The Man Who Built the World (17 page)

‘You’re a fucking joke,’ he muttered, and snatched the urn from his father’s grasp.
‘This is nothing . . .
but dust
.’

He threw the urn across the clearing.

Ian looked stunned. Red, still lying on the ground, didn’t have time to react.

The urn struck the edge of his mother’s gravestone and shattered.
Ashes scattered everywhere, some blowing up in the wind, the remainder greying the wet grass.

All three men were still for a moment.
Ian looked across at the shattered remnants of his daughter’s urn with a look of horror on his face. Red stared upwards at Matthew. Matt himself looked stunned, perhaps realising for the first time the severity of what he had done.

‘I’m sorry . . .’

Ian turned to stare at him. He just shook his head.

Matt looked down at Red.
The big man’s eyes were bloodshot, and his fists had tightened around clumps of grass. Matt backed off as Red started to rise, his eyes filling with fear like the sun breaking through an overcast sky.

‘Matt, don’t –’ Ian started to say, but Matt had already backed away to the edge of the clearing, just feet away from the top of the path.
Red pushed himself to his knees, just as Matt turned and bolted into the trees.

Red started to go after him, but Ian grabbed
Red around the chest, holding him back. He could feel the pounding of Red’s heart, the tension of his muscles, the outrage in his eyes.

‘Red, as my oldest friend, for everything we’ve been through together, let him go,’ he pleaded.
He didn’t want to fight, despite the strength he still carried in his body. Ian’s intensity had gone as he saw his daughter’s ashes violated, while Red’s anger had bloomed in the same instant.

Red’s body relaxed.
‘For you, Ian, and for her. But if I see him again you’d better be there to keep me off.’

‘Come on, we have to say goodbye to her.
It’s only right.’ Ian started to turn away.

Red didn’t move.
Ian stopped, looked up at his friend’s face.

Red shook his head.
He stared at Ian, and his mouth dropped open, the words that came out weak, disjointed.

‘How did he know?’ he murmured.
‘
How did he know about my baby?
’

3

Liana was glad for the warmth of the car as she drove back up towards the moor.
She knew she shouldn’t take it with her, that it was safer to walk as she had less chance of being discovered, but, as her sister often reminded her, she didn’t have much control of subtlety. And she hated walking, especially in the fog and at night.

Last night she
had come out in the car, parked it at the bottom of Ian’s drive, and slipped inside to look for Gabrielle. She had waited hours, nervous of Ian and Matthew downstairs, and hoping that her son’s presence back in the house might bring Gabrielle out of hiding. No such luck. She had waited a couple of hours for Ian to go to bed after Matthew had left, then sneaked out, only to find her sister must have come past, found the car and seen fit to steal it, to teach Liana a lesson. She wanted to believe Elaina had done it for that reason, but Liana knew her sister’s main motivation would have been her knowing that Liana hated the moors at night; even after so many years she still got spooked. Being a real bitch was just a part of Elaina’s nature.

So tonight Liana ha
d parked it up on the edge of the courtyard, hoping no one would notice it in amongst the crush of mourners’ cars. At least Elaina hadn’t come and taken it this time.

It interested Liana that Matthew was back.
She had always had a soft spot for him. As a teenager he had had such a sweet smile, and had been so well-mannered. It was a shame that life had twisted him so. She hoped it had nothing to do with Gabrielle. Such a horrible way to end; she wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but at least now Gabrielle was safe from further harm.

It was also interesting that Gabrielle hadn’t appeared to see her son.
Or even her daughter’s funeral, though Liana strongly suspected Bethany was with her mother now, and probably a lot happier. Perhaps it had something to do with the
other one.
His presence had grown stronger, and Liana could feel the danger in him. The circumstances and shortcomings of living in this world were different for men and women, of course, but hopefully the time was close when they could be sent back. Then, Liana hoped, a lot of suffering would end.

A light was on in the living room as she pulled into the small turning circle at the bottom of their drive.
No doubt Elaina was waiting inside for her, ready to tear strips off her for going up the house and taking little Jack with her. Elaina knew Liana would use her trickery to keep the baby quiet, turn faces away if necessary, but even so, one slip up could cost them.

Elaina didn’t understand that Liana only wanted the best for all of them.
Liana didn’t expect her sister to understand, after all, it wasn’t in her nature, and that was the whole point of everything.

4

‘We came up here to scatter Bethany’s ashes,’ Ian said, picking pieces of the broken urn up off the ground and putting them into the bag.
‘What’s done now is done. We have to say a short prayer for her, say goodbye.’

‘I can’t believe what he did –’

‘There’s no point in questioning it. Matt has issues with Bethany’s death. You and I have had more time to come to terms with it. We owe it to her to show our last respects, whether Matt wants to or not. If you loved her –’

Red’s eyes filled with sorrow.
He almost staggered, putting a hand on Ian’s shoulder to support himself.

‘
Of
course
I loved her. How could you possibly doubt that?’

Ian nodded slowly, understanding.
‘Then let’s say a prayer for her, put her to rest. She would have wanted this. To be with her mother.’

Red nodded.
His eyes suddenly steeled, as hard as Arctic winter. Ian knew he couldn’t let go of his anger, that it held him still, enslaved him.

