Breaking and Entering (60 page)

‘Oh, Pippa, I … I'm …' He had no words. There
were
none. He longed to put his arms around her, to comfort her, commiserate, tell her how outraged he felt, how bitterly ashamed, but she had rebuffed him once already. She
hated
him – her father – and with reason. He was aghast at his own blindness and stupidity, wounded by her accusations, yet unable to deny them. It
had
been him who'd sent her to the school, championing it against Penny's reservations. He'd been more concerned about his daughter's academic prowess than about her happiness. Even during the last few months, when she was patently distressed, he had still nagged about her homework, pressured her to work hard, to meet
his
expectations. And yes, he was so busy with his own affairs, so preoccupied with petty problems, he hadn't seen the major problem overshadowing her life. Both he and Penny had remained in total ignorance of her weeks and weeks of torment. But there was less excuse for him, especially since his visit to Greystone Court, where he'd been forced to confront the trauma of his past which had led to his own self-imposed silence as a boy. Yet when Pippa had stopped speaking for a very similar reason, he'd failed to recognize the parallel. And how ironic that he had blamed his parents for their crass insensitivity, when he was every bit as culpable himself. It was like Sayers all over again. He had condemned him as a brute, then assaulted Juliet with much the same brutality.

Juliet! He gave a stifled exclamation as it dawned on him that Pippa didn't know about her, knew nothing about his affair. The ‘someone' who was threatening her was not
him
, as he'd assumed, but a school bully called Rick Scarth.

‘Don't
cry
!' said Pippa, breaking off her torrent of words to stare in consternation at his tears.

‘I … I'm not.'

She pressed the damp and crumpled handkerchief into his hands, then tried awkwardly to put her arms around him. ‘Oh, please don't cry! I can't bear it. I
don't
hate you, honestly. Not now – not any more. I'm just so glad I've told you. I couldn't go on any longer keeping it all to myself.'

He held her tight against him, hardly knowing who was comforting whom. Around them, dusk was falling; the sharp lines blurring between hill and sky, child and parent, innocence and guilt.

‘I'm so desperately sorry, Pippa. It
was
my fault – you're right.'

‘No, it wasn't. I only said that because I was so upset. Because I thought I'd killed Rick, and I wanted to blame
you
, instead.'

He shook her almost roughly. ‘Rick
isn't
dead! Let's get that straight. He may pull through. They can do fantastic things in intensive care.' Suddenly, he remembered the injured wood-pigeon, which had accompanied him on his headlong drive to Wales. It had lain passive on the seat beside him until a few miles past the border, when it started threshing around, clearly struggling to escape. He had pulled up in a lay-by and unwrapped it from the creased and smelly jacket, then walked with it to a gateway and held it out at arm's length, willing it to fly. It stood unsteadily a moment, its feet scrabbling on his palm, then, with a flurry of grey feathers, it launched itself from his hands. At first it dipped and floundered, as if it had lost the power of flight, then slowly seemed to gather strength, rising higher and higher until it wheeled away towards the distant hills.

He was about to tell Pippa the story, but decided it was too complicated, not to mention facile. There was no connection between bird and boy, and despite his optimistic assertion about Rick not being dead, he had no proof of that whatever. If Rick
had
drowned, then it was up to him to help Pippa cope, not offer her false comfort in the form of happy endings.

‘Listen, darling, even if the news is … bad, you've got to understand that you're not to blame in any way at all. It was an accident – pure chance. Like the fact they were both called Rick.'

‘But I'm still scared Rick Scarth will get me. What if he finds out that I've told you?'

‘How could he? And anyway, I've no intention of letting you go back there. We'll find you a much nicer school – a smaller one – just girls, if you prefer.
You
can choose it this time.'

She hurled herself upon him, hugging him so fiercely he was almost knocked off balance. The intensity of that hug was proof how much she hated the place – as much as he had hated Greystone Court.

‘I can really truly leave? You promise?'

‘I promise. We'll go home tomorrow and start looking at prospectuses. And as for Scarth, I'll go and see Mrs Whittaker and insist that he's expelled.'

