Deep Water, Thin Ice (38 page)

‘Harry?’ she called. He was wearing pyjamas with a thick grey overcoat slung unfastened over the top, his thin, naked ankles rammed into carpet slippers. The noise of the river caught his name and pummelled it into nothing; he didn’t hear her. ‘Harry,’ she repeated more loudly, coming closer and reaching out a hand to take his arm. He was standing too close to the edge of the bank; the river drummed powerfully a few inches from his feet. At her touch he flinched and turned to look at her, his feet shuffling precariously closer to the edge. ‘Harry,’ she bellowed, trying to make her voice carry over the roar. ‘It’s me, Alex. Be careful. Come away from the bank. It’s dangerous there.’

Harry stared at her without recognition and then looked back down at the water. For a moment she thought he was going to step into it and be dragged down to its slimy depths but then he turned back to her, still staring, and after a moment stepped towards her. He gave her a weak, troubled smile.

‘Let’s get away from the river Harry,’ she shouted, attempting a reassuring smile. She pointed at the water and then put her hands to her ears. ‘I can’t hear myself think.’

He let her take hold of his arm and he placed his other hand down onto hers and pressed it. Perhaps he recognised her after all. She led him away, up the path, till they reached a wooden seat, high and safe from the river, the water’s bellow muted by the intervening shrubs and trees. Since Harry appeared reluctant to go any further, she suggested they sit down to catch their breath and they sat, side by side, facing the river as the sun finally cleared the hill opposite, flooding the valley with lemon light.

‘You’re out early,’ she said, close to his ear. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ He didn’t respond so she added lightly: ‘Me neither.’

He stayed silent, staring out towards where the river roared beyond the trees. She realised now just how many times she’d seen him standing, watching the stepping stones across the river. And he watched it like a haunted man.
I think Harry was on the river when Julian died.
Was Mick right after all?
Did
Harry know what had happened the night Julian died? And would he be able to tell her if he did? Was this a good day or a bad one for Harry, she wondered, given that he’d clearly wandered out of the house in the dark, undressed? His eyes looked alert enough though his gaze seemed distant.

‘I’ve heard that Julian Hellyon fell in the river,’ she said to him, as casually as she could. ‘...a long time ago. They say he fell from the stones and drowned. It was a terrible accident.’ She waited, looking intently at his profile, wondering if he knew what she was talking about. Could he even remember who Julian Hellyon was?

Harry slowly turned his head to look at her. He shook his head.

‘It wasn’t an accident,’ he said, so quietly that she could only just hear him over the noise of the river. Her heart almost stopped.

‘Wasn’t it?’
It’s no good asking direct questions.
She checked herself, and then added: ‘I thought he overbalanced and the tide was too high. He was carried away.’

Harry was staring back towards the river again. The muscles of his face twitched and pulled, seemingly at random.

‘I was on the river,’ he said suddenly. ‘I heard them shout’n. Those boys were always fight’n. Damn stupid it was.’

‘Which boys?’ said Alex. It seemed very important all of a sudden to know who was fighting. Harry turned to look at her again and she could barely breathe, waiting for his answer.

‘Julian and Theo,’ he said slowly, as if it were obvious.

‘The brothers?’ she said, stunned. ‘I didn’t know they fought. I thought it was Julian and Simon – his cousin – who fought.’

Harry shook his head.

‘Julian and Theo,’ he repeated and then looked away and fell silent.

‘So you were on the river, and you heard shouting…?’ she prompted.

‘I was on the river,’ he repeated, as if he were talking to himself, his warm West Country drawl stronger than ever. ‘I’d been out fish’n and was bring’n ‘Puffin’ in to tie up. But those boys were fight’n, mak’n a hell of a noise. Sound carries over the water. I thought maybe I ought to break it up. So I skulled upriver to find out what was goin’ on.’ His voice dropped even lower. ‘I was too late.’

Alex had a mental image suddenly of Harry by the river, all those weeks ago, before the party. The boy had lost something, he’d said. And it was behind the rock on the other side. She wondered what relevance that had, if any.

‘And something of Julian’s was the other side of the river,’ she said. ‘He’d lost something, hadn’t he?’

