A Vengeful Reunion Page 8

  ‘Right,’ said Frances briskly. ‘I’ll ring the vet, too. They put notices up in the surgery.’

  Leonie thrust a hand through her hair. ‘You don’t think he could have fallen down the cliff, do you, Mother?’

  ‘I admit the idea haunts me! Though why he should do that now, all of a sudden, I can’t imagine.’

  ‘I’ll grab some hiking boots and drive up the road this time,’ said Leonie. ‘I’ll park the car at the viewing point and climb down to search the river path. I’ve got my phone, so if I find him I can always ring for help.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake be careful,’ said Frances, looking worried. ‘Perhaps I should ring your father—’

  ‘Wait until I’ve looked everywhere first. No point in worrying him unnecessarily.’ Leonie ran upstairs for the boots. She braided her hair swiftly and secured the end with a rubber band, then went down to the study to collect her father’s binoculars. ‘What did they say?’ she asked as she joined her mother in the kitchen.

  ‘No one has reported him, but the constable put me on to the dog warden, who took the details and promised to keep a look-out. Next I’ll spread the word at all the local vets.’ Frances kissed her suddenly. ‘As I said, be careful. Please.’

  Leonie collected Marzi’s lead, then went out to drive a mile or so up the road to the easiest point to climb down to the riverbed. It was a long time since she’d done anything so energetic, and though the way down was a fairly easy scramble compared to the sheer cliffs below Friars Wood, she was hot and breathless by the time she slithered down the last few feet to the river. She sat down on a boulder for a moment to get her breath back, thankful it was a fine day. Heavy rain would have made her search ten times more difficult, even impossible, if the path was as demanding as she remembered. She soon found that it was even more so. Obliterated in places by fallen stones and boulders, in others thick with undergrowth, it was as much as she could do to get past at some points. And because she stopped every few minutes to whistle and call, and scan the area with the binoculars, the going was slow. Leonie waited every time, hoping to hear barking in response. But when she reached the point below Brockhill, where there was no way through, she was forced to admit defeat.

  She made even slower progress on the return journey, her mind full of hearbreaking pictures of the dog lying unconscious somewhere, with no means of getting back home. She was breathless and weary by the time she’d climbed back up to the car, and, hoping against hope that Marzi might have turned up in the meantime, she drove home.

  One look at her mother’s face was enough. ‘I saw no sign of him,’ reported Leonie miserably.

  ‘At least you’re safe,’ said Frances, with a thankful sigh. ‘Chris Morgan rang to say they’ve searched everywhere on the farm, but with no luck. I suppose we should be thankful Marzi didn’t get in with the sheep.’

  Leonie thought of the old gate she’d wrenched open on her way to Brockhill. ‘There’s one place I haven’t checked,’ she said reluctantly, and told her mother about her scramble along the overgrown path on her way to see Jonah the night before.

  ‘You went along that dangerous old path in the dark?’ said her mother, horrified. ‘I thought you’d gone up the road when Jonah said he’d drive you back. Were you mad, child?’

  ‘I didn’t realise it was such an obstacle course these days,’ said Leonie sheepishly.

  ‘Now Brockhill is empty your father keeps it that way on purpose as a security measure,’ said Frances severely. ‘You say the gate is off its hinges?’

  ‘They’d rusted away. The latch was the only thing keeping it in place.’ Leonie heaved a sigh. ‘I suppose I’d better check in case Marzi’s got himself stuck along there somewhere.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake be careful you don’t slip after that heavy rain!’

  When she set out along the path behind the Stables Leonie could hardly credit her recklessness at storming along it in the dark. In daylight it was revealed as a narrow, dangerously uneven track at the very edge of the cliff, as slippery as melted chocolate now, with overgrown bushes at intervals as the only barrier between the unwary and the precipitous drop below.

  Appalled at the thought of what could have happened in the dark, Leonie placed her feet with great care, peering down the cliff every few minutes for any sign of the dog. Her heart was in her mouth as she lost her footing more than once before the track turned inland towards Brockhill and the rusty old gate, which lay where she’d left it in the undergrowth. And all her calling and whistling was in vain. There was no sign of Marzi by the time she left Friars Wood land and came out on Brockhill property. Leonie emerged into the old walled garden at last, certain the dog wouldn’t have come this far, but apprehensive about going back the way she’d come. She decided to sneak down the drive past the lodge, and hope Jonah was too busy to notice.

