Monty disappeared into the kitchen.

‘Here, a tea towel for you,’ he said as he hurried back, ‘and my softest gardening gloves.’ He handed them to her. ‘I’ll wear the heavy-duty floor cloth and manky old gloves.’ They covered their mouths and noses, pulled on the gloves, and then struggled to pull the remains of the goats onto a tarpaulin. They got them on and folded the sheet and then roped the corners to the digger. Monty gingerly dragged the enclosed sheet to the hole.

 

The stench of burned meat was horrendous to both of them. As Monty rolled the dead beasts into the hole, Abi turned away and wretched. He was soon beside her, an arm around her shoulder.

 

‘Take your time Abi, breath gently,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry you saw all this.’

Abi was bent over, her hands resting on her legs, just above her knees. She didn’t move. ‘I’m OK. Honest, I’ll be fine in a minute or two.’ She spat on the ground.

 

Monty walked back to the digger. He just wanted to fill the hole as quickly as he could.

‘We should look through the debris and see if we can find anything,’ said Abi. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve. Looking up at Monty, she added. ‘Sorry. I couldn’t help it.’

 

He didn’t respond, but quickly climbed onto the seat, restarted the engine and began shovelling the earth back. Abi watched him, his face a mixture of concentration and sadness. He firmed the last of the soil with the bucket and switched off the engine.

 

‘I need a drink.’ He looked grim. ‘Let’s take a quick look at what’s left in the shed, shall we?’ He grinned. ‘It’ll satisfy your curiosity, if nothing else.’

Abi looked up at him. ‘You mean it’ll shut me up? That’s what you really mean, isn’t it?’

 

His face extended in mock astonishment. ‘How could you say that? I enjoy you talking. I really do.’ He turned and walked away. Abi heard him repeating loudly, “and on, and on, and on” as he moved towards the debris.

 

She smiled and set off after him, stepping through the hens pecking the freshly disturbed ground, and stood next to him as he surveyed the scene. On the ground in front of them was a pile of ash, a few tangled bits of metal such as hinges, and remnants of rope. The shed that had once been the size of a large double garage was now mainly cinders.

 

‘What’s that?’ asked Monty.

Abi quickly scanned the ground. Nothing caught her eye. ‘What’s what?’ she replied.

Monty took a few steps forward and kicked at some debris, pushing it to one side with his foot. Still wearing his gloves, he reached down and picked up the remnants of a large can. He sniffed it. ‘Smells like petrol,’ he said as he turned to face Abi. He held the can at arm’s length. ‘This is not mine.’

 

‘You don’t keep petrol?’

He shook his head. ‘No, the digger runs on diesel, and I have that delivered and stored in the tank over there.’ He nodded towards the side of the house, where a small tank stood on brick supports. ‘And the oil for heating is in another tank – that’s round the back of the house. And I’ve never seen this.’ He let his arm drop. ‘It seems you were right. It seems someone deliberately started this.’ He looked around him.

‘But why Monty? Why would anyone want to do this?’ She stepped nearer to him and touched his arm.

 

He looked sideways and down at the ground. Abi studies his face. His eyes were moist, and his cheeks seemed flushed with anger. ‘Give me a moment. Please. I need to think.’

 

Abi pulled her hand away and shuffled backwards and then turned and walked to the nearby fence. Her gaze wondered into the orchard. There were still apples to pick, red and ripe on the well-manicured trees. For a moment, she lost herself in the place’s peace and then felt Monty at her side.

 

He swallowed before he said: ‘I’m not sure why – or even if it’s a good idea – but I feel the need to talk.’ He turned his head towards the trees.

‘That’s OK,’ Abi replied. ‘I feel the need to listen.’ She smiled up at him as he turned to face her. ‘My ears are anyone’s for a good cup of coffee.’

