The Grave

by Diane M Dickson

  “I’d rather stay here though, after all the driving it’ll be a break. This is a lovely house, to be honest I don’t understand why you’d want to be living in the woods, down south, in an awful shack, when you’ve got this.

  “Samuel could we not just hide out here for a while you know till we see what’s going to happen. Then when it seems things are okay, well I suppose you could just stay here in your home and carry on, and I could do something?”

  The little speech trailed off at this point. She would have loved to tell him she could stay here with him for as long as he would let her, but acknowledged it was too soon, far too soon in this new-born intimacy to talk of any sort of future.

  “There’s things you don’t know Sylvie, there’s reasons I can’t be here.”

  He looked down at her, tumbled and warmed by their morning passion and he let his heart feel the pleasure, it was good. Sitting back down on the side of the bed he took hold of her hand.

  “Look, there’s stuff I need to tell you. It’s only fair and afterwards you have to make a decision about what you want to do. I won’t try to influence you and I’ll respect any decision you make, but let me do this stuff first. We need to be ready, to get everything sorted out and carry on with the plan to go out of the country, for a while at least. Come on get yourself dressed.

  “I’ll go and put the kettle on.”

  She heard him moving around quietly downstairs and hugged the wonderful normalness of it to her. This tiny little house in the beautiful wildness of the Lake District was the best place she had ever been. Why couldn’t he stay, if it truly was his home? She allowed herself a moment of daydream to imagine them here, at peace, enjoying each other and him teaching her about this place from his past, how she would have loved it.

  She stepped lightly down the stairs, to find Samuel inexplicably taking photographs with a digital camera. The toaster, the kettle and the dishes in the cupboards all had his attention.

  He heard her come to stand beside him and grinned at her puzzled expression.

  “No, I’m not losing it. I thought if I took pictures we can make sure we put all the stuff back in the same place before we leave. It’ll mean we can relax a bit more.

  “Now, get your drink and I made some toast, there’s jam.

  “We need to take a photograph for your passport. It would be really good if we could change the way you look a bit, but there isn’t time for much. You need to look just a bit different, but not enough so you feel awkward, because you need to be relaxed for going through customs.”

  “I can do that.”

  She grabbed her hot drink and skipped back up the stairs where he could hear her dragging her bag across the floor and then the bathroom door opened.

  He stood gazing out of the kitchen window which was unobserved here at the back of the house. He had come close enough so he could watch the ripple of the short grass as it moved before the breeze and the stiff wagging of the gorse bushes. It was all still the same, unchanging and ignorant of the rough tides which had driven through his life. The hills, the dales and fells simply here and eternal. The memories were so strong, all the dreams and the days and the loving and the laughter, here in this place but no longer his, not any part of what he was now.

  “Ta Da.”

  He spun round. She had sprayed some dark red colour into her blond hair, streaks of it along her fringe and in strands here and there. She had then pulled it back and piled it high on her head, the difference was surprising, her eyes looked larger and her neck, bare now was long and elegant. She had a tiny glittering stud above her top lip and along her ears were rows of gold coloured hoops, two in one and in the other he couldn’t count them but they followed the curve to the very top. She had applied kohl makeup to her eyes quite heavily and had painted a small beauty spot high on her cheek. Her lips were dark red and fuller now with the effect of the cosmetics.

  She was a lovely looking girl, striking as she stood before him now like this with the jewels and the war paint but he preferred her as she had been just a short hour ago, flushed with sleep and blurry with passion in his bed.

  He shook his head, the difference was astounding, perfect for their needs, she didn’t look awkward or too far outside the range of normal to look ridiculous.

  “How, did you do that?”

  “This is the other me.” She giggled at the look on his face.

  “I didn’t see, you know all those holes in your ears.”

  “No, I don’t wear them much anymore but the holes are still there. Actually I had a bit of a struggle with some of them and I think they’re going to be sore but not so bad.”

  “Well, it’s perfect. Just different enough and with all the metal work,” he pointed at her grinning face, “you give people things to think about, it’s the best sort of disguise.

  “Stand over there by the wall, the background is plain enough and I have a setting on this camera for ID pictures. You’re not allowed to smile.”

  “Okay.”

  The job was done quickly he, took several pictures. “I might need to get these printed, I can go to a supermarket while I’m out, I’ll see what I need. Are you going to be okay here on your own?”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

  She took the few steps towards him and held out her hand.

  “Samuel, about last night. Well, last night and this morning, thank you.”

  In response he simply wrapped his big arms around her and drew her to him.

  “No, Sylvie, no. Thank you.”

  As she backed away she saw the glitter of tears on his dark lashes and she ducked her head so he couldn’t see she too was overwhelmed.

