‘I’m not sure, really, apart from checking you were going home tomorrow. I tried to get him talking. You know what he’s like. He more or less ignored me; asked if you could call him back.’
‘He knows I’ll be there tomorrow,’ she said. ‘It won’t be anything I want to discuss on the phone.’
‘Elin…’ Fran looked concerned. ‘He rang our landline. He never does that. Don’t you think you should see what it’s about?’
‘Yeah, he sounded a bit weird,’ Jeff put in. ‘Weirder than usual.’
Fran batted him with a cushion. ‘Not nice.’
‘Dinner’s ready as soon as you’ve rung,’ he offered by way of apology.
‘It smells delicious,’ Elin said. ‘I’m going to enjoy my final meal with you two in peace. He can wait. Talk about attention seeking.’
Fran was holding the phone out to her. ‘You don’t have to be on for long. You’ll only worry all evening if you don’t speak to him.’
‘Will I?’
The regular headlights of oncoming cars dazzled her with monotonous regularity. Elin hated motorways and the driving rain was elevating it to headache level. Every time she passed a lorry the blinding spray made her feel as though she were plunging into the unknown for the seconds it took until the wipers swooped in to rescue her.
With a stretch of clear road ahead, she fumbled and shoved a CD into the slot. The bloody No Surrender demo. It didn’t matter; she just needed to drive out the refrain in her head: ‘Kip’s dead.’
The news had floored her; she knew how Bede would be feeling. The road became even more blurred as tears compounded the effect of rain on the windscreen. She imagined their beloved dog’s body – limp? stiff? – silky fur soaked with blood and slime. Bede hadn’t gone into details. She didn’t have to see. He’d already buried him behind the mill.
He’d said there was something else but he wanted to wait until they were together. She deliberately untensed her shoulders. That voice: if he intended to talk about reconciliation, he sounded bleak about it. She pulled out to overtake a bunch of slow-moving trucks. A pair of bright lights appeared behind her with a flash of aggression. She gripped the steering wheel to prevent herself from swerving. A cold fear took hold of her. Normally she’d have given them the finger and maintained her speed, or even slowed, but tonight she put on a spurt and swerved in as soon as she could to let the idiot past.
The house was in darkness. Elin parked next to the side door into the kitchen, drew her coat around her and raised her hood. The door was locked. She dived back into the car and found her keys. It was bolted. She knocked, called Bede’s name, knocked again, then went round to the front door. That, too, was barred like a fortress. She couldn’t recall them ever using the bolts.
The steady roar of the leat merged with the pattering of rain on her hood as she went to the living-room window. The curtains were drawn but there was a faint crack down one side. She peered in. A flickering glow infused the room from the fireplace, out of sight. As her eyes got used to the darkness, she saw Bede sitting on the sofa, bent forward, head in hands. She tapped on the window and he looked up. He lowered his head again. She knocked more forcefully, and called. He reached for the crutches, stood, and moved out of her line of sight. The fireglow swelled momentarily then was dimmed by the halting shadow of him crossing the room to the window. He tugged at the curtain to cover the crack. Soaking by now, she hammered on the window and yelled his name. He yanked the curtain back, eyes wide.
‘Elin!’
He motioned towards the door and she waited there, the din of water coming at her from all angles, as she listened to him rattling the bolts aside. It took a while; they were stiff with disuse. She was surprised they were still aligned. He opened the door.
‘Quick!’
She had hardly stepped in when he shut the door behind her and turned the key.
‘Take your wet things off. Fire’s lit.’
He turned back to the door, slid one bolt across and rattled the door in its frame as he tried to shove the other into its slot. He gave up and turned. He looked haggard, worse than she’d feared. She moved to hug him, all resentment gone, but he stepped back.
‘What’s going on, Bede? Why did you lock me out?’
‘It wasn’t you. I had to lock it. I’m not safe. We’re not safe.’
‘What on earth…?’
‘He didn’t get me, but he got my dog. He won’t be satisfied till we’ve gone…one way or another. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re here, safe.’
‘So you bolted the door on me. I said I was coming straight back.’
‘Not till late. You must’ve driven like a maniac.’
‘I said over three hours ago, after…after you told me about Kip, that I was setting off straight away.’ She turned back towards the door. ‘I need—’
‘No.’ His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t go.’
‘I’ve no intention of going.’
‘You should get your wet things off.’
She drew her arm from his grasp, frowning at him. ‘I need to get my bag from the car.’
‘Can’t it wait?’
‘I think I left the car door open.’ She gave him an accusing look. ‘I was distracted by trying all the doors and windows.’
‘For fuck’s sake. Hurry up, then. And lock up when you get back.’
She reached for the outside light switch.
‘Don’t.’
She switched it on in defiance; by the time she’d unbolted and opened the door he’d turned it off again. There was no point in a pantomime routine; she grabbed the torch they kept on a shelf by the door and went to fetch her bag. When she returned, half expecting to find the door locked against her, she secured it, took her bag to the bottom of the stairs and removed her sodden coat.
