Riverflow

by Alison Layland

  And Suzanne Sherwell’s reply: Yes, that’s him. Where is he? Is he OK?

  Riverflow

  Elin’s departure left a void that Bede wanted to fill by jumping on his bike and racing after her. No use; it would only make matters worse if he broke the terms of his injunction when they’d just got home. Resentment rose in him at the extent of the bail restrictions, and at all the wasted journeys he’d have to make to report in to the distant police station. He suppressed it, thinking of Elin’s parting shot. Self-pity.

  He busied himself clearing the kitchen cupboards, all the while running a variety of apologies through his mind. It was impossible to turn back the last few weeks and undo all that had happened, but he could do his damnedest to straighten things out, make it right between the two of them. He wished she’d stayed, wished he’d shown more gratitude, wished he hadn’t driven her away – again. He told himself not to over-react; he’d have gone himself to help out in the village if he’d been able. Rain spattered against the window. Why did she have to go out in this, though? He thought of the day they lost Joe and suddenly none of the hurt and betrayal was important any more.

  A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He ignored it. No one but Elin mattered. It came again. He steeled himself, and was surprised to see Silvan dripping on the doorstep.

  ‘You’d better come in.’

  He’d never seen him so agitated.

  ‘Glad you’re back home. Shit, man, what’s happened to your hair?’

  Bede waved a hand in dismissal.

  ‘Mate, I need your help,’ Silvan said, hovering by the door. ‘I’ll explain on the way.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  With a despairing sigh, Silvan moved to lean against the kitchen counter. ‘You’ve got to come. You won’t believe what I’ve seen. We can’t miss this opportunity.’

  ‘We?’ Bede shook his head. ‘Explain.’

  Silvan told him he’d been in Holtwood making sure the pens and shoot equipment were reasonably safe from the rising water, when he’d seen lights and movement in the fields beyond.

  ‘Drilling equipment. They’re moving in.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Bede said. ‘It’s ages before the appeal hearing.’

  ‘Do you think that’d stop them? Listen, if they get as much stuff as they can in now, then when they’re given the go-ahead—’

  ‘If.’

  ‘If they do, they’ll have it all there ready. One protest less to face. Don’t you see?’

  ‘But it’s dusk, pissing down, and the river’s bursting its banks. No one in their right mind—’

  ‘They’re not in their right minds, are they?’ Silvan circled a finger around his temple. ‘But that’s the point. No one’s going to notice, or if they do, they’re too preoccupied with the floods to do anything.’

  ‘And Northcote’s too preoccupied with Marjorie. Even he—’

  ‘It’s not just him, is it? The Prospect G guys could be acting off their own bat. Right now!’

  Bede really didn’t need this. ‘What do you expect me to do about it?’

  ‘You know.’ Silvan waved a hand. ‘You used to do all that…stuff, didn’t you? Monkeywrenching. Mechanical sabotage. At that protest camp of yours, Calsthorpe Wood.’

  ‘All in the past. Anyway, where’d you hear about that?’

  Silvan hesitated. ‘Tammy told me. Elin told her.’ He moved impatiently towards the door. ‘Fuck’s sake man, will you stop wasting time?’

  It might be in the past, but the memory of Calsthorpe stirred a familiar anger. Bede had never truly believed Northcote would go ahead with this. Before he could get swept along on a tide of rage, an imaginary tingle spread from the tag on his ankle. ‘I’m not allowed more than a mile radius from the house. That puts the far side of Holtwood and anything beyond it out of bounds.’

  ‘Jesus H Christ! What kind of activist are you? What you said – it’s nearly dark and it’s pissing down. You’ll be home before anyone knows.’

  ‘What’s dark got to do with it?’ Bede tapped his leg. ‘Either this thing’s waterproof and keeps spying on me or it goes dead and they know I’m up to something. Whichever, I’m not risking—’

  ‘All right, we don’t set foot beyond the woods. Have you got a decent camera? We collect some evidence, then it’s up to you – and Elin – what you do with it.’

