Dark Tides (30 page)

‘You weren’t the trigger, Claire.’

My eyes stung and watered. ‘You don’t know that.’

David pulled me into him, his hands finding their way beneath the small backpack I had on. ‘He just let go, Claire. He finally told you the truth. That’s what he’d been waiting for all these years.’

But he hadn’t told me the whole truth. He hadn’t warned me about Morgan and he hadn’t told me what had become of Mum. When I heard that he’d died the following day, I’d been crushed by the thought that I’d never find her. And I hated him for that every bit as much as the way he’d concealed Mum’s death to shield his son.

I hadn’t told Dad anything of what I’d found out. I didn’t know how much he knew. I suspected Mum had told him that he wasn’t my biological father. It would explain their rows in the weeks before she disappeared, it would make sense of why he hadn’t wanted Mum to work for Edward again, it would account for how depressed and upset she’d been in the lead-up to Hop-tu-naa that year, not to mention how crushed Dad had been when I’d told him that I’d spoken with Edward last October. I thought back to the night Mum had been taken from me, to all the effort she’d put into my costume and now I felt that I knew why. She’d wanted Edward to want me. She’d believed that I had a right to know my real father even if it would tear her marriage apart.

But the truth was I knew my father already. Forget DNA. Forget genetics. I already had a dad. He would always be there for me when I needed him. He loved me deeply and I loved him so much in return that it hurt to think of the pain Mum had caused him.

I hoped now she’d been found that Dad might build a real life for himself again. I hoped he’d find someone to care for him, to share a future with. I hoped that by the next time Hop-tu-naa rolled around, he wouldn’t be scared to turn on the lights in his home, or to let children come to his door and sing nonsense songs.

David rested his chin on top of my head. ‘You do know this probably means that you’re the heir to the Caine millions?’

I sighed. ‘Always about the money. But you can forget about that. I already have.’

And even supposing it was true, even supposing Edward had named me in some hidden will somewhere, I would never accept his cash. It was tainted. Supposing the circumstances ever arose, the most I’d do would be to channel all the money into some kind of charitable endeavour. Maybe there’d be enough cash to fund a children’s foundation, a place for kids to play with one another in the way Morgan was never able to. But if that happened, it wouldn’t be in the Caine name. They didn’t deserve a legacy. Not even me.

‘There’s one last secret,’ I told David. ‘One final thing I have to tell you.’

He leaned back from me, a flicker of concern passing across his face.

I slipped the backpack off my shoulders, unfastened the zip and opened the bag, showing him what was inside.

‘Go ahead. Take it.’

David reached down, his features twisted in puzzlement. He removed Bun-Bun.

‘We’ll need him.’

I took his hand and pulled it towards me and rested the flat of his palm low on my belly. These woods. I wanted to be touched in them now.

‘I’m pregnant. Over two months gone.
That’s
why I went to see Edward on the night you spotted me. I wanted to protect us. But not just for you and me, for our baby, too. Our future.’

He laughed then, a fractured note of disbelief and joy. His eyes widened, his palm warm on my fledgling bump. He turned Bun-Bun over and marvelled at the old, frayed toy, and then he wrapped me in his arms and he pulled me close.

The tall pines shook overhead, a gentle breeze rustling the millions of fine needles. The soft morning light twinkled through the knitted boughs. And as I rested my chin on David’s shoulder, peering out at the woods that surrounded us, I had the oddest sensation of being watched. But I wasn’t afraid or disturbed. This feeling was altogether different. Because it seemed to me just then that perhaps David had been right – maybe the ghosts of our lost friends really were out here with us, hiding among the trees, waiting for some final dare to be concluded.

‘Time’s up,’ I whispered. ‘You can all come out now.’

While much of this book is intended to be faithful to the landscape and geography of the Isle of Man, I should probably just note that certain liberties have occasionally been taken. In particular, I drew the line at abseiling into the Chasms in the name of research, but I’m reliably informed that despite being spectacular and unnerving, none of the chasms descend quite as far as the seabed.

Heartfelt thanks to my wonderful agent, Vivien Green, and my fantastic editor, Katherine Armstrong.

To all at Sheil Land Associates and Faber & Faber, including Gaia Banks, Marika Lysandrou, Lucy Fawcett, Philippa Sitters, Catriona McDavid, Hannah Griffiths, Angus Cargill, Alex Kirby, Miles Poynton, Neal Price, Dave Woodhouse, Kate McQuaid, Sophie Portas, Katie Hall, John Grindrod and Alice Brett.

To Yvonne Cresswell and Katie King (Manx National Heritage), Adrian Cain (Culture Vannin), Andrew Haddock, Andrew Owen, Cathryn Bradley and Chief Constable Gary Roberts (Isle of Man Constabulary), Nigel Fisher (Deputy Governor, Isle of Man Prison and Probation Service), Fred Fox (and all at the Northern Lighthouse Board), Dr Andrew Foxon (Go-Mann Adventures) and Keith Jones (Hot Rocks Climbing Wall).

To Stuart MacBride, Ann Cleeves and Stav Sherez.

And lastly, to my friends and family, especially, and as always, to Jo, Jessica and Maisie.

Chris Ewan is the award-winning author of
The Good Thief's Guide to . . .
series of mystery novels, which are in development with 20
^th
Century Fox Television on behalf of showrunner Hart Hanson (
Bones
). His debut,
The Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam
, won the Long Barn Books First Novel Award and is published in eleven countries, and
Amsterdam
,
Paris
,
Vegas
and
Venice
, have all been shortlisted for CrimeFest’s Last Laugh Award.

Born in Taunton in 1976, he now lives in the Isle of Man with his wife, Jo, and their daughter.
Safe House
, his first stand-alone thriller, was a number one bestseller in 2012 and was shortlisted for the Theakston’s Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year Award.
Dead Line
, his second thriller, was published in 2013.

For more information please visit www.chrisewan.com, or follow Chris on Twitter @chrisewan.

SAFE HOUSE

DEAD LINE

First published in 2014
by Faber and Faber Ltd
Bloomsbury House
74–77 Great Russell Street
London
WC
1
B
3
DA
This ebook edition first published in 2014
 

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All rights reserved
© Chris Ewan, 2014
 

Cover image © Getty
 

The right of Chris Ewan to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
 

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
 

ISBN
978–0–571–30746–3