Angel with Two Faces jt-2

by Nicola Upson

  ‘You said Loveday was pregnant.’

  ‘She had a miscarriage – not that she understands any of this, of course, but it was obvious from what she said. That’s why they left the Minack in such a hurry.’

  ‘That makes sense. Jago was concerned about Christopher’s relationship with Loveday, although he insisted it had never got that far. Poor Loveday – she’s another one who’s had more than her fair share of grief lately. Still, perhaps this latest blow is for the best. A child would only complicate things – for her and for Morwenna.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘You don’t agree?’

  ‘About the child, perhaps. But I don’t see why everyone should be so sceptical about Loveday and Christopher making a go of things – it seems to me that they stand as good a chance as any of us. But that wasn’t really what I meant. We’re back to playing God again.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘From what Loveday said to me, I’d put money on the fact that Morveth found a way to bring on the miscarriage.’

  ‘Really? God, I hope you’re wrong, for Loveday’s sake and mine. It would put me in an impossible position – professionally and morally.’

  ‘How would you ever prove it? And what good would it do Loveday if you did? It’s just someone else she can no longer trust.’

  ‘You don’t like Morveth, do you?’

  ‘No, and not just because she chose on a whim to tell me something which could have destroyed my relationship with you, or because she frightened me to death by catching me pumping Loveday for information. Morveth is the worst kind of criminal, if you really want to know what I think. She manipulates people’s lives because she thinks she knows what’s best for them, without ever putting her own emotions on the line, and walks through the wreckage unscathed. It’s exactly what you said about certainty leading to arrogance: she’s so used to taking things into her own hands that she never questions herself any more – if she ever did. Hubris is as dangerous as cruelty or ignorance. In fact, when you find out who killed Nathaniel, I’ve no doubt you’ll come across Morveth’s handiwork in there somewhere. She won’t have pushed him over – that sort of direct approach isn’t her style – but she might as well have done.’

  ‘There was a time when I would have argued,’ Archie said. ‘Her kindness kept me sane when my parents died.’

  ‘I’m sure, but you were never as vulnerable as most of the people whose lives she shapes, for want of a better word – not even then, when you were grieving. And I’m not saying she does it maliciously. I’m sure she genuinely believes she’s doing good, but that only makes her more dangerous. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when William said he wanted to take charge of Loveday’s future. Morveth isn’t a good influence for someone like her.’

  ‘No, I agree,’ he said, and told her everything he’d learned from Jago Snipe about Christopher’s unofficial adoption and the tragic circumstances that made it possible. ‘There’s no doubt that it was Morveth’s idea to give the child to Jago,’ he finished gravely. ‘I need to go and see her first thing in the morning. Will you come with me?’

  ‘Me? Why? Won’t Ronnie’s constable go with you?’

  Archie smiled. ‘No. I spoke to him earlier and he’ll be busy getting the search underway. I think you may be right about Christopher, but I’m not leaving anything to chance. I owe that much to Jago – or to Joseph Caplin, whichever way you want to look at it. And part of the conversation I need to have with Morveth is personal. We have to talk about my mother, and she made that your business by telling you what happened. I’d like you to be there. After today, I don’t entirely trust myself to behave well. Will you come?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, getting up and putting the guard in front of the fire, much to Motley Penrose’s disgust, ‘and I’ll try to keep my dislike to myself.’

  He kissed her goodnight and walked through to the hall, but stopped on the bottom step. ‘About Morwenna and that bloody poem,’ he said, looking back. ‘I only meant…’

  She put her finger to her lips. ‘I know what you meant, Archie, and I overreacted. It’s actually a very good metaphor for what I do.’

  ‘Anyway, it was a long time ago. I’ve learned to live with it.’

  He matched the lightness in her tone, but she sensed that they were both trying a little too hard. ‘What happened to her, by the way?’ she asked. ‘The Lady of Shalott, I mean – I don’t know the poem.’

  ‘She died,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘She walked away from her work to face the real world, and it killed her.’

