Short Story Sunday: Latchberry Farm [Part Four]

George spotted Jacob walking along the ridge. He was inspecting the sheep.

            “Sir.”

            Jacob waved at him. “Looks like the flock survived the night. Some of us were not so lucky.”

            “Yes.”

 

            “You know about Sebastian?”

            George nodded. “Fincher said you found him.”

            “That’s true.” Jacob ambled towards the sheep. “I’m a farmer, George, like you. I know nature. I see the cycles of birth and death all the time. I’ve had sheep mauled by foxes. I’ve trapped rabbits for my dinner.”

            “Nothing prepares us, sir.”

            “Exactly.” He beheaded some dandelions with his walking stick. “My worry is that unless the killer is caught, he will be back.”

            “Fincher will do his best.”

            “Fincher. Yes.” He squinted across the field. “I had no idea of Sebastian having enemies. He arrived here yesterday – we saw him – and today he’s dead.”

            “There’s more to the story.”

            “What do you mean?”

            George stopped and retied his shoelaces. When he stood, he was solemn. “He was a man who was used to getting his way. What he didn’t get, he took. One night it was raining and I was helping Hugh nail down the shingles on his roof. I was late meeting Susie.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and spat. “Sebastian got there first.”

            “I am sorry, George.”

            “She had his baby. It died.”

            “Is that when you left?”

            He nodded.

            Jacob whistled. “He’s not the man I thought he was. And to think Sasha had him sleeping under her roof.”

            “I think, sir, he was a good friend to her.”

            “You’re more generous than I would be in your shoes.”

            George shrugged. “I can be now that he’s dead.”

            “Right you are, George.” He chuckled.

Some people had a way of keeping their wits about them in a crisis, and Amelia believed she was one of those people. When everyone else was falling apart, she was the centre that stood firm. Sasha was a disaster. She made the mistake of allowing her emotions to dictate her behaviour. Amelia knew that if she ever succumbed to that way of living, it would be a miracle if she got out of bed in the morning.

            Amelia’s mother had died as her youngest brother Owen arrived. She remembered how her father had grabbed her jaw and told her that now was not the time for tears. She would have to run the house and mind the children if they were to survive. She recalled looking up at him, her eyes wide, and seeing her childhood vanish as he dropped the yoke of responsibility on her. She had just turned nine.

            It annoyed her, actually, to watch Sasha mope and sigh. She had got dressed and donned a black dress to fit the occasion. At least Sasha understood propriety. As Amelia tucked the blankets under the mattress in the Sasha’s guest room, she saw Jacob emerge from the woods. Nothing, it seemed, could keep him away.

Sebastian paced at the foot of Sasha’s bed. She was perched on it, staring into space. For once, it seemed, she was listening to him.

            I have never been so insulted. I come here, as your guest, and you ignore me. Look, I understand that I may have hit a nerve when I mentioned you and Jacob, but it does not give you the right to be unkind. She nodded and wiped her eyes. Remorse from her at last. I am glad we understand each other. Let’s end this game now. Send that woman away and let’s go for a walk. We’ve been inside too long.

            “Here you are.”

            Sasha smiled at the wall. “I was just thinking about you.”

            I take it this is our candlestick-maker. I’ve heard all about you, Jacob.

            Amelia stomped across the landing. “Sasha, I’ve put... Jacob. I didn’t hear you come upstairs.” She adjusted her arms around the bundle of sheets. “I’ve changed the linen in the spare room.”

            Sasha stood to face her. “Thank you, Mrs Mortimer. You have been a huge help. I don’t think I could have faced doing that.”

            “Well, I had rather hoped your maid would have arrived by now.”

            “I saw George. She’s still unwell,” said Jacob. “She’ll be back tomorrow.”

            “In that case, I insist that you leave that laundry for her to do.”

            Amelia stiffened.

            “You have been a saint to help, but I think you need to rest.”

            “Go on, Mother. I know you did not sleep last night. I’ll stay with Sasha now and see you at home.”

            She knew she was being handled and she hated them for it. Her smile was brittle. “Of course. You are quite right.” She dumped the sheets on the floor. “I’ll see myself out. Don’t be too long, Jacob.”

            You were right about his mother, Sasha. Sebastian spoke so that only she could hear. But there’s no doubt about his feelings.

            The front door slammed. Jacob went to the window and watched her follow the trail that cut through the trees.

            “Don’t mind her. She’s tired.”

            “Yes.”

            Sasha and I were thinking of going for a walk.

            “Tell me how you found me last night. I want to remember.”

            Jacob did not take his eyes off his mother. “You were on the floor. The lamp was shattered. I thought you were dead.” He listened to her skirts graze the floor as she moved.

            “I don’t remember that.”

