‘And the holes in the field? They have happened over the past weeks. Were they made deliberately too?’
‘We’ll have to wait for the results before we know the answer to that one’
She looked thoughtful. ‘Could this be anything to do with that old cave, or water pipe or whatever it is, that the boys once explored? It’s a long way from these houses but it must pass under the field, it comes out through the rocks above the beach?’
He stood up suddenly, a positive expression on his weather-beaten face. ‘I don’t know, my darling girl, but I’m damned well going to have a look.’
‘No, Christian! Please don’t. It isn’t safe. If there is subsidence it could go at any time. Be sensible and wait for the report.’
‘I have to know, love. I have to know now.’
He took a camera belonging to Oliver, a couple of powerful torches and some extra batteries. Wearing a waterproof suit, and with a coil of rope across his shoulder, he set off with Cynthia watching the clock and promising to raise the alarm if more than forty minutes passed without seeing him safely returned. He knew that if he did meet trouble, forty minutes would be too long, but giving her something to do, helped her to cope with the danger he faced.
Walking into the blackness was daunting and he almost turned back. He wasn’t even sure what evidence he was looking for as he shone the strong beam of light around the narrow entry.
He tied the nylon rope to a rock near the entrance, and returning the coil of it to his shoulder, released it as he walked. A flimsy enough precaution but there was little else he could do to ensure his safety.
There were remnants of the old pipe, rusted and misshapen, embedded in the wet soil, and he could see a trickle of water down the sides, settling in the centre of the floor and slowly making a way to the entrance.
In some places the tunnel was lined with a solid mass of rock with wet, gleaming surfaces showing in the wandering beam of his torch. In other spots there was gravel and soil forming a slide, with some larger pieces of rock showing between the patches of reddish soil.
After a minute or so he came upon a fall of soil that alarmed him by its size, containing rocks from very large down to small gravel, and soft, damp earth. It had fallen in an ever widening slide. He passed it, forcing himself to ignore how easily he could become entombed. Then he saw another, mostly soil, and he stood trying to imagine where he was in relation to the surface above. Was he in the area where the mysterious hole had appeared? He looked for evidence that someone had damaged the roof and caused the fall but everything looked natural, no marks of a tool, no footprints on the freshly fallen soil.
He was more nervous after he passed the falls of earth imagining their suffocating embrace, and when he saw another and then a fourth, he decided to make his way back. Before he did so, he looked with greater thoroughness at the area around the fall of soil and spotted a metal bar almost hidden by the gravelly soil.
He wrenched at it to pull it free but soil fell like heavy rain all around him burying his feet and ankles in seconds. He stumbled towards the entrance but stopped and went back. He had to be thorough; he didn’t want to do this again.
He waited until the soil stopped slipping, his heart racing with the reminder of how easily he could be buried alive, then, with extreme caution, he scraped the soil from around the metal bar, disturbing it as little as possible. Pulling the bar free, he saw that it was a scaffolding pole. There was no sign of deterioration. It was shiny and very new. He stared at it as though asking for its explanation of how it got there.
Looking up he could just make out one or two indentations where the pole had been used to poke at the roof, encouraging the already friable gravel and clay mixture to cave in. He also saw marks that were clearly made by a spade, neat cuts as though someone had stood there and stretched up to bring down some of the roof. More soil fell as he stood there and he took a few photographs, hoping they would be clear enough for the marks to be seen before another, more serious fall destroyed the evidence.
As he turned in relief and headed back to the entrance, he wondered cynically whether a member of the council or a surveyor could be persuaded to do what he had done, and go down to look at it. He thought not. He stopped and took more photographs, marking the rope as a primitive measure of the distance from the adit on the cliff.
When he emerged into the startlingly bright sun, he heard Cynthia call. Looking up to the cliff path he saw her waving at him and pointing at her watch.
‘Five minutes to go on the longest forty minutes of my life!’ she said, tearful with relief.