‘
No
!' She drew away from him, shrank back against the wall.

‘But he must be punished, darling. We can't let him get away with it.'

She didn't answer, just grazed her nails along the stone with a fretful rasping sound.

‘He sounds really dangerous, Pippa, making threats like that. It's horrendous, inexcusable. After all, we've got to think of the other children.
You'll
be out of harm's way, but he's bound to pick on someone else.'

‘I know, but …'

‘But what?'

She continued scrabbling with her nails, dislodging shale and stones. ‘Emma knows his father. She says he's horrid, too, and terribly cruel to Rick. He's even … No – I'm not allowed to tell you. I promised Emma I wouldn't.'

‘All right, so he's had a rough time himself. But I still think we have a duty to …' His proposal petered out. He had just recalled the healer's words about the ‘someone' who was threatening Pippa – ‘
someone with his own problems, who is suffering in his turn
.' So JB had been right – once more. But how could he have known about the sufferings of some vile young thug in Wandsworth, unless he possessed mysterious powers? And he, the rational Daniel Hughson, didn't believe in mysterious powers. He sat in silence, utterly confused. Where in God's name did his duty lie? To ensure this unspeakable bully was hauled up before the authorities and punished really severely, or to heed Pippa's plea for mercy, and prevent violence seeding violence in a never-ending chain? His mind felt far too small for all the emotions seething through it – vindictiveness and pity, anger and compassion, and an overriding fear that he might choose wrongly again. He and Pippa were sitting alone on a remote deserted hillside, yet more and more wan figures seemed to be clustering around them, arguing their case: Rick Scarth fighting his father; Rick Harris fighting for life; his parents seeking to justify themselves; even Sayers pleading some piteous past suffering. How did he resolve it all, how help Pippa best, without incurring still more guilt?

‘
I led you to the lake myself. You needed to drown your fear, wash away your pain and grief from the past
.'

He rose slowly to his feet. He didn't believe in disembodied voices, any more than in irrational powers. Yet the voice was unmistakable – the healer's intonation, exactly as in London. So why hadn't Pippa reacted, or so much as raised her head?

‘Pippa,' he said urgently, taking both her hands. ‘Let's … let's go up to the lake.'

‘The lake! No fear! I couldn't bear to go anywhere near it.'

‘It'll be all right. I know.'

‘But Rick almost drowned there, Daniel! It's the most beastly hateful place.'

‘No. It's not. It needn't be.'

‘And anyway, it's getting dark. We won't be able to see a thing.'

‘There's a moon. And we'll get torches. I'll go back now and fetch them, tell Penny we're all right. No, you stay here. I shan't be long.' If she accompanied him to the tent, Penny would forbid her to go out again; would insist on her going straight to bed after such a hideous day. And as for his plan to take Pippa to the lake, he knew she'd refuse point-blank; regard it as reckless in the extreme. But there were more important things than sleep, or even safety.

‘You won't be frightened, will you, darling, if I leave you for ten minutes? The camp's only just down there. See the lights?'

She nodded. ‘I'll be okay, don't worry. But I still don't understand why we're going to the lake. What
for
?'

‘Just trust me,' he pleaded. ‘I know you've no reason to, but trust me anyway. And don't move from here. You promise?'

She shrugged. ‘All right.'

He ran downhill towards the tents. The light was nearly gone, but he could make out just enough to see his way. Smoke was rising from Rainbow Lodge, and a buzz of earnest voices, but he raced on past and into Penny's tent. She looked pale and strained, her voice snappish as he crouched beside her.

‘Whatever happened? You've been gone for simply ages! I've spent the whole day worrying – first Rick, then Pippa, and now you.'

‘I'm all right.'

‘And Pippa?'

‘She's lots better now. I've managed to get her to talk.'

‘Really, Daniel?' She sat up expectantly. ‘What did she say? And where
is
she? You didn't leave her in that dreadful spooky cottage, did you?'

‘No. She's waiting for me up the hill. I'm going back there now.'

