Imogen cocked her head. ‘We’ve had some very interesting chats about death and how you’ve refused to help him.’
Now they were getting somewhere. Logan had confided in Imogen. Of course he had. Along with Griff and Tess, he’d fallen for her charm.
Evie scoffed at her analysis. It wasn’t charm, it was sex. ‘Was this before or after you came up with your crazy care plan?’
Pointing to the door, Imogen locked eyes with Evie. ‘I’m offering you a lifeline. A way out. You don’t seem very grateful.’
‘Grateful?’ With their exchange taking a sinister twist, Evie lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You’re talking about murder.’
Imogen threw a hand in the air and laughed. ‘What a vivid imagination you have. In your mind I’m a what? Femme fatale? Assassin?’ She stood, smoothed down her skirt, and advanced upon Evie. ‘As much as I’m enjoying your little fantasy of me, I was simply talking about helping your father-in-law. Taking care of him properly. Paying him the attention he deserves. Murder?’ She tutted and exhaled noisily. ‘If I were you, I’d think very carefully before judging me. From what I’ve seen, you’re a terrible carer, an unloving wife, and a useless mother. If it wasn’t for Logan insisting you still play a part, I’d have replaced you already.’
It was evident to Evie the threat of replacement extended to other areas of her life. Immune to her charm, she could deal with Imogen; the woman was a liar and a manipulator, who used sex – or at least, the promise of sex – to get what she wanted. In that way, Evie was reminded of Neil. Imogen was a baby in comparison.
She pushed her away. ‘Get over yourself. I’ve dealt with far worse than you.’ She made a beeline for the hall, willing Imogen to respond. Evie was up for the fight.
‘I try to help, and this is the thanks I get. You’re impossible to like, Evie. I can see why Tess comes to me with her problems.’
Evie reeled. ‘You played on her weakness and you turned her head, but it won’t last. You’re a novelty. She’s an impressionable teen.’
‘An impressionable teen with issues.’ Imogen pulled up a sleeve and motioned several criss-cross patterns over her skin. ‘I’ve seen her arms.’
Although almost certain this was another lie constructed to divide and conquer the Hendrys, Evie faltered as an image of Tess tugging at her cuffs bore its way into her head. She’d thought of it as a habit; a nervous action of a self-conscious girl, not a means of hiding evidence. Perhaps that was what Imogen had seen too, and was twisting it to add weight to her silly mind games. If it wasn’t for the fact Evie could access a number of memories where Tess covered up, she’d dismiss the claim without a second thought.
For now, determined not to show her concern, she recovered her poise. It was time to draw an end to the debacle, and show Imogen she had met her match.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Evie said. ‘So I’m going to leave you playing house, and when you’ve decided what it is you want, come and find me.’
Imogen closed in on her. ‘Oh, I want lots of things.’ Taking another stride nearer, she slid her thumb and finger down one edge of Evie’s collar. ‘And I always get what I want.’
‘Is that so?’ Evie remained deadpan. ‘Well, now you’re just sounding like a spoiled brat.’ She shook her head, removed Imogen’s hand from her jacket, and left the building.
Where did the woman get off interfering in others’ lives?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Griff
Clutching his chest, as his heart thumped out a salsa, Griff rolled over and snatched at his phone. It flew off the top of the bedside unit and thudded to the floor.
‘Man.’ He threw back the duvet, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and found the mobile with his foot. Bending to pick it up, he stopped halfway through to stretch and yawn. It was his first full day off, and he’d not had nearly enough sleep. ‘Who the …?’ He scrabbled around for a few seconds and finally got hold of his phone. There was no point looking at its screen – his eyes hadn’t joined the party yet. ‘Hendry.’
‘You look wrecked.’ Tess invited Griff into the cottage.
‘Interrupted night. What’s your excuse?’ He licked his finger and drew an imaginary number one in the air.
‘Your humour’s not affected by lack of sleep, then?’ Tess smiled and leaned round the bottom stair post, her neck craned. ‘Mum! Griff’s here. And he has flowers, the old romantic.’ She grinned, as Griff gawped at his empty hands. ‘Pick some daffs from the front,’ she said as she sauntered into the living room. ‘They’ll cheer Mum up. She seems a bit low.’
