by Penny Kline
‘You look like a chough,’ he said, ‘with its feathers fluffed out against the cold.’ His fingers touched her forehead, as if he was checking her temperature. ‘If you want me to, I’ll come with you to the cottage. Then if you’re no nearer finding out what’s going on I think you should go to the police. How much did Harry tell you?’
‘Harry?’
‘About me? I’ve known him for several years. He’s a good friend, gave me a lot of support when my wife died.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘I didn’t know. It must take years to get over something like that.’
‘We were on the point of splitting up. We’d had a row. Helen got pretty frustrated with me. She was the kind who likes to go out, live it up, whereas one or two evenings a week is more than enough for me.’ He paused, staring into space. ‘I forget exactly what we’d said to each other. You’d think I’d remember every word but it doesn’t work like that. Helen left in a furious temper and the next I heard … The car left the road and she was killed instantly.’
He was perfectly calm but Izzy could see what an effort it had been talking about what had happened. The close proximity of his body was making her aware of how much she needed someone to hug her. ‘It must have been dreadful,’ she said, and then because her words had sounded so inadequate, ‘there’s me complaining about Josh and you suffered something far worse.’
He was silent and she wondered if he was regretting telling her about his wife.
‘I’ll go to the cottage this afternoon,’ she said, ‘but I think I should do it on my own.’
‘I could always wait a short distance away in the car.’
She shook her head. ‘Dawn’s clever, she might see you. If I could talk to her … and to Miles if he’s there …’
‘Phone me as soon as you get back. And go early. You don’t want to be there once it starts getting dark. I doubt very much if you’ll find her, but I suppose it’s worth a try. Oh, and to answer your questions about the estuary, this year there are more birds than ever, well over twenty thousand are using it as a winter haven.’
A winter haven.
For some reason, the description stayed in her head and later she found herself repeating it like a mantra. A winter haven
.
Somewhere safe. She had been denying her fear of Dawn, denying it to Stuart, but she had to face up to it. All that mattered was that she found her and Miles and tried to talk some sense into them.
Chapter Nineteen
It was ten to one. Izzy had asked Harry for time off, offering to stay late the following day, and he had not asked the reason why. Perhaps he was too worried about his affair with Kath. Did he want to end it? Izzy had no idea how he felt, but reading between the lines, Kath seemed to think he was cooling off. Her protestations that it was so hard for her to end it had not rung true. She was in love with Harry and being in love does something to your brain. Izzy should know.
Kath was looking concerned and wanted to know if there was anything she could do, but Izzy told her she would explain later, there was something she needed to check. If nothing came of it, she was going to contact DS Fairbrother.
‘About time, Iz. Do be careful.’
‘Yes, of course. Some people can’t cope with a newborn baby. Dawn’s not the maternal type. I expect she found it all too much for her. Or she could be suffering from post-natal depression. I just want to help.’
‘From what you’ve told me, she’s not someone who welcomes help from anyone.’
‘Depressed people hardly ever do.’
Kath screwed up her face. ‘That’s not true.’
‘All right, people who are unhappy want help, but those with serious depression often prefer to be left alone.’
It had been a ridiculous conversation. Kath had no idea what state Dawn was in. And Izzy was far more concerned than she had let on. And far more apprehensive. Be careful what you do or you could land yourself in serious danger.
As she drove out, towards The Railway Inn, she tried to sum up in head what she knew. Any notion that the baby could be something to do with Josh had been wishful thinking, something she hoped would let her off the hook. The teddy bear with its navy blue jumper. Obviously it was not the only one of its kind to be sold, but together with the other clues, it was fairly conclusive. Then there was the solicitor’s letter with the tiny drawing of a stag’s antlers in the corner of the envelope. Dawn wanted to be found and Izzy was almost certain she had been watching her the first time she visited the cottage.
Why did she want to be found? Surely her aim had been to persuade Izzy to adopt Cressy and bring her up as her own child. It hadn’t worked. Dawn knew that now, but how did she know? Izzy’s thoughts always returned to the man, or was it a woman, who wheeled an empty pram round the city. The person who had pushed Josh into the river? The person who had stolen Blanche and either deliberately hurt her (would Dawn really have done such a thing?) or released her miles away from where she lived so it was virtually impossible for her to find her way home.
She passed the shop where the two women claimed someone with long fair hair had bought baby wipes and disposable nappies for her friend. Then the road that led to the pig farm the old man had told her about, that had turned out be a waste of time.
It was a clear, cold day, quite different to last time, and something Izzy was grateful for. Approaching the cottage in the pouring rain would have been that much worse. Although the rain would have produced more cover. She should have told Kath where she was going. Or Harry, or both of them. She could have shown them the place on the map and, if she found herself in danger, arranged to let the office phone ring a specified number of times. Stuart knew where she was going but, as with Kath and Harry she had declined to provide an address. What was the address? A cottage close to The Railway Inn?
Her mother had once accused her of being too fiercely independent or, put another way, of disliking asking for help. So she and Dawn had something in common. The only thing, Izzy thought bitterly. She lacked Dawn’s single-minded ruthlessness. But whatever Dawn had done, she still wanted to help her.
