‘No. Not here,’ Marcus said. ‘The keys are in the ignition, though.’
‘Looks like he slept in here.’ Jamie had swung open the back doors.
Grace and Marcus came round to look, seeing a tangled blanket, a rucksack and some empty beer cans.
‘Why would he sleep here? Not in the cottage?’
Briefly Marcus met her eye, not replying.
He’s gone into the woods, she thought.
Jamie was trying his phone. ‘Ach – useless! No signal. You two keep looking. I’ll run back to the farm and phone from there.’
Marcus slammed the doors shut and turned away into the trees, whistling Flash to heel. Following, Grace realized that this was the track where Charlie had had her accident. When Marcus took the left turn where two paths crossed she thought he was heading for the lake.
It seemed inevitable.
The lake. Where the gravel pit used to be.
In her mind she saw Mark on his horse, face set in anger or determination, galloping fast across the fields, not stopping for the gate but riding hard at it and soaring over. Into the twisty paths, ducking low branches, the horse eager to do what its rider wanted until it found itself leaping into empty space and falling to its death on the gravel.
To both their deaths.
What desperation had driven Mark to do that?
Mark then. Adrian now.
Although no one had said so aloud, Grace knew that they all shared the fear of Adrian doing something drastic – that he might hang himself or take an overdose. That had been in Marcus’s mind just now, she felt sure, as he looked inside the van, and earlier, at the workshop. He must have dreaded what he’d find.
She scurried after him, pushing back twigs, freeing herself from the clutch of brambles. She knew it was pointless to make conversation and expect him to reply, but she saw the miserable hunch of his shoulders, and wished she could say something to help.
He turned to glare at her. ‘This is my fault!’
The way he spoke made it sound like hers.
‘No, Marcus, it isn’t! How can it be your fault?’
He struggled to speak for a moment, then, ‘I told him I hated him. You were there! You heard! And I really did, then, because of what he did to Flash. But I didn’t mean it, I know it’s not …’ His voice wavered; he rubbed angrily at his eyes, turned and strode on. ‘Not his fault, how he is. If only …’
Let it be all right, Grace whispered silently, and it felt like praying, though she never did that. Please let it be all right.
They reached another meeting of paths, and Marcus stopped again, so abruptly that she almost walked into him.
‘The lake,’ she said. ‘He’s at the lake. In the hide perhaps, or …’
A slide show of awful possibilities flashed through her mind. Marcus looked at her, then turned left and plunged on, quickly outpacing her. As the first glimmer of water came into view she heard him give a shout, breaking into a run. Reaching the lake’s edge she stood for a moment seeing nothing at first, only the black-and-white of Flash as he ran ahead. She heard Flash give a whine, and saw him stop, uncertain.
There, by the curve of shore farther round, was a huddled figure, completely still, well-camouflaged in a khaki coat with a hood pulled low over his head.
‘Dad!’ Marcus shouted, and was there in a few bounds, stooping. ‘Dad …’
For a terrible moment Grace thought Adrian was dead, frozen there in rigor mortis. He looked too small to be a grown man, hunched and clenched as if to make himself insignificant.
She saw his head turn stiffly, and he made a strange jerky movement with one arm. He stared at Marcus, unrecognizing at first, then turned away, put both hands to his face and began to weep. Flash whined again too, and lay down a few yards away.
Never had Grace heard such a sound, a wailing howl of despair, eerie in the quiet of the trees; never had she heard an adult give way so dramatically to utter grief. She stopped, holding herself still. Marcus knelt beside his father and put his arms round him and spoke quietly.
After a few moments Flash came to Grace and pushed his nose into her hand, as if he too needed comforting. Looping her fingers through his collar she drew back, telling him softly to come with her. Adrian seemed unlikely to harm either himself or Marcus, not now, and she thought she’d be most useful by going back to the van to tell the others where to come.