            “You were cold and you wouldn’t wake up, so I brought you to bed.”

Yes, yes. It’s all fine now. She is as you see her. About that walk, Sasha?

            “You carried me?”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m sorry I missed that.”

            Jacob turned. “I don’t think I was ever more afraid.”

            “Of dropping me? I must have weighed a ton.”

            Jacob looked at his shoes.

            “Why did you come back?”

            “I was worried about you.” He stared at her. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

            Which she is. Sasha, let’s go.

            “I think there’s something you’re not saying.”

            “What?”

            “I think there is another reason you came back.” She crossed the floor and stopped inches from him. He smelt of leather.

            “You’re mocking me.”

            She smiled. “Am I? I thought I was thanking you.”

            Jacob watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed. “Then you are welcome.” He dipped his chin and left.

            At last. Are you ready for our walk?

            She rested her hands on the windowsill. “Confounded man!”

Fincher was carrying a pile of papers under his arm. His index finger was stained with ink. He hovered outside the mortuary before going in. The last time he’d visited, one of the vagrants had sat up on his table. Vic had explained that it was a spontaneous muscle contraction and that he really was dead. It didn’t assuage him. With his free hand, he covered his nose and mouth with his handkerchief. Dear God, the dead stank to high heaven.

            “I brought the papers. Let’s get this over with.” He found Vic up to his elbows in a man’s chest.

            “Give us a minute, Finch.” He gasped as something broke free.

            Fincher looked away. “I’ll be outside.”

            “Aww, don’t be such a baby.” Vic stepped away from the table and wiped his hands on his apron.

            Fincher suspected that, like every butcher he knew, that apron was once acquainted with white. He tried not to work out why there were green and brown splatters under Vic’s elbow.

            “You’ve come about the murder?” Vic’s hands were mostly dry.

            “Sebastian Faulkner’s his name.”

            “Right. He’s over here.” Vic pulled back the sheet after checking the toe tag.

            “Do we have to look at him?”

            “Just checking, mate. Keep your skirt on.” Vic studied Sebastian. “The short version is that he wasn’t so much stabbed as sliced.” He ran his finger down the abdomen. “Look. There are deep cuts along the sternum, which broke it and punctured the lungs. It was this gash that finished him.” Vic pointed at the exposed ribs. “Somebody wanted him dead.”

            “That’s usually the definition of a murder.”

            “All right, all right. Mortician’s humour.” Vic pulled up the sheet. “Any suspects?”

            “Too many. But no proof.”

            “Can’t say I’m surprised. He wasn’t exactly in line to win a popularity contest. I remember that poor girl’s baby. How’s she taking the news?”

            “George is with her.” He fanned the pages he had until he found the one for Vic. “Could you sign here?”

            “Is this what our relationship has become? You courting me for my autograph?” He carried the page to the office behind them. “There you go.”

            Fincher nodded.

            “One thing I will say: whoever did this knew what they were doing. The cuts line up with animal slaughter.”

            “Then every farmer in Fairnwood could be guilty.”

            Vic smiled. “I hope you find your man. Good luck, Finch.”

Sasha strapped the bag to her saddle and mounted the horse. She set it trotting so that Fred could keep up. The walls felt as though they were closing in on her and she could sense Sebastian everywhere. She could swear she heard him speaking in the kitchen. It was the shock. Shock did strange things to people. It transported soldiers back to the battlefields and made mothers look for their dead babies. And then there was Jacob. Why didn’t he kiss her? They had been alone and she had teased him about his affection for her. All he had to do was move one step to hold her. One step, it seemed, was too much to ask Jacob. The light was casting shadows through the trees and the grass yielded to the breeze.

            “See that, Fred? The world spins madly on.”

            Fred did not understand but continued marking his territory along the route.

            She found George on the road.

            “Where are you headed?”

            “To Susie’s.”

            “Mind if I walk with you?”

            He nodded and held the reins as she climbed down. Fred barked and chased a vole in the grass.

            “He seems to have a mind of his own, that one.”

            “So he does. Don’t worry. He’ll find his way back.” She stared at the road. “Jacob said you stayed with Susie last night.”

            “Yes.”

            “I suspect there is more to her illness than what she’s telling me.”

            “There is.”

            “But you’re not going to explain.”

            “It is a delicate matter, ma’am.”

            “Sebastian. Did he... That is, did Susie...” She clasped her hands. “Something happened between them.”

            “Yes.”

            The sun reflected on Susie’s windows and cast a glare on them.

            “I’ll tether the horse, ma’am, and give you two some privacy.” He handed her the saddlebag.

            “Won’t be long,” she said and walked to the house.

            Susie opened the door as she neared. “I saw you on the road, ma’am.”

