‘Liza, darling. Janie.’ Phil had walked forward silently, his red-and-white umbrella an incongruous splash of colour in the sombre greens and browns of the old churchyard beneath its backdrop of dark, mist-shrouded mountains. ‘Come away. Look, little Beth and Patricia are getting cold. Let’s go back to the farm.’
Jane shook her head. ‘I don’t want to leave him.’ Tears were pouring down her face. ‘It’s so cold and lonely up here.’
‘It’s a beautiful place, Janie my love. You’ll be glad one day he’s got such a lovely spot to lie.’ Phil pushed the baby into her arms, holding the umbrella higher to give her shelter. ‘Here, take your little granddaughter. She wants to go home to the warm. This is not the place for her.’
Gently he ushered the three women away from the graveside along the narrow path towards the gate where only their own car remained. Behind them the two grave-diggers moved discreetly forward and reached for their shovels.
In St Albans Adam sat unmoving at his desk. He had not washed or shaved since Jane had gone, getting up now and then only to make himself a cup of tea or climb the stairs, painfully slowly, to lie on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep had evaded him completely. Robert Harding had looked in every day, avoiding as he always did the room where his own wife had died in this doomed house, and on the morning of the funeral had come himself and made Adam some breakfast. Adam left it untouched, thanking him with barely civil indifference.
Twice the police had come, the first time to say that a witness had been found who had seen in the brief second before the crash a woman step out in front of his son’s car, and the second to say they could find no trace of that woman but would go on hoping she might come forward. The sergeant who spoke to him, his helmet resting on his knees uncomfortably in Adam’s study, was hoping the news would help. ‘It sounds as though by his action in avoiding her, your son saved her life,’ he said. ‘It was very brave.’
‘It was stupid.’ Adam stared dully ahead of him.
‘Nevertheless, courageous,’ the policeman replied firmly. He stood up. ‘I will let you know, Dr Craig, if we hear anything further.’
When he had let the man out of the front door Adam stood for a long time where he was in the hall, staring into space, then slowly he turned and walked through to the kitchen. Opening the back door he walked into the wet, cold garden and stepped out onto the grass.
A-dam …
She was waiting for him by the roses.
‘Brid?’
Dazed with lack of sleep and misery he let her lead him back into the house and up the stairs. In the bedroom he found himself lying down on the bed, his head swimming with exhaustion and, at last, he found himself shutting his eyes, barely aware of the weight on the bed next to him, of the hand gently caressing his hair, of the lips brushing his face as he sank deeper and deeper into oblivion.
Shaking her head, Jane put the phone down. ‘He’s still not answering.’
‘Let him be.’ Liza pressed a cup of hot tea into her hand. ‘You know as well as I do that there are times when Adam needs to be alone. Don’t worry. He’ll be all right.’
Privately she had her doubts about that. The sight of Adam’s grief and anger had shaken her badly, as had his furious rejection of her and the baby, his own grandchild. Jane hadn’t been there when Adam had spoken to her, his rage spilling out like venom, his face red, the veins in his neck throbbing dangerously. If he had never met her, Liza, it seemed, her child would never have killed his son. It was irrational and cruel. It was the first time she had recognised his father’s recalcitrance in Adam, and remembered his descriptions of the old man’s stubbornness as he fought on his knees with his stern unforgiving God and turned his back on the woman he had loved so much.
Checking that little Beth was fast asleep, Liza slipped on a jacket and letting herself out of the house, she walked slowly over to the orchard gate. It was already growing dark. The air was sweet with the scents of wet grass and leaves and the gentle smell of the mountain thyme. Patricia had been driven back to Surrey, the last of the funeral guests had gone and the house was quiet. Jane was lying on the sofa in the living room near the fire, her eyes closed, whilst Phil had withdrawn to the kitchen with a sudden urge to tidy up. She knew that sign. He was overwhelmed, unable to contain his grief except by working all night until sheer fatigue numbed his pain. He would start with the washing up, then tidy the house for her, then move out, when he could bear to be alone, to the studio and probably stay over there for days. She was different. She could not bear to be indoors. She found comfort in nature, relying on the mountains and the great immensity of the sky to put her own problems in perspective and soothe her with their peace.