  But when she reached the open lawns he was the first person she saw, and her first instinct was to turn tail and race back the way she’d come no matter what. Jonah was in deep discussion with a man who was gazing intently at the roof, but to her dismay he spotted her at once, and left his companion to walk towards her.

  ‘Miss Dysart, good day,’ he said loudly. ‘What can I do for you?’ As he came close, out of earshot, he frowned. ‘What’s wrong, Leo? You look terrible.’

  At the unlooked for concern in his voice Leonie wanted to hurl herself into his arms. Instead she greeted him politely, and told him the dog was missing. ‘I’ve looked everywhere,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Along the river, and down to the farm, all through the lanes. Then I came back here along the old path again just in case—’ She broke off, flushing. ‘But you’re busy, and I’m holding you up. I trespassed this far because I couldn’t face going back along the path. In daylight it’s a lot more terrifying than I remembered it. Heaven knows how I managed to make it along there in the dark. I meant to skirt the house and go down the drive to the road.’

  ‘Without seeing me?’

  ‘Yes.’ The colour deepened in her flushed, sweating face. ‘I thought you’d prefer that.’

  Jonah glanced back at the house. ‘The architect’s about to leave, anyway. Hang on a minute, and I’ll drive you back.’

  ‘No, please,’ said Leonie, recoiling. ‘I can walk.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ he said firmly. ‘You look exhausted. Come with me. Once John Parkhouse has gone I’ll take you back.’

  With formality Jonah introduced her as Miss Dysart of Friars Wood, and the architect, a pleasant man in his fifties, shook her hand and told her he knew her father well, then with a word to Jonah about a return visit later in the week, he got in his car and drove off.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ said Jonah, ‘unless you’d like some coffee first?’

  ‘No, thanks. Mother’s probably picturing me in pieces down on the rocks.’

  ‘As well she might,’ observed Jonah grimly, as he helped her into the seat. ‘How long has the dog been gone?’

  ‘Dad took him out first thing this morning, and left him foraging in the wood as usual. It was only when I decided to take Marzi for a walk that we realised he was missing.’ Leonie bit her lip. ‘He always comes straight in for his breakfast.’

  ‘He’s bound to turn up,’ said Jonah firmly.

  ‘If so I wish he’d put a move on, and preferably before Fenny gets home from school while he’s at it,’ said Leonie with feeling. ‘He was her Christmas present two years ago, so she called him Marzipan, because of his coat. She adores him.’

  Jonah put a hand out to touch hers fleetingly. ‘I’ll help you look.’

  Frances Dysart greeted them with relief, taking Jonah’s presence in her stride. ‘I was beginning to think you were lost as well, Leo,’ she said, filling a kettle. ‘You’ll stay to lunch, Jonah?’

  He shot a look at Leonie. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘It’s no big deal, just soup,’ said Frances briskly. ‘Leonie, I suggest you wash your face first.’

  Leonie did as she was tol
d, and found she was a mess. Bits of leaf and twig were caught in her hair and her face was streaked with mud and sweat, even blood in one place from a scratch. Roberto wouldn’t have recognised her. But Jonah had preferred her untidy. Once upon a time. He had always liked her early-morning face more than the one she presented to the world. It had been one of life’s greatest pleasures to wake to Jonah’s caressing eyes… She took in a deep, bracing breath, brushed hard at the hair she’d released from its braid, then touched a lipstick to her mouth and went downstairs to sit opposite Jonah at the kitchen table. Something she’d never expected to happen again.

  ‘I thought I might climb down the cliff after lunch and take a look round,’ said Jonah, accepting a bowl of soup.

  Leonie eyed him in alarm. ‘What if you fall?’

  ‘You hang out over the Eyrie balustrade, phone in hand, ready to call for help,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘But I won’t fall. I do a bit of amateur mountaineering these day, when I have the time.’

  Frances Dysart frowned anxiously. ‘That’s very kind of you, Jonah, but I wouldn’t want you to take risks.’

