Deep Water, Thin Ice (12 page)

Morning had brought no particular improvement. Now they were sitting outside the Blue Anchor Café on the quay. The sun was out and a stiff breeze flicked the escaping tendril of Alex’s hair from her plait and made the awning over the café entrance flap noisily. Erica pulled her cardigan more tightly around her and stirred sugar into her coffee with a pinched expression. She’d already demolished two croissants and had watched with barely disguised frustration as Alex pulled her pastry into a thousand pieces before eating it. It had been the same when they were young: in times of stress Erica always comfort ate, whereas Alex’s appetite dropped in direct proportion to her misery.

‘So Theo’s been helping you a lot has he?’ Erica said suddenly, unable to leave the subject alone, like someone scratching a rash knowing it will make it itch more.

‘Not a lot, but some.’

Erica fidgeted a glance up at her sister’s face. She’d got the dark glasses on again.

‘I hate it when you wear those. I can’t see what you’re thinking.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous; you can never see what I’m thinking – which is just as well sometimes.’

‘Oh very funny. So what’s he like?’

Alex sighed.

‘I told you. He’s very nice, helpful.’ Alex’s tone hardened. ‘This isn’t going to be a repeat of last night’s: ‘
watch out for treasure seekers, men who prey on wealthy widows
’
advice again is it? He’s not short of money for a start; he gets well paid crewing yachts for rich people…I can’t believe I’m saying this as if it’s an issue. You’re just suspicious of him because you don’t know him, didn’t introduce us. I can pick friends for myself you know. I’m a big girl now.’

Erica pointedly looked away, out towards the quay where Andy Turner, the ferry skipper, was drumming up custom for the next trip upriver. Alex’s anger dissipated as rapidly as it had come.

‘Look, please don’t make a big thing out of it,’ she said, trying to build bridges. ‘Theo knows the house well. He’s at a bit of a loose end at the moment and he offered to help. That’s all there is to it. He’s easy to be with, easy to talk to.’

‘Easy to talk to? So what have you been saying to him?’

‘What are you driving at?’ Alex shook her head. ‘I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss. Theo’s good company. He’s told me all sorts of things about when they were all kids together. It…helps.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘I don’t know: games they played, places they went, stupid nicknames and bad childhood jokes.’

‘Are you sure about how true this all this? I mean, you didn’t even know the cousin existed.’

‘Why shouldn’t it be true? You’ve seen the photograph of them together. What’s this all about?…You’re jealous aren’t you? Jealous that I’m happy to spend time with him when I’ve been keeping you away?’

‘Nonsense.’

‘Is it? So what is it then?’

‘Oh nothing. Forget it.’

‘Don’t say nothing like that when quite clearly there’s something.’

‘I just don’t want you to get hurt, OK? When you said last night that Theo reminded you so much of Simon…well, it made me worry.’

‘Now I know what this is about: you
never
liked Simon.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Yes it is. You told me when I first started going out with him that he seemed a bit spoilt; very la di da and didn’t he think the world revolved around him.’

‘That was years ago,’ said Erica in a pained voice, flicking the crumbs across her plate. ‘It’s not fair to bring that up. I didn’t know him did I?’ She fidgeted in the chair. ‘Anyway the point I’m trying to make is I don’t think you should get involved with someone too soon.’

‘Involved with someone? For Christ’s sake Erica, I’m not involved with the guy. It’s only nine months since Simon died.’ Alex’s pale complexion flushed with hurt and anger. ‘I can’t believe you said that. I mean… how…’ She stood up suddenly, knocking her coffee cup over as she did so. The spoon fell on the floor and she bent abruptly down to retrieve it. ‘Shall we get the ferry up to Southwell?’ she asked briskly. ‘It’ll be going in a minute.’

Erica nodded and got to her feet. They walked to the ferry in silence.

Erica’s visit heralded the beginning of the holiday season in earnest and Kellaford Bridge was as busy as Alex had seen it, the narrow road down to the village regularly blocked with reversing cars, the quay parking full. She heard locals in the Stores wishing loudly for September but, though on nodding and casual conversational terms with some of them, she still mixed little. However the idea of completely renovating Hillen Hall had taken root in her mind and she’d begun collecting catalogues and samples, checking out local traders, suppliers and builders. Alex guessed Erica would have said that she was just planning an even bigger shrine to Simon. The night before she’d left for London, over a bottle of wine, Erica, in an unguarded moment, had remarked on Alex’s collection of ‘Simonabilia’ in the bedroom, and it had been the start of their most heated argument ever.

‘I don’t think it’s wise Alex,’ Erica had said. ‘You can’t keep him here with you.’

‘He is here with me.’

‘Don’t be absurd, Alex, he died. You’ve got to accept it. Move on. Pick up your life again. You’re going to let him ruin it and you’re too young to do that. I know I sound hard but it’s for your own good.’

‘Any minute now you’ll be telling me to meet someone new, start again.’

‘Well yes, sometime you should.’

‘And weren’t you the one who was telling me to beware of getting involved with Theo?’

‘Yes, but that was different. I was scared that you might like him just because you think he’s like Simon.’

‘Oh, give me some credit Erica.’

There was a pained silence.

‘Why do you have to be so controlling?’ Alex muttered resentfully, running a finger round the top of her wine glass. ‘Everything always has to be examined, compartmentalised and planned. And you always know better. Everything has to fit in with your idea of how things should be.’

‘That’s not fair,’ said Erica hotly. ‘And if I am controlling it’s because that’s how I get through. I’m a single working mother and that’s not easy. But then you wouldn’t know about that, would you? You do everything on a whim, as and when you feel like it. It’s always been easy for
you
.’

Alex looked up then.

‘What do you mean by that? I’ve always worked hard. I never used to stop.’

