‘You don’t mean that.’
‘No?’ He stared broodingly into his wine. I wondered how much he’d had before I arrived. ‘No, perhaps not. But there are times I wonder what either of us is doing here, I really do. Don’t you ever ask yourself what the point of it all is?’
‘We’re doctors. What other point is there supposed to be?’
‘Yes, yes, I know all that,’ he said, irritably. ‘But what good do we actually do? Can you honestly tell me you never feel you’re wasting your time? Keeping some old wreck alive, just for the sake of it? All we’re doing is putting off the inevitable.’
I looked at him with concern, noticing his fatigue. For the first time I saw he was starting to show signs of age.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked.
He gave a dry chuckle. ‘Don’t take any notice of me, I’m just feeling cynical today. Or even more so than usual.’ He reached for the bottle. ‘All this business must be getting to me too. Let’s have another glass, and then you can tell me what you’ve been up to all week that’s so mysterious.’
That was something I hadn’t been looking forward to, but now I was glad to talk about something else. Henry listened, quizzical at first as I told him the truth about my career before I came to Manham, then incredulous as I gave him a run-down of how I’d been helping Mackenzie.
When I finished he shook his head, slowly. ‘Well, I think the phrase “dark horse” springs to mind.’
‘I’m sorry. I know I should have told you before, but until this week I really thought it was all past history.’
‘You don’t have to apologize,’ he said. But I could tell I’d upset him. He’d taken me on at a time when I was at my lowest, only to find out now that I’d been less than open with him. All this time I’d let him believe my experience as an anthropologist had been entirely academic. Even though I hadn’t actually lied, it was a poor repayment of trust.
‘If you’d like me to resign, I will,’ I offered.
‘Resign? Don’t be ridiculous!’ He looked at me. ‘Unless you’re having second thoughts about working here?’
‘No, of course not. I didn’t want to get involved in the first place. I wasn’t deliberately keeping it from you. I just didn’t want to think about it myself.’
‘No, I can see that. It’s just a bit of a surprise, that’s all. I’d no idea your career had been so…rarefied.’ He gazed reflectively over the lake. ‘I envy you. I always regret not going into psychology. I had ambitions to once upon a time, you know. Didn’t work out, obviously. Too much extra training. I wanted to marry Diana, and being a GP brought in the money faster. And it seemed glamorous enough back then.’
‘There’s nothing glamorous about what I’ve been doing.’
‘Exciting, then.’ He gave me a knowing look. ‘And don’t deny it. There’s been a definite change in you over the past week. Even before the barbecue.’ He gave a short laugh, fishing his pipe from his pocket. ‘One way or another it’s been a hell of a week. Any news on who this second body might be?’
‘Not yet. But hopefully dental records will provide an ID.’
Henry shook his head, filling and lighting his pipe. ‘You live somewhere for all these years, and then…’ He made a visible attempt to shake off the mood that had descended. ‘Well, I’d better go and check how lunch is coming along. Things are grim enough without burning the Yorkshires.’
We kept the conversation lighter after that. But Henry was looking tired by the end of lunch. I reminded myself that he’d been carrying most of my workload for the last few days. I tried to insist on washing the dishes, but he would have none of it.
‘I’m fine, really. Most of them’ll go in the dishwasher anyway. I’d much rather you get off and meet your friend.’
‘There’s plenty of time.’
‘If you insist on doing them, then so will I. And frankly, what I’d like to do right now is pour myself the last of the wine and perhaps have a nap.’
He regarded me with mock-severity.
‘Now, do you really want to ruin my Sunday afternoon?’
I’d arranged to meet Jenny at the Lamb. It was neutral territory, whereas going to her house again would have made seeing her seem like too much of a date. I was still trying to tell myself that we were only going sailing. It wasn’t like I was taking her out to dinner, with all the sexual politics that would involve. There would be no worry over picking up or giving out the wrong signals. Nothing to it, really.
Except the anticipation I felt said otherwise.
I’d been careful not to have too much wine with lunch, and although I felt like something stronger I stuck to orange juice now. There were the usual nods as I went to the bar. I couldn’t read anything in any of them, but I was glad to see that Carl Brenner wasn’t there.
I took my drink outside and leaned against the stone wall at the front of the pub. Nerves made me drink the orange almost straight away. I realized I was looking at my watch every few minutes. Resolving not to do it again, I looked up as a car came down the road. It was an old Mini, and a moment later I recognized Jenny behind the wheel. She parked and got out, and at the sight of her I felt a sudden lift. What’s going on here? I wondered, then any questions were brushed aside as she came over.
‘I thought I’d be idle,’ she said, smiling as she pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. But I knew the real reason she’d driven was that few women were prepared to walk any distance alone any more. She wore shorts and a sleeveless blue top. There was a faint scent of perfume, hardly there at all. ‘Not been waiting long, have you?’ she asked.
‘Just got here.’ I saw her glance at my empty glass, and shrugged, embarrassed. ‘I was thirsty. Would you like something?’
‘I’m easy either way.’
I could feel us drifting into that zone of tension that makes every sentence ring false. Decide. Now, I told myself, knowing this could set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.