‘I’ve put the kettle on for you,’ he called. ‘You’ll need a hot drink to warm you up.’
His voice, and the thought, sounded reassuringly his own.
‘Thanks.’
She went through to the kitchen and hung her coat on the back of a chair to dry. Apart from her own wet footprints, the room was spotlessly clean. It seemed strangely silent. After a few moments she realised why: the hum of the boiler from the utility room was absent, and the kettle was dry and cold. She took it to the sink to fill it up. As she turned the tap on, she heard him call.
‘In here. Turn everything off and come through.’
Bewildered, she did as he said. The living room was lit only by the fire burning brightly in the woodburner. In the semi-darkness the room looked as neat as the kitchen, apart from a pile of books, papers and old clothes by the fire. She moved to switch a lamp on.
‘Leave it. Come and sit down, for goodness’ sake.’
She stayed standing in the doorway.
‘What’s going on, Bede?’
‘It’s all in here.’ He waved at the fireplace, where wisps of steam were beginning to escape from the stove-top kettle. ‘We’ve used far too much recently. It’s high time to put things right.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘All the extra light and heat I’ve wasted being ill, all the car journeys back and forth, everything. There’s a balance needs setting right.’
‘But it’s all ours, produced sustainably.’
‘Over-use, Elin. Things. Things that wear out, things that need replacing. However we might like to pretend with “clean” alternatives, we’re still surrounded by excess consumption. I’ve been as guilty as anyone and I need to change.’ He waved a hand in frustration. ‘I’ll explain more when I’ve got my head straight. For now, can’t you just accept how I feel without making me justify myself?’
She was finding it harder by the minute. ‘But what’s that heap?’
He followed her gaze towards the fireplace. ‘Stuff that needs getting rid of. Thought I might as well use it for fuel. Kill two birds with one stone.’
‘Thought you were against killing bi
rds,’ she muttered.
He looked at her, stung. ‘I don’t know how you can joke at a time like this.’
‘Sorry. Release of nervous tension.’
‘What do you mean, nervous?’ He leaned forward, agitated. ‘What do you think I’m going to do?’
‘Not you. Everything. All this.’
She wondered whether to join him on the sofa or sit down in the armchair across the room. The kettle emitted a faint whistle and she poured water on the tea bags in two mugs.
‘It’s not nice, is it? Not understanding, not knowing.’ He laughed harshly. ‘Steve didn’t get anywhere either, you know. Can’t either of you say what you mean? Tried to make out he was just here because of the job. I told him I knew, but it was obvious you’d got there first.’
‘It was only natural that I’d have spoken to him.’
‘Of course. Which is why it was so pathetic that he was rambling on as if nothing had happened. Like you are now.’ He shook his head. ‘Then I’ve got Northcote telling me to keep my wife under control. What’s that about?’
‘If you weren’t so stubborn about not having a TV in the house, you might have seen the news.’ She began to tell him about the protest and Philip’s involvement. His indifference stung. It may only have been on the local news, but he could have followed their actions online, at least. ‘I could tell you more, but you don’t look remotely interested.’
‘What do you expect?’
‘I’d hoped we could talk.’
His expression was unreadable. ‘I wanted to make sure you’re safe. I imagine we’re both upset about Kip. But as for the rest…’ He shifted his position. ‘Sit down, El.’
She finished making the tea, handed him a mug, then sat in the armchair across from him. The quiet crackling of the fire filled the silence. A third warm presence, who might have helped bridge the gap, was missing and everything else suddenly seemed petty.
‘I still can’t believe Kip isn’t here,’ she said quietly. ‘Tell me what happened.’
The firelight flickered shadows across his features. His hand fretted restlessly at the arm of the sofa.
‘Poor lad,’ he said. ‘I loved him, right to the end. None of it affected the way I felt.’
She felt lost again. ‘None of what?’
‘He was Joe’s dog, wasn’t he?’ He waved in dismissal. ‘All in good time. You asked what happened. He was missing for a while yesterday afternoon. After I found out…’ Bede studied his hand. ‘And again this morning. It felt like an omen. Not that I believe in them. But it did. I had this mad idea that as soon as I accepted everything, he’d be back. Maybe I just realised too late.’
‘Realised what?’
‘I had a blackout, yesterday. When I thought they were all over. Slept for hours. When I woke up, he’d disappeared again. Must’ve let him out during the night when I was half-asleep. Except I don’t sleepwalk, do I? As well as vanishing, he’d been generally playing up, you know? Like I’m acting all weird with all this shit, so he’s acting up too. When I got up to find him gone I didn’t think twice, just assumed he’d be back when he’d had enough pissing me off.’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘Can’t believe I…’
Rain rattled against the window pane as she wondered how to respond. He lowered his hands, eyes fixed on the ground.
