Read Deep Water, Thin Ice Online
Authors: Kathy Shuker
‘And then I came along and spoiled everything.’
He shook his head.
‘I wouldn’t put it like that. Not at all.’ He looked down and ran one callused finger along a knotty piece of wood in the table top. ‘I loved to see you.’
She watched him, frowning.
‘So why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugged again. ‘I was used to people not believing me.’ There was a moment’s hesitation before he added, ‘I was scared you’d stop coming.’
‘And then I did anyway.’
‘And then you did anyway so I was a fool.’
‘No.’ Alex drank some coffee. It had gone cold and she pulled a face and put the mug down. ‘You’ve been having a rough time in the village haven’t you? It wasn’t me that told them, you know. But I’ll certainly tell them the truth now.’
Mick shook his head. ‘There’s no point. It won’t make any difference. People won’t believe you. They don’t want to believe. I’m marked for life. That’s it. I’m the man who exploits children.’ His gaze fell on the diamond ring on her left hand. ‘So you’re engaged?’ He tried to sound careless.
‘Yes.’ She automatically glanced down at the ring. ‘You hadn’t heard?’
‘Oh yes. I still hear odd things. So…have you fixed a date for the wedding?’
‘April 25
th
. A small one.’
‘It’s all right,’ he said dryly. ‘I wasn’t fishing for an invitation.’ He smiled at her, allowing himself the luxury now of studying her face. He opened his mouth to say something else then closed it again. ‘We’ve got a bittern nest,’ he said instead. ‘I was hoping to show it to you.’
‘That would be good.’ She smiled. ‘How many eggs?’
‘Not sure. Don’t like to get too close in case I scare her off.’ He finished his coffee and they were silent again but it seemed to him that the air was charged with things unsaid. He wanted to talk to her about Theo but didn’t know what to say or how to say it, reluctant to spoil the pleasure of the moment.
‘So you’re Martin Foster,’ Alex said in a forced, flippant tone. ‘We should be introduced.’
He shook his head. ‘Nope, I’m Mick. Martin was a previous life.’
She nodded and hesitated, playing with the spoon again.
‘You’ll think I’m crazy,’ she said suddenly and looked up at him. ‘But what would you say if I said I’d got a ghost here?’
It was the last thing he’d expected her to say and his first reaction was to laugh.
‘I’m serious Mick.’
‘OK, so I’d say: what makes you think there’s a ghost?’
‘All the usual things people joke about: icy columns of air, creaking boards, doors which seem to open and close at will. But then I can feel him too.’ She looked up and glanced round and he automatically did the same and then found himself grinning.
‘Don’t laugh,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry. You said ‘him’. Why do you think it’s a him?’
‘Because I think it’s Julian.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this. But I can’t deny it any more. That’s what I think.’
‘Julian Hellyon?’
She nodded. ‘You know about him?’
‘A little. He died in the Kella when he was young. Why do you think it’s him?’
‘Things first started happening in his bedroom – that’s the room I sleep in. And sometimes the spirit seems young. It’s…’ She frowned as if trying to find a suitable word to describe it. ‘…playful. And then there’s the clock. The grandfather clock in the drawing room keeps stopping at the same time. Over and over again. Twenty past eight. And the thing is: that was the time Julian Hellyon died in the river. Twenty past eight in the evening.’
Mick leaned forward onto the table, all thoughts of humour now gone.
‘That’s…weird.’
She laughed nervously. ‘Don’t you think I know that?’
He sat back again, running a hand over his tatty beard.
‘You believe me then?’ she asked.
Mick pulled a face. ‘Yes. If you’re so sure. What does Theo say about it?’
‘It’s difficult to talk to him about it. He thinks I’m imagining things.’
‘I see.’
‘Don’t say ‘I see’ like that,’ she said defensively. ‘I can’t blame him. And I don’t like to pursue it anyway. It’s his brother for God’s sake. That would be really odd, wouldn’t it?’