  Chapter 21

  For a while, after Samuel left on his quest for cell phone signal and onward from wherever that had led, Sylvie played house. She repacked the clothes in her bag, at first she was afraid to use the iron and ironing board but it was simply stored in a corner of the kitchen and she was sure she could return it so it appeared undisturbed.

  She pressed the creases out of her trousers and shirts and hung them on the empty hangers in the bedroom wardrobe. It would have been fun to display her toiletries in the bright bathroom but she didn’t want Samuel to think she had taken liberties. His kindness, his passion and the growing affection between them was precious and she didn’t want to risk upsetting him. Until she knew him better she was willing to tiptoe on eggshells if it meant he would keep her with him.

  She lay on the bed for a while listening to her ipod but none of the stored music suited her mood. She wavered between thrill at the events of the night and morning and residual misery at the memory of what had brought them here. She turned to the radio trying to find a station to entertain and relax her but was dissatisfied with them all. It struck her then that she hadn’t had any real contact with the outside world for a couple of days now, confined to the car and now here in this place devoid of internet and without a television.

  She listened to the news, fearing every item, praying silently that there would be no mention of Phil and his disappearance. She still had no idea what Samuel had done with the body and it seemed he wasn’t willing to share any information. In truth she was happier that way, could more easily turn from the pictures filling her mind if the story wasn’t finished. There was a tiny nugget of fear eating away continually in the back of her mind. If his body was found, she assumed her own disappearance would be noted and a search for her would follow.

  There was nothing though and when the weather report began with news of torrential rain covering practically the whole of the country she turned off the radio with a sigh of relief.

  Back in the kitchen she made a drink and a sandwich. Samuel had given her no indication of how long he might be away and, unable to stray outdoors and with the strict constraint on her movements inside the house, she grew restless and bored. She knew now that actually she would have been better going with Samuel in the car.

  She wandered back to the bedroom but f
ound nothing to do. An idea slid through her mind briefly but she didn’t believe Samuel would appreciate her unpacking or ironing his clothes. She pulled her own bag to the corner of the room, allowing easier access to the dresser, she dragged his nearer to the wall to make a wider space beside the bed. There were two bags, a small one which was gaping open to reveal his clothes and toilet bag and the large black hold-all which he had carried from the car. She was amazed by the weight of it as she struggled to drag it across the carpet and push it, bulky and intriguing, alongside its mate.

  The honourable thing obviously was to leave it closed and she was determined to respect his privacy but the temptation to pry was enormous. She left the room closing the door on the tantalising piece of luggage and turned to the stairs. Out of sight, out of mind she hoped.

  Boredom and inactivity played its part and natural inquisitiveness drew her back to the other doors on the landing. He hadn’t said she couldn't have free access to the whole house. He had simply said she must keep away from the windows and outside doors and not use any heating lest the steam from the vent was seen outside. She laid her hand on the handle, for a moment she was undecided, was it moral to explore? She couldn’t imagine why it would not be and so she turned the knob and pushed against the wood.

  The door swung back to reveal another room with the curtains open letting in the rain-soaked light of the late morning. The walls were palest yellow and half way down was a border of cartoon animals and colourful alphabet letters. On the wall opposite the window great cartoon sheep gambolled across bright green hillsides peppered with yellow flowers. Against the wall behind the door stood a white cot, a changing table flanked one side and a tiny bassinet on a wooden stand was placed at the bottom. There was a tall chest which had been painted in pale pastels and decorated with cartoon decals.

  Sylvie’s hands flew to her mouth. This pretty nursery was not what she had expected, not this at all.

  Chapter 22

  She moved further into the little room, it was clean but the atmosphere was closed up and suspended. There were no fluffy blankets on the cot, no tiny teddy bear propped in the corner of the bassinet and no tinkling, glittering mobile dangling from the ceiling hook. A display in a department store would hold more life.

  The surfaces were bare, covered with a thin layer of dust as had been the rest of the house. The cleaner must be due to come soon. She slid open the first three drawers of the dresser, there were no cute miniature outfits or soft sheets and coverlets. This nursery was waiting, for a tiny inhabitant, for the smell of milk and baby powder and the sound of lullabies. The rocking chair in the corner was forlorn in its stillness, the room would have been better picked up and packed away, so great was the air of abandonment.

  She dragged open the lowest drawer, there was a flat packet lying on the bottom and she reached in and lifted it. It was obvious immediately that it was a frame, wrapped in a piece of towelling.

  She placed the parcel onto the top of the dresser, her hands were shaking and there was a risk it would be dropped and damaged. She unfolded the soft fabric. In the bright picture a young, dark haired woman, in the early stages of pregnancy smiled out at her. She was leaning into the arms of a tall man in military uniform. The soldier held her lovingly around her waist, big hands spread over the slightly swollen belly. Samuel cradling his unborn child.

