They enjoyed a relaxed brunch at the kitchen table, music drifting through from the living room, easing themselves into the day.

‘It’s brightened up,’ Kim said, gazing out into the garden. ‘Did you want to go for a walk?’

Naysmith looked up from his magazine.

‘Okay.’ He smiled. ‘Where would you like to go?’

‘I don’t mind,’ Kim shrugged. ‘We can just see where the afternoon takes us.’

They left the house and walked slowly through the village, strolling along the narrow pavements, stopping to listen to the burble of water from the culvert streams that meandered between the old houses. They had planned to stop at the pub, but the weather was fine and they found themselves going further than intended.

‘It’s not that I don’t want the responsibility,’ Kim was saying, ‘but they can’t keep taking on more and more work, then expect it to get done in the same time. We were short-staffed before Harvey left, and now there are only four of us doing everything.’

Naysmith considered this as they turned off the lane onto a narrow farm track that climbed up across the fields.

‘I thought they were going to replace him,’ he said after a moment.

‘They told us they would but that was months ago.’

A warm breeze ruffled Kim’s hair as she walked beside him. The track led up to a hilltop crowned by a stand of trees and commanded a wonderful view of the rolling countryside beyond it.

‘It’s not as though they’re short of money,’ Naysmith reasoned. ‘Has anyone spoken to them about this?’

‘Well, Marcus is the most senior so he should really be the one to raise it . . .’

‘But?’

‘He doesn’t want to.’ Kim made a face. ‘I think he’s looking around for another job – probably doesn’t want to upset anyone in case it jeopardises his references.’

Naysmith shook his head.

‘I don’t like them taking you for granted. Perhaps it’s time you looked for something else too.’

Kim walked beside him, her free hand brushing against the long grass at the edge of the path, lost in thought.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said at last, ‘but there aren’t too many other firms around Salisbury. It’s easier for Marcus; he has no ties . . .’

Whereas you have me, Naysmith thought, oddly intrigued by the notion.

It was strange to think of them as ‘tied’ to one another. When had that happened? Over the last two years they had certainly become closer than he’d ever expected, but when had they become a proper couple? There wasn’t a specific moment he could put his finger on. Was it when they’d started living together? No, she’d moved in by instalments; technically she still had her house in Taunton, but really that was her sister’s place now. When had everything changed?

As they walked on in silence, he caught her glancing shyly up at him and he thought he saw that same realisation in her eyes – that awareness of how entwined their lives had become.

‘Rob,’ she said slowly, ‘can I ask you something?’

She hesitated, and for an uneasy moment he wondered what she was going to say. He stopped and looked at her as the wind teased at her hair.

‘Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?’ She gazed up at the trees ahead of them, then turned to him, ‘You know . . . what do you want out of life?’

‘Five years is a long time,’ he answered carefully. ‘I’m not following a timetable, but you know what I’m like – I just want to feel alive, to be happy, keep challenging myself.’

She lowered her eyes. They had been talking about work, but suddenly he knew this walk was about something else.

‘And what about me?’ she asked.

Ah. Here it comes . . .

She looked up at him, searching his face.

‘I’m not a challenge,’ she said quietly.

Unbidden, he found that his hand was outstretched, caressing her face. He stepped forward, gazing into her eyes as the breeze swirled the long grass around them.

Had he wanted her more back then, before things had changed? When she was still pretending? Still playing hard to get?

He smiled. Perhaps, but her gradual surrender to him – both physically and emotionally – had been so complete that he’d become drawn to her in a profoundly different way. There was a strange blend of enjoyment and responsibility – holding her on the knife-edge of total submission – that he found intensely compelling.

She wasn’t stupid. He knew she must sense the hunter in him – the sexual predator at least – and yet she chose not to believe it.

Because you don’t want to believe it.

‘Listen,’ he said, studying her upturned face, ‘I don’t want every part of my life to be . . . competitive. Yes, I need to challenge myself, test myself, but that’s not all I need.’

His fingers pushed a wisp of hair away from her anxious eyes.

‘You’re not a challenge,’ he said softly. ‘You’re the balance in my life; the one person who I’m not trying to get the better of.’

Because now there was no resistance left, so utterly had she submitted to him.

Kim held his gaze for a moment, then leaned her head on his shoulder.

‘But Rob—’

‘Shhh,’ he interrupted her. ‘Trust me. I want you just as you are.’

And in a way it was actually the truth. Struck by this, he took her hand and, giving it a reassuring squeeze, led her on towards the hilltop.

‘Come on,’ he laughed, as she began to smile, ‘let’s go and look down on the world together.’

17

Wednesday, 27 June

The meeting had been a complete waste of time and Naysmith was in a filthy mood. He pulled the car door hard, slamming it to shut out the sounds of the people and the traffic, then gazed out through the windscreen with unseeing eyes.

He could respect companies who wanted to negotiate hard, or who had no choice because their budgets weren’t enough, but this lot just didn’t have a clue. Two directors who couldn’t agree what they were doing and ended up arguing in front of him.

Fucking amateurs.

He sighed and unclenched his hands from the steering wheel. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his fingers and placed the palms flat on his thighs, allowing his shoulders to drop. A slow breath in, then out, willing his muscles to relax . . .

It wasn’t important. It was irrelevant.

He opened his eyes . . .

. . . and smiled as a thought came to him. He’d been putting it off, dwelling on other things, but no more. Perhaps it was because of what had happened last time, but there was no reason for him to wait any longer – in fact, today would be the perfect day to begin a new game.

As he drove out of Farnham, he already knew where he was going. He’d seen the road signs for Winchester on the way up here, silently calling to him, luring him back, and now he responded, ignoring the motorway and cutting directly across country. It would be a pleasant detour and he sensed that the city was drawing him back for a reason.

It was another bright afternoon in Winchester, and he could feel the touch of the sun on his back, warming the skin through his shirt. He walked over to the wall beside the bridge, pausing to run his fingers lightly across the rough bricks before leaning against it and gazing down the ivy-covered embankment to the railway tracks below. How small he must have looked down there, kneeling between the rails, head bowed . . .

For several minutes he stood there, lost in thought, until the noise of a train roused him. Smiling to himself, he turned away. He was free of the curse, free to start a new game, with a new target. Right here.

He considered the road in front of him, and the footpath leading away on the other side of it. It would do nicely. The first person to make eye contact once he crossed over would be the one. He waited for a lull in the traffic, then stepped off the kerb.