Evie’s voice travelled down from above. ‘I’m just changing Dylan. Come on up.’
‘Two minutes.’ Griff ducked through the front door onto the drive, and round to the side of the cottage. He picked seven of the largest daffodils, gathered them together and returned to the hall, all the time wondering what had brought Evie’s mood down. The other day with its intense revelations had been tiring and emotional, but Evie had been relaxed and content by the time Griff left. He’d missed her last night, leaving the cottage before she’d returned. Perhaps that was the problem. ‘You don’t mind me popping round like this, do you?’ He took the stairs two by two, his long stride coping effortlessly.
‘Of course not,’ Evie said. ‘This is your home.’
That sounded good. And promising.
He hopped over Dylan’s safety gate and checked Evie’s eyes. ‘Are you okay?’ Her sparkle wasn’t as bright as before. ‘You look done in.’
‘How to woo your wife. Thanks.’ What looked like the start of a smile was hijacked by a yawn. ‘Sorry. Late night. I’ll tell you about it later. I’m better now you’re here.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’ That’s all Griff wanted – to be there for his family. ‘How far through changing Dylan are you? Shall I take over?’ The odour of a full and well-fibred nappy reached him a fraction later. ‘Can I retract my offer?’ Griff laughed as Evie shook her head and passed him the baby wipes. He tendered the flowers in exchange.
‘I grow a good daff, don’t I?’ Evie pressed the gift to her breast. ‘Remind me to thank Tess later.’ For a brief moment, she held Griff’s hand. ‘I know they come from your heart. Thank you.’
‘There are seven,’ he said. ‘One for each member of our family – you, me, Tess, Dylan and my dad. And one for Ozzy.’
‘That’s six,’ Evie said, separating the tallest one and showing it to Griff. ‘Who’s this for?’
‘Ah.’ He hesitated, debating whether or not to speak the line he’d thought of when he was in the garden. He didn’t understand the language of flowers, but daffodils bloomed in the spring, and that signified rebirth; another chance to get life right. ‘That one is for love,’ he said. ‘And the promise of new beginnings.’
‘I like that.’ Evie drew close. ‘New beginnings.’ After a tender kiss on Griff’s lips, she released a sigh, tapped the packet of wipes in his possession, and directed his attention to their son. ‘It’s an end you have to deal with now.’
‘Daddy.’ A pair of chubby legs and two arms waved from the changing mat as Griff attended to his parental duties.
He wafted his hand in front of his nose and pulled a face. ‘Phew! Dylan! That’s disgusting.’ His exaggerated expression sent Dylan into a fit of giggles. ‘What’s Mum been feeding you? Cabbage? Brussels sprouts? Beans?’ He pinched his nostrils together. ‘Please. Not beans.’
The clown act produced delightful belly laughter from Dylan, which in turn produced a not-so-delightful bout of wind, and the possibility of a perpetual circle of toilet humour, grimaces and giggles.
‘Boys,’ Griff heard Evie say. He stiffened his jaw, and widened his eyes.
‘Let’s get you sorted,’ he said, taking pleasure from the joy on Dylan’s face. ‘Do you have plans today?’ He peered over his shoulder at Evie. She had the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips. ‘Once you’ve fixed Dad’s lunch.’
‘I’m not going in today.
’ Her tone changed. ‘It’s the first day of the new care system.’
Griff didn’t miss the pointed emphasis. He raised his brows at his son. ‘It’s bound to feel strange to start with. Are you working a rota?’ He threw a dirty wipe in the nappy sack.
‘Yes. It was Imogen’s idea. She has a lot of those. We’re taking alternative weekends, but she’s taken Wednesday evenings and everything on Thursdays and Fridays.’
‘So you have two whole days off?’ Having dried and dressed Dylan, Griff scooped him into his arms, squeezed him and then set him down on the floor. ‘You know, now Dad and I are heading in the right direction, perhaps I could add my name to your schedule.’ He didn’t look at Evie. She had every reason to read him the Riot Act and accuse him of only stepping in now that Logan’s care was divided. Instead, he tidied away the nappy paraphernalia and trotted out of the bedroom into the bathroom.
