Twenty minutes later, at eight thirty a.m., Mr Wilson left. At five minutes to nine, just as Emily was beginning to wonder whether she had misunderstood Bill’s earlier message, she was delighted to see the van draw up opposite the house. The van was instantly recognisable, a large red box-van, with written on the sides the promise to ‘DELIVER NEXT DAY’, and signed beneath in the title of ‘BARRINGTON’S SMALL PARCELS SERVICE’.
Normally when Cathy’s father was working he wore a navy linen jacket and the same coloured over-trousers – ‘more presentable than an overall’, he explained. Today, though, he was dressed in brown neatly pressed trousers and loose-fitting light-grey polo-necked jumper. He shivered as he came into the hallway. ‘Feels like November,’ he said, ‘instead of early September.’
‘I thought you weren’t coming. In fact, I began to wonder whether I’d heard right.’ Emily smiled when he put his two hands on her shoulders. ‘It’s good to see you, Bill,’ she said, her brown eyes shyly observing him.
‘Sorry… I got delayed on the last delivery.’ He bent to kiss her, not a fiery passionate kiss, but a warm, loving gesture that bound their growing feelings for each other. They made their way into the kitchen, she glowing with happiness, yet still riddled by doubts as to the uprooting of the apple tree, and he proud in love, but deeply plagued by Cathy’s fragile state of mind and Matt’s mysterious disappearance.
‘Is there no word yet?’ Emily put the steaming cup of tea before him, afterwards sitting opposite him at the table. When he shook his head, his dog-brown eyes heavy with worry, she reached out to put her hand over his. ‘You mean the police still have no idea where he might be?’
‘I don’t think they even care any more!’ His voice was cutting, his expression condemning. ‘If you ask me, they’re not even looking for him now.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Emily was appalled.
‘Something the inspector told me when I went in to see him yesterday.’ He pushed his cup away and leaned back in the chair. ‘He said I should consider how Matt had gone off in a temper after he and Cathy quarrelled. And that, in his experience, these “domestic upheavals” were little more than a storm in a tea cup. Sooner or later the man, or the woman, always turned up, that’s what he said.’
‘But it’s been over a fortnight!’
‘He knows that.’
‘And there’s no evidence that Cathy and Matt did have a quarrel.’
‘He knows that too.’
‘And Cathy… how is she, Bill?’
Unnerved by her question, he stood up. Thrusting the chair away he crossed to the other side of the room, on his face a thoughtful, troubled look. Presently, his sorry gaze resting on this woman who had come to be his rock, the only constant reassurance in his life at the moment, he murmured, ‘What’s happening to them?’ – almost a question to himself, a question, yet not a question. ‘How is it possible that in the space of three months the lives of two young people could be so tragically turned upside down? One minute they’re deliciously happy, newly wed, going on the holiday of a lifetime, and in the twinkling of an eye, it’s all changing.’ Groaning, he covered his face in his hands and slumped forward. ‘I can’t help them,’ he whispered. ‘Dear God… if only there was a way to help them.’ Now, when he felt the touch of her hand in his hair, he made a rough choking sound and grabbed her to him. ‘Where is he, Emily? Where in God’s name is he?’
‘You think something bad has happened to him, don’t you?’ Her voice was gentle, reassuring.
‘I don’t know what to think! Cathy and Matt were always so in love. He idolised her. I can’t bring myself to believe that he would just walk out on her. I won’t believe it!’
‘You told the inspector that?’
He nodded, lifting his face and easing her from him. ‘Of course I told him. I told him he was crazy to think that Matt would just desert her like that! I told him how I spoke to Matt on the phone that night… when Matt told me how he was on his way home. He wasn’t angry, Emily. Matt wasn’t angry, I swear it. Oh, he was worried at Cathy going off for so long without letting him know where she was, and I dare say he might have been angry at first. But when I told him she was safely home, he was only relieved, concerned for Cathy. He even asked me to stay with her until he got back.’ He dropped his arms, then raised them again to punch one fist into the other. ‘I should have stayed! Why didn’t I stay!’