‘I'll come too.' She scrambled to her feet, started buttoning up her jacket.

‘No, better not.'

‘What for? I want to see her. And aren't you going to tell me what she said?'

‘Later. There's a tremendous amount to tell, Penny. We can talk all night, if you want. But first I need a little longer on my own with her.'

‘But why? Can't it wait till the morning? It's dark outside and she must be dead on her feet. For goodness sake let's bring her back and let her get some rest.'

‘No, it must be now. I can't explain, but trust me.' That phrase again. Why
should
they bloody trust him, when he hadn't earned their trust? A lot of things would have to change, he realized – not just Pippa's school. He unrolled the double sleeping-bag, plumped up both the pillows. ‘
You
go to bed. You sound dead tired as well.'

‘I am. Absolutely whacked. It's the worry more than anything.'

‘There's been no more news of Rick, I take it?'

‘It's still touch and go, I'm afraid. Zoe phoned the hospital half an hour ago.'

‘Well, whatever the news, I think we ought to leave tomorrow. For Pippa's sake. She needs some peace and quiet. We
all
do, come to that. Let's go home and start again.'

‘What d'you mean, start again?'

‘I love you,' he said. It seemed as good an answer as any.

‘Do you, Daniel? Really?'

‘Why, have you been doubting it?'

‘Yes,' she said impassively. ‘I have.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be.'

He seized her hand, kept hold of it. ‘But I
am
! More sorry than you'll ever know.'

‘What for?'

‘Oh …' He paused. ‘Everything and nothing.'

She climbed into the sleeping-bag, watched him zip it up. ‘You're sounding really weird tonight.'

‘It's rather a weird night.' He slipped the second pillow under her head, smoothed the rumpled sleeping-bag. ‘Shall we kiss and make up, as Pippa used to say?'

She smiled. ‘She hasn't said that for yonks.'

‘Well, she hasn't let us kiss her for yonks.'

‘No.' She let out a long frustrated sigh.

‘Don't worry. She will.'

‘You sure?'

‘I'm sure.'

He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. For one disquieting moment he smelt Juliet's seductive scent. He forced her out, made the kiss much gentler. Penny smelt of nettle tea and woodsmoke. ‘I love you,' he repeated.

She didn't reply, didn't say ‘I love you too.' She will, he thought, repeating to himself the same phrase he had used about Pippa. She
must
, he added desperately, suddenly realizing how presumptuous it was to expect unquestioning love from a wife, a daughter – anyone.

He backed away, began collecting up the things he needed: two sets of clothes, two warm and windproof anoraks, the torches, and a towel. ‘I won't be long,' he reassured her, ducking out of the tent.

‘Take care,' she shouted after him. ‘And do please look after Pippa.'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘Of course.'

Daniel stood at the water's edge, beneath an immense and daunting sky. The moon looked pocked and spongy; the stars, in contrast, were sharp-edged glittering steel. All the familiar night-noises seemed frozen in the silence like fossils in dark stone; the only movement the flicker of pale moonlight on the black jet of the lake. A second moon lay drowned there, trembling in the trembling water. Pippa was trembling too; her hand sweaty in his cool one, her teeth chattering, despite the warm night air. For her, this place was evil, connected only with death. Somehow he had to change that perception; make her understand that they had to go deep down – beyond death and pain and evil, so that they could emerge on the other side.

He squatted on the sand beside her, his face on a level with hers. ‘Pippa,' he said softly. ‘We're going to wade into the water and let it close above our heads. Just for a split second. That's all it needs, so you musn't be afraid.'

She wrenched her hand away, all but spat out her retort. ‘You're
mad
!'

‘Yes,' he said, slowly straightening up. ‘But that's why we need to do it – to leave the madness behind.'

‘You mean, dr … drown like … like Rick?' Her face was ashen in the moonlight, and her indignant voice had dwindled to a stutter.

‘No!' He took her hand again and clasped his other hand around it, as if to provide a double shield. ‘Not drown, but
live
, survive.'