  ‘I rest my case,’ Josephine said wryly, but could not fool herself that it was anything other than a hollow victory.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Loveday lay in bed and watched as the oblong of thatch which hung over her bedroom window began to define itself in the early morning light. She loved the stillness of this part of the day, before anyone else was awake, when she could pretend that she was alone in the world, free to make of it what she could, but this morning she was restless and the darkness seemed obstinately sluggish and slow to retreat. Softly, she slipped from the bed, reaching back under the covers to find the clothes that she had pulled in beside her to warm. She dressed carefully, taking time to make sure that the buttons on her cardigan were fastened correctly, then climbed on to a chair in front of her tiny mirror to make sure that the end result met with her approval. With a critical eye, she examined every inch of herself, square by reflected square, then sat back down on the bed to tie her laces. Impatiently, she spat on her hand and wiped a fleck of mud from her left shoe. If they found Christopher today, she wanted to look her best, to let him know what he was missing by running off and leaving her.

  Avoiding the steps which creaked was second nature to her after years of furtive comings and goings, and she reached the bottom of the stairs as silently as if she had been carried by the draughts which persistently defied any attempts to block their entrance through the cottage windows. She shivered – whether from cold or excitement she could not say – and went over to the pantry, where she chose a bread roll, two apples and a large piece of cheese to see her through the day. She was on her way back over the flagstones to the door, when she realised that her luck had run out.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Reluctantly, Loveday turned round to face Morwenna. Her sister was at the bottom of the stairs and, as she stood there in the shadows, dressed in a long white nightshirt with her hair untidy and dark circles around her eyes, she reminded Loveday of a ghost, one of those lost, reckless women who haunted all her brother’s best stories. The similarity was so uncanny that she wanted to laugh, but something in Morwenna’s expression told her not to. If she wanted to get her way now that she had been discovered, she would have to be cleverer than that.

  ‘I’m going to look for Christopher with the others,’ she said, deciding that Morwenna could surely not object to something that involved everyone.

  ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘I heard Mr Motley telling you when he came round yesterday. I think it’s a bit silly of them not to have asked me to help,’ she added, unable to prevent a note of petulance entering her voice. ‘I know all the secret places, after all, and I’m more likely to find him than anyone.’

  ‘But Loveday, you haven’t been well,’ Morwenna said in the exasperated tone that her little sister had grown so familiar with over the last few months. ‘Why don’t you go back to bed and read your book?’

  ‘I’ve finished it.’ Loveday looked sulkily at the floor. ‘You never want me to have any adventures of my own. Just because you’re stuck here all the time, you want me to be miserable with you. Well that’s just not fair.’

  ‘Oh, do what you like,’ Morwenna said, holding her hands up in defeat. ‘Why should I care, anyway?’

  She turned and went back upstairs, and Loveday stood in the hall for a moment, confused. She had expected a longer battle, and was surprised to find that it irked her to have won so easily. Havin
g settled into a relationship of confrontation with her older sister, she was disoriented by the sudden shift in power, and she had to fight an impulse to be contrary and stay in the cottage after all. She forgot it as soon as she was out in the garden, though. A delicate veil of mist hung low over the ground and, by the time she reached the gate, her legs were wet with dew from the unkempt lawn, but the freshness of the morning was exhilarating and the scent from the trees so strong that there scarcely seemed room for anything else in the world. She cut across the lane which led down to Christopher’s house, wondering if he would be back there by the end of the day, and ran down into the bluebell woods.

  ‘Loveday?’

  The voice came from behind her and she stopped instantly, not daring to look back in case she had made a mistake. Then it was there again, and this time she was sure – no one else said her name with so much joy, not even Christopher. She turned and threw herself into Harry’s arms, almost knocking him over.

  ‘Steady,’ he laughed. ‘You’re not as little as you used to be.’