* * *
There had been no sign of Cath since she had run from the Antiques Fair but Meriel found the van parked near her house. She was relieved. She was due to work that morning for Tom and Ray and she didn’t fancy walking. She inspected the van looking for damage but found none. Opening the back doors she saw that it was completely empty. Even the blankets which she and Cath used to protect their cargoes were gone. She did find a used contraceptive thrown carelessly aside and wondered whether a couple had taken the opportunity the vehicle offered of a comfortable place to make love.
Without really understanding why, she went to the house and, carrying a bucket of soapy water and trailing a hosepipe, she washed the van thoroughly. After phoning to tell Tom that she would be late, she drove it to a garage and filled it with petrol.
Before starting work on Tom and Ray’s garden, already late. she detoured and went to the chalet to see if Cath had returned. The place was deserted, the desolate emptiness more marked than before. She was aware of a deep sense of sadness.
Cath had returned at some time, though. Or she had been burgled. Much of the furniture was gone, including the pieces on which she was working in preparation for selling.
When she stepped through the back gate of the house on Holly Oak Lane she was startled to hear raised voices. Tom and Ray were quarrelling, she thought, as the voices rose higher, ceasing suddenly as a door was violently slammed.
She knocked with some trepidation, just to let them know she was there, determined to pretend she had just arrived and had heard nothing. To her surprise it was Vivienne who opened the door for her. ‘Hi yer,’ she said casually, before dragging an obviously upset Toby down the garden and out of the gate without another word.
Meriel went to the shed and took out the hoe with which she intended to do some weeding. She worked in silence for an hour, then Tom came out and handed her a cup of coffee. He carried a second one and sat beside her to drink it.
‘Ray has left,’ he said.
‘Oh well, it’s probably nothing more than a wrong word at a wrong time. Quarrels are often only opinions spoken at an inopportune moment.’
‘More than that,’ Tom said. ‘He and I — well, you’ve probably heard the gossip, Ray and I are partners. We’ve been living together since we were twenty-two.’
Meriel didn’t know what to say. Then she remembered the hasty departure of Vivienne. ‘Was a friendship with Vivienne the cause of the trouble? I don’t think jealousy is the prerogative of mixed couples, is it? We can all suffer from insecurity.’
‘My parents don’t know. They think Ray and I are simply friends who share a house and live separate lives.’
Meriel’s thoughts were different from how she imagined. No embarrassment, only sympathy. ‘It must be difficult to tell people the truth, specially those you care about. “Coming out” doesn’t affect only the person making the statement. Like any decision, there are always others to consider. Perhaps one day, you’ll know they’re ready to accept who you really are.’
‘It’s far easier to pretend,’ he said sadly.
He talked about their life together for a while, reminiscing about past holidays, and the fun of buying the house and furnishing it, then he stood up and offered her his hand. She took it, somewhat bemused, half expecting him to tell her he no longer required her to work for him. Instead he said, ‘Thank you for listening and understanding, Meriel. I�
�m very grateful.’
‘Any time you need a listener, call me,’ she said, and meant it. ‘Losing someone you love is very painful.’
She was thoughtful on the way home and when the phone rang later she expected it to be Tom. But it was Mike, Cath’s brother, and he wanted to know whether she had any news of his missing sister.
‘Sorry, but she seems to have gone right away. The place where she was living has been emptied of her things. Even the furniture she was working on has gone. I’m worried but I don’t know what I can do. I have no idea where to look for her.’
‘I have a few ideas,’ Mike told her. ‘If you don’t mind, we could compare notes and try to out-guess her.’
‘She’s so secretive, I don’t have a clue where to start.’
‘She might be on a camping site. She’s done that before, mingled with the holiday-makers, using a tent.’
‘Like looking for a needle in a hundred haystacks!’
‘The holiday season is nearly over,’ he comforted.
‘Fifty haystacks?’ she teased.
