A Finer End (22 page)

“You can’t know what would have happened,” interposed Gemma. “No one can.”

“But if she went looking for me, and someone—”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with you,” said Gemma, not sure at all. “And there’s no point in speculating. What we
have to do now is look after you. Jack said the doctor wanted you to go to the prenatal clinic for a checkup today—”

“No!”

Gemma jerked back in astonishment at the violence of Faith’s response.

“I won’t go,” the girl insisted. “I can’t. Garnet—Garnet promised to take care of me … how could she leave me like this?” She began to cry again, her shoulders heaving.

Gemma slipped her arms round the girl, holding her and murmuring, “It’s all right, it’s all right,” just as she would with her own son. Faith was still a child, after all, and she had just lost the woman who seemed to have been in some powerful sense a substitute mother.

After a bit, Faith’s sobs subsided, but she kept her face buried in Gemma’s shoulder, sniffing occasionally. Gemma stroked the short, damp hair back from the girl’s forehead.

Faith smiled sleepily, whispering, “You’re nice. Like my mum,” as her eyes drifted closed. In moments she was asleep, and not even the loud buzz of the doorbell disturbed her.

It amazed Jack how quickly sitting at Winnie’s bedside, stroking her hand, and talking to her as if she could understand, came to seem normal. He told her that his cousin had come to visit, and that Faith was staying with them for a bit. He said nothing about Garnet’s death.

His thoughts strayed to Duncan. What had he found when he accompanied Detective Greely? How had Garnet died? And how had his cousin—the boy who had gone white with distress at every injured bird or dead fox in the road—grown into a man who took death so easily in his stride?

When Maggie, who was back on duty today, motioned him that it was time for a break, he went reluctantly to the hospital canteen and had a sandwich. Suzanne Sanborne
had told him that Andrew had been there most of the morning, but had not gone in to see his sister.

She’d added, “I don’t want to worry you, but Andrew’s behaving quite oddly. He seems so irrational.… Just watch yourself, okay?”

Jack walked back to the ICU, mulling it over. He’d been concerned about Andrew for Winnie’s sake, but not his own. Andrew was a schoolteacher, he reminded himself—an academic unlikely to have bloodied a nose even in primary school. If Andrew wanted to have a go at him, then let him.

“She’s been restless since you left,” Maggie informed him as soon as he reached the ward. “Encourage her to wake up, to talk to you, to let you know she can hear you.”

Jack pulled his chair as close to the bed as he could, and when he reached out to stroke Winnie’s cheek, he saw that his hand was trembling. “I hear you missed me,” he said, trying for a light touch. “I always knew I was irresistible.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “I won’t leave you unless I must—you know that. But I need you to wake up, to talk to me. I miss you, Winnie, and I need to know you can hear me. Wake up, darling, please. Talk to me.”

Had he felt her hand move? Winnie’s eyelids had fluttered, he was sure of it. Then she blinked, once, twice, and opened her eyes. He saw awareness flood back into her gaze, then she focused on his face and he knew that she knew him.

So intense was the rush of relief that his throat tightened and his eyes brimmed. He bowed his head, and in that moment felt her hand grip his convulsively.

When he looked up, her eyes were wide with panic. She turned her head from side to side, reaching up with her free hand to scrabble at the tubes.

Maggie was there in an instant, restraining her, calming her. “We’ll get the breathing tube out in a tick, dear. You won’t be needing it now you’re awake. Now take a deep breath and breathe out when I tell you.”

Jack tightened his hold on Winnie’s hand as the nurse slipped the tube out on Winnie’s exhalation.

“I know it hurts,” said Maggie. “I’m going to give you a little sip of water and that will help.” She fetched a cup and held the straw to Winnie’s lips. “Not too much at once, now, dear. When we see you’re handling your liquids well, we’ll take out the stomach tube.”

Winnie released the straw and sank back into the pillow, closing her eyes.

“Just rest, darling,” Jack said, his voice still unsteady. “You’re going to be fine.”

