The main streetlights were off. It left the village darker than usual in the twilight. The unlit houses added to the eeriness. Normally, cracks of light would sneak around curtains and under doors. Each house would have a warm glow of life. Now the buildings were hollow. The few that remained lit looked like huddled survivors engaged in a last desperate defence against the grim dark.
With every step, Daniela became more convinced she shouldn’t be here. It was a stupid risk.
Yet she kept going, and eventually reached the back of the McKearney house.
There was no point going to the front, because Margaret McKearney never left her shop unsecured at night. Years ago she’d told Daniela – in her usual charmingly direct manner – that if she left the front door unlocked, she’d come down in the morning to an empty shop and a village of sugar-filled children.
Daniela lifted the latch on the back gate and slipped into the garden. On occasion, when she was a kid, her father would send her for a packet of tobacco after hours. Margaret had always given Daniela a shrewd look and a lecture about how it wasn’t right to be buying tobacco at such a young age. On the way home, Daniela would peel back the seal on the packet and filch a pinch for herself.
It was odd how that memory had lain dormant but to then resurface at this precise moment, drawn by the rasp of the latch and the way Daniela automatically slipped through the gate without opening it more than a few inches, because the hinges would creak.
She remembered the last time she’d been here. She’d walked past the house and scaled the wall into the yard behind the antiques shop. The reminder was painful and distracting, and she pushed it away.
There was a gap between the downstairs curtains. A light was on in the back room, which, if memory served her right, was the main sitting room. From the angle of the light, it looked like it came from a lamp on a side table.
The yard, like everything else, was under several inches of water, and she moved slowly. Apart from the light seeping from the back room, the yard was in gloom. Daniela used one hand to feel her way along the wall.
Her foot hit a submerged flowerpot and she almost overbalanced. Gingerly, she nudged it away with her boot. Little ripples danced across the small walled yard and reflected flickers of light.
Daniela edged towards the window. The back door into the unlit kitchen was to her left, heavily buttressed with sandbags.
Through the gap in the sitting-room curtains she saw a sliver of the room beyond. The light she’d seen came not from a lamp but from a trio of candles on top of a sideboard. The rose-quartz chandelier hanging from the ceiling was unlit, either because the power had at last gone off or because someone preferred mood-lighting. Daniela peered left and right but couldn’t see more than a thin section of room. The edge of an armchair and the corner of a Welsh dresser. The room looked empty.
She risked shuffling closer. An acquaintance in prison had told her that, when lights were on within a dwelling and it was relatively dark outside, the people inside couldn’t see out of the window. Even if someone happened to look, all they’d see was their reflection. Daniela had never tested it.
There was more debris beneath the window. Daniela nudged aside what felt like an earthenware planter. She steadied herself against the wall and leaned in as close to the glass as she dared. Angling her head, she could see the rest of the armchair and a bit of sofa. The room was only slightly changed from the house she remembered. Even the unpleasant wallpaper with the green leaf pattern remained.
Daniela stepped back, considering her next move. She didn’t know if Henry McKearney was still living here with Margaret. But if he was …
Daniela pictured him watching the old house from the woods yesterday when she’d left with the money. She imagined him waiting until the next day when no one was around before returning for it.
The only reason he would’ve been there was if he knew something about Auryn’s murder.
Daniela put her hands on the sash window to see if it was unlocked.
An upstairs window opened and a torch beam flashed down. Daniela looked up at the wrong instant and the light blinded her.
‘Hello, down there,’ Margaret McKearney called. ‘Something I can help you with?’
29
Daniela lifted a hand to shield her eyes and gave a sheepish smile. ‘Good evening, Mrs McKearney.’
‘Well, crap. Dani Cain. I don’t see you for years and suddenly you’re all over the place.’ Margaret shifted the torch so the light was no longer in Daniela’s eyes. ‘What on earth are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?’
‘I’m sorry, I know it’s late. I was, well—’
‘You’re looking for Henry.’
The accusation in her voice made Daniela flinch. ‘I-I need to speak to him. Is he here?’
