‘There’s no need to put yourself through this, you know,’ Greg said, putting down the box of groceries he’d fetched from the car. ‘You could leave everything to me. Just tell me what you want to keep and I’ll get it packed up, put in store for you until you…well, until you need it.’ Then, more brightly, ‘It won’t take long to sell the house. You could sell a garden shed in Upper Haughton. It was an astute investment…’
‘I didn’t buy it as an investment. I bought it because—’
‘I know,’ he cut in quickly. ‘I’m sorry.’
He shook his head. He knew Greg was just talking to fill the silence.
‘Look, why don’t you just come and stay with us until it’s sorted?’
‘No.’ Then, perceiving that he had been abrupt, knowing that Greg deserved better, he said, ‘Thank you, but there are things I need to go through. I should have done it a long time ago.’ He turned back to the window, hoping against hope that she’d be there again, but the garden was empty.
‘Right.’ There was a pause, then, following his glance out of the window, ‘Do you need some help to sort through…things? It doesn’t have to be anyone you know. I could ask the agency who supplies us with staff if they have someone. It might be easier with someone who isn’t emotionally, well, you know…’
He knew, but he didn’t want help. He didn’t want anyone. He just wanted Greg to stop looking at him as if he was losing it and instead go away and leave him alone. But the man wasn’t just his lawyer, he was the friend who’d stood at his side as he promised to be faithful to Sara until death parted them. Meaningless words. They were young. In love. They were going to live forever…
‘Thank you, Greg,’ he said, taking pity on him, knowing that he just wanted to help but didn’t know how, impotent in the face of such unimaginable grief. ‘Can I let you know?’
‘Of course.’ Then, ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right here?’ he said, looking around. ‘If you’d given me a bit of warning, I could have got someone in to give the place a thorough going over. Your once-a-month people haven’t been doing more than the minimum by the looks of things.’
‘That’s all I paid them to do.’ The minimum. He’d told them not to disturb anything. ‘I’ve got water and power. A cellphone. It’s all I need.’
‘What about some transport?’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Right,’ he said after a long pause, during which he’d clearly debated whether it would be safe to leave him. ‘I’ll be off, then.’ Receiving no encouragement to stay, he continued, ‘If you’re sure? That box of groceries is pretty basic.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve managed to keep body and soul together for six years. I’m not about to starve myself to death.’
Greg looked as if he was about to say something, but thought better of it. He didn’t need to say anything. Dom had seen the shocked look he hadn’t been quite swift enough to hide when he’d picked him up at the airport.
He turned back to look once more at the garden and his heart lifted a beat. She was there again, her hat shading her face as she looked around as if seeking something she’d lost. Tall, slender in a pair of baggy denim jeans, a faded turquoise T-shirt. It had always been her favourite colour.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ Greg said from the door. ‘We’ll talk about some help.’
‘No rush,’ he said absently, willing her to look up—look at him. Then he was distracted by another movement as a little girl leapt up out of the grass, holding up a loop of flowers. A daisy chain of some kind. Sara put it on the child’s head so that she looked like a little princess.
He was sure she was laughing. If only he could see her face.
‘No rush…’ he said again as the door clicked shut. Hands pressed against the glass, he watched as, having bent to kiss the child, she reached into her back pocket, took out a pair of secateurs and reached down to cut through the thick stem of the brambles. ‘I’ve got all the time in the world.’
Then he saw that she wasn’t wearing gloves.
He’d bought her a pair, but she always tore them off, impatient with her clumsiness in the thick, thorn-proof protection.
As he watched, a bramble whipped back and caught her hand.
‘No…’
She eased it carefully from her skin, then put her thumb to her mouth, sucked it, and, like a recurring nightmare, history began to repeat itself…
‘Sara…’
But her name choked in his throat and he slid down the glass as the image shimmered, then shattered as he slammed his lids shut.
‘Heavens, Kay, you’ve done well.’ Amy Hallam placed a bowl with a few blackberries in it on the kitchen table. ‘I thought I’d help out, but there really isn’t much fruit in our paddock. The goat nibbles any bramble shoots the minute they appear.’
‘Goats eat anything the minute it appears above ground.’ Kay rinsed the fruit and added it to the pan simmering on the stove. ‘But thanks for the thought. I’m afraid I had to do something rather bad to ensure that the blackberry and apple pies weren’t just apple this year.’
‘Bad? You? How unexpected.’ She grinned. ‘How promising.’
‘Stop it. I’m serious. I raided the garden at Linden Lodge. Egged on, I have to tell you, by your god-daughter.’
‘What’s bad about that? It would have been a crime to let them go to waste. Polly’s a bright child and I’ve done my godmotherly duty in teaching her to use her initiative.’
‘The resident blackbird didn’t take your relaxed view—’
‘Let him eat worms.’
‘—and I broke the latch on the gate when I pushed it open.’
‘Scrumping and vandalism in one fell swoop,’ Amy said with a grin. ‘You’re a one-woman crime wave, Kay Lovell. The neighbourhood-watch coordinator will have to be informed. Oh, wait. You are the neighbourhood-watch coordinator—’
‘Oh, stop it,’ Kay said, unable to suppress her answering grin. Then, picking up the kettle, ‘Coffee?’
‘Please. Do you want me to send someone over to fix the gate?’
‘No, I can handle it. The bit that the bolt slides into had rusted away, that’s all. I’m sure I’ve got one in the shed.’
‘What’s it like in there?’
‘The shed? Do you want to do a landlady’s inspection now? I really should have some notice so that I can tidy up a bit…’
‘Linden Lodge.’
Yes, well, she knew that was what Amy meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it though.
‘It’s so mysterious behind those high walls,’ Amy prompted.
‘No, just overgrown,’ Kay said. ‘Polly sat down to make a Michaelmas-daisy chain while I cut back the brambles and she completely disappeared. Just for a minute I thought…’ She let it go. She didn’t want to remember how she’d felt in those few horrible seconds when Polly had failed to respond to her call. When all she could see was the open gate and a million hideous possibilities had rushed into her head…
‘You cut back the brambles?’ Amy asked, distracting her.