‘I was too late,’ he said again.

Alex touched his hand and repeated her question. This time Harry shook his head.

‘Theo had put it there. Julian kept shout’n at him. He loved that old stamp but Theo had taken it and put it over the other side. Julian was furious.’

‘The old stamp? What stamp Harry?’

Harry looked at her impatiently.

‘You know. The stamp.’ He mimed his fist coming down sideways onto the palm of his other hand. ‘The old stamp.’

Light dawned.

‘Oh, Theo’s seal.’

Harry shook his head again in exasperation.

‘No, Julian’s seal.’ Harry’s eyes glazed over again. ‘So he goes to cross the stones, and the other boy…’ He pulled a face, trying to remember the name but failing. ‘The other boy shouts at him not to. Water’s too far in, he says. It’s not safe. But Julian carried on anyway. He gets up on the first stone and on he goes. And then the next stone falls away and he goes with it.’ Harry stopped talking and covered his face with his hands. ‘And I could’ve stopped it,’ he moaned and began to shake, racked by dry, violent sobs.

Alex put her arm round him. He was so thin she could feel his ribs through the fabric of his coat.

‘No-one could have stopped Julian falling, Harry,’ she said in an effort to console him and looked round helplessly. It was cold, sitting so still, with the chill of the teeming river nearby. ‘Come on Harry,’ she said, standing up and pulling on his arm. ‘We ought to get you home. Minna’ll be worried about you.’ He wouldn’t move and looked up at her blankly, as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘You see the stones had been loosened,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t think till after.’ Alex stopped pulling on his arm and sat down again, watching him.

‘And I saw him do it,’ he went on. ‘I didn’t realise though, not then…’ He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t believe he’d do that. But then…afterwards I remembered. And I knew. I’d heard the hammer’n at the mortar early that mornin’ at low tide and saw Theo runn’n back along the path.’ He turned his eyes away from her to look back towards the river. ‘And when I saw Julian fall…that’s when I understood. But then I didn’t know what to do. I loved those boys. I couldn’t say could I? I thought he’d tell himself. I thought perhaps it was some horrible joke that went wrong. But then he didn’t tell. So I didn’t know what to do.’

Alex stared into Harry’s face, transfixed. Odd conversations crossed her mind: Theo telling her how grief-ridden he’d been at Julian’s death, how little the seal had meant to Julian, that there was absolutely nothing suspicious about the accident. Surely this couldn’t be true? Could this frail, muddled little man truly remember…?

Harry’s face had gone very pale; he swayed a little as he sat. Alex got to her feet and took his hand; it was frozen.

‘Come on Harry,’ she said firmly. ‘We must get you home. Minna will be looking for you. Come on.’

This time he stood up and allowed her to lead him on along the path towards the village. He was silent as if all his words were burnt out and she wondered if he’d told anyone this story before or if he had been storing it up all these years. Perhaps Minna was right and it was Julian’s death which had made him ill, that and Harry’s deep and lingering sense of guilt. Alex wanted to ignore the story as the nonsense of an addled brain but it hung in her mind, numbing it with its deadening implications. Her thoughts felt stupefied by Harry’s astonishing revelation, like eyes exposed to bright light left temporarily blind, dazzled into confusion.

They reached the quay, passed the chandlers and Bob Geaton’s hut and, as they looped round the back of the Armada, Minna was walking towards them, her head wrapped in a scarf, her coat thrown loosely over her workaday clothes. She broke into a trot when she saw them and scurried, limping, across the quay.

‘Harry, there you are,’ she called and came up, dragging her breath. ‘Where’ve you been? I’ve been look’n everywhere.’ She took his free hand. ‘And you’re cold. Going out like that and not dressed for it neither.’

‘He was by the stepping stones,’ said Alex dully. ‘He was upset.’

‘The stones had been loosened, but I didn’t think till after,’ Harry repeated, like a refrain. ‘That’s when I understood. But I thought he’d tell.’ He looked into Minna’s face imploringly. ‘Should I have said?’

Behind the thick glasses, Minna’s eyes opened wide in alarm and she glanced quickly at Alex.

