Angel with Two Faces

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. Having 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 to 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.

Archie knocked firmly on the dark-blue door but the only response it brought was from the neighbouring house, which doubled as a small shop – one of those sitting-room affairs where wives added to the household income by selling things from their front rooms. The face of a woman in her sixties appeared at the window and hovered over a pair of brass scales which shone like a dollar through the glass; she looked curiously at Morveth’s visitors for a moment, then nodded to Archie and moved back into the house. Frustrated by the possibility that Morveth herself might be out, Archie peered through one of the sash windows, then raised his hand to someone inside. ‘It’s all right – she’s coming through from the back,’ he said, and a moment later the door opened. Morveth’s expression changed when she saw Josephine, but she stood aside politely to let them both in.

The front door opened straight into one of the most chaotic sitting rooms that Josephine had ever seen. The room had a stone-flagged floor and whitewashed walls, but very little of either was visible beneath the detritus of a long life, lived in contact with many rather than devoted to one. There were photographs everywhere – some showed successive groups of smiling children, lined up outside a small school building; others were less formal images of Morveth with boys and girls of varying ages – and the surfaces were cluttered with trinkets and mementos which she guessed were presents from former pupils. Taken together, the collection was a meaningless jumble, but Josephine had no doubt that each individual item carried a memory and a significance for Morveth.

A large oak dresser stood against the only straight wall; its shelves and cupboards were crammed with bottles, jars and books, and Josephine recognised some of the titles from the Lodge, together with a selection of classic novels and poetry and an old prayer book, so well thumbed that even to remove it from the shelf seemed to threaten its existence. She was interested to see how easily Morveth’s loyalties blended Christianity with folklore, and wondered cynically where the woman’s belief in her own powers sat in relation to either. What was more fascinating still, though, was the fact that – in spite of the disorder – Josephine instantly recognised the peace that Archie had described to her from his past visits. The air was scented with herbs, bunches of which were nailed to the beams, and the fresh, sweet smell of rosemary drifted across from the adjoining kitchen, where a range gently infused the herb with its heat. It was curious, but the room offered a sense of calm found rarely even in spaces which were much less muddled.

There were only two chairs, so Josephine sat on the stairs, keen to distance herself from the conversation that Archie needed to have with his friend. Morveth’s first words, however, were addressed to her, and they were blunt and accusing. ‘You’ve told him, then?’

‘No – did you want me to? Was that why you singled me out for your confidences?’

Archie interrupted. ‘Josephine hasn’t told me anything,’ he reiterated, ‘although I don’t understand why you chose to put her in that position. I’m afraid that I had to hear it from the horse’s mouth.’ Succinctly, he explained what had happened during his visit to the rectory, and his tone was gentle but professional. ‘So now I hope you might be able to tell me yourself what happened to my mother. We can’t deny it any more, not even to ourselves.’

Morveth was silent for a long time, although she did have the grace to glance apologetically at Josephine. ‘What good would it do, Archie? What good does raking up the past ever do? I could sit here and tell you everything that Lizzie told me in confidence, but how do all those shameful, miserable details help you or serve her memory?’

‘That’s too easy, Morveth, and it’s not your decision to make.’

‘But I know how desperately she wanted to save you from it – I won’t betray her like that. You’re right – I should never have said anything, and I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the shock of what happened to Nathaniel. But I did it because I care about you, Archie. I can’t look out for you any more – you’ve moved away from us now and you have a different life, and that’s how it should be – so I told the one person you might take help from if you ever needed it.’ She looked at Josephine, who wondered again how Morveth knew so much about her friendship with Archie. ‘Anyway, your mother had the last word on the subject of Jasper Motley in her will.’

‘Taking his piety with a pinch of salt, you mean.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it, yes. Or it could simply stand for nature’s way of healing a wound. Whatever she meant, it sounds as though someone has done her work for her at last – and someone with a much higher authority than you.’ She smiled at Archie with genuine compassion, and Josephine guessed that he was beginning to see the sense of what Morveth was saying: there really was no need for him to know anything more about his mother’s pain. Morveth picked up a photograph in a plain wooden frame from where it stood on the small table next to her chair, and passed it to Archie. ‘That’s the relationship you should be remembering,’ she said. ‘It’s the one that made her strong enough to face her demons – no matter what form they took. Leave it there.’

He stared at the picture for a long time before speaking. ‘All right,’ he said at last, handing the image of his mother and father over to Josephine to look at, ‘but we are going to have to talk about some aspects of the past, Morveth. When Nathaniel died, he took everybody’s right to secrecy with him – and I mean everybody’s. You’ve held lots of those secrets safe for years, but it’s time to let go. Right now, I do need some help, but it’s not the sort that Josephine can give. Can you?’

‘I don’t know anything about Nathaniel’s death.’

‘Not directly, perhaps, but don’t fool yourself that his murderer is a stranger. He or she is somewhere on the Loe estate, I’m convinced of that much, and you know more about that community than any of us. Let’s start with the Snipe family, shall we? Jago told me about what happened to his baby daughter and what you did to get him another child – did Nathaniel find out from the records at the Union what had happened, and who Christopher’s real father is?’

Morveth was clearly unsettled by Archie’s question, but she was not stupid enough to deny the truth of what he was saying. ‘Why did Jago tell you that? We swore to each other we’d never tell a soul.’