Unable to use the same parking space as before – the gate had been propped open, suggesting a farm worker intended to come through – she had left her car about two hundred yards down the road. From her last visit, she remembered how there was a different way to reach the cottage but, fearing she would lose her bearings, she had decided not to try it but, as on the previous occasion, to approach the place on foot.
How she would regret this decision. But standing at the entrance to the field, she had not the least idea what was to come. If she had known, what would she have done? Stuart Robbins had offered to accompany her but she had decided it was something she had to do on her own. Why? Because she didn’t know Stuart well enough? Because he had not seen Dawn since they were both children and even then had seemed to dislike her?
Spending time with Stuart had made her painfully aware how weak she had been to put up with the way Josh had treated her. That was the trouble if you fell in love with someone. You made excuses for them, lived in hope everything would turn out as you wanted it to. Was that how Dawn felt about Miles?
Since his brief stay in hospital, her feelings for Josh had changed. It was as though the incident had drawn a line under things. His ‘pathetic’ act, trying to persuade her to let him convalesce in her house, had made her think even less of him. Breaking an attachment was always painful but she felt now she had achieved it. Something she had Dawn to thank for?
The sun was shining, a cold late afternoon sun, as she trudged through the rough grass, keeping close to the hedge. Now and again she heard noises; birds or small animals. Since most of the trees were bare of leaves, it was a bleak landscape. She could hear running water. A stream on the other side of the hedge?
In the distance, a car engine started up. No, it sounded more like a tractor. Coming here alone had been a mistake. From everything she had heard about Miles, he was no
t a violent person, but Dawn had always been unpredictable and in her present state of mind she could do anything.
Dawn had thought she was psychic but Izzy had no illusions about her own ability to sense things or pick up paranormal signals. All the same, the place fitted the information Dominic had gained from his father’s phone call, and it was ‘Godforsaken’, just the kind of hiding place that would appeal to Dawn.
Approaching the cottage from a slightly different point, she followed the row of trees that ran alongside a dip in the land. A large dip, as it turned out, that was overgrown but could have been where a small branch line had once run. It continued on out of sight and Izzy took a deep breath and moved towards the cottage, trying to keep her footsteps as silent as possible.
As it came into view, she was almost disappointed. Still no sign anyone was living there, no smoke from the chimney or car in the yard. This time, if no one answered the door, she would have to try and break in. The doors were probably locked and, as far as she could remember, none of the windows had been broken. All the same, it could be inhabited by someone who kept a shotgun for killing rabbits, or whatever country people did. She would be trespassing. He would have perfect right to defend his property. But not to kill her.
Everything was exactly as she recalled it. The tiled roof and pebbledashed walls. No, she was wrong. Something was glinting in the sun. The garage door had a padlock but it was swinging loose. Last time it had been shut. Or had she imagined it?
The windows at the front were tightly closed and when she crept forward and peered through the glass there was nothing of interest to be seen. An old chair that could have been there for years. Something that looked like an ancient radio.
Perhaps the door at the back was unlocked, or a small high-up window had been left open. With a dry mouth and shaking legs, she edged round the side of the building, her gaze flicking in all directions, checking for the slightest movement, listening for the smallest sound.
The side door was locked and next to it was a wall she had failed to notice before, and she thought she could hear a bird singing. Was there a garden? If there was it would be completely overgrown, a paradise for birds and other wild life.
Fear plays funny tricks on the mind. The harmless sounds of the countryside feel threatening. Peripheral vision picks up small movements – of insects and plants. She returned to the front of the cottage and examined the door of the shed next to the garage, the one with horseshoes and a stag’s antlers attached to it. Through a hole in the wood she could see logs, piled high, and behind them a wall with a rusty scythe balanced on two hooks.
‘Is anyone about?’ She had meant to speak loudly, confidently, but her voice came out as a croak. A bird twittered somewhere above her head and she looked up at a tree, trying to make out what kind it was, but the tree was an evergreen and it was impossible to see.
Turning away, she shaded her eyes against the sun and at the same moment she heard a short, amused laugh and Dawn strolled out of the garage.
‘Come in.’ It was a command, not a request. ‘Through here and mind the step. I’m afraid it’s rather cold.’
Her hair was matted, unwashed, and her face had a weather-beaten look. How long had she been living here? Had she seen Izzy the first time she came to the cottage, but kept quiet, watching her every move? What would she do now? Tell her the truth or concoct some unlikely story, putting herself in the right and everyone else in the wrong?
A conservatory had been added on at some stage and Dawn guided, almost pushed, her towards it. They passed through a living room with a sofa, the armchair she had seen through the window on her previous visit, and a glass-fronted cupboard with three shelves of china. In contrast to Dawn, the cottage was in far better shape than she had expected. Dust covered everything but the white walls had prints hanging on them – pictures of badgers and foxes – and the furniture was in good condition.
Where was Miles? He could be upstairs. Were they renting the cottage or had they broken in while the owner was away? If they were paying rent, the police would have been able to trace them. If Izzy had told the police.
