cool going out in the rain with our torches and Dad’s got a shoot early tomorrow so he can’t come.’ It was David who’d started the nighttime expeditions over the moor when Max and Sienna were small, teaching them how to set up camp in all winds and weathers, how to start a fire for food and warmth and most of all how to read and follow a map. David set great store by being able to read a map, not that he needed one on Exmoor for he seemed to know it like the back of his hand. If it was summer they’d often ‘go on manoeuvres’ as a family, for Annie loved the outdoors too, and there was something very romantic about lying under the stars or being huddled in a tent with David, who always seemed to have everything perfectly under control.

‘Can we, Grandpa?’ Quin asked again.

‘It’s too foggy,’ Annie told him. ‘And I thought we were going to write to Santa?’

‘I’ve already done it, and anyway, he’s not real. He’s Dad.’

David looked shocked, and began checking himself out as if he were starting to morph.

‘You’re funny,’ Quin told him without a laugh.

‘So, what are you hoping Santa will bring you?’ Harriet asked, starting to dish up the goulash.

Taking no time to think, Quin said, ‘I want a Sphero Bolt robot that works with an app.’

Harriet’s eyes crossed as David looked at Annie who’d heard this before but still had no idea what it was, so Dickie answered.

‘You can order it online from John Lewis,’ he informed them, as if he knew all about it.

‘You definitely can,’ Quin agreed excitedly. ‘It costs one hundred and fifty pounds and they can send it next day to make sure it’s here in time for Christmas.’

‘That’s good to know,’ David commented, reaching for his mobile as a text arrived. As he frowned, Annie said, ‘Is it her?’

‘No, Henry,’ he replied. ‘He’s advising us to go into town the back way if we haven’t gone for Sienna yet. Apparently there’s been an accident on Westleigh Heights and nothing can get through.’ As his eyes went to Annie’s, she knew they were experiencing the same tangle of apprehension and fear. Was Sienna somehow involved? Grant Peterson had passed his test last month, he might have borrowed his father’s car.

‘Stop,’ her mother chided, as though reading their minds. ‘You’re jumping to conclusions and that won’t get us anywhere. Try calling one of her friends to see if they’re with her.’

Annie did, but half the usual suspects weren’t answering and the other half hadn’t seen her. ‘What’s going on?’ she said to David, as if he ought to know.

‘She’s being a teenager just freed from school for Christmas,’ Dickie decided, tucking into his meal.

‘I’ll see if I can find out more about this accident,’ David said, getting to his feet. ‘If nothing else at least it could rule out her being involved.’

Quin was staring round-eyed at his mother. ‘Do you think she’s dead?’ he asked worriedly.

‘Oh Quin,’ she cried. ‘No, of course not. We just need to find out where she is, that’s all.’

It turned out a camper van had hit a patch of ice and skidded into a ditch, no other vehicles involved, so at least there was some relief there. But by the time another hour had passed and there was still no news, a palpable sense of concern was creeping into the room.

‘This really isn’t like her,’ Harriet commented for the umpteenth time, and Annie wanted to shout at her to shut up and stop being right. It wasn’t helping, it was making things worse because it just wasn’t like Sienna to be out of contact for this long, especially when she knew her parents would be worrying.

It was gone ten o’clock and Dickie had taken Quin up to bed by the time David’s phone rang and they saw Sienna’s name come up.

Annie watched him click on, still not able to relax in case something had happened to her, or someone else was using the phone. David put the call on speaker.

‘Dad?’

‘Are you OK?’ he asked shortly. ‘We’ve been worried.’

‘Sorry, I know, I mean …’

‘Where are you? Why didn’t you call?’

‘They’ve only just given me my phone back.’

‘What? Who’s they?’

‘Is Mum with you? She’s going to go mental so you’ve got to be on my side, Dad, OK?’

His eyes went to Annie as he said, ‘Just tell me what’s happened and we’ll take it from there.’

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