‘No, but that was because you wanted to. Simon wanted children but you were too interested in your career.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You told me. It’s true isn’t it?’

‘No. Not really. I
did
want children. I just wanted to establish myself properly first. I couldn’t afford the time off.’

‘Exactly. But now, because it suits you, you’ve walked away from it. You’ve always been spoilt Alex, you know that? The talented child protégé with the amazing voice and people queuing up to help you on your way. And even when you got Simon it wasn’t enough was it? You weren’t really happy?’

Alex stared at her sister, mouth open in horror.

‘That’s simply not true,’ she retorted. ‘None of it. If it hadn’t been for Francine I’d never have made it. Spoilt? You think it was easy coping with Victoria’s damning opposition all those years. And if she was disappointed because you didn’t become a solicitor, it’s nothing to the failure she thinks I am. She thinks I’m a waste of space. Always will. Is that what you call spoilt? You spent your whole childhood saying how you wished you were me. Do you know how much I hated that? And don’t tell me you’re controlling now because you’ve got a tough deal. You were controlling when you were two, for God’s sake. And you
chose
to have Ben didn’t you? He wasn’t forced on you. Well he’s great. Look at your life; think about him. You’ve got so much. Stop with the self pity will you?’

‘You’re a fine one to talk about self-pity. You’ve been moping in it ever since Simon died.’

‘Yes, and now I haven’t got children and I haven’t got him either so that should make you happy.’

There was a stunned silence while they both took stock of what they’d said. Then Alex muttered that she felt tired and went to bed.

After a long night, their parting the next morning had been polite but strained. They’d both apologised and they’d hugged but their relationship was damaged, their angry remarks standing like a barbed barrier between them.

They’d barely spoken since. Erica had been swept up into organising the summer holidays for Ben, juggling her work, plotting trips and clubs for him and Alex was relieved to be alone again. The depth of Erica’s jealousy and resentment had shocked her and she wondered if she’d been staring at it for years without seeing it, too wrapped up in her own plans and schemes. Spoilt? Was she? Her sister’s damning assessment gnawed at her uncomfortably.

She tried to put the argument out of her mind and threw herself into her plans for Hillen Hall, taking advantage of the fine weather of July to walk the garden and grounds, looking for the signs of features she’d seen on the old photographs, considering how much would be feasible to reconstruct. She worked out the layout of the old walled garden, talked to Tim Prentice about what would be involved in restoring it and looked up local landscaping companies though never actually contacted them. She planned a lot but did little that was concrete. The worst of the windows had been replaced and she got professionals in to decorate her bedroom, reluctant to impose any further on Theo, and yet refused to admit to herself that Erica’s comments had affected her. But she went no further, struggling to commit herself too heavily.

The long case clock had become a personal battle. It had started again after being moved and ran until the mechanism wound down. She rewound it, relieved that the problem was now solved. But that night, she’d woken in the early hours, convinced that she’d heard someone moving around downstairs. There was no phone line in the bedroom and her mobile had no reception so she crept to the top of the stairs and listened in the dark, straining to hear who was there, her heart hammering. She heard nothing. When she eventually plucked up the courage to put the lights on and go downstairs, there was no-one there. But the clock had stopped again.

She stood in front of it, perplexed. The hands were stuck at twenty past eight. And yet she was sure that the clock had still been ticking when she’d passed it before going to bed. That had been around eleven o’clock.

She looked round and spoke Simon’s name and it fell bleakly into the empty room like a drop of water onto sodden ground. ‘Is it you?’ she breathed. ‘What are you
doing
?’

*

The next morning it was barely eight o’clock when Alex neared the clearing by the Grenloe and Susie began to bark, high warning barks that someone was intruding and then ran forward to meet her, whining. By the time Mick Fenby threw the carriage door open, Alex had reached his doorstep, panting heavily. She was cradling a large cardboard box in her arms.

‘What the hell…?’ he began, walking down the steps.

‘Here’, said Alex, thrusting the box at him. ‘I didn’t know where else to go.’

He looked at her suspiciously and then down into the box he was now holding. A terrified hare cowered in the bottom. When he looked back at Alex, she was bent over, catching her breath.

‘What’s this all about?’ he asked brusquely and, when she didn’t answer he lowered the box to the floor and crouched beside it.

‘It was in the park.’ Alex straightened up. ‘Injured. A fox had it and I scared it off. I thought perhaps you could help it.’ She’d been up early, unable to settle after the events of the night before, and had gone out to get some fresh air and clear her mind. She’d noticed a fox running away on the far side of the park and had seen something flailing on the ground. When she’d gone to investigate she’d found the injured hare. Theo had gone away the day before to help someone he knew crewing a yacht down the coast of Italy and wouldn’t be back for a fortnight or more. In any case, Alex guessed Mick Fenby would be more likely to know what to do with a wild animal. She’d found a box to put the hare in and had come down directly. ‘
Can
you help it?’ she said now.

‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘An injured hare hardly ever survives. And I’m no vet.’

He continued to crouch by the box though, one hand slowly running over the creature’s flanks, feeling for damage, checking for wounds. Susie walked over and gently sniffed at it and then lay down, ears pricked, watching fixedly. Alex came across and crouched down beside him. He glanced up at her.

‘He’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘We must do something.’

Mick’s eyes lingered on her. He grunted.

‘I suppose. Let’s take a look at him.’ He picked up the box and took it round to one of the sheds at the back of the carriage. ‘Flick that switch there, will you?’ he asked and soon the spotlight suspended from a hook in the ceiling glowed brightly. He carefully lifted the hare out of the box and laid him on a dusty table while Alex stood beside him and watched.

‘Doesn’t look as though the fox did much damage,’ he said, at length.