‘You’re too hard on yourself. Time and again you’ve asked that question, and time and again I’ve told you, it was Cathy who begged you to leave, wasn’t it? Cathy who insisted she and Matt had things to talk over, better discussed with only the two of them there? Isn’t that right? Isn’t that the way it was?’
When he looked at her now, it was with a determined expression. ‘I really think the police have given up on him, Emily. It’s up to me now. I have to find him.’ He suddenly laughed, a harsh grating sound. ‘I should be ashamed, spilling my troubles on you, when you’ve been so concerned over Maria.’
‘Your troubles are mine,’ she chided softly, ‘and Maria’s mending, thank God. It’s only natural that your daughter plays heavily on your mind, and Matt too.’ She paused, frowning deeply. ‘You’re right though – it is frightening, the way their lives have been devastated. I want to help, Bill. If there is anything I can do, please let me help.’
‘You really are a good woman, Emily, and I know you’re just as concerned as I am, but where do I start?’ He was frantic. Cathy was responding well to treatment, but he had been shocked to see her yesterday. She was so withdrawn and morose, like a different person. And when she cried, it tore him apart. There had been real terror in her that day when they took her to the hospital. It was in her now, eating her away, destroying what was left of the gentle laughing girl he knew and loved. And when she asked for Matt – that was the worst thing. He had to lie and pretend, make all kinds of excuses. She never argued with him, or questioned what he told her. ‘Matt… where’s Matt?’ she would ask, her tragic grey eyes imploring, then – when he tenderly explained how ‘Matt will be along soon, sweetheart’ – she would merely nod and turn away, her sad eyes brimmed with tears. He wondered whether she knew that he was lying, that Matt had gone missing and every attempt to trace him had proved futile. He had no way of knowing what Cathy was thinking. She hardly ever spoke, and when she did, it was either to ask for Matt, or to repeat over and over how ‘Cathy’s been bad… bad. I don’t want to hurt him… don’t want to hurt him.’ Then she would grow agitated, even violent, when she was physically restrained and sedated.
Those times were the worst. The very worst. Far worse than when she smiled that secret smile and sang the haunting melody that no one knew. On his last visit she had begged him to bring the tallow doll to her. And though he had never liked the thing, he was obliged to promise that he would take it the next time he came to see her. His assurance had appeased and greatly calmed Cathy. Now he wondered why he had not thought to bring the doll before.
‘Advertise!’ Emily’s cry jolted Bill out of his train of thought. ‘Somebody must have seen Matt. It’s worth a try,’ she urged with growing excitement.
‘But the police put posters of Matt up everywhere. Nobody came forward then, Emily. What makes you think they’ll respond to advertisements?’
‘Offer a reward!’
‘Of course!’ The idea intrigued him. ‘Money talks, or so they say.’ No doubt such an advertisement would draw tiresome cranks and opportunists, but, like Emily said, it was worth a try. Everything else had failed. Enthused, he grabbed Emily by the shoulders. ‘You’re right! It just might work, and God knows, I’d pauper myself to see Matt safely home, with him and Cathy back together again.’ He laughed out loud. ‘We’ll do it,’ he told her. ‘First thing Monday morning, I’ll go to the Milton Keynes Citizen, and the Bedfordshire Times. Hopefully, I won’t be too late for this coming week’s editions.’
‘All we can do then is hope,’ Emily murmured.
‘And
pray,’ he told her. ‘All we can do is hope… and pray.’
The next day was Sunday, the day when Bill spent the longest time with Cathy. Emily had wanted to come along, but Bill had said no. ‘Not yet, Emily.’ He might have added, ‘Not while she’s so unsociable and likely to fly into unpredictable nasty moods.’ But he spared Emily that much. She understood and did not press him.
Slater’s Farm was situated midway between his own modest home and the town of Bedford. Recalling his promise to Cathy, he turned off the main road and continued at a steady speed down the narrow meandering lane that would take him to the cottage. It was a few minutes past one; visiting time began at two p.m., so there was just time enough for him to collect the tallow doll.
