Deep Water, Thin Ice (31 page)

She paused and looked down at the shadowy bundles of the lavender plants which bordered the path on each side. She’d planted them herself, carefully measured their distance apart, then lovingly firmed and watered them in. She was looking forward to watching them grow and to their scent filling the garden on sunny summer days. There were other plants and shrubs she’d put in too. There was a lot to look forward to. Alex walked slowly to the gate at the end of the path and rested a hand on the stone gatepost. She loved it here. What a shame Simon had never talked about it with her. How wonderful it would have been to have shared it with him. She opened the gate and stepped through. She’d had a slatted wooden seat put the other side of the wall, facing the sea and she moved round to sit on it, shrugged the jacket on properly and pulled it tight around her.

Why had Simon never talked about Hillen Hall? It was a question which refused to go away. Was it all about Julian’s accident? And if so, why exactly? If he’d forgotten about it as Sarah had suggested, it didn’t explain why he wouldn’t have spoken otherwise of Devon and his childhood holidays there. And, in any case, he was fifteen when Julian died; he wasn’t a young child. Alex remembered a great deal about her teenage years – all those rows with her mother among other things. Was Simon so traumatised by a freak accident that he’d preferred not to ever mention it? But no-one talked about it, did they? Everyone who spoke his name did it as if they were lifting a dust sheet to reveal a picture, always letting the fabric fall before anything could be seen. And there was something about Sarah’s comments which didn’t feel right. Sadness and grief over the tragedy was understandable, but, twenty-five years on, there was an edge to her remarks which suggested rank bitterness.

Her thoughts automatically shifted to the stepping stones. She’d been down to them just the day before. In an effort to clear her mind of its clamour of nervous activity in advance of the party, Alex had walked along the footpath on the near bank of the Kella. The tide had started to come in and she’d watched, fascinated as always, at the way it crept back up the river bed, insidious and surprisingly fast. The bubbling sound of a curlew rang lingeringly in the air somewhere up river. Then, as she approached the crossing she’d seen Harry Downes, out on the mudflat near the stones. He was looking down intently at the sandy mud where the water was already lapping the bottom of the nearest stone column.

‘Have you lost something?’ she called to him, stepping down onto the damp ground to join him. He turned and stared at her face blankly. ‘Hello Harry. It’s Alex. Sorry, did I surprise you?’

He’d grinned then, a flash of a smile which lit up his eyes for a moment and spoke of mischief and humour, a glimpse of the man he had once been. He put a finger up to his cap and nodded. One of his good days, she thought. Liz had said that he hadn’t been sleeping well lately and sometimes disappeared from the house at night prompting Minna to hide the key after locking the door in an effort to stop him. He looked fresh-eyed this morning though.

‘Have you lost something?’ she repeated.

‘No, no. Not me…the boy.’ Harry stepped closer to the stones, looking down, and then lifted his head up to look to the far side. ‘But it was on the other side,’ he muttered and his face crumpled into a frown. He looked intently to the other side of the river and raised a hand to point a thin finger towards a large rock on the far shore. ‘Over there. It’s behind that rock.’ Then he shuffled his feet towards the first of the stone steps and she thought he was going to try to cross. She put a hand out to touch his arm.

‘Don’t go over will you Harry? The tide’s coming in. The water’s too far in to cross.’ He turned to stare at her and she wasn’t sure if he understood what she was saying. ‘It’s not safe,’ she added.

Harry continued to stare at her as if he’d seen a ghost.

‘That’s what he said,’ he murmured.

‘Who?’ When Harry didn’t reply, she said it again. ‘Who?’ But he didn’t answer, his expression full of confusion. But then he suddenly turned and shuffled away, back along the mudflats in the direction of the village. Was he safe to be left to wander like that, she wondered, or should she go after him? She watched him as he headed to the bank further down river and he stepped up purposefully onto the footpath where a procession of feet had worn it down low. Confident he was on his way home again she’d turned away.