‘Shall we talk about it? What about dinner tonight?’
Meriel felt a warmth flood through her. Meeting him again was a pleasant prospect. Then foolishly, Evan sprang into her mind, bringing an overwhelming feeling of guilt. It was as though he were still her husband, and she was being disloyal. The fleeting hesitation made Mike add, ‘Just a drink if you prefer?’
Pulling her thoughts back from the abyss of unwanted loyalty, she replied, ‘Dinner would be wonderful. Thank you.’
* * *
Mike had guessed correctly. Cath had taken her old car and was travelling around camp sites using a tent. She felt safe, the chances of meeting someone who would recognize her were very slight and besides, she would be miles away before they could tell anyone. She avoided becoming involved with the entertainments offered on some sites, staying most of the time on farms, sometimes the only person staying in a field in some of the more remote places.
She didn’t stay long anywhere and remained in her tent whenever possible, shopping in the towns and wandering around second-hand shops and antique shops — the only clue for someone attempting to follow her. But no one would. She knew the police wouldn’t get involved with searching for someone who had chosen to disappear and was not in any obvious danger.
She was surprised at how lonely she felt. After wandering around for months before settling in Abertrochi, she had begun to enjoy the growing friendship with Meriel. It was harder than she had imagined to go back to a solitary, wandering existence.
Several times she started to dial Meriel’s number but always replaced the receiver before the number was complete. She would have to wait until Mike had given up hope of finding her. Autumn and early winter would be spent travelling, and only when the frosts and winds made her present way of life impossible, only then would she feel safe enough to contact Meriel and perhaps talk about her private nightmares.
* * *
Joanne was trying to contact Dai Collins. She had spent several nights and days trying to think of a reason for his not telling her about his wife. It must be that they were divorced. Otherwise, why would he not have been seen by the boys when they had inadvertently knocked on his door? That led her to another worrying thought. If Dai no longer lived with his wife and daughter, then what was John doing there at night? No, the explanation must be simpler. The boys had made a mistake. Exhausted with trying to fathom out the truth — or a version of the truth that would be comfortable for her to live with, she set about once more trying to contact Dai. If she couldn’t reach him by phone, then she would sit outside one of his cafes until he turned up.
She tried each of his cafes several times, and after the third try to reach him at his office, and being fobbed off by an office girl, she knew she must face the fact that he was avoiding her.
Before, when she had phoned, even if he was not available, he would phone her back within a few minutes. She was being given the brush-off, no doubt about it. An end to the affair was something she had prepared herself for in the early days. Over the more recent weeks she had gradually accepted that this was for real, and her future was with Dai Collins, a partnership made in heaven. Now, his leaving her without a word, ending it so unkindly, so casually, distressed her more than she had expected.
This had been a promise of a real romance, being loved by someone who would appreciate her and want to spend every moment with her, not someone who would stay with an estranged wife only a few miles from Abertrochi rather than spend the evening and the night with her.
She felt ugly, and old and foolish. Two men had told her they loved her, and neither really cared. She wouldn’t again wait outside one of his cafes like an abandoned dog no one wanted. She had more dignity than that. She drove home hardly aware of how she got there, and reached the bedroom before she succumbed to tears.
* * *
Mike Thorpe called for Meriel as arranged at seven and took her to a restaurant close to the sea. He said very little until they had ordered and then said, ‘I don’t think I would be breaking a trust if I told you some of Cathy’s story.’
‘She’s a very private person. I don’t know whether she would approve of my knowing things she hadn’t told me herself,’ Meriel replied doubtfully.
‘You know nothing? She didn’t tell you about the children?’
‘I guessed children were involved. I’ve seen her hugging dolls and other toys, and she became very angry once when she thought our friend Vivienne was neglectful of her three year old, Toby.’
‘She went out, leaving the children with a neighbour, a young girl called Sylvia. Sylvia went back home to collect a video she wanted to watch and while she was out, a fire started. They think it was an electrical fault. A worn flex on an old lamp Cath had bought at a car boot sale. She always loved old things.’