But after a moment she opened her eyes and tried to speak. When no sound emerged, she touched her throat and tried again. “What … happened?” Her voice was the barest whisper. “What time is it?”

Jack looked at Maggie, who nodded. He said gently, “You had an accident. On your bike. You’ve been in hospital for two days.”

“Days?”

“You’ve had a bump on the head, but you’re going to be fine.”

“I can’t remember … I was going somewhere—something I had to do.…”

“Don’t worry. You will. But now you have to rest.”

With an obedience that moved him deeply, Winnie closed her eyes. Soon her breathing became slower and more regular.

“She’s not—” Jack asked Maggie, panicked. “She hasn’t gone under again, has she?”

Maggie smiled. “It’s just a normal nap. That’s a good thing. She’s going to be very weak at first. But she’s over the hump.”

“But will she remember the accident, or what happened before?”

“The human brain is a funny thing. Sometimes the gaps never fill in. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Jack?”

Winnie had opened her eyes.

“Yes, darling. I’m here.”

“You came to dinner.… Andrew was there.… There was something I had to tell you about Andrew. Why can’t I remember?”

With a quick glance at the cardiac monitor, Maggie interposed. “That’s enough for now. You need to rest, dear, and your Jack will be waiting just outside for you to wake up.”

Jack took his cue, kissing Winnie’s cheek gently before he left the ward. He sank into the nearest chair in the waiting area and gave himself over to a flood of profound relief and gratitude.

But after a moment, he stiffened, frowning. What hope did they have of finding out exactly what had happened, and why, when Winnie had clearly lost a day?

T
HE YOUNG MAN
looked as if he were a Greek sculpture come to life. Tall and slender, with square shoulders balancing a graceful neck, he had classically molded features and a perfectly shaped head covered with a tight cap of dark curls.

Gemma decided instantly that no one so beautiful could be entirely trustworthy. “Hullo,” she said. “You must be Nick.”

He nodded. “Who are you?”

“I’m Gemma. My … um, friend … is Jack’s cousin. We’ve come to help out.”

“Where’s Jack? I need to talk to him.” He pushed past her.

Following him into the kitchen, Gemma replied, “Gone to the hospital to see Winnie. He waited for you as long as he could.”

“Faith—”

“Upstairs. She’s just gone to sleep. Please don’t wake her.”

Nick had already turned towards the stairway corridor, but the firmness of her tone stopped him midstep. For the first time, he seemed to really look at her, and in doing so lost a little of his momentum.

“She’s had a very difficult morning, and she’s exhausted,” Gemma said, taking full advantage. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Reluctantly, he came back to the table and pulled out a chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’ve been frantic all day.”

“Faith was worried about you.”

“As soon as I could get away from work, I went looking for Garnet. I drove by the farm, but there was no sign of her van. Then I checked all round Glastonbury. I thought if I could tell Faith that Garnet was all right—”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible,” Gemma said.

“What? Why not?”

“Garnet was found in her van this morning. She’s dead.”

Nick gaped at her. “But—I suppose she killed herself?”

That makes two
, thought Gemma. “Why would you say that?” she asked quietly.

“Well, it seems obvious, doesn’t it? If she tried to kill Winnie, and then she felt guilty … or maybe she was afraid Faith would find out what she’d done.…”

“Would that have mattered to her so much?”

“She seems obsessed with Faith—”

“In a sexual way?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t think so. But she is insanely jealous of her.” He scowled at Gemma, tapping his fingers on the table. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you ask a lot of questions.”

“Sorry. Bad habit.” He would find out soon enough that she was a copper, but until then she might as well make the most of her temporary anonymity. “Do I take it Garnet wasn’t fond of you?”

“Not particularly, no.” He didn’t seem eager to pursue the subject. “How did Faith take the news?”

“She was quite upset, but she’s doing better now. We do need to get her into the prenatal clinic for a checkup, though, and she won’t even consider it. I don’t suppose you have any influence …”

“Not likely.” Nick sounded bitter.

“Have you any idea why she’s so set against it?”

“I always supposed it was because Garnet discouraged it. A power thing.”

