The Darkness and the Deep (29 page)

‘Enid, I’m just going to look in to see Mrs Duncan on my way home. She must be in a terrible state of shock and she has to watch her blood-pressure.’ He looked shaken himself, with dark shadows under his eyes.

‘You are good. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I know how difficult it was for poor Katy Anderson to have to come in here after the last tragedy.’

‘Yes, all those people staring at her!’ Muriel Henderson, who had been working at one of the filing cabinets, came over with the speed of a heat-seeking missile. ‘So intrusive!’

‘Yes indeed,’ Randall said, without emphasis. ‘Anyway, I’ll have my mobile with me if I’m needed.’ He went out.

‘Muriel, I’m off now too. Mrs McNally’s still in the waiting room – Dr Matthews is running late this morning. And Cara should be back in half an hour to let you away.’ Enid headed for the back office to collect her coat.

‘Thank you, Enid,’ Muriel said frostily. She had not forgiven her for the way she had spoken, and she hadn’t forgotten her suspicions either. That little exchange had been quite blatant – her leaving whenever he did, and him reminding her he had his mobile so he could let her know when he’d finished at the Duncans’. She must remember to pass
that
on to the constable, next time she saw him.

This would have to stop. Katy Anderson looked wearily about at the litter of memories she had surrounded herself with, all she still had to prove that her life with Rob hadn’t been a dream: the photos, the pressed rose from her wedding posy, the programme from the Glasgow show they’d gone to on their first date . . . It had been her relief from the rest of the sorting out she’d had to do, removing Rob’s pyjamas from the pillow, throwing out his toothbrush and shaving things. His clothes . . . she’d just had to shut the door of his wardrobe and leave that, until at some unimaginable future date the pain became bearable.

It had helped at first to blot out the intolerable present with the past, reliving the presentation of Rob’s RNLI medal from the yellowing report and photo in the
Galloway Globe
, the surprise weekend in Paris from an old, sweetly sentimental birthday card. But it wasn’t working now. Last night’s tragedy had shocked her back to the reality that was this terrible new life.

What was happening, in this peaceful, friendly place where she had been so happy? Somehow, after Rob’s death she had been too numbed with shock to ask questions; now, ‘Why? Who?’ was a constant beating inside her head.

Could she bear to go on living here, with the front windows of this very room giving a view of the sea which had taken Rob from her, and the back one of the place where Willie Duncan had died, where without even turning her head she could see the police screens and the gathering pile of flowers beside them? Could she walk down the street there and meet her neighbours, while she wondered if it was one of them who had done these awful things? It was horrible, horrible – but where else was she to go?

Then there was Nat. Sooner, rather than later, she would have to confront the problem. She had tried to blot out her terrible suspicions, and she’d been grateful to Enid Davis, who had made a case for him. Grateful – but not completely convinced. To someone naive, of course mothers and sons loved each other and estrangements were no more than misunderstandings. And perhaps she did love him really, even if all she felt about living with him, without Rob’s presence to protect her, was a shrinking fear.

She had seen hatred in Nat’s face when he looked at Rob – yes, and at her too, sometimes, hatred and contempt. In the initial shock, she had hardly noticed whether he was in the house or not, but now she was becoming aware that he was trying to make up to her, with cups of tea and sympathetic enquiries. Perhaps he did feel sorry for her, did feel guilty about his past behaviour, and perhaps she should be giving him the benefit of the doubt, but yesterday she had caught a look on his face as he turned to leave the room which was neither kindly nor apologetic.

She needed a breathing space – maybe they both did. She couldn’t send him back to his father, of course, who was responsible for much of the damage that had been done to their son, but she’d always got on well with Dave’s mother, a decent woman who might find Nat a suitable place near her in Glasgow for the time being. Or would that only make things worse? Oh, she needed Rob, Rob who was kind but tough, to put things in perspective . . . She pressed her lips together, hard. She couldn’t have Rob, that was all, and she’d have to get used to it.

When the doorbell rang, it occurred to Katy to wonder if it might be Enid Davis. They’d talked a bit at the funeral tea; she’d discovered that they had both suffered badly from an unhappy first marriage, and she’d been helpful about Nat before, too, even if Katy did think she might have a rather idealistic notion of teenage boys. It would be a lucky coincidence if it was Enid.