It was beginning to drizzle again. She listened to the patter of raindrops on the leaves as she leaned on the gate. It was strange, but she felt closer to Adam now than she had at any time during their long relationship. She wished he had come to the funeral. If she had been his wife she would have insisted; would have forced him out of that awful, stiff, lonely, empty house where a woman had been murdered and made him come down to see his son buried. That way he would have come to terms with what had happened. That way he would have been forced to take his little granddaughter in his arms and let her heart-breakingly beautiful little smile melt all that ice in his heart.
She shivered, picturing Adam sitting in his study, staring at the desk in front of him. Then she tensed. In the picture with him she could see Brid, a Brid she remembered only too well, young, wild-haired, beautiful, a Brid who had put her arms around him and was nuzzling into his neck, a Brid who suddenly stiffened like a cat who has sensed an enemy close by and looked up, and, it seemed to Liza, looked straight into her own eyes. Just for a second she saw the venom and the triumph there, then the picture disappeared and she was once more staring out into the rain.
For several minutes she stood without moving, cold with shock, then she turned and made her way swiftly back to the house.
Jane was sitting in the armchair by the fire when Liza walked in. ‘Did you say the crash was caused by a woman walking out in front of them?’ Liza asked abruptly. She squatted down in front of the smouldering logs and held out her hands to their warmth.
Jane nodded. ‘She never came forward,’ she replied without opening her eyes.
Liza took a deep breath, then she lapsed into silence. There was no point in saying to Jane that she thought Brid had killed their children, that Brid had done it cynically and cruelly in order to get Adam to herself. That sounded like the height of paranoia. Besides, Brid hadn’t got Adam to herself. Jane and she were still alive. And so was little Beth.
‘Ring Adam again.’ Liza had settled on the hearth rug, her arms wrapped around her knees. ‘See if you can persuade him to come. I can’t bear to think of him alone.’
‘He won’t come.’ Jane shook her head. ‘You know he won’t. He can’t cope with it. He’s better on his own.’
‘No one is better on their own, Jane,’ Liza whispered. ‘Can I ring him if you won’t?’
The other woman opened her eyes. ‘You think you can persuade him when I can’t? You think you could have made him come, don’t you?’ She gave a small sad smile. ‘Perhaps you could. Perhaps you should have been the one to marry him, I don’t know. None of it really matters now, does it?’ She hauled herself to her feet. ‘Ring him if you want to, I don’t mind.’
Without another word she went over to the door and let herself out into the corridor. Liza, sitting without moving near the fire, heard the slow drag of her footsteps as she went upstairs and then the bang of her bedroom door.
For a long time she didn’t move, then she reached up to the table for the phone and dialled the number.
It rang and rang without answer as though in an empty house. In the end she gave up and gently replaced the receiver. She wondered if the picture she saw suddenly in her head of Adam lying naked in bed with a dark head on his chest was real or just her own worst imaginings.
> Two weeks later, Liza drove Jane back to St Albans. Little Beth was in her carrycot on the back seat as they drove up the road and pulled to a halt outside the house.
‘You’d better go in first.’ Liza turned to Jane. ‘Make sure it’s all right for me to bring Beth in.’
‘Of course it’s all right.’ Jane pushed open the door. ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense. He’ll be fine when he sees her.’
In the past fortnight they had only managed to speak to Adam twice. Once Jane had caught him at the surgery when she had rung there in complete despair of ever getting hold of him, and once Liza, ringing late in the evening had caught him when he was on night call. Both women were comforted that he had at least gone back to work. Both, for different reasons, had reservations about his dull, unresponsive voice and insistence that Jane should not go home.
Liza peered through the windscreen as Jane walked up the path, searching in her handbag for her keys. It was a bright cold windy day and her hair was blowing across her face and round her head in a pale blonde nimbus which Adam once would have found irresistible.
