Chapter 24

Sunday 31st October

I close the back gate onto the lane, let Riley off his lead and head along the narrow winding path towards the house. Haverscroft was quiet, the twins, Mark and Jennifer having a Sunday morning lie-in when we left over an hour ago. The damp chill from our march through empty lanes, deserted village and towpath has seeped into my bones, all I want is the warm stove and a piping hot mug of tea before the household stirs into action.

The walk gave me a chance to mull over my conversation with Mrs Havers. Once the children are in school on Monday morning, if I manage to dodge Jennifer for an hour or so, I’ll see if I can pick up Wi-Fi in the café on the high street. I can’t shake off the feeling Mrs Havers holds back more than she reveals. And if Mark intends his mother to be here for the week, I’ll be cheerful and on top of things. A cooked breakfast of pancakes, coffee and newspapers will set things up nicely before Mark heads back to London this afternoon.

The path widens to a clearing, the dark expanse of the pond spreading away towards the thicket of yew, the round church tower beyond. Fog hugs the banks and curls across still black water. Near-naked trees drip against my windcheater as I duck a low branch. No sign of Riley. The ground at the pond’s edge is scuffed, ridges and dents in the soft leaf matter where knees and heels and hands struggled to get a grip. My throat tightens, I look away toward the rusting metal seat. Richard Denning stares back at me.

‘Sorry to startle you, miss. I sometimes sit here. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all,’ I say, trying to cover my shock with a smile. ‘I’ve wanted to speak to you, to thank you properly for your help with my son the other day.’

‘Alan Wynn mentioned that.’

I’m breathing hard, he sees it, I rush on. ‘I didn’t expect to see anyone at this time of the morning.’

‘The river’s always moving; the water’s more restful here.’

I can’t think of a reply. I’ve always felt on edge beside the pond and still do, worse since Tom’s accident. And this silent man is so hard to gauge. I glance at the curtain of willow separating us from the house and garden. Riley’s distant yap, yap, yapping, no one about yet to let him in.

‘Alice called then?’

Alice Havers. I’ve seen her Christian name on the old deeds, the contract we signed when buying Haverscroft and her letters. I’d never given it a second thought until now, but it suits her.

‘She says she told you about me being a bit off colour. Still, I should’ve had that rope and post fence done for you.’

‘Please don’t blame yourself. I’m sure they won’t make the same mistake again.’

‘I swept the terrace after you and your boy went off in the ambulance. Whole lot of glass and mess there was.’

I stare back at his calm features, his green eyes, milky in his sun-darkened face.

‘You saw the glass, on the terrace?’

He watches the water for a moment, glances my way as if to check I’m still here. He smiles and pushes his cap a little further back on his head. He’s far friendlier looking when he smiles. I’ve only ever seen him with a glower.

‘I get the feeling Mrs Havers holds out on me,’ I say to him. ‘I just want to know my children are safe.’

‘She’ll tell you what she wants you to know and ignores anything she doesn’t. I told her it won’t do, not any longer.’

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The seat’s small and shallow, it can’t be comfortable for a tall man. Riley’s barking. ‘Mummy?’ Tom, yelling from the terrace, by the sounds of it. Wondering where I am.

‘She reckoned if there was any trouble here it was her family’s. It wouldn’t be a bother to anyone else.’ He looks at me before staring back across the water. ‘Things don’t always turn out like you think they will, do they?’ He stops speaking and looks at me again.

‘Mummy, where are you?’ Sophie, concern in her voice.

‘The night Helena died, I found her badly hurt and knew right away nothing could be done. I stayed with her. It’s a bad thing to leave this world alone.’

A shiver crosses my shoulders, a tight knot in my chest. He’s paying me little attention, talking to himself, his eyes all the time watch the water.

‘Mummy! Mum?’

The twins sound frantic, I should go.

‘You know what happened to her?’

He doesn’t respond, continues to stare at the water. I glance towards the house, its invisible from here behind the cloak of willow branches. He nods, a small rocking motion of his head. His eyes turn towards me, he looks me full in the face.

‘I’ve always known what happened to her.’

He takes a deep breath. It’s taking a great deal for this quiet, private man to speak of these things. He looks tired and drained. Just how old is he? He stands up and brushes down his baggy old cords as he looks beyond where I stand, back towards the house.

‘Kate? Where the hell are you?’

Mark now. Can’t I have five minutes!

‘You’d better be looking after those children.’

He turns rather stiffly, heads towards me, passes where I stand. He stops at the path and looks back at me.

‘Come and join us for a cup of coffee. I’m about to cook pancakes, bacon and eggs.’

I want to know what he has to say, it might be better if Mark hears it too, although he’s likely to dismiss it, but at least it won’t be coming from me.

‘It’s waited half a century, it’ll wait another twenty-four hours.’

He glances at me, tired eyes. Now we’re close I see his skin’s grey, his cheeks hollow.

‘Weather’s due to be bad for the next few days. I’ll be about my boat tomorrow afternoon. You’re welcome to come over anytime.’

He sets off along the path towards the rear gate. I can’t think of any reason to delay him.

‘Kate?’ Mark holds back the draping willow branches. He’s come out in a hurry, tee-shirt and jeans, deck shoes, no socks. ‘There you are. We were worried with Riley back.’

‘For goodness sake, Mark. Did you think I’d got lost walking the dog?’

I look towards the path, Richard Denning holds up his hand and calls over his shoulder, ‘See you tomorrow. I’ll fill in the gaps for you.’