  Bede thought of Elin’s disillusionment at his refusal to get more involved. If he acted now, for her, surely it would beat any of the apologies he’d just been rehearsing. Actions speaking louder than words and all that. He stood. Silvan shuffled from foot to foot by the door as he went through to the living room to get his camera, and sighed with impatience as Bede opened the bag and checked it over, put on his coat, tucked his glasses in his pocket and grabbed his walking stick.

  ‘At last.’ Silvan headed out to the jeep.

  Bede was about to lock up and follow when his eyes fell on the phone. He quickly dialled Elin’s mobile, swore as the recorded message told him she was on another call, and left a voicemail. ‘There’s stuff happening beyond Holtwood. I’m going to check out what we can do about it. I’ll be back soon. Love you.’

  Plumes of water arced to either side of the jeep as Silvan sped down the lane, clearly enjoying the drama. ‘They’ll have accessed the site round the back roads, of course,’ he said, ‘but we’ll head this way. Don’t want to get you into any more trouble.’

  The Holtwood track was too churned up for them to go far.

  ‘We’ll have to walk from here.’ He parked out of sight of the road. Bede levered himself from the car, a twinge from his healing ankle making him wonder what on earth he was doing here. He looked down the short, steep bank at the river sliding past, menacingly close. The dusky air was still saturated; a light rain fell, punctuated by fatter splashes from the dripping leaves. He peered through the trees.

  ‘I can’t see any lights.’

  ‘They must’ve left the stuff and gone.’

  ‘What, no security lights?’

  ‘Who d’you think I am?’ Silvan looked at him for a moment in the half-light, before breaking into a smile. ‘I’m Northcote’s gamekeeper, not his security guard.’

  ‘I don’t know what sort of pictures you expect me to get in these conditions.’ He handed the bulky camera bag to Silvan. ‘Carry this for me, will you?’

  Silvan shouldered the bag and trudged along the track. Bede followed, bracing himself with the walking stick, stumbling in the slippery ruts, the waterlogged ground soaking his feet. They came to a point where the river had filled a dip in the ground to form a lagoon barring their way. Silvan stopped; Bede caught him up and stood beside him. He was momentarily distracted by the constantly changing patterns of the water as it hurried past the fringe of trees where he’d brought Elin the first time she came to Foxover. This time there was a clear meaning in the water’s voice – he understood the warning. Wishing he hadn’t come, he reminded himself he was doing this for her.

  ‘We’d better get moving,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to go round.’

  He turned to skirt the water. Silvan put a hand on his arm.

  ‘No. Looks like this is the end.’

  Bede shuddered. Something about that voice. ‘We’ve come this far.’ He hoped she’d appreciate this. ‘No point giving up now.’

  ‘Oh, I think we’ve gone far enough.’ Silvan smiled faintly through the gathering gloom. ‘How far do I have to go before you realise?’

  The voice again; his accent was different – like Joe’s. As Bede stared, he spoke again.

  ‘There is no illegal site invasion, cousin.’

  With all pretence gone, despite the wet hair plastered to his forehead and the mocking contempt on his face, there was a hint of family Bede was shocked not to have seen before. ‘Hang on. You’re Niall? Joe’s Niall?’

  He clapped his hands slowly. ‘Congratulations. So now you know. All the things we have in common.’ He glanced down towards Bed
e’s ankle then back up to meet his eyes. ‘What we’re driven to.’

  His voice was raised slightly above the sounds of wind and water.

  ‘Couldn’t we have had this conversation at home?’

  Niall laughed and Bede felt afraid. This was merely the latest in a long line of scheming. So much cold, calculating effort. Taking a few steps back, Bede drew courage from the rushing of the river and daggers of rain that stirred up his anger.

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell us who you were?’

  ‘What good would that have done?’

  ‘We could have—’

  ‘Could’ve what? Shared Alderleat with me?’ He let out a spiteful laugh. ‘You had your chance. I was ready to…to let it all drop. But you made it quite clear where you were coming from, didn’t you?’