‘How about getting something to take out with us?’ I asked, surprising myself. But as soon as I’d said it I knew it was the right choice.
Jenny’s smile broadened. ‘Sounds great.’
She waited outside while I went back into the pub to buy a bottle of wine. I tried to ignore the odd looks as I asked to borrow glasses and a corkscrew, kicking myself for not having thought about this sooner. But I knew why I hadn’t. I’d avoided anything that would have made this seem like anything other than a casual outing. And it looked as though Jenny had done the same.
‘Hang on,’ she said when I returned, and disappeared inside herself. She came back a few minutes later brandishing packets of crisps and nuts. ‘In case we get the munchies,’ she grinned.
The tension disappeared after that. We left her car in the square and walked back to the lake. We could have walked through Henry’s garden to the jetty, but rather than disturb him we followed a little-used access track that ran past the house from the road. The dinghy was motionless on the still water. There wasn’t a breath of wind as we climbed aboard.
‘Don’t think we’re going to manage much sailing today,’ I said.
‘Doesn’t matter. It’ll just be nice to be out on the water.’
Without bothering with the sail, I took the oars and headed out into the lake. Its surface shone like glass in the sunlight, so bright it hurt. The only sound was the melodic plash of the oars as they dipped in and out of the water. Jenny was sitting facing me. Our knees brushed as I rowed, but neither of us moved away. Jenny let her hand trail over the side as I headed for the opposite shore, her fingers leaving a widening trail in their wake.
The water grew shallower as I approached the far side, made impassable in parts by dense thickets of straw-coloured rushes. A low outcrop of land protruded from them, its banks overhung with the shaggy branches of old weeping willows. I let us drift under one, loosely tying the boat to its trunk. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, turning them a translucent green.
‘This is lovely!’ Jenny exc
laimed.
‘Do you want to have a look around?’
She hesitated. ‘I don’t want to sound like a wuss, but do you think it’s safe? I mean, with the traps and everything.’
‘I can’t see anyone going to that much trouble. Nobody comes out here any more, so there wouldn’t be much point.’
We left the wine to cool in the lake and set off to explore. There wasn’t very much to the outcrop, just a mound of rocks and trees linked to the shore by a rush-choked strip of land. In its centre were the ruins of a tiny building, roofless and overgrown.
‘Do you think this used to be a house?’ Jenny asked, stooping to go through a low stone doorway. Old leaves crunched underfoot. Even in the heat there was a mustiness of damp and age.
‘It might have. All this used to belong to Manham Hall. Could have been a groundsman’s house or something.’
‘I didn’t know there was a hall around here.’
‘There isn’t now. It was knocked down just after the Second World War.’
She ran her hand across the mossy lintel of an old fireplace. ‘Don’t you ever wonder who used to live in places like this? What sort of people they were, what their lives were like?’
‘Hard, I imagine.’
‘But did they think that themselves, or was it just normal for them? I mean, in a few hundred years from now will people look at what’s left of our houses and think, “Poor devils, how did they manage?” ’
‘More than likely. Everybody always does.’
‘I always wanted to be an archaeologist. Before I was a teacher, I mean. All those past lives we know nothing about. And everyone thinking their own is the most important, just like us.’ She gave a little shudder and grinned self-consciously. ‘Makes me feel all shivery. But it still sort of fascinates me.’
I wondered if she’d somehow heard about my own involvement with past lives. But this wasn’t contrived. ‘So what stopped you? From becoming an archaeologist, I mean.’
‘I can’t have wanted to do it badly enough, I suppose. So I ended up in a classroom instead. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it. But sometimes, you know, you think, “What if…?”’
‘You could still train.’
‘No,’ she said, hand still smoothing the stone lintel. ‘That me’s gone now.’
It seemed an odd thing to say. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, you know. You get certain chances at certain times. Crossroads, or whatever. You make your decision, you end up going down one track; you make the other, you end up somewhere else entirely.’ She gave a shrug. ‘Archaeology was one of those tracks I didn’t take.’
‘Don’t you believe in second chances?’
‘They’re not second chances, just different ones. Your life’s never going to be the same as it would if you’d made a different decision first time round.’ Her face had clouded. She pulled her hand from the stone, suddenly embarrassed. ‘God, listen to me. Sorry,’ she laughed.
‘No need to be,’ I said, but she was already ducking out through the doorway.
I followed her out, giving her time to get over whatever dark thoughts had surfaced. Under the blonde cap of her hair, the nape of her neck was tanned and smooth. A whorl of fine white hairs ran down her neck to disappear into her top. I felt an impulse to touch them and looked away with an effort.
When Jenny turned around she was bright again. ‘Do you think the wine will be cool enough yet?’
‘Only one way to find out.’
We went back to the boat and took the bottle from the lake. ‘Are you OK having this?’ I asked. ‘I bought some water as well.’
‘No, wine would be perfect, thanks. I’ve had my insulin shot this morning. I’ll be fine with one glass.’ She grinned. ‘Besides, I’m with a doctor.’
We drank it on the bank under the willow. We’d hardly spoken since coming back from the ruins, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
‘Do you ever miss living in a city?’ she asked at last.