Mick nodded.
‘I suppose so,’ he said slowly. ‘So does it scare you, this ghost?’
‘Yes and no. He did to start with but now I’ve got used to it, up to a point. I don’t feel threatened by him. He’s just there. Not in any sinister way. It’s just uncomfortable. I feel as though he follows me around. Not all the time…’ She looked into her mug at the cold, scummy remains of her drink. ‘Do you want more coffee?’ she said, getting up abruptly.
‘Yes…thanks.’
Alex took the mugs to the sink and began to recharge the machine.
‘What really bothers me,’ she said carefully, with her back to him, ‘is that I don’t know why he’s here.’
‘Does there have to be a reason?’
‘Maybe not. I know very little about Julian. Theo’s reluctant to talk about him. His mother says a little and then clams up.’ She paused while she rinsed out the mugs and then dropped her voice so quiet he had to strain to catch what she was saying. ‘Apparently Simon was with Theo and Julian when the accident happened. And yet he never even mentioned it to me.’
‘And so now you’re wondering why?’
Alex dried the mugs off and turned round to face him, her expression strained and intense.
‘Exactly. I’m wondering what happened that stops everyone from talking about it.’
‘You could ask Harry.’
‘Harry Downes?’ She looked at him sceptically.
‘I take wood now and then to Minna and Harry,’ he continued. ‘I get talking to Harry sometimes. One day he stood watching me stacking logs while Minna was inside. I think Harry was on the river when Julian died. If you want to know what happened, he might know.’
‘But Harry can’t remember anything. He’s muddled and confused.’
Mick shook his head.
‘He can’t remember things that are going on now; but he remembers things from the past, sometimes very clearly. It depends on the day or the hour. If you give him time, it’s surprising what he comes out with.’
‘Why, what did he say?’
‘Nothing much. Bits. Something seemed to be troubling him. When I got there, Minna said they’d just been up to the shops and then walked round by the quay so he could watch the ferry. When she’d gone inside he said something about having been out in the boat, fishing; he mentioned the stones and Julian’s name. “He drowned and I couldn’t do anything,” he said, and then repeated it, getting really agitated. Minna came out to say that the tea was ready. I said that Harry seemed to be talking about Julian’s death and I asked her if she knew anything about it. She got cross, said no, she didn’t, and they never talked about it. It was years ago and only made Harry upset. But Theo’s protracted return to the village seemed to have set him thinking about it again. “And you’ll just make him ill,” she said quite angrily, “getting him to talk about it. I’m sure that accident’s what made him ill in the first place. He doted on those boys.” I didn’t stay after that. She gave me some home-baking the way she always does as her payment for the logs, and I left.’ Mick leaned forward onto the table again. ‘It’s no good asking him direct questions because that throws him; you have to come at it from an angle. But if you really want to know about Julian’s death, Harry’s the person to ask.’
*
Walking home from the Hall, Mick kept to the side of the park and then slipped over the gate into the neighbouring field, unsure if he felt better or worse for having seen Alex again. He was heart-heavy and reluctant to consider why. Susie dropped a stick near him as he walked. He ignored it and she brought it closer, almost dropping it on his feet. He picked it up mindlessly and slung it across the grass. He stopped for a moment to watch her as she pounced on the stick and then trotted back to him with it hanging out of the side of her mouth. While he noticed, for the thousandth time, that she always carried a stick by one end and never in the middle, he wondered why he hadn’t told Alex about Theo’s visit to the reserve and his threats; he’d intended to. Would she have believed him? It wasn’t likely. Look how defensive she’d become over his question about Theo’s reaction to the ghost. So he’d said nothing, scared of alienating her again.
He picked up the stick, threw it and started to walk again. And maybe Theo’s protectiveness towards the woman he loved was to be expected in the circumstances. Mick would be the same. He wondered if all his resentment of Theo was after all simply the result of jealousy, if all his suspicions were coloured by his own desire, his reasoning poisoned and unsound.
