“The eggs!”
Mr. Mins somehow heard me through the driving rain, the tearing wind. He cupped his hand to his ear, though, thinking he had misheard. “Elizabeth wanted me to bring her some eggs.”
Mr. Mins shrugged. We can only do so much, his shoulders said.
“Please?”
“I might have some up at the cottage.” He sighed and looked up from the rope he was untying. “Come on.”
We walked up the hill, side by side but not talking. I had rescued the notebook from where it lay undisturbed under my pillow and tucked it inside my jacket, safe from the weather. Even though I was committed to taking it out to Elizabeth, I felt certain there was nothing in there that could help us. Daphne had given me the key as if it would unlock something important, and it had offered nothing but another sordid Summer tale. There was nothing to tell us where she was.
Mr. Mins seemed deep in thought. We were almost to the cottage when he dragged me under the canopy of a yew tree. The rain lashed at us and the wind was roaring through the trees. He had to shout to be heard. “What are you doing here?”
Blood rushed into my ears. My heart raced. “I’m taking care of the children.”
His eyes traveled deep into mine. Expecting to see hostility, I was surprised to find only concern. “It’s not safe for someone like you.” Concern, yes. But also tenderness. It had been a long time since someone was concerned for my well-being.
“Someone like me?” We were shouting, and yet it felt intimate.
“A rival. That’s all you are to her.”
I tried not to stare at his scar as he spoke. Now that I knew its origins, I wondered how he could bear to be on a boat ever again.
“To who?” But I knew. I wanted to see how deep his disloyalty ran. I wanted to see if he would tell me the truth. He couldn’t bring himself to say her name.
“Wouldn’t you be better off working for a nice normal family?”
“Does such a thing exist?”
“Not around here.” He grimaced, looked around once more. The rain had finally stopped, but wind had moved into the void it left. He dragged me farther under the tree, where we were almost protected from the weather. Even though my body wanted to respond, I forced myself to stay still. I didn’t want to fall into his trap. He was Mrs. Mins’s brother, after all. “What’s really going on here?” he asked. “What’s with the sudden trip to the island in the middle of a cyclone?”
“I thought this was just a passing shower.”
He shook his head. Rubbed his chin, as though he had stubble.
“I don’t know if Elizabeth will be able to help you.”
“Maybe I’m helping her.”
“Maybe you are. But you’re in more danger than she is. There are already enough missing people around here.” He muttered something else, but I didn’t quite catch it. Whatever it was sent a crimson shadow across his cheeks. Or was it the cold air?
“I’ve got nowhere else to go.” It was true, and I could have pretended otherwise, but the time of concealment and ego had passed between us. Trust was moving into its place.
“You’re not in love with him as well, are you?” His head turned towards mine, his eyes watching me carefully.
We sat for a moment. Alone. For the first time since I’d come to Barnsley, I was unwatched. Unfollowed. It made me brave.
“Max is my uncle.”
Mr. Mins said nothing, only whistled. A long, slow, incredulous whistle. And then: “Does he know?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Elizabeth, I think. And Jean Laidlaw.”
“Another bloody Summer secret,” Leonard said, shaking his head at the thought.
The words struck something in my mind. The niggling thought that there was something in the notebook I had overlooked.
The Summer secret pudding recipe.
“Mr. Mins!” I shouted. “Have you got internet at the cottage?”