‘He’s been talk’n about Julian again hasn’t he? He doesn’t mean it, you know. He has bad dreams and he gets upset and he says these things. But he doesn’t mean it. Don’t go tell’n anyone what he’s been say’n, will you, Alex? Because it’s not true and it’ll get us into trouble. Theo’ll say he’s crazy and not fit to be at home. Please don’t say anyth’n.’ She peered desperately into Alex’s face as she spoke, then patted Harry’s hand, muttering something consoling, and began to lead him away.

Alex stood and watched them go. Then she began to walk slowly across the village and up the hill towards home. Her brain began to work again, jumping at random through all the things she’d been told. She remembered Theo’s glib descriptions of the boys’ idyllic childhood holidays together; thought of how Sarah had carefully chosen her words; how little she’d actually said. Did she know what Theo had done? Do I really believe it myself? She tried to push it away but it kept coming at her, insistent and compelling; this story possessed a frightening ring of truth.

Could it have been a game that went wrong? But if so why didn’t Theo say? Desperate to excuse him, she argued with herself: he was just so scared by the reaction there would be; he was covering his tracks. But then there’d been his lies about Simon and Julian fighting, and about the seal. However hard she tried, Alex couldn’t keep the doubt out of her mind. What was the truth? And if Theo had lied about those things, what else might he have lied about?

She was half way along the final stretch of footpath now, walking up the hill, the bottom of her jeans sodden from the rain-soaked grass. Supposing, she thought, just supposing Theo had done it deliberately, could it have been done from pure malice? But Theo wasn’t like that, was he…? She thought of his recent flashes of temper; she thought of his possessiveness and his pride in the old seal. She marched on, thinking furiously now. She couldn’t imagine him doing anything so terrible without a real motive. What would he have stood to gain? She paused as she reached the gate to the front garden and looked up at the house. Hillen Hall. It was like working out the answer to a cryptic clue. It seemed so obvious when you got it that you felt it couldn’t be that easy. With Julian dead, Theo would have expected to inherit one day. But then it had been sold and Simon had inherited instead. Then Simon had conveniently died too and Alex had inherited it and Theo had courted her single-mindedly for months…

Alex shook her head and walked through into the garden. Her mind was running away with itself on some fantasy trip. It was preposterous and she was ashamed for even thinking it. But then she thought of Erica’s endless questioning of Theo’s motives in marrying her. And she remembered her sister saying:
I’d have thought he was too good to be true
. Perhaps it was Erica all along who had been the more astute. Alex couldn’t wait to get back inside. Had she really been that stupid? She had to think; she badly needed time by herself to think.

Alex showered and changed, barely aware of what she was doing, Harry’s story running round and round in her head. Pulling on fresh jeans in her bedroom, her eye fell on the photo Sarah had given her which had fallen down. She leaned down to pick it up off the floor and, glancing at it as she went to put it back, she saw something she’d noticed but never registered before: Julian with the seal proudly hanging round his neck. Julian’s seal, not Theo’s; proof that at least part of the story was true. But that didn’t mean the rest of it was, she reasoned desperately. Or if it was, the loosening of the stones had just been a prank that went tragically wrong. It must have been.

But, in spite of herself, things began to click into place in Alex’s mind, small things she’d ignored at the time, comments or behaviour she had willingly excused. Theo loved Hillen Hall; that had become increasingly clear quite recently. Despite his earlier assurances that it meant nothing to him, she could tell it from the way he talked about it, the way he sometimes reached out and affectionately touched a wall or would look round admiringly at the fireplace. He adored the place and regularly talked now of his plans for it. And the other day he’d referred to Hillen Hall as ‘our house’ and had then gone on to include Sarah in his next remark as if his mother were the other owner of the Hall. At the time Alex had passed it off as a slip of the tongue, a simple mistake. And it was plain Sarah loved the Hall too. A thought came to the surface which Alex had been suppressing for weeks: Theo’s devotion to his mother, thinly veiled in dismissive sarcasm and wry wit, was obsessive and unnatural. She could feel it when she was with them together. There had been times, she could admit now, when she had felt like the gooseberry in the party.