He stopped for a second with a sick feeling in his stomach as if he’d been winded. The 25
th
April. Hell. When Susie next dropped the stick, he picked it up and then swung it heavily against the nearby hedge in bitter frustration, sending twigs flying.
The wooden bittern sat next to the hearth in the snug; Alex’s eye fell on it as she sat trying to read, waiting for Theo to arrive. She thought of the way Mick had thrust the canvas-wrapped bundle at her before he’d left, hastily in the end as if he couldn’t wait to be gone. She’d protested that he had no reason to give her anything. ‘Look on it as a wedding present,’ he’d said. ‘I thought you might like a bittern. Best chance you’ve got of seeing one. Ugly as hell but we can’t all be beautiful, can we?’ On the opposite side of the hearth was the avocet Theo had bought her. Theo, freshly returned from his trip, was due to take her out to dinner. She’d spoken to him several times during the week on the phone but had avoided mentioning Mick’s visit. She added it to the list of things that she preferred to talk about face to face. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. Theo was usually equable, easy-going, but as she’d got to know him better she’d seen occasional flashes of his temper, quick to flare, rapidly dampened. But she’d had time to think and there were things which needed to be said, issues which needed to be resolved whatever Theo’s response might be.
With the wisdom of hindsight, she knew that she and Simon should have talked more; major problems were hotly argued about but not often resolved, trivial disagreements were ignored or brushed aside only to grow disproportionately with time to seem important or foolishly irritating. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Now she listened out for Theo’s arrival whilst her eyes mechanically scanned the lines of text in her book. It was a Saturday night. It occurred to her that Theo wasn’t so protective of his ‘nights out with the boys’ any more. She supposed that was a good thing.
‘Hello-o. I’m back.’ Theo now called out, as he always did, in that sing-song way he had as he let himself in. The manner of it held an assumption that she would be waiting on his arrival. And I usually am, she thought. Should I be?
‘Hello. I’m in the snug,’ she called back, and to her own ears her voice sounded tense.
‘Darling.’ He swept in, she stood up and he embraced and kissed her. ‘It’s been ages. God, I’ve missed you.’ He squeezed her tight again then eased away from her and looked round. She’d noticed that he always did this when he came in too, as if checking to see what had changed. Now he frowned, lightly.
‘That’s new, isn’t it, that bird? Odd thing – what the hell is it?’
‘Yes. It’s a wedding present… Early. It’s a bittern.’
‘Oh? Who gave us that?’
She hesitated a fraction of a second, just long enough to make him look at her more closely.
‘Mick Fenby,’ she said. ‘Or Martin Foster I suppose I should say but apparently he prefers to be called Mick.’
Theo’s face darkened. ‘You went to see him? I thought you said you wouldn’t?’
‘He came here.’
‘The hell he did, the bugger. I’m sorry Alex, but he’s got a nerve. I told him to stay away from you.’
‘Did you? Really? He didn’t say.’ She frowned and then crossed to the stove, opening the door to put another log in.
That’s an unlucky coincidence,
Mick had said. It came back to her now though it hadn’t struck her especially at the time. Did he mean anything by that? She kept her back to Theo and bent to poke the fire. ‘You didn’t tell me you’d seen him.’ She felt anger rise inside her, a flame of heat which she was determined to control. They were not going to argue about this; it could be sorted out.
‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘Well I didn’t want to upset you.’
She stopped poking the fire and, still crouching, turned to look up at him.
‘So I suppose it was you who told everyone in the village too.’
‘I thought people had a right to know.’
‘He told me he was innocent Theo.’
He snorted derisively. ‘Well he would wouldn’t he?’
‘But apparently the verdict against him was overturned on appeal Theo. And I checked on the internet and he was telling the truth. It took some finding but it was there. It was reported.’
‘Really? But that doesn’t mean he was innocent Alex. It just means he had a good lawyer and they found a way round it.’
‘He said that’s what people always say.’