‘So I didn’t go out to look straight away. I spent the morning cleaning, as if that’d make it right. I’d let things go. Let myself go. I don’t believe in omens but… If something comes from inside yourself, that’s just as real, isn’t it? I made the place spotless – for you, too. Didn’t want you to come back to… I kept thinking as soon as I’d finished, he’d be back. That’s what an omen is, something that makes you think and take notice.’
His hand was sweeping the arm of the sofa in a constant motion of brushing away imaginary dirt.
‘About lunch time, there’s a knock on the door. Silvan and Tamsin. Bloody panic-stricken. They’d been on their way up to the caravan, to surprise me by doing some work there. And there…in the leat…caught up on the water wheel… He was already dead; God knows how long he’d been there. Well, since last night. This morning? Must’ve let him out some time. Maybe I even drove him away. Can’t remember a fucking thing. Oh, Elin, how long is this going to go on for? So many gaps…scraps of memory, chunks of my life…gone.’
He looked at his hand, still now, on the arm of the sofa.
‘They were great, both of them. Helped me get him out. Well, got him out for me.’ He waved a disparaging hand at his plastered leg. ‘Not much use, was I? He’d been round yesterday, Silvan had, apologising for the way he’d been, and I didn’t want to know, but I was grateful they were both here this morning.’
He looked up, and at last met her eye.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t,’ she said.
‘I’m glad you didn’t see it. The way I was with that poor bloody dog when I got home yesterday lunch time. Everything was getting to me and I lost it. I’m sure Tamsin saw. And…and as we sat there round the kitchen table over mugs of tea, I could see her remembering it. Wondering… And I wondered…’
‘Bede, don’t.’ Shocked, she wanted to move over and sit by him. A slight shake of his head kept her where she was. ‘I know you’d never harm that dog.’
‘I don’t know anything any more. But there’s one thing I do bloody remember. I met fucking Northcote on Marjorie’s track yesterday and he made some remark about keeping my dog under control then told me to watch it. What kind of cold-blooded sicko would use a dog like that? So I just don’t feel safe. Sorry for locking you out.’
She wished she knew of a way to close the distance between them, and where to begin with all the questions his rambling account made her want to ask.
‘Put some more stuff on the fire,’ he said.
She opened the stove door. The smell was acrid. ‘What have you got on here?’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Shoes burn well, but they stink a bit.’
‘And cause a fair amount of pollution.’
‘I’m not in the mood, Elin.’
Shaking her head, she picked up a boot, the companion of which was presumably producing the smell. She frowned. ‘All this is Joe’s. These books, these photos. You’re not burning them?’
‘Got to go.’
‘We sorted through everything. We only kept things we could use or stuff with sentimental value.’
‘That was when I thought it mattered.’
Elin reluctantly put the second boot on the fire, watching the flames take hold. She could see the charred remains of photos among the ashes that had drifted out to the hearth. Refusing to add to them, she ignored Bede’s protests and reached instead for a log from the basket. The photo on top of the pile tugged at her heart: Bede, around sixteen, with a fishing rod and his first trout, pride lighting up his face. Imagining Joe’s own pride in his young nephew as he pointed the camera, she leaned forward and took it from the pile, away from the fire, then sat down. ‘Right, tell me properly. What were you doing at Marjorie’s and what’s all this about manic cleaning?’
He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I went to see Marjorie because I thought she might be able to tell me. She couldn’t. Well, some of it, but not what matters.’
‘Some of what?’
He drew a birthday card from down the side of the sofa. ‘This is going on the fire too, but I’m saving it till the end. It’s important. Without it I’d have remained deluded, possibly forever.’
He thrust it at her. She read it, wishing she’d found the right moment to talk about Suzanne Sherwell. It wouldn’t have made the revelation any more palatable, but she would have been there to share it with him.
‘So Joe had a wife and kids,’ he said. ‘He never told me. I had no idea.’ He took the card from her and flicked it so it spun and glided down, causing the pile to slide into an untidy heap. ‘Big deal, you might say. But then I find out they’re estranged because he’s done something unspeakable. Though Marjor
ie doesn’t know what it was, the Evil Deed. And even if she did, it seems they’ve all conspired down the years to keep me in the dark. For my own bloody good. You know what? Maybe they’re right. So now his dog’s gone I can put all this lot on the fire and that’s it. He’s not the man I thought he was so there’s nothing to lose. Lost it already. New me, new life.’
Elin stared at the flames stirring behind the blackened glass of the stove. She felt Bede’s eyes boring into her as if she were part of some conspiracy. Maybe she was.
‘You’re very quiet. What’s up? Wishing you’d found out more about my sordid background before you accepted my hand in marriage?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Whatever Joe did, it doesn’t affect the way I feel about you.’
She moved across to sit by him.
‘Oh, Elin. Why can’t things be back how they were?’
‘They can be – between us, at least.’
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