Page 177 of Wife After Wife
“Yes—they left about twenty minutes ago!”
The woman fetched her shotgun from her car and set off in a hurry.
Eliza was ready to leave.Come on, you two!
It was too cold to sit still. She wandered over to the footpath and noticed something lying in the snow. Car keys. They must belong to that woman. She picked them up and set off after her. Clare and Eddie would be coming this way, anyway.
Coming out of the trees onto the moor, she saw the shooting party lined up ahead, their guns held ready as men and dogs went forward to drive the pheasants into the air.
The birds took off, fluttering and panicking, high into the blue sky. The crack of gunfire echoed around the mountains and several plummeted to the ground.
Eliza felt sick.
Where was the woman? She spotted her, still some way behind the shooters. Eliza carried on, trying to ignore the carnage ahead.
When she was within yelling distance, she slowed down. Beyond the woman she saw Dad, Charles, and Megan, guns at the ready, pointing high into the sky.
The woman had stopped. Her gun was at the ready too.
It was pointed at Dad.
Eliza waited for her to raise it, like the others, but she didn’t. She was squinting along the barrel.
Panic rose in Eliza’s chest. “Hey!”
The woman ignored her cry, intent on lining up the gun sight.
This can’t be happening.
More deadly shots echoed around the mountains, and more birds dropped like stones to the moorland below.
The woman released a catch on the shotgun, then returned her hand to the barrel.
“No! Stop!” Eliza screamed, setting off at a run.
She stumbled slightly, regained her balance, and reached the woman just as she pulled the trigger. “No!” Eliza pushed her to the ground.
But she was too late. Harry sank to his knees. A dark stain spread across his tweed jacket, then he toppled over onto the snow. Screams rang out among the gunfire.
“Is he dead?” the woman said, her voice flat.
Eliza took off past her, desperate to reach her father.
She saw Megan looking at her own gun, as if making sure she hadn’t shot her brother by accident, then staring at Harry in disbelief. A patch of red was growing in the snow beside him.
People were pulling out mobile phones, calling for help.
Clare. We need Clare.
Battling her instinct to run to her father, Eliza headed back up the path, filled with a sense of unreality.
Dad had been shot.Shot.
The woman was still there, sitting on the ground, a stunned look on her face. “Wait,” she said. “I need to know. Is he dead?”
She must have been about forty-five, fifty. Her headscarf had come off, revealing fair hair streaked with gray.
Eliza ignored her and carried on running.