  Loveday buried her face in his neck, taking in the rich, sweet smell of tobacco which always hung around Harry and talking unintelligibly all the time. Eventually, she lifted her face and looked intently at her brother. ‘You’re dirty,’ she said, grinning.

  ‘And you’re cheeky, but I still love you.’ He laughed, and ruffled her hair. ‘What sort of greeting is that after all this time? And where are you off to so early, anyway?’

  ‘To find Christopher,’ she said, and regretted her frankness the second she saw the cloud pass across Harry’s face. In her joy at seeing him again, she had quite forgotten how much the two people she cared most about disliked each other. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘Everybody has, but me most of all. I looked everywhere for you. Where have you been?’

  ‘I missed you too,’ he said, and she suspected he was avoiding her question. ‘You and Morwenna. How is she?’

  ‘Cross. She’s always cross these days. And don’t tell me she’s got a lot to worry about,’ she added as he opened his mouth to speak. ‘Everybody tells me that, but it never makes things any easier for me.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ he said gently. ‘It’s all my fault for having to go away, but I’ll make it up to you – to both of you. Is she at home now?’ Loveday nodded. ‘Then shall we go and see if we can stop her being so cross?’

  ‘Do we have to go right now?’ asked Loveday, disappointed. She resented having to share Harry so soon. It wasn’t fair when she was the only one who’d believed unquestioningly that he would return to them – she ought to have longer to savour her triumph alone. ‘Can’t we go for a walk first?’ she pleaded, taking his hand and trying to pull him away in the opposite direction.

  ‘Later,’ he said firmly. ‘We can do that later. But I need to talk to Morwenna first. It wouldn’t be fair if I saw anyone else before I saw her, would it?’

  ‘Suppose not.’ She glanced further into the woods for a moment, remembering Christopher and torn between her loyalty to him and to her brother. Then she reminded herself that it was Christopher who had left her, and decided he could wait; it would serve him right to wonder where she was, just as she had lain awake thinking about him.

  Harry was quiet as they walked back to Loe Cottage together. No doubt he was worried that Morwenna would be cross with him, too, and Loveday squeezed his hand reassuringly. It would be all right when the three of them were back together again. She led the way round to the back and pushed open the door, longing to see the look on Morwenna’s face when she realised what had happened. She must try not to show off too much about having been right all along; it was Nathaniel who had convinced her, and she would have to go and thank him as soon as possible. People never died if there was someone left to care for them. Love brought them back. That was as it should be.

  Quietly, they walked down the corridor to the kitchen. Morwenna was fully dressed, now, and standing at the sink. ‘Found him already?’ she asked without turning round. ‘Or have you just changed your mind?’

  ‘I’ve found someone,’ Loveday said. ‘I told you I would.’

  Impatiently, Morwenna turned round and Loveday looked on, fascinated, as all the colour drained from her face – something which she thought only happened to people in books. The plate which Morwenna was drying fell to the floor, and Loveday watched the pieces scatter across the blue slates. She stepped forward to pick them up, but Morwenna raised a hand to stop her. ‘Loveday, go outside,’ she said, and there was something strange and tight about her voice, as if invisible fingers around her throat made it difficult for her to breathe.

  Horrified at the thought of missing the reunion which she had longed for, Loveday started to argue. ‘No, I want to stay with Harry,’ she said. ‘You can’t make me…’

  ‘Get out,’ Morwenna screamed.

  Loveday looked desperately at her brother. ‘I can’t leave,’ she said, realising she was about to cry and furious with herself for being afraid. ‘What if you go away again?’

  Harry knelt down and took her hands in his, and she caught the strong, dark scent of earth on his fingers. ‘I won’t go anywhere without you – I promise,’ he said, in that special voice that he used only for her, and she shot a triumphant look at Morwenna, who turned away. ‘But your sister and I have some things to talk about and we need to sort out what the three of us are going to do now. Will you do something for me?’ She nodded. ‘Go outside for a bit, and don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. It’s the most important secret that you and I have ever had, and you’ve got to promise me to keep it safe. Will you do that?’