It had been a shocking morning, grey and overcast from the outset, with a bitter winter’s chill in the light easterly breeze. He hoped it did not herald the end of summer; after all, it was only early September. He bent forward, peering upwards through the windscreen. He smiled wryly. At least it had stayed dry, and now the clouds were beginning to shift away, revealing tiny blue patches in an otherwise angry sky. ‘Perhaps we’ll have a sunny afternoon yet,’ he muttered, feeding the steering wheel through his fingers and swinging the car into the cottage driveway.
He wondered whether Edna would be inside. According to their mutual arrangements she would be, because what they had agreed was that she would look after the cottage as before, being always there between the hours of ten a.m. and two p.m., in case Matt telephoned. After that, if Matt needed to reach either Bill or Joseph, then he knew where to contact them. Bill himself would have stayed over at the farm, in case Matt were to phone or return unexpectedly, but, like it or not, he had a business to run and, though he would not admit it even to himself, mingled with his fears for Matt there was also an element of anger towards him. He loved Matt as though he was his own son, but he could not understand why Matt had made no contact. Surely he must know that Cathy was desperate to see him? And why had it not been obvious to Matt that Cathy was ill, that she must have been heading for a breakdown, as far back as when they were returning in the car from the airport?
With the awful memory of Cathy’s vicious attack on Matt, there came a rash of guilt. How could he expect Matt to have seen that particular incident as the onset of a mental illness, when he himself had treated it only with passing concern? All the same, there were other things now. What in God’s name had happened between Matt and Cathy the night he disappeared? And why hadn’t Matt been in touch… if not with Cathy, then with him? Was he so bitter? Had he really turned his back on the life he had worked so hard to build here? And was his love for Cathy over? No! To each and every question, the answer was a resounding no. What then?
Frantically he searched his mind, going over even the smallest detail that might somehow be relevant. But there was nothing. No indication of the terrible sequence of events that had taken place, no dawning realisation, no easy answers. Only this awful, sinister silence. Feeling as grey and brooding as the day, he got out of the car and followed the path to the kitchen.
His spirits lifted when the door was flung open and there stood the homely figure of Edna. Normally, she would welcome him with a smile. Instead, there was a look of apprehension on her face, and she was biting her bottom lip in that characteristic way she had when something was worrying her. As she ushered him in, his heart sank. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Barrington,’ she muttered. ‘The minute you rang I did what you asked… went straight up to Cathy’s room to fetch the doll…’ She paused, obviously upset.
‘What is it, Edna? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s broke, that’s what!’ She levelled her anxious eyes at him. ‘Clumsy fool that I am, I tripped at the top of the stairs. It frightened me, I can tell you. Well, I grabbed at the banister to steady myself, but the doll fell out of my hands and tumbled down the stairs. Whatever will Cathy say of me, Mr Barrington, oh, and she thought so much of that doll.’
Thankful to have confessed, she eased herself into the chair, her fingers nervously tapping the table while she looked up at him, waiting for the tirade that must follow, and thinking how neither this man nor his daughter would ever forgive her if they knew the truth. She had not tripped over the carpet! Nor had the doll been broken accidentally, because she had smashed it deliberately. When Cathy’s father phoned that morning, to say how she had asked for the tallow doll, and that he was taking it to her, Edna had recalled the times when she had seen Cathy with that wretched doll… singing to it and holding it like it was a child in her arms. Well, there was something offensive about it, something disturbing. Cathy was ill. She must have been ill for a long time, and none of them had realised.
Edna had known, though, that all was not well with Cathy, yet it was not something she could have told Matt, or even Joseph. It was just a feeling, a deep-down feeling that even she herself did not fully understand. But that doll! There was something unhealthy about the way Cathy cherished it. The thought of Cathy keeping it with her in the nursing home… looking at it in that particular way she did… no. No! Edna was glad she had broken it.
‘Can it be mended, Edna?’ Bill had been flustered, worried about how Cathy would feel when he told her. Now, though, he could see how agitated Edna had become. There would be nothing gained by making the poor woman feel even worse.
She shook her head. ‘No, it can’t be mended. It shattered into countless pieces.’ She jerked her head sideways, telling him, ‘It’s in the dining room. See for yourself. I put the fragments in a shoe box.’ When he brushed past her on his way out of the kitchen, she told him, ‘You’ll find it in the sideboard cupboard.’