Evie was close on his tail. ‘You’d do that?’ She perched on the closed toilet seat, her face a picture of wonder.
The Riot Act would have caused less guilt.
Griff washed and dried his hands, and propped himself against the basin. ‘I should have been doing it already. I’ve been pig-headed and stupid, and I misread my dad’s situation. Now I’d like the chance to do something right. I’d have to work around my shifts, but that won’t be a problem.’
He fell quiet, giving Evie the opportunity to consider the logistics of adding his name to the rota. He tilted the mirror on the windowsill and inspected his chin for bristles. After his early morning phone call, he’d shaved in a hurry. It was debatable whether or not he’d been awake enough to wield a razor, but he’d heard somewhere people should do one thing each day that scared the living daylights out of them.
‘I think Logan would love for you to help.’ Evie’s reflection joined Griff’s and it mimicked his moves. ‘I find a wet shave’s the only way to go.’ She smiled as she transferred her finger from her jawline to his.
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘About that and Dad. I should have been here for you and him before.’
His face was gently angled towards Evie’s.
‘You’re here now, and that’s what matters. Where you and I are concerned, what’s past is past. We’ve already established that.’ Her eyes creased at the corners; fine, delicate maps guiding those she’d taught to read them to a world of brilliance and intensity.
Griff pressed his lips to her forehead. ‘If I wasn’t already in love with you, I’d fall, right here, right now.’ He stepped behind her, bringing their bodies together, acutely aware she’d feel how much he wanted her. ‘We’ve never made love in here.’ He arched to kiss behind her ear and at first she yielded, rolling her head onto his shoulder, but as he swept her hair into his hand, she quickly reclaimed it and recoiled. He released her immediately.
‘Not here,’ she said. ‘Not the bathroom.’ She held her flower-free hand in the air and backed onto the landing. ‘Neil … It’s not a good place.’
Out of sight, it was the clunk of a safety gate that gave away her bolthole. She’d retreated into Dylan’s room.
Griff waited outside.
Clearly where Neil was concerned, some things weren’t past.
‘Evie?’ Griff knocked on the door. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. I’ll see you downstairs.’
Her voice was steady and calm. If she was crying, Griff determined, it would be breathy and stilted. That had to be a positive sign. ‘Would you like me to take Dylan?’
Silence.
‘Evie?’
‘He’s not in here. Tess must have got him when we were talking.’
Griff swished the toe of his shoe over the carpet, watching the loose pile form into a thin sausage. ‘So … Don’t you think you should come out?’
His gentle persuasion was rewarded. As the door opened, he released the gate handle, and Evie stepped through.
Relieving her of the daffodils, he took her hand and led her to the stairs. With the top gate already open, they descended the first few steps.
‘It’s not that I didn’t want to, you know …?’ Evie cast her eyes towards the bathroom. ‘I did. I do. Just not there.’ She rubbed Griff’s arm. ‘Sorry.’
‘Hey. No more. We need to get ready to go out, anyway.’ She’d talk to him when she was ready. For now Griff was satisfied Evie was handling things her way.
‘We’re going out?’
‘I’m off, you’re off, Tess is on holiday and Dylan’s clean, what’s stopping us? It’s a little breezy, but we can wrap up.’ He tipped Tess’s hat off the coat stand on the way past, catching it before it hit the floor. ‘And I could use a little support when I collect Ozzy’s ashes.’ He halted and looked at Evie. ‘The vet called this morning.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, Griff, I’d have expected the urn to be bigger.’ Sitting at a picnic table at Portland Bill, Tess lifted the rectangular, maple box, and tested the weight. ‘And it’s not really an urn, is it? I expected it to be like a vase.’ She put it back down on the slatted surface. ‘Is that really Ozzy inside?’
Evie draped a protective hand over the box. ‘Perhaps you should take Dylan over to the swings, Tess?’ Dylan’s face lit up and he wriggled excitedly on the bench.
With their legs already touching, Griff nudged Evie’s knee. ‘It’s okay. Tess is right. The size surprised me, too.’ He slid the box from under her hand. ‘Yep. It’s Ozzy.’ For a large dog with a huge character, Griff had expected the container to be bigger. ‘There were these great, elaborate, ornamental urns, but it started to get a bit Aladdin. And what would we have done with it once we’d scattered the ashes?’