Standing now, looking out over the park, Alex pushed the memory away as little more than a distraction. Irresistibly, fragments of Sarah’s conversation came back into her mind instead:

…‘I think Julian broke it; he was always playing with the thing. Fascinated by it he was.’…

…‘Playing? Who told you that?’…

…‘
No, well he wouldn’t would he? After what happened…I wouldn’t have thought he’d
…’

She felt like she was listening to a piece of orchestral music where a discordant note kept sounding. She couldn’t place where it was exactly and she had to keep listening to it to try to work it out. Behind her, up by the front door, she heard voices as a succession of people left. Eventually she got up and made her way back towards the house. There had clearly been a major exodus; there was only a handful of people left in the drawing room when she went in. Theo was standing in front of the fireplace.

‘Darling,’ he said, quickly coming across to her. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?’ He put his arms round her and gave her a hug then pulled away from her. ‘You’re cold.’ His voice was a little too loud, slightly overblown. She’d never seen him drunk before.

‘I went outside…to get some air.’

The last stragglers came over to say their farewells and left. Only Sarah remained, sitting in one of the armchairs, head back and eyes closed. Alex glanced towards the clock. Sarah had been right: it
had
stopped again. At twenty past eight.

I think Julian broke it; he was always playing with the thing. Fascinated by it he was.

Alex moved away, towards the kitchen.

‘I’m going to make some coffee,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Do you want some?’

‘Coffee? Sure.’ Theo followed her.

The kitchen was a mess. Alex cleared some space, moving glasses and bottles to one side. She could feel Theo watching her.

‘Are you all right?’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I neglected you this evening. I got talking to some old friends and lost track of time.’ He laughed, a little self-consciously, she thought. ‘I’ve drunk too much.’

Alex filled the coffee maker with water, primed it with coffee and turned to look at him, leaning against the unit. He’d eased himself down into a chair by the table.

‘You had a good time,’ she said, more by way of a statement than a question.

‘Yes.’ He ran a hand through his hair and then stretched his eyes wearily. Alcoholic fatigue was setting in. ‘You didn’t?’

‘You know I’m not a great party animal,’ she said coolly. She shifted more glasses from the table, took a cloth and wiped it off and sat down opposite him. ‘I thought we’d agreed it wouldn’t be a big affair? Who were all those people anyway? To be honest, I found it rather oppressive; that’s why I went outside.’

‘Then I’m sorry too. I should have been looking out for you. I should have introduced you to everyone. Stupid of me.’ He smiled at her and reached a hand across the table to take hers in a now familiar gesture. She returned a brief smile, squeezed his hand and then pulled hers away, leaning back in the chair.

‘Theo, was there anything…
wrong
about Julian’s death?’

‘Wrong? What on earth do you mean? What a strange thing to suddenly say.’

‘Is it? Mm.’ Under Theo’s cool scrutiny, she faltered, doubting herself. She shrugged. ‘Forget it.’ The water had gone through and she got up to pour the coffee. But still she couldn’t shake the idea away. ‘Your mother did say something odd though.’

‘What?’ Theo laughed, rather too brightly. ‘About Julian?
What on earth did she say that’s worried you so?’

Alex tipped some milk into each mug, spooned sugar into Theo’s and brought them back to the table.

‘I asked her about Julian – what he was like – and then we spoke about the accident. I said how awful it must have been for you and Simon to have been there but that Simon never said anything about it. And she said that he was intense and difficult…’ She paused.

‘So…?’

‘I don’t know.’ She ran a finger round the mug, frowning. ‘I got the impression she blamed Simon for Julian’s accident. And
you
said they fought a lot, that they didn’t get on.’ She met Theo’s now sharp-eyed gaze, needing to know the answer but dreading to ask the question. ‘Was there anything suspicious about Julian’s death? Was Simon responsible in any way?’

Theo laughed again but this time it definitely sounded forced. He shook his head.

‘I can’t imagine where you’ve got that idea from. It’s ridiculous.’