‘And the children?’ Meriel asked, a pulse beating furiously in her throat as she waited for the words she dreaded to hear.
‘Megan aged three and Gareth aged just six months, were suffocated.’
Meriel felt an icy cold chill envelope her, imagining Cath’s home-coming and having to face the fate of her babies. How could she have survived the tragedy, the horror of such cruel deaths? It was enough to send a person insane. ‘How do you live with such a tragedy?’ she muttered. ‘She clearly blames herself and there aren’t any words that would help comfort her.’
‘It wasn’t her fault.’
‘How can she not take responsibility for it? I can’t imagine anyone not blaming themselves, even though they had done what was necessary to ensure the children’s safety. Not to be there, out on some errand and coming home to that. I don’t know how she manages to function at all.’ Meriel whispered sadly.
‘She didn’t for a while. She was treated for shock but she signed herself out of hospital and just disappeared. No one heard from her. Her husband, Bryan, was left to grieve alone. I find that hardest to accept, that she left him to deal with everything.’
'Where is he now?’
‘Waiting at home for news of her. Every holiday, every day off work, he spends searching. Me too whenever I can.’
‘I suppose the need to run is an attempt to forget it, but I don’t suppose she’ll start to recover until she stops, turns around and faces it, will she?’
‘That’s what we all think, but we can’t find her to talk about it. Please, if you do hear from her, will you tell me? I only have her interests at heart. Bryan doesn’t blame her. He was out too, celebrating someone’s birthday. Not important as you say, a trivial reason for leaving two precious children in the care of a young inexperienced girl.’
‘I haven’t any children, but I don’t think there’s a woman alive who wouldn’t sympathize with Cath and Bryan.’
Mike took her home after the meal and she invited him in for a coffee. Leaving the painful subject of his sister, they talked about themselves, with Meriel explaining her plans for opening a shop. ‘I’m goi
ng ahead with it, but I’m disappointed not to have Cath with me,’ she told him. ‘We work together so well.’
Mike worked for a telephone company and hesitantly offered to go with her when she looked at properties if she needed a second opinion. ‘I know that knowledge of telephone systems isn’t an advantage when looking at properties,’ he laughed, ‘but sometimes a second input helps.’
‘There is one place I am interested in and one of the reasons I like it is because it has a small bedsit which might suit Cath, when she comes back.’ Taking out the details they talked about it for a while and agreed to go and look at it the following weekend.
‘And if I hear from Cath I’ll call you,’ Meriel promised. ‘I can’t promise to let you know where she is, that will be up to her, but at least I can tell you she is safe.’
He stood up to go and leaning forward, placed a kiss on her cheek, near her lips.
‘Thank you for letting me talk about it,’ he said. ‘You’ve no idea how it helps. My parents can’t discuss it any more, it’s too painful.’
‘Any time,’ Meriel said, ‘If you want to talk about it, just phone me, I’ll always be here to listen.’ Suddenly remembering how she had promised the same to Tom, she smiled.
‘I said something funny?’ he asked.
‘No, Mike, I did.’
* * *
Cynthia was looking thoughtful when Meriel arrived at Churchill’s Garden. She was sitting alone and had a half empty cup of coffee in front of her.
‘If that’s cold, can I get you another one?’ Meriel asked. She was about to order when Joanne and Helen arrived, closely followed by Vivienne. Adding to the order, they made their way to the table, Meriel glancing towards the chair they now called Cath’s seat. It was occupied by an elderly man.
‘No news of Cath then?’ Helen said as they shuffled chairs to make room around the table.
Thinking that the reappearance of Cath’s brother was hardly a secret, Meriel said, ‘Her brother called to see me yesterday. In fact, he took me out for a meal last night, hoping that I had some information that would help him find her.’
Friends and Secrets Page 20