‘But what about
him
? Where the hell does he think he’s going? Christ, Ian, I told you not to invite him back. He’s tried to ruin our lives before.’

‘That’s not fair, Red.’

‘
You
don’t
think so?
He left you for dead, Ian.
Your own son
.’

Ian shook his head.
‘He idolised his mother, and rightly so. Even when she began to . . .
get sick
, he only ever saw her beauty, her kindness. As far as he’s concerned, I took that away from him.’

‘Then tell him
! Tell him what happened! Tell him why you did it!’

Ian sighed.
‘He would only accuse me of lying. Such a fanciful story would be wasted on Matthew’s reasoning.’

‘I thought you said he wrote books
? Surely he’s inclined to believe anything? The truth can’t be more fanciful than whatever he writes about.’

Ian didn’t answer.
He picked up a handful of ashes from the ground and scattered them evenly over the earth directly in front of the grave.

Red came to kneel beside him.
Ian closed his eyes and began to recite a short prayer, hands pressed together. Beside him, he heard Red sniff.

‘I miss you,’ Red whispered, barely keeping the sorrow from his voice.
‘I miss you so much. One day . . . one day I’ll come and find you.’

Ian placed one hand on his friend’s shoulder, hesitantly at first, then with more authority.
It had been a difficult thing for him to get used to, Red and Bethany. His closest friend and his daughter.

Lovers
.

At first the idea had seemed absurd.
His mute daughter and his enigmatic friend. But after a time he had became accustomed to the idea, began to realise that if anyone could take care of her, his best friend could. Bethany had not been like other children. Locked within her world of silence she had become a stranger to them all, barring perhaps Red, who had found a way to communicate with her in the absence of words.

Love.

For the first time in years he had seen her smile, seen her leave the house, wander the garden picking flowers, sitting on the grass and cupping insects in her hands, marveling at the world outside her four barren walls, and he had hoped, he had so desperately
hoped
, she might finally break her silence.

Looking down at the sobbing figure of his friend, Ian
realised he had done wrong by her. He had done wrong by both of them. Whatever he had done, he had failed, and what had happened to Gabrielle, his dear, sweet wife, was only the ice on the lake’s surface. But he had only done what he had to; to protect them, and to save them.

Matthew had failed to
recognise it and had taken off, while Bethany had withdrawn further into the imaginary world that surrounded her, until she reached womanhood. He had dreamed that his daughter might open up, might finally talk to him, hoped Red could bring words from her silent lungs.

Red had made her happy.
Although their relationship had barely extended beyond the house grounds, Ian knew she had been happy. He had seen it in her face, and thought it only a matter of time before she started to speak.

It was losing the baby that had broken her.

She had written his name down on paper – the only word she had ever written for anyone else.

Jack
.

Ian shivered, remembering Matt’s words.
How had Matthew known about
him
?

The Meredith sisters had c
ome to deliver the child. They had delivered many children in the village over the years, saved several difficult births with
ways
no doctor or midwife ever could. But not this time; they emerged with words of terrible sorrow and regret, while through the door into the bedroom, Bethany’s silence was far worse than the tears or screams of any hysterical mother whose child had been stillborn. As though Bethany accepted it, accepted the child’s fate as belonging to her own.

The sisters.
They had saved Ian’s life once, of course, with something more than medicine. Magic? He didn’t like to think about it, but Matthew had left him closer to death than he would ever let his son know. Matt had beaten him beyond saving. Ian should have died, but they had come to him and brought him back from the edge.

But Jack’s tiny life had been beyond even them.
Perhaps Gabrielle . . .
once
. He shook his head. It was not worth thinking about it now.

He still owed the sisters.
He had their terrible life debt hanging over his head like a bleak thunder cloud forever waiting to burst. Sometimes, he wished they had left him to die, but he knew, for Bethany’s sake alone, they had brought him back.

Their motivation existed in complexities he
would never understand now Gabrielle was gone.

He looked up at Gabrielle’s grave, the blank headstone that told no one who she was, kept her existence a secret, the way it had to be.
He frowned. Something Matthew had said stuck out in his mind. Something that wasn’t quite right.

A woman upstairs, holding a child.

Who had Matthew seen? Who had he seen with the child?

Who was the child?

. . .
oh
. . .

(No)

Ian could almost feel those blows raining down again as realization hit him so hard he almost pitched forward into the gravestone. The truth was more terrifying than he could ever have imagined.

Matthew hadn’t seen Bethany at all.
Not a ghost, not a dream, not the real her. Of course not. Bethany was dead.

Ian pulled his hand off Red’s shoulder so quickly the other man gasped in surprise.
Recovering his composure Ian jumped to his feet, a rough swipe of his arm brushing away tears as alarm flashed across his face.

‘You okay?’

‘An eye for an eye,’ Ian muttered, staring at Gabrielle’s grave. ‘A favour for a favour.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I think we need to find my son.’

Red snorted.
‘Well that’s easy, he’ll be slumped next to your liquor cabinet. Why?’

‘I need to know who he saw.’

‘He was just drunk.’

‘Red, he knows about Jack, about
your
baby. He said he saw a woman with a baby, a woman he thinks was Bethany. Now,
I
haven’t said anything to him, have you?’