Liza saw her push the key in the lock. The door didn’t open. Jane pushed at it, and wriggled the key, then she took it out and looked at it, then tried it again. She tried a second key on the ring, then the first for the third time, then she pushed open the letter box and called.
Liza glanced over into the back seat. Beth was fast asleep. Opening the door she climbed out. She ran up the path. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I think he’s bolted the door.’
‘Can you get round the back?’
Jane frowned. She glanced at the neighbouring house, then nodded. ‘Wait here. I’ll see if I can get in through the kitchen.’
‘Do you want me to come?’
For a moment Jane hesitated, then she shook her head. ‘No, you wait here. If I get in I’ll come and open the door.’ She glanced at the car. ‘We can’t leave her alone, Liza.’
The path led between the garages of the two houses past the dustbins and followed a black slatted board fence, to a small gate which led into the garden. The gate was open and Jane went in. The French doors to Adam’s study were shut, but the door into the kitchen was ajar and she made for it, her stomach knotting with anxiety.
The house was very quiet. Holding her breath she tiptoed in and stopped. There was no sign of anyone having been in there lately. No dirty plates, no food. The cooker was cold and the table was covered in a fine layer of dust.
But there was someone there. She could feel it. Someone who shouldn’t be there. She stood where she was listening with every ounce of attention then slowly she crept across the floor and peered round the door. The hall was empty. She knew she should turn and run; she should call Liza, call the police, but she couldn’t move. Somewhere in the distance she could hear a clock ticking in the silence. Swallowing, she tiptoed across the floor and plucking up every ounce of courage she possessed she pushed open Adam’s study door. The room was empty. On the desk a full cup of tea sat untouched, a brown sour skim on its surface. Cautiously she peered into each of the downstairs rooms then she turned to look up the stairs. She could hear nothing. It was almost as though someone up there was listening to her in their turn.
‘Adam?’ It came out as a whisper.
Slowly she began to climb.
Her hand on the bedroom door, she paused for a minute, then cautiously she pushed it open. The curtains were half drawn and the room was in semi-darkness. There was a small stir in the air, a slight frisson by the bed, a feeling as though between one moment and the next someone had been there and then not been there. She took a step inside the door.
Adam lay fast asleep on the bed. Apart from a trailing sheet he was naked.
‘Adam? Adam!’ Jane stepped forward and shook him by the shoulder. ‘Adam! Wake up!’
There was no response.
‘Adam!’ Her voice rose in panic.
Outside, Liza shivered. She glanced behind her at the empty street and then, as Jane had done, stooped and raising the flap of the letterbox, peered through. The hall was dark, and she could see a scattering of post on the mat. The air smelled dusty and stale. The house was very silent. She lowered the flap and stood up again, inhaling deep breaths of cold air. In the distance she saw a small red post van turn the corner. It drove down the street slowly and stopped about four doors down. She saw the postman climb out with a parcel, walk up a path, ring a doorbell, have a cheery word with the person who opened the door and then climb back in his van. In less than a minute it was out of sight and the road was again empty. She felt incredibly lonely. She glanced at her watch. Jane had been gone only a few minutes. It seemed like hours.
She thought she heard a wail from the car and turning she ran back down the path, but Beth, when she looked in, was fast asleep. She wished she could lock the car, but Jane had taken the keys with her and she didn’t dare push down all the knobs. She locked three of them and then, leaving one so she could reach Beth if she had to, she walked back up the path and crouching, raised the flap of the letterbox. ‘Jane?’ she called softly. ‘Adam? Are you there?’ Jane should have been there by now. If she hadn’t been able to get in surely she would have come straight back. She glanced at her watch again and then, making up her mind she turned and ran towards the side of the neighbour’s garden where Jane had disappeared. At the corner she paused once, giving a final glance at the car with the sleeping baby, then she dived into the damp, narrow pathway. ‘Jane? Where are you? Jane?’ She ran up the steps from the wet lawn onto the terrace and pushed the kitchen door open fully. ‘Jane, where are you?’
