Excerpt of A Malignant House by Fay Sampson

She was unprepared. As she turned the curve which would
bring her in sight of the house, he was almost upon her.
Tall, burly, swift-striding. He was dressed as before in
that flowing black leather coat. The sunshine glinted on
his shaved head.

He checked, visibly as surprised as she was. There was
no mocking greeting. His eyes were hard, shrewd, assessing
her up and down.

'You here again?' The Estuary vowels were aggressive,
lacking the slow warmth of the West Country.

'Yes,' she said, feeling the need to justify herself,
in answer to his sharp, accusing tone. 'I'm on my way to
see Mrs Hereward. She invited me.'

'Did she now? After she caught you trespassing on her
husband's property in the middle of the night. Rather odd
that, wouldn't you say?'

His use of pronouns disconcerted her. 'It wasn't me; it
was my husband. And it wasn't Mrs Hereward who caught him;
it was a man called Marchant. A gamekeeper or something.
Anyway, Nick had a perfectly good reason. He'd seen a . . .'

'A white stag. Go on, pull the other one. It's got
bells on it.'

She flushed, angry with herself, as well as with him.
How did he know all this? Who was he, to hold her and Nick
to account?

'If you'll excuse me, it's none of your business. We've
aplogized to the Herewards and they've kindly agreed to
overlook it. I've been invited back. So if you wouldn't
mind letting me pass . . .'

He stood too close, too big, looming in front of her.

'Oh, but I think it is my business. I don't think I
want you here, Mrs Nosey-Parker. I think you'd better give
back your papers and go home and stay there.'

He knew why she'd come. She hadn't told him.

'That's a matter for Mrs Hereward.'

He looked around him slowly, at the grounds of Hereward
Court, with exaggerated surprise. 'I didn't know Mrs
Hereward owned this. That's news to me.'

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, 'And you don't
own it, either. But prudence - no, if she was honest, fear -
held her silent.

She side-stepped to get past him. He moved his bulk to
block her. She heard the creaking of his leather coat. He
smiled, but said nothing.

She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. She
would not turn back. 'Excuse me, I need to return these
documents. I have an appointment at two o'clock.'

He looked down at her reflectively, for what felt like
a long time. Then, 'Make this the last time. Don't say I
didn't warn you.'

She knew from his shrug that he was releasing her,
giving her grudging permission to proceed. He did not move.
She had to walk round him. She must not look back, but she
heard no sound of his footsteps, striding on up the drive.
He was still watching her.