            “I brought you some things. I hope you are feeling better. The house isn’t the same without you.” She unpacked the bread, cheese and salted meat. She looked through the window and saw George throwing a stick for Fred.

            “He’s been good to me, ma’am. Although the whole district must think we did something last night.”

            “It doesn’t matter.”

            Susie gestured at the chair. “You must be sad about your friend.”

            “Jacob’s mother didn’t let me feel sad. She was commandeering my every move.”

            Susie laughed, but the air felt tight. “Ma’am, I...”

            “Please don’t explain.” Sasha took her hand. “I don’t know the details, but I know Sebastian was not always proper.”

            Susie’s eyes brimmed. “Yes.”

            “Am I to understand he hurt you? Is that why you became ill when I mentioned him yesterday?”

            “My baby died, ma’am.”

            Sasha covered her face. “I am so sorry.” She hugged Susie, pressing her into her chest. “If only I had known.”

            Susie withdrew. “People think George did it. Year ago he did kill a man but it was an accident. They’re saying ‘once a killer, always a killer’.”

            “If it had been George, I would remember it. I was there too.”

            “Thank you, ma’am.”

            Sasha wiped her cheeks. “Do you think you can come to work tomorrow? If I have to endure Mrs Mortimer for one more day then I may well be driven to murder.”

Fred ignored the stick when the door opened and ran to Sasha. George fetched the horse and led it to where Sasha stood.

            “Thank you, George.” She accepted his offer of a step up and sat astride her horse. “Susie is lucky to have you.”

            He tapped the rim of his hat.

            “Race you home, Fred!” She dug in her heels and galloped off, with Fred trailing in a streak of blonde.

“I thought I would find you here.”

            “Not now, Mother.” Jacob’s back was to her as he sat at the workbench.

            “Another candlestick?” She listened to his tool chipping at the wood. “How are the sheep?”

            He stopped and stiffened. “I don’t want to talk.”

            “I know. But it doesn’t mean you don’t have to listen.”

            “All I do is listen to you.”

            “If you listened to me, you’d stop going there. You’d end this. You wouldn’t sit here making trinkets for a woman who...”

            “Who is clearly a threat to you.”

            Amelia’s hand went to her chest. “What are you saying?”

            He turned to her. “I am saying that I am not my father. I am saying that she is part of my future.”

            “I won’t allow it.” Her face reddened. “Not while I still breathe.”

            “With a killer on the loose, that can be arranged.”

            “How dare you.”

            “No, Mother, how dare you. I am not your baby anymore. I can’t undo what my father did, nor can I compensate for him. That’s your cross to bear. So leave me be.”

            “I can’t.”

            “Try. Our happiness depends on it.”

            “Our?”

            “If you don’t accept her, I will leave you.”

            Amelia’s face slackened.

            Jacob returned to the bench and continued working on the wood.

           

I know you can hear me, Fred. It seems like nobody else wants to know me anymore. Look at Sasha, pretending we’re not here, lost in her thoughts. She’s not exactly being the kindest host. She hasn’t offered me a morsel to eat.

            Fred tilted his head at Sebastian.

            “What is it, boy?”

            Fred trotted to her and licked her hand.

            “You seem as jumpy as I am.”

            Fred eyed Sebastian again and went to lie in front of the fire.

            You really shouldn’t let him lick you, you know. He sniffs sheep pats and eats insects. Who knows what kind of sickness he’s carrying.

            Sasha rested her book on her lap and watched the fire. She felt warm and tired but her fear wouldn’t let her sleep yet.

            I remember the first time we met. I was five, I think. I had watched you play on the haystack with Adam – he married Harriet, if I am not mistaken – and I was jealous. You had daisies in your hair and you smelt of lemon polish. I thought you were an angel. Seeing you like this takes me back. I loved you in my own way. Always wanted to be near you. If you felt anything for me, you never told me. But I hoped. My hope kept me going.

            Sasha’s eyes closed. The book lay heavy on her lap.

            I see how you look at him. Jacob. I used to look at you like that.

            “Why didn’t you say anything?”

            She speaks. I knew you didn’t feel the same.

            “You were my dearest friend.”

            I’m still here. I will always be here.

            “You left. You went away.”

            That was different. I had to go.

            “Now you’re gone forever.”

            No, no. I am here.

            “I missed you, Sebastian.”

            I am sorry.

            “I want you to leave.”

            Why?

            “You hurt Susie. I can’t forgive you.”

            That was an accident. She looked so much like you.

            “Go away.”

            I can’t.

            “Get out.” She started at the sound of her voice.

            Fred’s concern was etched on his brow.

            “It’s all right, boy. Just a dream.”

            I can’t leave you, Sasha. I have nowhere to go.