I thought about my recent trips to the lab. ‘Not until recently. Do you?’
‘I don’t know. I miss some things about it. Not so much stuff like bars and restaurants. More the busyness of it all. But I’m getting used to the country. It’s just about changing pace, really.’
‘Do you think you’ll go back?’
She looked at me, then out at the water. ‘I don’t know.’ She snapped off a grass stem. ‘How much did Tina tell you?’
‘Not much. Just that you’d had a bad experience, but she didn’t say what.’
Jenny smiled, plucking at the grass stem. ‘Good old Tina,’ she said, dryly but without rancour. I waited, letting her make up her mind whether to say more or not.
‘I was attacked,’ she said after a while, keeping her eyes on the grass. ‘About eighteen months ago. I’d been out with some friends and caught a taxi home. Like you’re supposed to. Streets not safe and all that. It had been someone’s birthday, and I’d had a bit too much to drink. I fell asleep, and when I woke up the driver had parked and was getting into the back with me. When I put up a struggle he started hitting me. Threatened to kill me, and then…’
Her voice had grown unsteady. She paused for a moment before continuing, in control again.
‘He didn’t actually get to rape me. I heard some people nearby. He’d parked in an empty car park, and this group were cutting across it. Just a fluke, really. So I started yelling and kicking on the window. He panicked, pushed me out of the car and drove off. The police said I’d been lucky. And they were right. I’d come out of it with just a few cuts and bruises, it could have been a lot worse. But I didn’t feel lucky. I just felt scared.’
‘Did they catch him?’
She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t give them much of a description, and he drove off before anyone could get his number. I didn’t even know the name of the taxi company, because I’d flagged him down in the street. So he’s still out there somewhere.’
She flicked the grass into the water. It floated on the surface, barely making an impression.
‘It got so I was afraid to go out. I wasn’t frightened of seeing him again, it was just…everything. It was like, if something like that had happened for no reason once, it might again. Anytime. And so I decided to get out of the city. Go and live somewhere nice and safe. Saw this job advertised and ended up here.’ She gave a crooked smile. ‘Good move, hey?’
‘I’m glad you did.’
The words were out before I knew it. I quickly looked out across the lake, anywhere but at her. Idiot! I fumed. Why the hell did you say that?
Neither of us spoke. I turned to find her watching me. She gave me a hesitant smile.
‘Want a crisp?’ she asked.
The awkwardness passed. Relieved, I reached for the wine.
In the coming days I would look back on this afternoon as one last glimmer of blue sky before the storm.
CHAPTER 16
THE NEXT WEEK PASSED in a state of limbo. A subdued tension filled the air like ozone, a dull anticipation as everyone waited for something to happen.
Nothing did.
The general mood matched the landscape, flat and becalmed. The weather continued as hot and unblemished as ever, without any hint of gathering clouds. The police investigation ground on, producing no sign of either suspect or victim, and the streets became noisy as every child of school age celebrated the start of their long summer break. I returned to my normal hours at the surgery, and if there were more patients now asking to see Henry, or an element of reserve in many of those I did see, I chose not to notice it. This was my life now, and Manham, for better or worse, my home. Sooner or later even this would pass, and then some sort of normalcy would return.
That was what I told myself, anyway.
I saw Jenny regularly over the following days. One evening we drove out for dinner to a restaurant in Horning, where the tables had linen cloths and candles, and the wine list was more than a choice between red or white. It already seemed as
if we’d known one another for years instead of having just met. Perhaps that was partly because of what we’d each been through. We’d both experienced a side of life that was a foreign country to most people, discovered how tenuous was the line separating the everyday from tragedy. The knowledge bonded us like a private language, unspoken most of the time, but there nevertheless. It had seemed natural to tell her about my history, about Kara and Alice, and about the forensic work I’d been carrying out for Mackenzie. She’d listened without comment, only briefly touching my hand when I’d finished.
‘I think you’re doing the right thing,’ she said, allowing the contact to linger a moment before quickly moving her hand away. And then, without awkwardness or embarrassment, we’d started talking about something else.
Only on the way back was there any tension. Jenny withdrew further into herself the closer we drew to Manham. The conversation that had been effortless first became stilted, then dried up altogether.
‘Is everything OK?’ I asked as I pulled up outside her house.
She nodded, but too quickly. ‘Well, goodnight,’ she said in a rush, opening the car door. But she hesitated before she climbed out.
‘Look, I’m sorry, I just…I don’t want to hurry into anything.’
I nodded, numbly.
‘No, I don’t mean…It’s not that I don’t want…’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Just not yet, all right?’ She gave me an uncertain smile. ‘Not yet.’
Before I could answer she’d leaned into the car and given me a kiss, a fleeting brush of her lips, before hurrying into the house. I felt breathless, buoyed and guilty at the same time.
But her words stayed with me for another reason. Not yet. That had been the answer Linda Yates had given me when I’d asked if she’d dreamed about Lyn. I saw her again one afternoon, during the lull when the entire village was waiting for something to happen. She was hurrying along the main street, a look of preoccupation on her face, and didn’t notice me until she was a few feet away. When she did she pulled up short.
The Chemistry of Death Page 16