Before she’d gone far along the track, Flash’s ears pricked and he gave a whuff of recognition. She heard the crack of twigs ahead and saw the tall dark shape of Sirius through sapling trees, ridden one-handed by Charlie. Oh, thank goodness – Charlie on Sirius would be faster than anyone else at getting help.
‘Charlie!’ she yelled. ‘Over here!’
The pockets of Adrian’s coat had been weighted with stones.
That was the detail that stood out in Grace’s mind, from all the activity, doubt and confusion that followed. He had gone to the lake intending to drown himself; he had made preparations.
She thought of him selecting the stones, weighing them in his hand. Heavy enough? Another? A few bigger ones, to be quite sure? As if drowning himself was a practical task, to be confronted as methodically as fitting a door hinge or sanding down a piece of wood.
Unmaking. Ending. Giving up. Giving in.
But he hadn’t. When it came to the moment, he hadn’t taken those final steps into the water. He had stayed on the bank, contemplating, but not doing it. Whether through fear, or because the will to live had after all proved stronger, who could know? Whether he would have done it, if Marcus hadn’t found him …
Charlie had galloped back to find the others. Within minutes, Ian was driving his own van down to the gate, bringing Sally, Roger and Jamie. Roger and Marcus helped Adrian to walk slowly – numbed into stiffness, walking with difficulty like a frail old man – to the wood’s edge, and Ian drove him back to the house. Marcus and Sally went with them while Roger carefully backed Adrian’s van out of the clutch of shrubs and brambles and then followed.
At Flambards they found a police car parked in front of the porch, and two sergeants, a young WPC and an older man, in the office with Grace’s mother. Students were starting to arrive for Ian’s art class, and Grace remembered that it was, after all, a normal Friday. The mosaics guests were leaving, carrying bags down from their rooms and looking on curiously, pretending not to be too keenly interested.
Adrian was silent now, silent and confused. He sat in the office, wrapped in a blanket, seeming not to know where he was. Grace stayed at a respectful distance, hovering, until her mother came out and closed the door behind her.
‘Sally thinks he’s suffering from hypothermia,’ she told Grace, who was surprised at that – she’d thought hypothermia afflicted people stranded on mountainsides in blizzards. But her mother said that both sergeants had agreed, and called for an ambulance. Adrian had been out all night, either in the van or by the lake, probably hadn’t eaten for some while, and was suffering from extreme stress: all that could cause hypothermia.
‘Besides,’ she added in a low voice, ‘he may have taken something, for all we know. He needs to be thoroughly checked over.’
It was only just gone ten, but it felt as if hours had passed since Sally’s knock on the door. Grace felt the oddness of being dumped back into an ordinary grey Friday morning. Ian had quite forgotten about his art class and had to make hasty preparations; Marcus and Sally went with Roger to the hospital, following the ambulance. Charlie, after causing quite a stir by bringing Sirius into the yard, where he was admired and photographed by several of the departing guests, rode back to Marsh House, and Grace’s mother returned to her office desk. A new group would be arriving this afternoon and everything must be ready. The usual routines were taking over.
Grace went to Ian’s class, wanting to be with other people without needing to talk. Sushila wasn’t there today, and Grace simply sat and drew and thought, going over and over the events of the morning. Without qu
ite intending to she began drawing the two stooped figures, Marcus and his father, under the trees. Although cartoonish in its simple lines, the pose made her think of a religious sculpture, expressing pity and forgiveness. Love, even. But she didn’t want Ian or anyone else to see that, and soon turned her page.
There was an extra kindness in Ian’s manner today, in his comments on the work. Everyone involved in the crisis seemed newly aware of how they treated each other, and the importance of looking after people.
What would happen now in Marcus’s family Grace had no idea – only the sense that something had ended. Pretending was surely over, and recovery could begin. Marcus didn’t really hate his father. Maybe Adrian’s anger had burned itself out, fizzled out in the cold and damp of early morning and the stark realization of what he’d been about to do. How different the future would look if Adrian’s drowned body had been pulled out of the lake! Then there could be no return to normality. Especially for Marcus, who’d have blamed himself for ever.
