Dying to Know (A Detective Inspector Berenice Killick Mystery) (21 page)

‘
Hush
–
dear
-
’

‘
If
I
don’t
tell
the
truth
,
there
is
no
one
left
to
tell
it
.
’
He
brushed
past
her
,
seized
hold
of
the
door
handle
.

‘
Grace
will
be
waking
from
her
rest
,
’
she
said
.

‘
And
I
shall
take
my
walk
.
’

She
heard
his
hurried
steps
upon
the
flagstones
.
When
he’d
gone
,
she
tiptoed
up
the
staircase
to
the
nursery
,
blinking
back
tears
.

The
tide
was
up
.
Waves
the
colour
of
earth
crashed
against
the
stones
.
Gabriel
stared
at
the
shingle
beach
.
He
could
almost
see
it
,
the
rough
geometry
between
the
gaps
,
the
smaller
and
ever
smaller
parts
that
vibrate
in
their
invisibility
.

All
this
is
here
,
he
thought
.
It
might
just
as
well
not
be
here
,
but
it
is
here
.
It
sustains
itself
in
being
here
.

His
hand
went
to
his
jacket
pocket
,
fingered
the
silver
chain
.

There
is
the
before
,
and
there
is
now
.

There
is
a
gap
between
them
.
A
gap
that
cannot
be
repaired
.

He
drew
the
chain
out
of
his
pocket
,
watched
the
silver
crucifix
swinging
in
the
sharp
sea
air
.

This
was
once
his
.

When
first
I
met
him
,
me
,
the
son
of
the
blacksmith
,
hearing
the
clatter
of
hooves
in
the
yard
,
coming
out
into
the
sunshine
,
wiping
blackened
hands
on
my
leather
apron
…
And
he
stood
there
,
smiling
,
his
hands
holding
the
reins
of
a
snorting
,
stamping
gray
mare
, ‘
D’you
think
you
can
do
anything
for
this
poor
old
lady
?
Dropped
a
shoe
out
with
the
hounds
this
morning
,
limping
now
,
though
she’s
always
one
to
be
dramatic
…
’

Was
it
then
that
I
first
saw
this
silver
chain
?
Did
this
catch
the
sunlight
,
as
we
agreed
a
price
for
the
shoe
?
I
fancy
now
that
it
did
.
Certainly
,
it
became
familiar
to
me
.
So
that
,
when
,
as
he
lay
in
the
mud
,
his
trembling
arm
reached
to
his
neck
,
his
shivering
fingers
dropped
it
into
my
hand
- ‘
Take
this
,
Gabe
.
And
my
watch
.
Keep
them
–
’
I
knew
,
then
,
that
it
was
the
end
.

‘
For
your
sister
?
’
I
said
,
but
he
shook
his
head
. ‘
For
you
,
silly
.
’

He
had
closed
his
eyes
,
then
.

Gabriel
saw
it
still
.
Guy’s
face
,
shadowed
like
a
skull
against
the
khaki
green
,
rivulets
of
brown
slashed
dark
with
blood
.

He
had
clutched
the
silver
cross
so
hard
it
had
made
marks
in
the
palm
of
his
hand
.

There
was
moaning
,
screaming
,
the
pounding
of
artillery
.
But
at
his
side
the
halting
breath
was
louder
still
.

And
then
it
stopped
.

Gabriel
found
he’d
walked
as
far
as
the
Scallop
Tower
.
He
stepped
along
the
jetty
,
climbed
the
ruined
stairs
,
wondering
,
not
for
the
first
time
,
who
it
was
who’d
thought
to
build
a
lighthouse
on
this
flat
shore
.
A
folly
then
,
and
a
folly
now
.

He
reached
the
top
.
He
crossed
the
circular
platform
,
leaned
on
the
low
wall
,
looked
out
to
sea
.

They
had
come
home
by
ship
.
Herds
of
soldiers
,
wounded
,
sick
,
blank
-
eyed
,
crazed
.

They
called
us
Heroes
.
But
all
I
could
think
was
,
he
is
still
there
.
His
headstone
,
there
,
across
the
sea
,
one
among
the
hundreds
in
their
serried
ranks
.

It
was
that
,
as
much
as
anything
,
that
broke
his
father’s
heart
.

The
gulls
circled
above
him
,
their
song
rising
and
falling
with
their
swooping
path
.

And
Amelia
,
he
thought
.
If
only
I
could
make
her
see
.
In
those
last
hours
we
talked
,
two
men
of
science
,
half
-
drowning
in
the
swamp
of
war
.
We
both
came
to
see
,
then
,
that
the
search
for
meaning
is
as
foolish
as
this
tower
.
There
is
no
meaning
,
no
redemption
.
But
there
is
science
.
There
is
investigation
,
evidence
,
knowledge
.
There
is
matter
,
atoms
,
particles
,
subject
to
the
force
of
gravity
.
But
there
is
no
divine
will
.
Were
I
to
fall
,
now
,
from
this
tower
,
it
would
be
because
of
Gravity
,
not
because
of
God
.