A pause. The main light in the upstairs room was switched off, and Daniela couldn’t see Margaret’s face. ‘Stay there,’ Margaret said. ‘I’ll come down.’ The torch withdrew and the window closed.
Daniela stood in the shadowy yard with water rippling around her boots. It was getting cold again.
A minute passed before Margaret came into the kitchen. She opened the back door – unlocked, as it turned out – pulling a dressing gown around her slim frame with her other hand. Underneath she wore polka-dot pyjamas. She stayed behind the protective barrier of sandbags and planted a hand on her hip, waiting.
‘Auryn’s dead,’ Daniela said.
Margaret’s expression softened. ‘Steph told me. I’m sorry. Although I’m not sure that justifies you turning up on my doorstep.’
‘I know. I shouldn’t’ve disturbed you.’ Daniela couldn’t keep still. Her eyes darted to the darkened windows. Was Henry inside? Maybe staring down at her right now?
‘No, you probably shouldn’t have.’ Margaret sighed. She stepped back, holding the door. ‘Come inside. There’s no point standing around in the rain.’
Daniela withdrew. ‘I don’t know if—’
‘Oh, don’t be daft. I’m sure as hell not coming out in this state of undress. If you wanna talk, you can come in.’
Daniela hesitated a moment more before nodding. She stepped carefully over the sandbags.
‘Leave your boots outside, please,’ Margaret said. ‘I’ve enough damp in here already.’
It would be nice to take the boots off, but Daniela was wary of leaving them. What if she needed to exit in a hurry again? What if Stephanie caught up with her here, like at Leo’s house? Daniela didn’t fancy her chances on the flooded streets without footwear.
With a feeling of deep misgiving, Daniela placed her boots by the back door.
The galley kitchen was narrow, and Daniela had to brush past Margaret before she could shut the door. She caught a whiff of Margaret’s flowery shampoo. Daniela shoved down an inappropriate feeling, embarrassed.
‘Through to the sitting room, if you would,’ Margaret said, flapping a hand. ‘D’you fancy a cuppa?’
‘No, I-I can’t really stop.’ She peered down the darkened hallway. Was the house empty?
Despite her intentions, Daniela was herded into the sitting room at the back of the house. Her first impressions of the place had been wrong. The garish wallpaper remained, yes, but the rest of the room had been updated and modernised. Tasteful throws covered the sofa. A substantial Victorian bookcase was loaded with books and DVDs. The threadbare carpet had been removed and the original wooden boards polished to a dark shine.
‘It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’ Margaret said. ‘Here, sit down, you’re making the place untidy. Must be strange, coming back here after a good few years. Does everything feel different?’
‘Henry’s not here. Is he?’
‘I wouldn’t have let you in if he was. Some of us are forgiving and, well, some of us aren’t.’
Daniela looked away. Her hands, hidden inside her sleeves, were still bunched. She forced herself to open her fists. So, where is he?
‘He’s not been here fo
r a while, right?’ Daniela guessed. Framed photographs took up space on shelves and tables, of Margaret and Leo, but none of Henry.
‘Oh, a couple of years, I suppose.’ Margaret curled into the armchair, her legs drawn up. ‘I’ve not kept track of dates, but yes, must be about two years. Of course, I could’ve had him out a lot sooner if I’d drummed up the courage. Everyone told me I should’ve. But that’s how it goes, isn’t it?’ She gave a sad smile. ‘We make ourselves so afraid of breaking the cycle, and when we actually get around to it, we find it’s been a lot of fuss over nothing. Then all you can do is look back and regret all the hurt you caused.’
Daniela sat down on the lumpy sofa cushions. ‘You didn’t cause anything,’ she said carefully.
‘I allowed it to happen, and that’s nearly as bad.’ Margaret waved a dismissive hand. ‘Oh, he never laid a finger on me, of course. I wouldn’t have tolerated that. But things weren’t easy. Especially for Leo. I should’ve never let him witness so many arguments.’ Her face brightened. ‘He’s doing well for himself. He’s a doctor, did you know?’
‘I saw him today, yeah.’