If it had been Garnet’s intention to make Faith dependent on her care, she seemed to have succeeded, mused Gemma. “Faith told me you thought Garnet had struck Winnie with her van. Why were you so sure of that?”

Nick fidgeted. “Faith said Garnet went out about the time of Winnie’s accident, and when she came back she was behaving oddly.”

“That’s not much to go on, is it? Why would Garnet have done such a thing?”

“Maybe she thought Winnie was going to convince Faith to go back to her family. Or maybe—maybe Winnie
found out something that Garnet didn’t want known.” This hypothesis seemed to please the boy. “Winnie’s good at talking to people. Maybe Faith told her something.…”

“Something about Garnet? But what?”

“I don’t know.” Nick answered a little too abruptly. “Now that Garnet’s … gone, has Faith said what she means to do?”

“No. I just assumed she’d stay here for the time being. She certainly has no business being on her own.”

“She’ll need some of her things, then.” He pushed his chair back from the table with an air of relief. “I’ll just nip up to the farmhouse—”

“No,” Gemma interrupted. “I’ll go. Faith will want to see you if she wakes, and I could use the exercise. Just give me directions.” She didn’t mention that the place would be crawling with police by now, and she could at least plead official status. Besides, she had to admit she was increasingly curious about Garnet Todd.

“Okay,” Nick said at last, and gave her terse directions. Glancing critically at her shoes, he warned, “It’s a good climb, though.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she answered, amused. Her new shoes had a bit higher heel than she usually wore on the job, but her feet were veterans of abuse. As she gathered up her handbag and jacket, she remembered the promise she’d made to Faith. “The café where Faith works—is it near here?”

“Halfway up the lane to Garnet’s farm. You can’t miss it.”

At the door, Gemma turned and made a last entreaty to Nick. “You will try to convince Faith about the doctor, won’t you?”

He snorted. “Trying to get Faith to do something she’s made up her mind against is like trying to move the damn Tor. I don’t know how Garnet managed to make her so biddable.”

“Hypnotism, maybe?” Gemma said lightly.

“Or something worse,” Nick muttered darkly, but when she raised an eyebrow, he shook his head and said, “Never mind.”

Gemma hadn’t realized how much the atmosphere of Jack’s house oppressed her until she was outside it. Most of the houses along the way were massively Victorian, like Jack’s, but a good many showed obvious signs of modernization and redecorating. Odd that Jack’s mother had done so little to make the place more livable.

On the right, the slope of the Tor rose from the back gardens, while beyond the houses on the left side of the road, the land dropped steeply away to a flat, level plain.

Soon she came to the sharp turn Nick had indicated and began the climb up Wellhouse Lane. Immediately, she saw the bough-entwined entrance of the footpath that led to the Tor’s summit. She found the prospect strangely tempting, in spite of the uneasiness the hill engendered in her, but she resolved to put off the climb until another time.

A bit winded by the time she reached the Dream Café, Gemma paused to examine the charm-and-ribbon-bedecked tree in its courtyard. It occurred to her that Winnie had come to the café on her bike, perhaps leaning the bicycle on that very tree.

The interior of the café was dim and damp. Van Morrison’s
Moondance
played on the cheap sound system, and a few customers sat eating at wooden tables. Beyond them, a lanky man with a graying ponytail worked in a small kitchen behind a serving area.

“Are you Buddy?” Gemma asked, reaching the counter.

“One and the same.” His smile was friendly, his accent vaguely American. “What can I do for you?”

“My name’s Gemma. I’m a friend of Jack Montfort’s, visiting from London—”

“Is it Winnie? Not—”

“No, Winnie’s condition hasn’t changed. Faith asked me to come see you; she’s staying at Jack’s.”

Buddy looked relieved. “I didn’t know, when she didn’t show up for work this morning. I thought the baby …” Then his brow creased as he sorted out the implications. “Why isn’t Faith with Garnet? Is Faith all right?”

“Faith is fine. It’s Garnet. I’m very sorry to say she’s dead.”

“Dead?” Buddy stared at her. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Gemma repeated gently. “I know you were friends.”