Wood - The Hangmans Hold

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

Copyright Michael Wood 2018

Cover design by Dominic Forbes HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Cover photograph Shutterstock.com

Michael Wood asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition August 2018

ISBN: 9780008311612

Version: 2018-08-31

To Christopher Schofield

A genuine life saver, a good friend and a huge supporter. He doesnt only support me, but The Asses and Donkeys Trust too. Pomegranate anyone?

Day One

Thursday, 9 March 2017

The pale grey, or the sky-blue tie? The grey one would go with the jacket, but the blue would match the shirt. Maybe no tie at all.

With a sigh, he threw both ties at his reflection in the wardrobe mirror and fell backwards onto the bed behind him. He turned to the alarm clock on the bedside table. The harsh digits in a terrible Day-Glo green, which wouldnt match anything in his wardrobe, told him it was almost six oclock. He still had time.

He pulled himself up and looked at his tired reflection once more, something hed been doing quite a lot of in the last couple of weeks.

Look at the state of you, he said to himself. Forty-five years old and youre panicking over what to wear. Its a few drinks, thats all. Just two people having a drink together. Wheres the harm in that? He gazed deep into himself as if expecting an answer. His face was red. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and a gleam in his eyes.

Of course, it was more than just a few drinks. It was a date. An actual date. A trial run to see how two people, who, according to a computer seemed ideal for each other, would get on in reality. It was also his first in more than twenty-five years.

Following his divorce, and a long period of adjustment, Brian Appleby had thought hed been left with a life of singledom, a life dedicated to himself and the things he enjoyed doing. Hed go on holidays with friends, trips to the theatre, and when he fancied being alone, he could watch a film on the sofa with his feet up and his socks off.

Unfortunately, life hadnt worked out that way. All his friends had abandoned him, as had his family. He could understand that. He would probably have done the same in their position. At first, hed tried to tell himself he didnt care. Screw them. Yes, hed made a number of mistakes, but hed paid his price. Shouldnt he be able to move on and continue with the rest of his life? Why couldnt other people see that? Their loss. If they didnt want him around, hed find new friends.

That had been easier said than done. New friends were hard to come by; especially when you were a stranger with a past you refused to talk about. Again, he hadnt cared, in the beginning. He enjoyed his own company. But evenings in front of the TV eating pizza and not talking to anyone had soon begun to take its toll. The tipping point had come when hed walked into Dominos and the young girl with greasy hair serving had looked at him and said: Good evening, Brian. What are you in the mood for tonight? She knew his name. He knew her name. He knew the name of every member of staff. How far had he fallen that he personally knew the people who worked in his local takeaway? He had quickly ordered and made his escape, returning home to examine the pathetic existence his life had become.

His light at the end of the tunnel had come in the form of an advert on late-night television. A new website had been set up for the recently single looking to meet new people for socializing, et cetera. He hadnt been too bothered about the et cetera, but hed missed having someone to share his interests with.

Hed logged on, created a profile and spent a full evening trying to find a decent enough photograph of himself. That had been a task in itself as he hadnt been able to remember the last time hed had his picture taken. Actually, that wasnt true. He could remember, but a police mugshot wasnt something you used to attract a lady. Eventually, hed resorted to taking a selfie, his first (and hopefully last) one. Hed surprised himself by how smart he looked in his suit and his neatly combed hair. Fingers crossed he looked completely different from the picture of him that had been slapped all over the tabloids.

After a week, he had chatted to eleven different women. None of them were his type; he didnt have a type as such, but he knew that the ideal woman would jump out of the screen at him. Eventually, she did a professional single woman named Adele Kean, a few years younger than him, attractive, enjoyed the theatre, eating out, and a good film. She ticked all the right boxes. She was the one.

Brian had spent an hour with a pad and pen drafting the perfect opening message to send to her. Hed wanted to make sure his spelling and punctuation were correct and tried to be funny without seeming desperate. He mentioned his recent trip to the Crucible (though he didnt say it was only to watch the snooker) and how one of his favourite films was Rebecca starring Laurence Olivier, even though it was really Die Hard. He sent the email and waited impatiently for a reply.

His wait was a long one. It was five days before it arrived with an apology for her tardiness but she had been busy with work. She thanked Brian for his lovely message, said she had seen Rebecca, but it was years ago, and promised to look it up online next time she had a free evening. She also complimented him on his photograph and hoped she would hear from him soon. It was a good sign Adele hadnt recognized who he was from his photograph. He had changed over the years, but he was worried he was still identifiable.

She heard from him very soon. Within thirty minutes of her reply landing in his inbox he was hitting the send button on his second message, the content of which seemed to come easier this time.

For a week, messages went back and forth Brian was itching to suggest a meet but didnt want to scare her off. On the Wednesday, Adele took the first step and offered her telephone number. His heart almost skipped a beat when he read that one.

Brian liked her accent a mixture of Sheffield and Manchester. She was surprised she couldnt hear any American in his since hed told her he spent eight years teaching English in the States. Hed forgotten about the accent issue when he came up with that lie. Hed never even been to America. The conversation ran on without any awkwardness or silence and by the end of the chat they had arranged to meet for drinks the following evening outside the City Hall.