Margaret picked up a framed photo from the crowded dresser and handed it to Daniela. It showed Leo looking stiff and awkward in his graduation robe. ‘I’m so proud,’ Margaret said. ‘Look how well he turned out, despite everything. If only I’d got him out from his dad’s influence sooner … Well, you can’t spend your life regretting everything.’
Daniela gave the photo back. Her eyes kept darting to the doorway, as if Henry might at any moment appear. ‘Where’d Henry go?’
‘Off to Sheffield, as far as I know. That’s where his other woman lives, anyway.’
‘So, he’s not in Stonecrop anymore?’
‘He doesn’t live here, no.’ Margaret wrinkled her lip. ‘But he doesn’t seem in any hurry to pack up and leave for good. He’s got a long-standing rental with Eric Winters over at Winterbridge Farm for a holiday cabin. He can use it any time out of season. So, yes, he’ll come back, like a bad smell, four or five times a year. There’s no obvious rhyme or reason to it.’ Margaret held up her hands. ‘Who can understand the shallow machinations of the male mind? He comes and goes when he feels like it, for no evident reason, other than to remind me I’m not rid of him.’
She leaned forwards in a conspiratorial manner. ‘He’s being awkward about the divorce, of course. He’s never made anything easy for anyone in his life. Now and again, I’ll wander into the pub and there he’ll be, propping up the bar like he’s never left. Like he has every right to be there.’
She got up and went to close the crack between the curtains, as if talking about her ex-husband made her uneasy.
‘When did you last see him?’ Daniela asked.
Margaret made an indelicate noise. ‘Just last week.’ She settled into her chair. ‘The bastard popped into town with the excuse that he wanted to make sure his cabin was secure before the floods. I suppose that proves he does listen to someone, even if it’s just the weatherman.’
‘That’s all he was here for?’
‘Well, who knows?’ Margaret gave her a smile tinged with sadness. ‘It wasn’t to see Leo, if that’s what you mean. Those two don’t speak anymore. I don’t think Leo even knows that his dad stays at Winterbridge Farm when he’s in town. Honestly, I don’t know what brings Henry back here. He doesn’t have the antiques business anymore. That closed years ago, after … well.’
Daniela dropped her gaze.
‘You know,’ Margaret said with a sigh, ‘I never figured out whether I was supposed to hate you. I can’t understand what you did. You think you had your reasons, I’m sure, but …’ She absently massaged the spot on her left finger where a wedding ring had sat for so long. ‘You only ever saw the bad side of Henry. But he loved us. He would’ve done anything to protect us. I know what you thought of him – what everyone thought of him – and by extension what everyone thought of me for standing by him. And I did stand by him. After he was injured, I helped him through the physio, through the trial, and before that, when his business was falling apart and your father cheated him out of all that money …’
Daniela blinked. ‘My dad did what?’
Margaret pursed her lips. ‘It’s not something you’ll want to hear, but when they fell out, Henry and your dad, and they split the antiques shop, your father didn’t behave very well. He made Henry buy him out, and pay twice what the business was worth. He knew Henry couldn’t afford it but he did it anyway.’
‘So, why did Henry agree?’
‘Oh, pride and stubbornness, the usual. Either Henry paid up, or he lost the business. He wasn’t fond of losing.’
‘Yeah. Neither was Dad.’
‘Each as bad as the other.’ Margaret half-smiled. ‘Anyway, it’s stupid to defend Henry now. I know he wasn’t blameless. But everything he did, every penny he earned, every fight he felt he had to start, it was for us. He genuinely thought he was doing the right thing. Probably still does.’ She stirred restlessly in her seat. ‘After they shut down his shoddy counterfeiting business and put him away, it gave me a chance to think. Those twenty months made me realise I didn’t want Henry back.’ She gave a tremulous smile. ‘I sometimes think you would’ve done me more of a favour if you’d killed him outright.’
Daniela studied the floor. She was aware of time ticking past. If Henry wasn’t home, then Daniela needed to go. There was always a chance Stephanie might think to look for her here.