  ‘If you’d—’

  Growing rage and a rain-heavy gust cut him short.

  ‘What would I want with that old relic anyway? I just wanted to get to you.’ He shook his head in sham concern. ‘Never intended you to get hurt that badly, though.’

  Bede laughed incredulously.

  ‘Sorry,’ Niall said. ‘You just have a way of pushing my buttons.’

  ‘It wasn’t only me, though, was it? What about Elin?’

  ‘Oh, yes she pushed my buttons all right.’ Niall splashed across the boggy ground towards him. ‘Different ones.’

  Bede continued to edge back. He’s lying. Don’t let the bastard get to you.

  ‘Come on, be honest with me. If you could have Joe back, if your dad was somehow here, wouldn’t you feel the same? Wouldn’t you want to give them hell?’

  ‘No.’ Bede’s knuckles were white on his stick. ‘No, I wouldn’t. Not like this.’

  ‘’Course not. You’re some kind of saint, aren’t you? Squeaky clean. You can justify everything. Even conspiring to con your place out of Marjorie Northcote.’

  ‘You what? We—’

  ‘You paid for it fair and square. Didn’t you? So why was Joe rubbing his hands with glee in his diary?’

  ‘What diary?’

  A smile spread across Niall’s face.

  ‘Kept that from you too, did he? What a pity. You’d have enjoyed reading it. He worshipped you, you know. A shame you didn’t find it before I did. Could’ve saved you so much trouble, so much heartache.’ He reached in his pocket and held up a set of keys, the familiar metal J of the key-ring making Bede’s heart lurch. ‘You should’ve been more observant. I watched him stash it away. The day he stayed behind to save his precious things from the flood.’

  A flicker of movement in the willows. Joe’s death no accident.

  ‘That…that was you?’

  Niall looked back at him with an insolent grin. He raised his arm and threw the keys into the water. As they hit the surface, the dam of Bede’s rage finally broke. He splashed forward, clutched the walking stick and lunged at him. Niall dodged and yanked it from him. Betrayed by his weakened wrist, Bede let go too easily.

  Elin stared out of the window as she finished the call. It hadn’t been easy to explain about Niall to Suzanne Sherwell; she’d been as tactful as she could and promised to call back later when they knew more. Outside, the water was rising and it looked like the bridge would be cut off soon. She looked round at the others in Brian and Angie’s flat.

  ‘I’m not waiting any longer. I’ve got to get home to Bede. Tell the police to come and find us there.’

  As she tucked her phone away, she noticed a missed call. His voicemail message took a moment to register. Mystified, she turned back to the window and looked at the wind-buffeted silhouette of Holtwood’s trees beyond the river. ‘Stuff happening’? As she expected, she could see no signs of life. Her mind was still racing with the implications of Silvan’s identity, and she felt there must be some connection.

  With Tamsin sitting in uncharacteristic silence beside her, she drove over the bridge and eased the car through the growing lake on the far side. She pictured Bede looking up at her from the sofa as she got back to the house. Whatever his mood, she had never wished more fervently for him to be there.

  Her fears were confirmed by the empty house. She managed to persuade Tamsin to stay, lock the door and phone the pub to tell them Elin was heading for Holtwood. As she approached the entrance to the forestry track, she saw headlights cross the bridge from the village and a car cautiously negotiate the floodwater blanketing the road. She recognised the detective’s car and felt a sudden stab of doubt. The last thing they needed was to get Bede into deeper trouble. He shouldn’t risk being in Holtwood, and if the message meant what she thought it did, he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing. But his safety was more important than any of it.

  She turned into the woods and her breath caught as she saw the shoot jeep racing towards her, lights blazing. Stuck in the muddy ruts, she had nowhere to go. All she could do was brake and brace herself. The jeep swerved, then seemed to be caught up by some invisible hand and tugged forcefully down the slope towards the river. Saplings bent, undergrowth was crushed beneath its slide. It glanced off a tree and slipped backwards towards the water’s edge.

