‘HELLO!’ ANNIE CALLED.
Mrs Miller’s head appeared around the kitchen door. ‘Hello, love, come through here. I’ve made you a bite to eat.’
Annie went into the kitchen. The table had been laid for one. There was bread, cheese, pickle and a portion of Bird’s trifle in a bowl.
‘Thank you,’ Annie said. ‘That’s so kind.’
‘It’s nothing,’ said Mrs Miller. ‘You look worn out. Well, you would do, wouldn’t you, after the day you’ve had. Poor thing.’
Annie smiled at the woman. ‘Is Lizzie in bed?’
‘Yes, her and Mrs Howarth.’
‘Was Lizzie good this afternoon?’
‘She was no trouble. She sat at the table and did some colouring.’
Annie crossed to the sink to wash her hands. Mrs Miller took her coat from the hook by the door and slipped it over her arms.
‘I’ll be off now then. I reckon you should have a nice bath and a glass of wine and then get yourself to bed early. You look like you could do with a good night’s sleep.’
‘Yes,’ Annie said. ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’
After Mrs Miller had left, Annie went upstairs and looked in on her mother-in-law and her daughter. They were both sound asleep. She changed and went downstairs. She made sure all the doors and windows were closed and then left the house via the French windows in the conservatory, closing them carefully behind her. It was a dark, moonless night, but she could see, from the back door, the glow of a small fire close to the hedge. Tom was sitting on his haunches beside it, cradling his knees in his arms, fading into the night. When he saw Annie he stood, stretched out the muscles in his legs and walked towards her.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
‘Are you OK?’
She nodded, but she was not OK. The sense of dread that had been shadowing her for weeks was growing stronger by the moment. She felt it all the time now, like something looming behind her, something she knew would engulf her at some point, only she did not know when.
‘Did you park the truck somewhere where nobody can see?’ she asked.
‘I left it in Matlow. I walked up the moor.’
‘Good.’ She crossed her arms and looked around her. ‘Are you sure nobody saw you?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ He took her face in his hands. He soothed her temples with his thumbs. Said: ‘You’re so cold.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. Then: ‘I know you didn’t hurt Mrs Wallace. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.’
‘Leave your husband,’ said Tom. ‘He set me up; he sent me away.’
Annie shook her head. ‘No, it wasn’t him. He believes you are guilty. He always has. The ring was found in your room.’
‘The police put it there.’
‘Why must it have been the police?’
‘The door was always locked. I was careful.’
‘It was a room in a lodging house, Tom. There must have been dozens of spare keys. It could have been anyone.’
Tom crouched by the fire. He poked at it with a stick.
‘Nobody else had any reason to set me up.’
‘William had no reason either.’
‘He wanted me out of the way so he could have you.’
‘He wouldn’t do that.’
‘It should have been me, Annie. I should have been the one you married. You should have had my child, our children. It should have been us.’
‘Yes, I know.’
She sat beside him by the fire and watched the flames. Beyond she could see the house, the lights in the windows.
‘I ought to check on Ethel and Lizzie,’ she said.
‘Can’t we go inside?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s William’s house.’
She ran inside, softly up the stairs, and checked that all was well. She locked the door to Ethel’s room, just in case, and left the light on for Lizzie. She took blankets and pillows from the wardrobe in the spare room, and went back outside. Tom was waiting for her.
They made love in the firelight and afterwards they sat, wrapped in blankets, feeding the fire, drinking wine. Annie looked up to the star-filled sky, the smoke winding up from the little fire and fading into the black.
‘What’s in your mind?’ Tom asked.
‘Johnnie.’
Tom pulled her to him and held her tight. He told her she was the most beautiful, precious thing in the world to him. He kissed her head and he whispered endearments and reassurances. He waited for her to finish with her tears for her brother and when she had, he still held her close.
And perhaps it was just that she was so tired, perhaps it was that the fire had burned down and the night had become so cold, but Annie’s sadness turned to fear.
She sensed a movement behind her and she turned, but she couldn’t see anything in the black of the night garden.
‘Somebody’s watching us,’ she whispered.
Tom stood up to look but she grabbed hold of his arm and begged him not to leave her alone. He called out: ‘Is anyone there?’ and there was nothing, no movement, no sound, no intake of breath. He sat down again. He put his arm around Annie.
‘There’s nobody there,’ he said.
‘You think I’m imagining things?’
‘I think it was probably just a fox.’
‘It wasn’t a fox, Tom. It’s not the first time I’ve felt someone watching. I feel it all the time.’
‘Shhh,’ he said. And he kissed her.