‘His heart was in the right place,’ Margaret said, almost to herself. ‘But that wasn’t enough. It doesn’t excuse his behaviour, or mine. Both of us acted poorly. I just hope I didn’t get out too late. For Leo’s sake, not mine.’ She sighed again. ‘I’d love to say me and Leo were still close, but that’s simply not true. I have no idea how he feels about any of this.’ Margaret sat up straighter. ‘But I’ll tell you this, I’ve forgiven Henry. For every hurtful word, for every threat, for every time he came this close to breaking his word – the word he gave on our wedding day that he’d never lay a hand on me – I forgive him all that. Because you can’t carry these things around forever. And I forgive you too. You thought you were protecting me, or Leo, or your sisters, or your father … who knows what you were really thinking? I assume you’ve had plenty of time to consider it.’
It was more statement than question, so Daniela didn’t answer. She glanced at the door again, ready to make some excuse to leave.
Margaret laughed, with a mixture of regret and bitterness. ‘Anyway, none of it’s my concern now. I’m purely selfish in my old age. The only people I care about are me and Leo. I don’t know where Henry is, or what he’s doing, and I’ll be happy if I never lay eyes on him again. Just because I’ve forgiven him doesn’t change anything. Ultimately, everything was his fault. I wish I’d realised that then, instead of blaming Franklyn.’
‘Franklyn? Why her?’
Margaret looked surprised. ‘Well, mainly because she was sleeping with Henry. You must’ve known. Everyone knew.’
30
June 2010
Daniela set it up to look like an accident. Atop the cabinet above the sink was a pile of paper towels. It was easy to arrange a small avalanche, as if the pile had slipped into the sink, where a tap had unfortunately been left running. She was quite proud as she poked the paper into the plughole and watched the swirling water fill the basin.
She stepped out of the storeroom and pulled the door almost closed. Already the water had reached the top of the sink. In a few moments it would patter onto the carpet. By morning – assuming no one discovered it before then – the shop would be awash. Daniela smiled as she thought of the papers and boxes littering the floor. In a few hours they’d be wrecked.
You’re being petty. Daniela brushed the thought aside. Sure, on the surface this was nothing more than mindless vandalism, but taken in a wider context—
‘Who’s there?’ someone called out.
Daniela startled and only just bi
t back a curse. The voice had come from the back door. Hurriedly, Daniela moved away, into the deeper shadows.
‘I know you’re in here,’ the voice hissed, and this time Daniela recognised it.
Leo. He must’ve heard a noise or seen Daniela scrambling over the wall.
Daniela hesitated, torn. Should she reveal herself? Or could she sneak out without being seen? Her stomach twisted at the thought having to explaining why she’d broken into the shop.
As quietly as she could, Daniela crept away. If she could force the front door, maybe she could escape. Otherwise she’d have to go past Leo.
With scuffle of noise, Leo advanced into the shop. ‘Daniela?’ he said. ‘I know it’s you. Where are you?’
Daniela squeezed past an upturned bedframe and reached the front door. She’d hoped the door was secured with a bolt, but instead she found a Yale lock, with no sign of the key. She shoved the door in frustration. It rattled in its frame.
The sound alerted Leo. Daniela heard him moving through the shop with the confidence of too much time spent within the maze of furniture.
It occurred to her that Leo had kept his voice low, and hadn’t switched on the lights. He didn’t want to wake his dad.
But if he’d seen Daniela sneaking in, might Henry have seen too? Daniela put her hand on the breast pocket of her jacket to feel the knife hidden inside. Sick adrenaline churned her stomach. She had to get out without being caught.
It was brighter near the front of the shop, with the illumination of the streetlights falling through the windows, which gave Daniela fewer places to hide. She slipped between the close-packed furniture towards the rear of the shop. Her heart was hammering and her palms were slick.
She made a mistake as she ducked into a narrow space between two wardrobes. The streetlight was directly behind her and cast her shadow huge across the shop floor. Leo spotted it and changed course.
‘Daniela, just stop, will you? Let me talk to you.’
The Flood Page 18