It wasn’t. When she opened the door it was Joanna Elder who stood there, stylish as always in a cream wool coat with a luxurious fake-fur collar. She had a basket looped over one arm and was carrying an elaborate floral arrangement of pink and white lilies.

‘Mrs Elder!’ Katy said, showing her surprise. Her acquaintance with the Honorary Secretary’s wife had always been of the most formal kind.

‘Oh, Joanna, please! How are you?’ Her smile was charmingly sympathetic. ‘I just brought you some flowers and one or two sort of foodie things.’

‘How very kind! Do come in.’ Katy had repeated the words so often that the response seemed programmed, like a mechanical doll’s. She led the way upstairs to the kitchen so that her visitor could set down the ‘foodie things’, in the faint hope that with that duty done she might go away.

In the kitchen there was plentiful evidence of neighbourly concern: there were boxes and tins piled up and potted plants and flowers everywhere, some faded, still in their cellophane wrapping. There was no heating on and the lounge, with the electric fire on, had been very warm. Katy, her arms wrapped across her chest as if in protection, shivered as she watched Joanna set down the elegant arrangement on the dresser.

Joanna noticed immediately. ‘My dear, you’re cold. I’m sure you can’t be sleeping properly and I did wonder if you felt able to eat? I hope you won’t think it’s impertinent, but I’ve got soup here, and sandwiches. I haven’t had my lunch either.’

‘That’s very kind,’ Katy said again, managing to smile. Joanna took off the smart little coat to reveal a gilet – real fur, this time – over a caramel-coloured sweater and trousers and draped it over the back of a chair. With a swift glance round the kitchen she found a pan and tipped in soup from the Thermos flask in her basket, then while it was heating set some exotic-looking packets and jars on the table and unwrapped a very professional-looking pile of sandwiches. Katy mutely fetched a tray, plates and mugs while Joanna chattered on.

‘Ritchie’s been so worried about you – well, we both have, of course – and he wanted you to know he’s there for you, if there’s anything he can do. I’ve been meaning to come before this, but you know how it is – it’s been bedlam, with the police and the Press and all the arrangements.’ Then she too shivered. ‘Goodness, it is cold in here, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry. It didn’t seem worth heating the house when I’ve mostly just been in the lounge with the fire on.’

‘Then we’ll take it in there, shall we?’ Joanna said briskly, and Katy led the way across the landing.

Seen with a stranger’s eye, the room looked untidy and sordid. The contents of her memory boxes were spread out over the chairs and floor; the dust of neglect filmed the surfaces and there were even dirty mugs and plates from the coffee and toast she had been living on. Katy looked about her helplessly. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve just been . . . going through things.’

‘Not to worry!’ Joanna set down the tray on top of one of the less cluttered tables, cleared an untidy pile of papers off one of the chairs beside it and sat down, handing Katy a mug and a sandwich. Dutifully Katy sipped at the creamy mushroom soup and was surprised how good it tasted and how hungry she felt.

‘I promised Ritchie I would look in to see you today, to see if you were all right after this latest ghastly business. Right on your doorstep, too!’

‘That was very kind.’ Again, the all-purpose phrase.

‘It’s such a dreadful thing – poor Willie! We just couldn’t believe it – couldn’t believe all this could happen in Knockhaven!’

‘I don’t want to believe it,’ Katy said slowly. ‘It seems like, if it’s true, then my time with Rob was just sort of a bad joke, to kid me on that life could be good and happy. It isn’t, is it? I was right before and Rob was wrong. It’s cruel and ugly. All Willie was doing was helping me out, and this happened to him.

‘Rob tried to tell me it wasn’t, that bad stuff happened but you coped and things would get better again. But this won’t ever get better, as long as I live. And it’s the same for Jackie Duncan.’

‘Yes. Poor Jackie.’ Joanna’s eyes went to the window at the back as she spoke. ‘Did you—?’ she said, then broke off as the doorbell rang again. ‘Oh, are you expecting someone?’

Katy shook her head, putting down her mug to go and answer it, but Joanna was on her feet. ‘Let me get that for you,’ she offered, and went out without waiting for a response.