  ‘There’s no other way down to search below the property,’ he pointed out. ‘If nothing else I can make sure poor Marzi’s not marooned down there somewhere, with no means of getting up.’

  Leonie grimaced, picturing the dog’s distress only too vividly. ‘Thanks, Jonah. It’s very kind of you.’

  ‘The Eyrie’s the ideal spot. I can secure the rope round the stone balustrade, and go down from there,’ he said briskly. ‘After lunch I’ll go back to the house for rope.’

  Later, with Tom Dysart’s powerful binoculars slung round his neck, Jonah secured the rope to the balustrade, then swung himself over the edge and smiled reassuringly at Leonie as he braced himself for the descent.

  ‘Watch your step,’ she said sternly, brandishing her phone at him. ‘And remember—one slip and I use this.’

  He grinned, then pushed with his feet and abseiled out in an arc that took Leonie’s breath away. She heard him grunt as his feet made contact with the cliff face again, then he continued downwards in the same way until he had no more rope to play with. She hung out as far as she could, then to her relief heard him shout.

  ‘I’ve found a foothold on a ledge, Leo. I can’t go any further, so I’ll take a look through the glasses before I come back up.’

  Leonie waited, tense, as she heard him whistling and shouting, waiting, then whistling again. At last he called. ‘Leo? There’s no sign of him anywhere.’

  ‘Then for heaven’s sake come back up,’ she yelled.

  Jonah’s progress back up the cliff was so much slower than his descent Leo’s heart was in her mouth the entire time as the rope creaked and groaned with his weight as he made his way up towards the Eyrie, pausing here and there to negotiate the shrubs and bushes which clung to the cliff face. Then to Leonie’s horror there was a sudden fall of stones and shale, followed by blood-curdling silence.

  ‘Jonah. Jonah!’ she screamed, hanging out as far as she could.

  ‘Still here,’ he called faintly. ‘No need for an SOS—yet.’

  Leonie felt she’d lived through several hours by the time Jonah came into view. She gasped as she saw his bloodstained face, and once his shoulders appeared seized him by the upper arms and heaved with all her might, to such effect that they both sprawled full length together on the stone floor of the Eyrie. With a muttered curse Jonah heaved himself upright.

  ‘Don’t touch your face; you might infect it,’ said Leonie, scrambling to her knees. She dug into her jeans pockets for a tissue, but without success. ‘Come on, move, we’d better get you to the house.’

  ‘I’ll come, but not quickly,’ he panted. ‘I’m out of condition. I hadn’t bargained on a mini-avalanche in my face.’

  She jumped up, offering a hand to help him, and Jonah took it, swaying a little as he stood upright. ‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘Leave the rope. Let’s get that face seen to.’

  Jonah grimaced, then swore as blood poured down his face. ‘Damn,’ he said bitterly. ‘I heard a noise and like a fool looked up just as the stones came down. Normally I wear a helmet, but I didn’t have one with me. My nose took the worst of it, hence the blood.’

  ‘I’m to blame for letting you go down there in the first place,’ she retorted, and put her arm through his to support him as she hurried him back along the path. ‘Hurry up, Jonah, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.’

  He let out a stifled laugh, then paled suddenly, wrenched his arm free and bent to throw up behind a bush. Leonie walked tactfully on, and waited for him to catch up with her.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he apologised, ashen-faced.

  Leonie took his arm again, literally hauling him along towards the house. ‘Come on,’ she said urgently. ‘Mother’s an old hand at treating wounds.’

  Frances Dysart exclaimed in horror at Jonah’s face, then went straight into paramedic mode. She cleansed his face and clapped a bag of frozen peas to his nose. ‘Put some ice in a proper bag, Leo, then take Jonah off to the hospital,’ she pronounced when she’d finished.

  Jonah shook his head, then gasped in pain, regretting it. ‘I don’t need—’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ retorted Leonie, her pallor matching his. ‘Your nose could be broken.’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Frances firmly. ‘And you may be concussed, too. Best to be sure, Jonah.’