A few moments later he came back into the room, his face solemn as he stood before her, the shoe box in his hands. ‘Is this the one?’ he asked. When she nodded, he frowned. ‘That’s curious,’ he murmured. She didn’t hear and his expression softened. The mere suggestion of a smile played on the corners of his mouth. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Edna,’ he told her with a rush of compassion, ‘accidents will happen. The main thing is that you were not hurt.’
Relief spread over her kindly face. ‘That’s right, Mr Barrington. I could easily have tumbled down the stairs myself.’ She visibly shivered. ‘It don’t bear thinking about.’
Replacing the lid on the shoe box, he lied, ‘I’ll have to try and get it mended. Cathy would want me to. You know how much comfort she gets out of the doll.’ He laughed. ‘Though I can’t think why. Maybe it’s to do with wanting children; I just don’t know.’
‘Maybe. But that doll… that awful thing, it would be more likely to give me nightmares than comfort.’
‘Oh, I agree, Edna. To be honest, I’ve never liked it either, but,’ his voice fell away, and she thought he seemed to be accusing her, ‘we ought not to question Cathy’s liking for the doll. It’s none of our business, after all, don’t you agree, Edna?’
‘I suppose so, Mr Barrington.’ He had guessed. She was sure of it; he suspected her of breaking the doll on purpose. ‘It was an accident,’ she assured him.
‘Did you have a dizzy spell, Edna?’
‘Quite likely,’ she lied, ‘I really haven’t been all that well lately.’ That was partly true. Since Cathy had been taken away and Matt was still missing, she had forgotten what it was to sleep the whole night long. These two were like her own, and it was a traumatic experience to see them torn apart in this way.
‘Would you rather not oversee the cottage, Edna?’ he asked now. ‘I could get someone else, I’m sure, if it’s all too much for you.’
‘Never!’ She was on her feet now, her eyes blazing into his. ‘How could you even say such a thing? Get someone else indeed! I knew you’d be angry with me for breaking the doll!’
‘You’re sure you feel well enough to carry on here?’ He deliberately ignored her comment.
‘Of course I am.’
‘All right, Edna, but if it becomes too much for you, you will say?’ She did not speak, but nodded. He was sorry
he had upset her. ‘I’d better get off to the hospital,’ he said, tucking the shoe box under his arm and turning away. ‘Cathy watches for me.’ Suddenly he was glad that Edna had so far refused his offers to take her to see Cathy. He would not offer again. Not after today.
He was just getting into his car when Edna came after him. ‘I said I was sorry that I broke the doll,’ she said, her voice low and strange sounding. ‘I was lying, Mr Barrington.’
‘Oh?’
‘I was sorry at first, but now I think it’s a blessing in disguise.’ She still couldn’t bring herself to confess the truth – that she had deliberately smashed it.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You think about it,’ she urged. ‘Just think about it… how all the bad things only started when that thing was brought into the house.’ She pointed at the shoe box lying beside him on the passenger seat. Her hands were quivering; she began trembling.
‘Go inside, Edna. It’s too chilly for you to be out here without a coat on.’ He wanted to laugh at her suggestion, but suddenly it was as though a dark blanket had settled over him. He felt angry, impatient, his mood darkening by the minute. As she hurried away, he thought about what she had said… ‘All the bad things only started when that… thing… was brought into the house.’
For one startling, unnerving moment, he was half-inclined to believe her. But then he remembered how that poor woman must herself be ill. It was not surprising, of course, because she was no longer young, and she had been dreadfully upset when Cathy was put in a psychiatric unit. On the way back, he just might stop off and have a quiet word with Joseph. Maybe Edna was doing far too much. She was probably in need of a short holiday. Unless, of course, she knocked her head when she tripped and dropped the doll. Yes, that might explain it.
Leaning sideways, he took the lid off the shoe box and peeped inside. Why else would she have told him that the doll was in fragments when he could see with his own eyes that it was perfect – not a crack or a mark anywhere on its unbecoming form.
The Tallow Image Page 27