Enid Davis was on the doorstep and looked surprised to see Joanna. ‘Oh – I didn’t know you would be here, Mrs Elder! I spoke to Katy at the funeral and after yesterday – I just brought her a few things—’

‘Come in, we’re upstairs. I had the same idea myself – we’re just having some soup. Ritchie made me promise to come and see her today. He was very worried about her, with all this on her doorstep—’

‘I know. It’s all so dreadful. I keep thinking it must be some sort of bad dream and we’ll all wake up soon.’

‘It beggars belief. And what’s going to happen next? It’s a horrible feeling.’ She glanced at the bag Enid was holding. ‘Do you want to put that in the kitchen?’

‘I’ve just made a casserole for her to heat up – they both have to eat and she probably doesn’t feel up to cooking for him.’

Joanna stopped. ‘Oh yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I’d forgotten. There is that boy – her son, not Rob’s?’

‘That’s right, Nat. I can’t help feeling sorry for him, even if he has been in trouble. You know how difficult it is when there’s a step-parent. Katy’s all on her own now – she’ll need his support.’

From what Joanna remembered of the boy she had seen a couple of times this seemed unlikely. But, ‘I’m sure,’ she said diplomatically, then led the way to the lounge.

There was no mistaking Katy’s pleasure at seeing her guest. ‘Enid, how nice of you to come,’ she said warmly, holding out both hands. Enid took them, then went to sit beside her on the sofa. She had to displace a bundle of old newspapers; she picked them up, looking helpless.

‘Oh, just dump them on the floor. Sorry – I’ve been trying to sort things out.’

‘Mmm,’ Joanna said, and Katy coloured. She hadn’t asked the woman to come here and start disapproving.

Enid said, ‘Oh, Katy, it must have been so dreadful for you, all this last night on top of everything else! I could have come then, if I’d heard.’ She sounded genuinely distressed.

‘I didn’t know anything about it until the morning. The doctor’s given me pills and I just crash out. My bedroom’s to the front anyway – it’s only Nat’s at the back here.’

On the other side of the room, Joanna looked almost excluded from the conversation.
She doesn’t like not being the centre of attention
, Katy thought as Joanna said loudly, ‘Oh dear! Did he see what happened?’

‘How is Nat?’ Enid asked. ‘He must have been very upset too.’

‘I don’t think he was there at the time. I heard him going out before I went to bed myself and he never bothers to open his curtains anyway. But I don’t know – I haven’t spoken to him yet.’

Enid hesitated. ‘Look – perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but he’s all you have left!’

Katy sighed. ‘I know what you’re saying, Enid, and you’re right, of course you’re right, but Nat’s – difficult. He really hated Rob and he was quite threatening to me. I was really thinking about seeing if his grandmother would have him for a bit—’

‘You know your own son, of course. But you know, from a psychological point of view he probably felt he’d lost you when you remarried. You could build bridges now, surely, but if you send him away—’

Joanna got up. ‘I’ll leave you two to chat. Katy, if you’ve any problems on the business side do let Ritchie know – he’s very good on that sort of thing. No, don’t bother to show me down. I’ll pick up the Thermos and the basket on my way.’

It was with some relief that Katy saw her go. She’d never found Joanna easy and her Lady Bountiful act seemed somehow phoney, though perhaps she was being oversensitive. Anyway, it was a help to talk to Enid about Nat. She didn’t want to suspect her own son, of course she didn’t.

The conflict of emotions raging within her was familiar to Marjory Fleming. She had experienced it every time one of her children didn’t appear when they were expected to: a violent rush of relief from terror, thankfulness that they were unharmed and pure, incandescent rage. It overwhelmed her when the door to her office opened at half-past two and DC Kingsley appeared. She jumped to her feet.

‘Kingsley! How dare you put us through all this?’ she yelled. ‘Do you realise I was right on the brink of announcing a public search for you? Can you imagine it – you breezing in ten minutes later, everyone cracking up because Galloway CID can’t find one of its own detectives?’

‘Sorry, ma’am.’ With his hair in its normal style and his person innocent of any metal attachment, though showing a suspicious-looking patch of blurred colour on the side of his neck, Kingsley stood to attention in front of her desk. His impression of someone truly penitent was not entirely convincing.

‘Don’t try to apologise – I haven’t finished with being furious with you yet.’ She sat down again. ‘Explanation?’ she said icily.