  In her desperate haste to get Jonah to the Community Hospital Leonie demanded the keys to his car, which was blocking her mother’s. She helped him up into it, then hauled herself into the driver’s seat, switched on the ignition, and backed along the terrace with extreme caution until she was able to turn in front of the Stables. Once they were on the main road she felt more confident, and, after a muffled request from behind Jonah’s ice-pack to move to the left-hand side of the road, made it to the Community Hospital without further mishap. It was only after Jonah had been taken away for treatment that Leonie began to suffer reaction, as she assured a nurse that the large stain down her yellow sweater was someone else’s blood, not her own.

  Jonah was returned to her after an X-ray, complete with a large plaster across his nose and a black scowl.

  ‘Nothing broken, and he’s not actually concussed, but Mr Savage must stay in bed until tomorrow. He can’t drive for a day or two,’ reported the nurse. ‘But after that he should be fine.’

  ‘Did the woman think my injury had deprived me of speech?’ demanded Jonah irritably as they went out to the car.

  Leonie smiled sweetly. ‘No. She suspected—correctly—that your male ego wouldn’t let you mention concussion and enforced rest and so on.’

  ‘Fat chance of a male ego flourishing in your vicinity,’ he snapped, and spurned her help to get into the car.

  When Leonie turned up, very carefully, into the winding drive of Friars Wood Jonah’s scowled deepened. ‘I thought you were taking me to Brockhill.’

  ‘In your condition?’ she said scornfully. ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I am perfectly capable of putting myself to bed!’

  ‘Do you have a bed at the lodge?’

  ‘When I stay there I sleep on the sofa-bed in the room I’m using as an office,’ he said stiffly.

  The sofa where he’d conducted his little experiment, thought Leonie, teeth clenched at the memory.

  ‘Otherwise,’ he added, ‘I stay at the company flat over the Pennington offices.’

  ‘No driving, so that’s out of the question,’ she informed him. ‘Stay there—I’ll come round and give you a hand.’

  Jonah ignored her and got out unaided, then slumped against the car, looking ghastly.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Leonie impatiently, and took him by the arm. ‘Come on. Mother will want to know how you got on. And I promised to fetch Kate and Fenny. Can I borrow your car?’

  ‘Would I dare refuse?’ he gasped. ‘But for God’s sake drive on the left.’

  Leonie ignored the
taunt, eyeing his greenish pallor with concern as she supported him up the path to the front door. ‘Feeling sick?’

  ‘No,’ he lied, sweat beading his clenched mouth.

  Frances came to meet them, eyeing Jonah anxiously. She listened to Leonie’s report, then took the invalid by the arm. ‘Kate rang to say she’s staying the night with Laura to revise together, so if you’ll pick Fenny up I’ll see to Jonah.’

  ‘If I could just sit down for a bit,’ he said unevenly, ‘perhaps you’d be good enough to run me up to Brockhill when you get back, Leo.’

  Frances made soothing noises as she installed him in a comfortable chair in the study. ‘Just take it easy for a while, Jonah.’

  Leonie stood looking at him for a moment, then saw her mother eyeing her bloodstained front. ‘I’ll change before I go,’ she said swiftly. ‘See you later, Jonah.’

  ‘Right,’ he muttered, without opening his eyes. ‘Sorry about this.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Frances briskly. ‘You were looking for our dog, remember? I’ll make some tea,’ she added, and went out.

  Leonie touched Jonah’s hand. ‘How do you feel? Truthfully, I mean.’

  ‘Confused,’ he murmured, then his eyes opened to look straight up into hers. ‘For a moment, back there in the Eyrie, Leo, I could have sworn you cared.’

  ‘Of course I cared,’ she said, flushing. ‘It was my dog, I felt responsible.’

  ‘Of course.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Talking of the dog, what are you going to tell Fenny?’

  ‘The truth, I suppose.’

  ‘Poor little mite. She’ll be devastated.’

  ‘I know,’ said Leonie miserably.

  Jonah’s eyes hardened to green ice. ‘At least he didn’t leave a note, telling her he didn’t want her any more.’

  Leonie glared at him. ‘You just couldn’t resist it, could you? Does it give you a buzz to turn the knife?’

  ‘You bet it does. I’m only human, Leonie Dysart.’

  ‘So am I!’