  ‘Of course,’ Loveday said, offended that he’d even had to ask. ‘You know I will.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now, give us some time and then, when we’ve finished, you and I can get back to the way we were.’

  Reluctantly, Loveday left them to it. Halfway down the corridor, she turned round to have one more look at Harry, and was a little miffed to see that he and Morwenna already seemed to have forgotten about her, so absorbed were they in their silent contemplation of each other. Suddenly, she thought back to how she felt when she was growing up and Harry and Morwenna had ignored her, and the jealousy which she had all but forgotten in more recent years returned with a vengeance. Why should she be sent away? She was grown up now – even Harry had said so – and she refused to be excluded any longer. At the end of the corridor, out of sight of the kitchen, Loveday opened the side door and closed it again as loudly as she could, then crept quietly up the back stairs to her room, trying hard not to feel like that lonely child of six again.

  An eclectic mix of uniformed policemen and locals had already begun to gather when Archie and Josephine left the Loe estate. To save time, they took the car into the village rather than using the coastal path and Archie parked against the harbour wall, below a row of smart Edwardian houses with bay windows and a coat of arms on each gable. The terrace, which curved gently round, following the horseshoe outline of the harbour, culminated in an attractive granite building with a Welsh slate roof and square clock tower – three black faces and one white, Josephine noticed as they walked past.

  ‘What an unusual building,’ she said, admiring the quiet, unostentatious way in which the tower stared solidly out to sea, providing a focal point for the harbour no matter where you stood. ‘What is it?’

  ‘That’s our literary institute,’ Archie replied with mock grandeur, ‘although the arrival of a billiards table has rather changed the nature of its use. In fact, I believe they’ve had to bring in a second table to satisfy the current demand for learning.’ She laughed. ‘I thought it would be better if we left the car here,’ he added. ‘I don’t want to announce our visit any more loudly than I have to, and Morveth’s cottage is only a few minutes away.’

  They walked up the cliff road, past a handful of fishermen’s cottages, and then a small tea room. Rather than object to the exercise, Josephine was pleased t
o see something of the village at last, and she realised that, in spite of its wide open spaces and many wonderful landscapes, the Loe estate had become a little claustrophobic because of its sadness – a little intense, even, in its beauty. A sizeable net-making business stretched back from the road on the left-hand side and, as they walked past, Josephine heard the rattle of machines and buzz of friendly conversation, and smelt the tar from the tanning factory opposite, where a donkey and cart stood waiting to drag the nets into nearby fields to dry. It was merely a glimpse of ordinariness, which echoed what had happened yesterday and would no doubt be repeated tomorrow, but it reassured and cheered her nonetheless.

  Archie seemed to feel a similar respite from matters of life and death. He spoke very little on their way up the hill, but nodded warmly to several people, often using a nickname which was utterly incomprehensible to Josephine. ‘That’s Morveth’s house,’ he said, pointing ahead to a beautiful thatched cottage, separated from the sea by nothing more than the narrow road and a single-storey net loft. ‘It’s the oldest house in the village – the houses either side were built on much later – and it used to belong to the estate. Veronique – William’s wife – absolutely adored it. They’d come here together, just the two of them, before they had the children, and he left it to her in his will – he knew she wouldn’t want to stay in the big house after his death. Of course, it was never an issue. As soon as Veronique died, he sold it to Morveth – he couldn’t even bear to have the responsibility of it any more.’

  ‘It’s glorious,’ said Josephine, and meant it. ‘I can see why Veronique was so captivated by it.’ The cottage, though smaller than Morwenna’s, was not dissimilar except that it was immaculately kept, with gleaming white walls and a neat straw roof. It could scarcely have changed at all since the day it was built, but she could imagine how different it must have looked – how proud and aloof – when there were fewer buildings on this particular stretch of cliff. Even now, with its ridges raised slightly higher than the rooftops around it, the cottage still maintained something of its former superiority, as if years and pedigree counted for more than square footage.