There was no one there and she ran on into the hall. The front door was still closed and she went to it, drawing back the bolt and unlatching it to let in the fresh damp air. The car was where she had left it and there was no one around that she could see. She stood for a minute, torn between going to make sure that Beth was all right and looking for Jane.
‘Jane!’ She shouted at the top of her voice this time. ‘Jane, where are you?’
Adam’s study was empty, as was the sitting room. Glancing round she came back to the hall and, her throat tight with apprehension she took the stairs two at a time.
‘Jane!’
Pushing open the bedroom door she took in the scene at a glance. ‘Jane? Is he all right? What’s wrong with him?’ Her hands were on Jane’s shoulders.
‘I don’t know.’ Jane’s voice was strangely flat. Her face was pasty-white. ‘I can’t wake him.’
Liza pushed her towards the door. ‘Go and ring Robert. Quickly.’ She went over to the bed and put a hand on Adam’s forehead. ‘Adam? Adam, can you hear me?’ Please God let him not have taken an overdose. He was warm, and relaxed. His eyes when she carefully lifted a lid appeared normal. She could see no sign of any pill bottles on the bedside table. She caught his hand and rubbed it hard between her own. ‘Adam! Come on, wake up! Adam!’ She looked up at Jane as she reappeared in the doorway. ‘Did you get through?’
Jane nodded.
‘How long will he be?’
‘Not long. He’s coming straight from the surgery. Has he – he hasn’t taken something?’ Jane was shaking violently. ‘I can’t lose them both, Liza.’
‘You’re not going to lose him. I think he’s going to be all right.’ Liza was still chafing Adam’s hand. She pulled the bedcover up and over him. Then she went to the window and glanced down, appalled to find that she had forgotten all about the baby.
‘Go down, Jane, and bring Beth in. I had to leave her on her own. I’ll stay with Adam.’ She sounded stronger than she felt. ‘Please, I hated leaving her out there but I didn’t dare bring her in until I knew what was going on in here.’
Jane hesitated, then slowly she walked out of the room. From the window Liza saw her reappear outside a few seconds later, walk down the path to the car and open the door.
Turning to the figure on the bed Liza put her hand on his forehead again. ‘Adam!’ she said sharply.
‘Adam, can you hear me? Has Brid been here with you?’
She hoped Jane hadn’t noticed the tell-tale red marks on his neck, the small sharp marks of a woman’s teeth on his shoulder, or the scratches on his chest. Undoubtedly Robert would.
He arrived moments later and she waited downstairs while Jane took him up to the bedroom. When Jane came down she had put on a record of Chopin nocturnes and was turning her attention to the fire.
‘He’s waking up.’ Jane threw herself down in the chair. ‘Robert doesn’t think he’s taken anything. It was just exhaustion. He seems very confused. He’s just checking his blood pressure to be on the safe side.’
Liza sat back on her heels, a lump of coal in her hand. She came straight to the point. ‘That amulet I gave you all those years ago. Where is it?’
Jane looked vague. ‘By my bed, I think. In the cupboard. I don’t know. Why? It doesn’t work any more, I told you. Does it matter?’ Frowning she went over and looked down into the carrycot. Beth stirred and opened her huge blue eyes. Waving her arms around she began to whimper.
‘I don’t know if it matters but I could try taking it back to Meryn. Get him to take a look at it when he comes back. There must be something we can do to keep you both safe.’
‘So you think Brid was here too.’ Stooping, Jane lifted Beth from her blankets. ‘What is she, Liza?’ she wailed suddenly. ‘A ghost? Some kind of devil?’ She clutched the baby to her. ‘Why won’t she leave us alone?’
It grew easier as time passed. He turned to her whenever he was lonely and he was lonely often. She had watched when he had sent Liza and the baby away and she had watched when he packed his things and moved from the bedroom with his wife and the silly, dented amulet with no more power than a child’s toy, into the room which had been for visitors. His son’s old room was locked. Neither he nor Jane went in there any more.
On the Edge of Darkness Page 34