‘Theo, I’m being serious.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t be. There was nothing suspicious about Julian’s death. It was a horrible accident. I should know.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. What are you thinking of? You haven’t been reading creepy crime thrillers late at night have you?’

‘Don’t make fun.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t pay too much attention to what my mother was saying. She’s drunk far too much – like me – and probably has no idea
what
she’s saying. She’s not used to late nights like this. I ought to take her home.’

Alex wrestled with her conscience and it finally won.

‘She could stay in one of the guest rooms if you like,’ she offered reluctantly.

‘Do you think? That’s a kind thought. Still maybe it would be better if I take her home this time.’ He drank some coffee and then got up. He moved round the table and bent over to kiss her. He peered into her eyes. ‘Will you be all right alone?’

‘Of course.’ She hesitated. ‘Theo?’

‘Mm?’

‘Your mother seems bitter about Julian’s accident. Was there something about it that could have been prevented?’

He straightened up with an impatient sigh.

‘For God’s sake, no. It was bravado. I told you. He was running over the stones - we all did it, all the time, showing off. But Julian got it wrong and the tide was too far in. Why on earth are you so obsessed with Julian’s accident? Forget about it Alex. Please.
I
want to. Hm?’

Alex nodded but when she followed Theo into the drawing room to say goodbye to his mother, she couldn’t stop herself glancing uneasily across at the grandfather clock.

March stormed in windy and mild with a succession of squally showers which buffeted Kellaford Bridge and sent white spray up and over the quay at high tide. Children hid beneath the harbour wall waiting for the next big wave and then ran away squealing with delight, trying to stay ahead of the water.

But the tide was far out and the harbour quiet when Theo left The Armada and wandered across the quay on the first Saturday of the month. It was lunch-time and he’d had just one pint of bitter before coming away. Today most of the men at the bar had been heavily involved in a discussion about football, a subject which left Theo cold. It had been Eric Ladyman who, hoping to cadge a drink, had manipulated Theo into the conversation, commenting conversationally that he often saw Alex out walking.

‘Do you?’ Theo had responded, and quickly seized the presented opportunity. ‘I know she likes to walk – all weathers.’ He’d laughed wryly then. ‘Fortunately she doesn’t always expect me to go along too. Not that it stops me worrying about her. She goes over the stones and up to Dolphin Point sometimes and there’s a couple of nasty-looking cracks forming in the cliff up there. I think there’ll be some more rocks down before long.’

‘You should tell her then,’ Andy Turner had said, tersely. ‘Perhaps she doesn’t realise how dangerous it can be up there.’

‘Hell, I’ve told her often enough,’ he’d returned, affecting frustration. ‘But if Alex has set her mind on doing something, she won’t be swayed. She’s incredibly stubborn. Anyway, you know women: they won’t be told.’

There’d been nods and mutterings of agreement then and he’d let the subject drop. Now he wondered if he’d been too heavy handed. Andy Turner was no fool and could be an awkward bugger at times. All he’d wanted to do was to sow the next seeds of his plan. But suppose Alex got talking to Andy on the ferry and the man brought up the subject of Dolphin Point himself? Was he starting to lose his hold on this whole project?

Theo walked to the harbour wall and looked out on the wet, sandy bowl and the gulls which strutted across its surface, looking for food. One of them noticed his arrival and flew up to land on the wall a couple of metres away, eyeing him speculatively with one pale impertinent eye, and he chased it away with an impatient wave of his hand.

He was unusually ill at ease. Just over a week had gone by and the mistakes of the party still preyed on his mind. In retrospect he’d invited too many people. Instead of making Alex feel the pressure of so many witnesses to her engagement, the crush of people appeared to have alienated her, rendering the event perhaps too impersonal. And then he’d drunk too much himself and had carelessly neglected her. After months of hard work, it had been a brief but dangerous lapse in concentration. And he’d allowed his mother to drink too much and to roam too freely. How had that particular and awkward conversation come up between her and Alex? He wished he’d pursued what had been said exactly but didn’t want to bring it up again. He’d treated the whole thing as absurd and couldn’t afford to alter that impression.