 

They trudged to the house in silence, pulling off their muddy shoes at the door. Monty made coffee as Abi waited, glancing around the kitchen and noticing, perhaps for the first time, how everything looked neat and homely. With a mug in each hand, Monty led the way into the cottage’s compact lounge. They sat a couple of feet apart on the settee. Monty put down his coffee mug on the table next to him while Abi cupped her hands around the mug’s warmth. She waited for him to speak.

 

Eventually, he took a deep breath. ‘I’d like to thank you for your visits.’ He looked straight ahead. ‘I look forward to them. I wasn’t always a wonderful host – in fact, I was never very good.’

Abi watched him as she sipped her coffee.

 

‘The thing is, you’re the only person I speak to, apart from the delivery guys and the postie. And that’s not very often. Parcels and letters from time to time – perhaps once a week - a load of food and stuff for the house – that’s once a month. The animal supplies when I need them.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t even go to the bank and pay in the cash I get for the fruit and veg.’ He glanced at her. ‘That must all sound odd to you.’

 

Abi sipped her coffee. Monty shuffled and grimaced slightly. His burns were bothering him.

‘I’ll change the dressings when you’ve finished,’ said Abi.

 

‘Thanks.’ He looked straight ahead again. ‘I came here because the love of my life died. Maggie. I’ve mentioned her, I think. Well, it was how she died, why she died – that’s what brought me here. This isn’t what I did before – growing things, selling things, looking after things. I did none of that.’

 

Abi finished her coffee and leaned forward to put the mug on the floor next to her. ‘So, who were you?’ She sat back and rested her head. ‘I think I know where you’re from.’

‘You do?’

 

‘Yep. Isn’t there a trace of the west country in your voice? Perhaps blended with middle England parentage and upbringing? I could be wrong – probably am.’

‘I’m impressed. You’re right. Why are you always right?’ He glanced across and shook his head. ‘This is unbelievably annoying.’

​

'It’s a gift,’ she laughed, ‘and one that annoys men in particular.’

‘Huh. I can quite believe that. But you’re right. Somerset born and early schooling. Then my parents moved nearer London – to what the BBC and others referred to as the home counties, I think. It comes complete with a small view of the world and a strained accent – one that’s awfully, awfully proper.’ He said the last few words with a plummy voice. ‘Well, it wasn’t a bloody home for me. My parents loved it – they even invented new accents, just to impress the neighbours. Looking back, I realise they wanted to be people they weren’t.

​

Suddenly, I found myself in a private school. They pushed and pushed and pushed – they couldn’t understand why I hated it. I had the mickey taken because I didn’t speak as though I was going to Eton. They bullied all the stuffing out of me.’

‘The boys at the new school?’ asked Abi.

 

Monty nodded. ‘The boys – and the teachers.’ He shrugged. ‘And things got worse and worse. Even at home – my parents had little time for me because I didn’t readily toe the line.’

‘That’s bad.’

 

‘I put up with it as long as I could and then decided enough was enough. I left.’

‘You left school?’

‘Well, yes, and home and the neighbourhood and the handful of friends I had.’

Abi looked surprised. ‘How old were you?’

 

‘Sixteen. Exactly sixteen – because I left on my birthday.’

‘Wow. That’s pretty drastic. And very brave.’

Monty nodded slowly and Abi continued, ‘Did they look for you?’

 

He glanced across and shrugged. ‘You mean my parents? Nah, not really, I don’t think. They probably made a bit of effort and then realised there was a cocktail party somewhere and forgot about me. Look, I’m telling you all this because it’ll help make sense of what’s coming – it’s a long story.’

‘The best stories are. What came next?’

 

‘I did loads of jobs – did loads of studying, but the stuff I wanted to study. Then I met Maggie. I was renting a room from a retired teacher down on the south coast. He was a great guy. History was his thing – and politics. We talked for hours. He encouraged me to be myself. I was nearly 18 by then and doing OK and had a job and friends – even two girlfriends at once. Things were better, my life felt better, and it was much better than the shit back home.’

‘And Maggie?’