  The discovery of this sad space had been so surprising that her nerves felt jolted. Samuel must be married, or at some time he had been, or anyway there had been a partner. His past was a secret place and there had been no reason for her to make assumptions but she had never imagined him with a family. The reality of him with a baby was impossible to equate with the surly and brusque person she had first met. True the Samuel emerging now was very different but, a family man, a daddy, she was completely unprepared for this.

  The love captured by the camera was real and undeniable. Where were they now, this lovely woman and the child she had carried. How had this love been lost and what misery had resulted in this empty, forlorn little room and was it the reason Samuel had been hidden in the forest so many miles away.

  None of it made sense, he was older than she but surely he wasn’t so old that his military career had reached its end. What was he hiding from, why was he running. She had known from the very start that he was on the outside limit of society but now layer upon layer of mystery was building and it left her bemused and uneasy.

  She wrapped the picture carefully and replaced it, sliding the drawer home. Backing out of the little room she took one last look before closing the door as gently as if a child slumbered in the white cot. The pleasure she had taken from this little house felt flattened now and she went back into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed.

  She tried to think rationally, so he was married, or he had been. There was nothing unusual in a broken marriage, no surprise in a fractured family, it meant very little these days. What if the photograph had captured a time of love and happiness, so did millions of wedding portraits, times changed, people fell out of love and moved on. Did it explain why the nursery was still there, yet not quite there, a shadow of what it should have been? Where were the bits and pieces left after a sharp and sorrowful split, the old outfits, no longer worth packing and carrying away, where were the half empty bottles and jars? Maybe it had been so long ago that those things had been discarded, but if so why not the rest of it? Surely the cartoon characters should have been swamped below a coat of bland emulsion and the furniture replaced by a bed or perhaps equipment for an older child, visiting for a weekend with daddy. This wasn’t normal, not in her understanding of human behaviour, limited though she knew this to be. It was odd.

  She swivelled her head on the bare mattress, there in the corner was the big black bag. She didn’t think about it now, there was no internal struggle, sliding from the bed she took two small steps, bent and pulled the zip.

  The bag gaped open, filled as it was almost to the top. She reached in and dragged out one of the bundles. How much was this, she could not compute the amount, she had never imagined she would ever see so much money in one place at one time. She plunged her hands in further and drew another wad from the bottom, there must be thousands and thousands of pounds here, all neatly bundled and all high denomination notes. The fear now was real and sparking on her nerve endings, this was wrong, there couldn’t be a simple explanation. The rumours had been true, he was rich, he had a great holdall full of money, her heart pounded as she looked at it, not with avarice, but with an animal instinct to flee and an acknowledgement that this could be the means.

  Chapter 23

  Samuel had driven out of the valley to find a strong signal for his phone. He would need to pull in favours. Contact with the people from before was something he had managed to avoid for the past three years, but it was his best option now. He had really hoped it was over, though in honesty acknowledged it might never be. This favour would have to be paid for with one in return and he would be swept back into the maelstrom he had struggled to escape. He shrugged and focused, there was no point grieving, this had to be done.

  He should have a passport for Sylvie in a day or two and then they could carry on.

  He struggled with the concept of them as a couple. For many years he had been alone, through choice and necessity and he was sorely afraid it was best to keep it so. It wasn’t fair to form a relationship with this young woman. It was too much risk letting the attraction grow into something stronger, letting down his guard and starting to believe. It had all gone so horribly wrong before and the dangers in his life now were even greater.

  For a moment the memory of his other love overwhelmed him, a painful twist in his gut. He knew it of old, faced it and rode it out, the desolation that had gripped him for so long, was always but a small beat away. He would never again feel complete, his heart had been ripped out and the void was a part of him real and permanent forever.

  Yes, these last two days with Sylvie had been good, really goo
d. Last night had shown him he could still find pleasure and gentleness and passion but he wasn’t ready to try to heal, he didn’t want to. The person he had once been was a stranger, lost in the murk behind all the things he had done since then, unreachable. This entity that he had become was broken and ruined, undeserving of happiness.

  He would take her with him to Holland and then when they were sure it was safe he would send her back. He would give her money and advice and make her accept her freedom. It was the right thing to do and for once he was going to do the right thing.

  He made his calls, organised things, emailed the digital images. He bought milk and bread from a tiny shop attached to a filling station. Then he turned to the winding road that would take him back to the place which had once formed the whole of his world…

  In the south the river continued to swell with the torrential rain, the wind was building now and great branches whipped and groaned before the force. It was many years since the level had reached so high on the ancient banks. Small rocks and boulders began to break away and tumble into the creaming force. The smaller shrubs and bushes held out until the soil beneath their roots was eroded and then they in turn joined the detritus flowing seaward. At times debris from the banks would catch and wedge against a barrier of mud and green stuff until the bulk of it formed a whole which was too big to hold and then, jolted by a greater clump, it flushed downstream