What were their plans now they had given away their baby? Did Miles even know what had happened to Cressy? So many questions but she would let Dawn take the lead.
There must be a car in the garage or how could they have got there in the first place? Miles’ car? When he returned to his wife and son, he would have kept in touch with Dawn and made sure she had food and whatever else she needed. Of course, there could be another car, parked out of sight. Dawn was an erratic driver, fast and typically inconsiderate to other drivers. Izzy remembered the green van she had thought might be being driven by Josh, or his friend, Dave.
As they entered the conservatory she took in the basket chairs, with their flowered cushions, and the low glass-topped table. The floor was bare apart from a narrow strip of rush matting that had started to unravel at one end, but something about the room made her think it was where Dawn spent most of her time. A bookcase was full of paperbacks. More books were piled up in a corner, next to an old-fashioned television balanced on top of some glass panels. Solar panels, waiting to be fixed?
‘Don’t you like it?’ The voice had an edge to it now, annoyed that Izzy had failed to make an appreciative comment.
‘You’ve got a lovely view.’
Outside, stone steps led down to a circular lawn, an urn on a pedestal, and a large tree surrounded by masses of pink cyclamens. Like in Harry and Janet’s garden, she thought, except nothing else about the place was in the least like Harry and Janet’s. Since it was November, there was little other colour, apart from the berries on a holly tree that were being consumed by a flock of small birds.
In the distance, she thought she could see the Haldon Hills, but her knowledge of the geography of the area was limited. If she was right, she was facing the sea and, beyond the hills, oblivious of what was going on in Dawn’s cottage, Bev might be taking Cressy for a walk, accompanied by Nigel and Pippa. Izzy glanced at her watch. No, they would still be at school. Did they walk there and back by themselves or did Bev go with them?
‘The garden will be beautiful in spring.’ Izzy struggled to control the shakiness of her voice. ‘Have you been living here long?’
‘It belongs to a friend of Miles.’
‘Oh, I see, and he let you borrow it.’
‘He’s working in Australia for a year. Have you been to Australia? No, you’ve never travelled very much, have you? More of a stay-at-home type.’
‘My mother’s in New Zealand at the moment, staying with my brother and his family.’
Humour her. Convince her I’m on her side, I’m her friend. Don’t show fear. Dawn never reacted well to fear.
‘You like it then?’
‘The cottage? Yes, it’s in a lovely spot.’
‘It has its own special atmosphere, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Yes, yes it does. On a sunny day –’
‘I was expecting you.’ She patted a basket chair, inviting Izzy to sit down. ‘You’ve taken your time, but you’re here now.’
Izzy sat. She had kept her coat on and so far Dawn had not suggested she take it off. Dawn was a control freak, always had been, but this time Izzy must take control, and let her think she had told other people she was coming to cottage.
‘I came before –’
‘I know. Then you lost your nerve.’
‘You could have come out to talk to me.’
‘What for?’
‘When I decided to come back, I told a friend of mine where –’
‘I don’t believe you.’ Dawn appeared perfectly relaxed. ‘I’ve always known when you were lying.’
‘I was worried about you.’
‘About me?’ Dawn’s voice was high-pitched with amusement. ‘It’s you we should be worrying about.’
‘The baby. Cressy.’
‘You should have followed my instructions.’
How should she talk to her
? Like a normal, rational person, or like someone who was not thinking straight? ‘She’s safe where she is, Dawn, being well cared for, but she’s your baby. She should be with her mother.’
‘I trusted you.’ Dawn’s eyes met hers, and Izzy fought back a shudder. She was unwell, perhaps she had been all along, or perhaps having the baby had affected her in some way. She remembered Stuart’s remark. She always seemed a little odd. And her father, Graham.Such a clever child. You were her best friend, I believe. In which case you’ll know she has a cruel streak. The bruises on her mother’s face …
What should she do next? Any suggestion Dawn see a doctor would be met with a scornful response. There’s nothing the matter with me. You’re the one who needs help. She was smiling and all Izzy could think of was how she was going to escape. No, not yet. Having got this far she had to discover the truth.
‘Where’s Miles?’
‘What do you mean?’ Dawn looked puzzled, as though Izzy had said, something incomprehensible.
‘Presumably he’s Cressy’s father. He is, isn’t he?’
‘Of course.’
‘So where is he? Can I talk to him?’
‘What for?’
‘I want to help, Dawn. Just tell me –’
‘Tell you what?’ Her icy self-control had gone and she was shouting. ‘I told you what you had to do and you ignored my instructions.’
‘That was because I didn’t understand.’
Dawn stood up and Izzy expected her to hit her but instead she opened one of the French doors. ‘Come and see the garden. I’ve been collecting up the leaves. Leaf mould contains so much goodness. I’m going to make a wire container. Unlike compost that’s decomposed by bacteria, leaves have no need of heat or additives.’
Izzy inspected the pile of leaves. ‘You have been busy. I didn’t know you liked gardening.’
What were she and Miles planning to do and why had he returned to Wendy and Dominic then left again? He had tried to make a go of his marriage but been unable to break his attachment to Dawn? She must have some hold over him, but surely Cressy would have been the only hold.