 

Monty paused. ‘She was beautiful – she smiled all the time.’ He wrung his hands in frustration. ‘It wasn’t something we planned. We never saw it coming. It just happened. We said “hello” from time to time, and we met in the street. Usually on our way to the Coop or newsagent or somewhere. One day I said more than “hello”. Just a few more words. Probably something like “it’s a lovely day” and that was it. I was smitten – a kid in love. I fell for her.’

‘Things like that are rarely – if ever planned, are they? But she sounds lovely – just perfect.’

 

‘She was – she lived a few doors down.’ He pursed his lips while he composed himself. ‘But there was a problem. Well, two – no three - actually.’

‘What were they?’

‘She was married.’

‘Oh – that certainly was a problem. And the second?’

‘She had a child. Laura. Smiled all the time, just like her mother.’

 

Abi said nothing and Monty continued, ‘And the last hurdle to overcome was that she was 30.’ He raised his eyebrows as he looked at Abi. ‘People said we looked like mother and son.’

 

‘Oh dear, Monty. What did you do?’ Abil looked concerned, almost sad.

‘We just fell more and more in love. Then we had to go. Her husband found out. Shit hit the fan in all directions and Thomas – that’s my landlord, friend and tutor – helped us escape the wrath of the two families – hers and his. We put some things together and moved away. Thomas gave us a lift. He helped move our stuff.’

‘What about Laura?’

 

‘She came with us. Overnight we became a family, and I became a stepfather.’ He paused and wiped his eyes.

‘God, what a story,’ murmured Abi. ‘And then what?’

 

‘Thomas helped us to find somewhere; an old friend of his turned out to own a vast place in Norfolk. We rented a small cottage from him – and I mean small – it was tiny. But Norfolk’s a great place to lie low and be invisible. Well, it was for us. Eventually, the shit didn’t hit the fan so frequently and our life settled down. Maggie’s ex wasn’t such an angel and Thomas let us know that there had been other women, even when Maggie was with him. Some gambling debts as well. How he found out is anyone’s guess, but we were glad he did.’

‘I’m gob-smacked, Monty.’

 

‘I miss Thomas. He used to come and stay. Summer, Christmas, Easter – any excuse and he’d be there. When he died, he left everything to me. His house, his possessions, everything. That’s how kind he was to us.’

‘Did you and Maggie marry?’

 

Monty nodded. ‘After a few years. In the village church. Laura was a bridesmaid. Thomas was my best man.’ He wiped his eyes again. ‘When Maggie died, we’d spent nearly 30 years together. That’s not too shabby for a teenage boy and his older lover.’

 

‘Not bad at all, Monty.’ She looked down at the floor and then asked, ‘How did Maggie die?’

He breathed deeply. ‘Hit and run. Near to our house. Apparently, the car seemed to head straight for her, but the police didn’t get far with it. No CCTV in quaint villages and the witnesses were not really sure about the time, or were confused by how quickly it happened, or they didn’t see properly because they didn’t have their glasses on - sometimes, all three. The chances of an accurate description of what happened were virtually nil.’

 

‘I’m so sorry, Monty. I’m truly very sorry.’ Abi wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. ‘Life’s just not fair, is it?’

He didn’t reply.

 

‘Laura was already living with her partner – and their baby, a little boy, Harry – near Norwich, and they’re as happy as they can be now, with Laura losing her mum so tragically. Laura works as a nurse and Owen – her man – is a part time teacher. They didn’t need me around. I can be a bloody nuisance, get in the way I do, so I moved here. Complete madness. A whim. I know nothing about what I’m doing.’

 

Abi sniffled. ‘I don’t like to sound callous, but why, given your story, would anyone set fire to your shed? Have you made enemies since you came here?’

Monty suddenly stood up and reached out to help Abi to her feet. ‘Come with me. I have something to show you – upstairs.’

‘Oh, is this the old “do you want to see my etchings” routine?’

‘Close. You can change my dressings as well, if you’re still up to it.’