  Elin was out of her car in an instant, watching in horror as the river clawed at the jeep with strong fingers of current. Silvan – Niall – managed to scramble out, but she didn’t care as she peered at the passenger seat – empty but for a camera bag – and the half-submerged rear compartment. Niall was scrambling up the bank, sliding back towards the flood with each step.

  ‘Where’s Bede?’ she yelled.

  He paused, clinging to a branch, and looked up at her with a mocking half-smile.

  ‘Tell me!’ She wanted to rain every curse she knew down on him. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Me? That’s rich! He’s gone mad—’ His foot slipped and he reached out. She made no move. ‘You’re both fucking mad!’

  Before she could think whether or not to help, Elin heard car doors slam and glanced round to see Inspector Hughes and a colleague. Niall had grasped a fistful of undergrowth and clung on as the jeep sank slowly into the water behind him. Let the police deal with him. Elin stumbled as fast as she could along the track in the direction he’d come from. The churned ruts hampered her feet. She lost a boot in the mud. It barely registered. All she wanted was to find Bede.

  The pattering rain was as relentless as her conscience. She’d driven him here.

  A breeze rustled the leaves as she was cut off by an expanse of floodwater. Her heart was in her mouth as she recognised the place, weirdly changed. Bede’s walking stick floated in an eddy pool. Numbly, she splashed her way out and grasped it, leaning on it as she looked around.

  Then she saw him. Clinging one-handed to a low branch, he floated with the water lapping at his bruised face, hair pooling around him, body rocking to and fro in the rising current. Elin stared at him in horror. She called out. He turned his head slightly and their eyes met as a gust of wind swayed the tree and a surge of water jostled him. He let go, floundering weakly, then went under. Spurred into action, she waded over, grasped a branch to anchor herself and managed to grab his coat. She dragged him out, to ground that was sodden but out of the grip of the riverflow.

  He was deathly pale. Heedless of the cold and wet, she knelt and hugged his freezing, motionless body to her. She shouted into the trees, unable to leave him and trusting help would come. She rubbed his arms, his shoulders, desperately trying to share her body warmth, as he coughed the river from his lungs. He huddled up to her and she gripped his hand. He squeezed hers weakly.

  ‘What the hell were you doing here?’ The reprimand slipped out in a heady mix of panic and relief.

  ‘He…he lied to me. He said that Northcote… I thought you’d want me to… Oh, I’ll tell you later.’

  Elin heard the sound of vehicles and distant shouts. It was all faint beneath the roar of the river, but she thought she could make out Brian; Tamsin, even. Hadn’t she told her to stay safe at Alderleat? Bede was shivering violently. She shifted.
‘We should move. Can you stand?’

  Clutching her for support, he braced himself, then inhaled sharply. ‘No good. Bastard smashed my ankle.’ He slumped against her. ‘Again.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘I’m sure it was him who… You won’t believe who he is, El.’

  ‘I know.’

  She regretted the words as she said them.

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘Only about half an hour—’

  ‘Stop. Don’t explain. No need. We’ll deal with him…’ He looked out over the fast-flowing floodwater. ‘With all of it…together. He doesn’t matter. We matter.’

  It was too cloudy for moonlight but as she followed his gaze, the river looked and sounded different.

  So I’ve decided to write a few things down, like my old dad did. Weird I should even think of doing anything like that bastard. But how many times have I read him blathering about how it helped him, so maybe it’ll help me. Not that I regret what happened. Wasn’t my fault was it? He provoked me. Almost as if he expected it. Wanted it?? Stupid sod, what do I care?

  I was prompted to put pen to paper by this letter Bede sent me. Couldn’t believe it, after all these months, years even. He actually thanked me!! Not for the companionship & good times when he was laid up, or anything like that (though I guess I can hardly blame him when it was me put him there in the first place), but for “providing the circumstances that finally helped me see where I’d been going wrong”. I seriously wonder what planet he’s on.