She began sketching a worn old walking boot that was in Ian’s crate of oddments. She liked the way it was shaped to the foot of an unknown person, the deep cracks in the leather testifying to miles walked and weather endured.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Me of Then, the Me of Now
‘What will happen now? Will Adrian be all right?’
Grace and her mother were in the Hayloft, having a quick sandwich lunch.
‘I hope so,’ Mum said carefully. ‘It’s too early to know. This has certainly been a – a point of no return. After today, no one can pretend things are normal. Even Adrian can’t go on insisting he doesn’t need help. It was awful, frightening – but maybe for the best.’ After a pause, she went on, ‘Poor man. Phil, the Army friend, told Sally something Adrian had never mentioned to her.’
‘What?’
‘Something that happened out in Afghanistan. Some insurgents had been killed in an attack and were lying by the side of the road where they’d fallen. Adrian’s unit went to check if they were dead or injured – carefully, in case it was a trap. They were dead, five of them. And two were just boys, teenagers – too young even to be fighting. For a moment he thought one of them had a look of Marcus. After that – years after, even now – he keeps dreaming, hallucinating even – seeing this boy’s face and Marcus’s, as if they’re the same person.’
Grace was silent, digesting this.
Her mother sighed deeply. ‘How would you get over that? Seeing – killing – what you thought was the enemy, and finding they were hardly more than children? And he’d never told Sally about it. Never told anyone. That was hard for her to take – knowing he’d kept it to himself for so long, tormenting himself. And then finally he told someone else, someone who’d been in the Army too, and had some idea what it was like.’
‘Will she move back to the cottage now?’
‘Yes. She never really wanted them to be apart, only things went too far. It’ll be different now.’
Grace thought of how Sally turned to Mum whenever she was worried or upset. For practical help, for understanding. They’d become close, just as Grace wanted to think that Marcus and Jamie were her own special friends. It seemed to her that they all needed each other.
‘The other night – no, it was only last night, though it seems ages ago – Sally showed me some family photos,’ said Mum. ‘There was one in particular, taken a few years ago when Marcus was quite young – the three of them piled on a sledge, laughing. You could see what a handsome man Adrian was – well, still is, isn’t he? – and them all having fun together in the snow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sally look as happy as that, either – not surprisingly. She was saying she’ll never get that Adrian back, but perhaps he’s not altogether gone, either.’
‘Mmm. She’ll have Roger around to help, even after we’ve gone. You’ll stay friends with them, won’t you?’
‘Yes, of course,’ her mother said, and seemed about to go on, but fell silent. Grace waited, looking at her expectantly, then raised the subject they’d both been avoiding.
‘Mum? About that – you haven’t said when we’re leaving, but it must be quite soon, mustn’t it? How many days have we got left? I need to know.’
‘Yes, course you do. Sorry.’ Her mother gave her a doubtful look. ‘There’s something we need to talk about. I didn’t think today was the right time, though, with all this.’
‘No, go on,’ Grace said, with a sense of foreboding. ‘What?’
Mum seemed to be choosing her words carefully. ‘I know how difficult things are for you, with Marie-Louise not coming back, and Dad leaving, and – well, everything.’
‘Right. You could say that,’ Grace said, still wary.
‘How … how would you feel about not going back, Gracey? Staying here?’
Grace stared, not understanding. ‘What, you mean live here? But how can we? What about school?’
‘You could change schools. There’s Hales Green, where Marcus and Jamie go. Ian and Gail both teach there too. I’ve looked into it, checked there’s a place for you.’
Grace’s mind blurred in panic. I can’t! Everything strange. Being different, being looked at and pitied, people saying all the same old things … She saw herself in a packed corridor, being jostled, curious stares directed at her, whispers and overheard remarks. ‘That’s her. The new girl, the one with …’
A minority of one, facing that all over again.
No. No. I can’t do it.