Tess hauled a fidgeting Dylan onto her lap. ‘Plant a shrub in it, in Ozzy’s memory.’
‘Nice idea. Perhaps we could do something similar with the box.’ Griff had considered launching it out to sea – a vessel to sail Ozzy safely to his next adventure – but it went against Griff’s principles and his love of the ocean. ‘I don’t think we should keep it inside though.’ He found the custom of having an urn on display a little macabre. ‘And there’s no garden where I’m living.’
‘The corner with the white roses was a favourite spot,’ Evie said, her hand disappearing under the table. ‘We could plant a second bush there in his honour.’
‘At the cottage?’ Griff’s thigh was instantly warmed as Evie laid her hand on top.
‘Of course,’ she said, a quizzical frown overshadowing her smile. ‘It’s your home.’
The statement was ambiguous – it lay somewhere between a fact and an open invitation to return. Before Griff had time to pursue it, Tess diverted his attention.
‘Mum said I could have a piercing in Ozzy’s honour.’
Griff lifted an eyebrow. ‘That’s … sweet.’
‘You don’t mind?’
This was new – Tess seeking Griff’s say-so. ‘Well, as you know I’m not a huge fan of body art,’ he began, cautious not to annihilate Tess’s enthusiasm, ‘but it’s not my body and it’s not my art.’ He hesitated, reviewing his answer. ‘You were asking for my blessing, right? And that was nothing like a blessing, was it?’ No wonder Tess was giving him the death stare. He held up an index finger, indicating he had more to say. ‘But I do understand it’s a form of self-expression and it’s a touching gesture, so if your mum says it’s okay, then …’ He paused, searching for the right words. ‘I thank you for loving Ozzy so much that you’d like to mark his time with us.’ He nodded in a self-confident manner, smiled, and waited for Tess to reply.
The death stare had morphed into a gape of sympathy. ‘Do you get how truly tragic you are?’ Tess lifted Dylan off her lap, took his hand and then grinned at Griff. ‘That’s exactly how a step-dad should be.’ She blew him a cheeky kiss, showed Dylan how to do the same, and then they took off, racing towards the swings.
‘I do believe she’s given you her blessing.’ Evie squeezed Griff’s leg.
He reached under the table and gripped her
hand. For three years he’d hoped Tess would accept him as part of her family. There were no words for such an incredible moment.
He pinched and cuffed his nose, rubbed his fingers over his mouth, and rested his chin in the crook of his palm, watching his children … his children run across the grass. ‘She’s a good kid,’ he said, once he felt his voice wasn’t going to crack.
‘She is.’
Pulling their hands up from under the table, Griff straddled the bench and looked at Evie. ‘Why am I sensing a but?’
‘It’s not a but.’ She stopped, giving Griff even more cause for concern, then she released a rapid breath, picked up Ozzy’s urn and skimmed a thumb over his name. ‘Where would you like to scatter his ashes?’
She’d changed the subject. That didn’t bode well.
‘I was thinking here,’ said Griff. ‘On The Bill. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. Are you allowed to?’
‘I hadn’t given it any thought.’ It wasn’t a concern of Griff’s. Ozzy’s dusty remains weren’t going to hurt the ecosystem. Ashes to ashes and all that. ‘Who’s going to know, except us?’
Evie surveyed the land and pointed to a group of people posing for photographs next to the lighthouse. ‘They’d know.’ She turned towards the café. ‘And the man coming out of there – he’d know.’ She twisted to see behind and nodded to a lone elderly man, sitting on a bench looking out to sea. ‘And he’d know, too. It’s pretty busy, Griff.’
‘I wasn’t planning on doing it right now.’ He enclosed Evie’s hand in his and settled it on her lap. ‘We could do it tomorrow morning, before the world awakes.’
‘We?’
‘Of course we. Tess and Dylan too.’
Evie’s eyes enlarged. Their brightness would save ships, Griff thought.
‘I guarantee Dylan will be awake,’ she said. ‘But Tess won’t stir before the birds. She’s a teen, she’s on school holidays and she’s already had a couple of early starts helping your dad with his breakfast.’ She restored Ozzy’s urn to the table.
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