‘It’s a good school,’ Mum went on, talking fast as if she had to seize the moment, ‘and you’d already know the two boys, even if they’re in the year above you. It’s a big thing, to start all over again at a new school, especially with, you know, your leg and everything. But if you did think you could do it, the start of Year Ten isn’t a bad time.’ She gave Grace a doubtful look. ‘Perhaps it’s unreasonable of me to ask, though. If you’d really rather not …’
‘You mean nothing’s decided?’ Grace asked, though it was clear enough that Mum wanted her to agree.
Her mother put an arm round her and hugged her close. ‘Course not, Gracey! I wouldn’t decide without asking you. I want you to be happy. If this is too much …’
Yes, Grace thought. It is too much. More change. A huge change.
But, but …
It’ll be awful anyway, going back to Westfields. No Marie-Louise. I’d be on my own.
Here … Flambards, and everything … Jamie and Plum … and Marcus … I wouldn’t have to leave them.
I could be here. I could stay.
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
I can do it.
And suddenly she was full of elation. Determination. Hope.
‘Oh, Mum!’ she burst out. ‘I thought you were going to tell me something really awful!’
Her mother looked at her in transparent relief. ‘So – could you get used to the idea? Do you want to have a think?’
‘I’ve already thought. Yes, let’s go for it. D’you really mean it?’
‘Of course I do! I’d hardly joke about something so important, would I?’
Grace sat down, stood up again, clapped her hands over her mouth and gazed around the room and out of the window. ‘Oh, Mum – wow! It’s brilliant … There’s Skye too. I’ll already have a friend in the same year. But …’ Her mind was buzzing with questions that rushed in all at once. ‘But what about you? Your job – how will that work?’
‘The Trustees want to keep me on till Christmas, three days a week, and I can still go back to my freelance stuff. After that – well, it depends how things go here.’
‘What about that flat, though? The pink bedroom flat? I thought you’d signed the papers and everything?’
‘No,’ her mother said, after a moment. ‘I didn’t sign after all. It’s probably gone by now.’
‘Mum! Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I needed to see how things turned out. You know, at the meeting, and … everything.’
‘Devious or what?’
‘Well, I’m lucky it worked out. I’m so glad you’re pleased.’
‘Pleased? Understatement! It’s the best thing that could have happened!’
Grace went over and hugged her mother and they rocked together for a few moments, laughing.
‘So – this will be home, this flat?’
‘For a little bit longer, at least.’
Grace looked at her closely. ‘There’s more though, isn’t there?’ she said; then got it. ‘Aha! Roger. He’s part of this, isn’t he? You and him?’
‘Erm, yes.’ Mum had the secretive, pleased look Grace had often noticed when Roger was mentioned.
‘So you’re together now?’
‘Yes … we are. Will be. Want to be.’
‘So what if I’d said no, I want to go back to London?’
‘We’d have worked something out. It wouldn’t have been impossible. But this is better, so much better!’
Mum and Roger, Grace thought. Roger and Mum. They already seemed like a sort of team, looking to each other for company and support, spending time together when they didn’t need to.
Yes, she could live with that. She nodded approval. ‘That’s cool.’
‘I’m glad you think so!’
‘Well, it’s not as if I didn’t know. It’s pretty obvious.’
Her mother laughed. ‘Is it? And I thought we were being so discreet. So … you and I will stay on here in the Hayloft, at first. See how things work out. When we’ve all had time to get used to things, we can move in with Roger. That would be better, because this flat is really meant for visiting tutors to use. His flat over in the house has got plenty of space, with two bedrooms. You could have your own room, a lovely one, bigger than yours here.’
‘We can live in the house? In actual Flambards?’ For a moment she felt dizzy with the rightness of it. ‘And – you and Roger. Will you get married?’
Her mother shook her head, laughing. ‘I don’t know about that. We haven’t talked about it, and I don’t think either of us sees it as important. Weddings. Stuff. Fuss. We just want to be together.’
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