‘He’s worried sick about Christopher, and rightly so. The boy’s been missing since Sunday night, and that’s too much of a coincidence coming so shortly before Nathaniel’s murder. Perhaps he’s been hurt himself, perhaps he’s got something to hide – either way, he’s in trouble. So did Nathaniel know that Christopher was Joseph Caplin’s son?’

‘Not to my knowledge, but Nathaniel had begun to keep a lot of things to himself lately. He didn’t talk to me as readily as he used to.’ Wise man, Josephine thought, but said nothing. ‘The information’s there at the Union if you know where to look,’ Morveth admitted, ‘but I don’t know if he found it.’

‘And you haven’t mentioned it to someone who might have told Christopher? Morwenna, for example – could Loveday have overheard something that she thought Christopher should know?’

‘I’ve never broken that promise to Jago,’ Morveth said indignantly. ‘It’s not the sort of thing you casually “mention”.’

‘Of course, there is one more thing that might have made Christopher run away,’ Archie said. ‘Am I right in thinking that Loveday was pregnant?’ Suddenly, Morveth looked genuinely frightened. ‘We’ve been friends a long time,’ he continued, ‘and, because of that, I’m not going to ask you if you did anything to ensure that she would lose the baby. But I will ask you this: why were you so against her having a child?’

‘You obviously know a great deal more than I thought, Archie,’ Morveth said, recovering a little of her composure. ‘And if that’s the case, I don’t know how you can even ask why I’d be against that girl’s pregnancy.’

‘I know she’s young and the circumstances are hardly ideal, but a child at her age isn’t unheard of and it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. Anyway, Christopher clearly cares for her. He would have stood by her if people had been a little more understanding, and he’s got – or at least he had – a solid future.’

‘Christopher?’ Morveth said, surprised. ‘Why should he have to take that on? None of this is his fault, and Jago would never have put up with that.’

‘But you’re surely not suggesting that it was entirely Loveday’s fault? The baby was Christopher’s and he would have faced up to his responsibility once he’d had time to come to terms with it.’

‘No, no – you’ve got that wrong,’ Morveth said. ‘Jago swore there was nothing going on between Christopher and Loveday, and I believe him.’

‘That was wishful thinking, I’m afraid. For some reason, Jago objected very strongly to Loveday, but there’s no question in my mind that the child she lost was Christopher’s.’

So whose baby did Morveth think it was? Josephine wondered. Loveday knew so few people. ‘But Morwenna said… she seemed so sure,’ the older woman whispered, confused, and suddenly Josephine knew exactly what was in her mind.

‘My God,’ she said, horrified, ‘Morwenna thought it was Harry’s baby, didn’t she? She thought it was history repeating itself.’ She turned to Archie, who was staring at her in disbelief. ‘That’s why she felt so betrayed – when Morwenna ended her relationship with Harry, she thought he’d turned to their little sister, either to spite her or – even more unbearable for her – because he had never genuinely loved her.’ As Archie continued to look doubtful, she spoke more forcefully: ‘That’s what she said to me – a bond had been formed behind her back, and now she was on the outside. What else would destroy her so completely? Or make her so resentful of Loveday?’

Archie turned to Morveth. ‘Is this true?’

Slowly, Morveth nodded. ‘She was devastated when she came to me – sick with worry about the effect it would have on Loveday, and hardly able to believe that Harry could do such a thing to her – but she knew the signs. If anyone knew them, Morwenna did.’

‘What signs?’ Archie asked impatiently. This complex web of misplaced certainties and false logic was beginning to irritate him as much as it did Josephine.

‘They were spending lots of time together, disappearing into the woods for hours at a time. And Loveday started being spiteful towards Morwenna, taunting her with the fact that she and Harry had their own secrets now, saying that Harry loved her best.’

‘Surely she had a lot of time to make up for?’ Josephine suggested. ‘Harry and Morwenna had shut her out for so long that you can’t blame her for wanting to get her own back. Do you have brothers and sisters? No? I thought not. Trust me – it’s what siblings do. Nobody takes more triumph from the small victories than a scorned younger sister.’

‘But Loveday was growing up,’ Morveth insisted, determined to justify Morwenna’s reading of the situation. ‘Morwenna couldn’t deny her sexuality any longer.’

‘I suppose it never occurred to anyone to ask Loveday who her baby’s father was?’ Josephine demanded, her sarcasm getting the better of her. ‘If she was so grown up, a straightforward question might have saved a lot of heartache for everyone.’

‘There was no need – Morwenna was so sure,’ Morveth repeated desperately. ‘And when she told me what her suspicions were, it seemed so obvious.’

‘Her suspicions? So she wasn’t sure – not until you’d encouraged her to believe it.’

‘But it seemed so logical – there must be something in it, surely?’ Morveth looked pleadingly at Archie, but Josephine was incensed and in no mood to let the subject drop easily.

‘Why? To salve your conscience? All because you’d rather believe in some kind of genetic sickness than face up to emotions that frightened you and a love you didn’t understand? Because no matter what anyone else thinks about it, that’s what Harry and Morwenna had – a deep, lasting love, the sort that very few of us ever know. I can see why Morwenna was capable of getting it so wrong – she was obsessed with Harry and jealousy distorts everything – but what’s your excuse?’

‘How do you know about Harry and Morwenna?’

‘Morwenna told me,’ Archie said, ‘and she also spoke to Josephine about Harry.’ The latter was a slight exaggeration of the truth, and he was surprised to find a champion for the older Pinchings in Josephine, but he had no intention of relinquishing the moral high ground so early in his conversation with Morveth. ‘Morwenna had the sense to realise that Nathaniel’s murder demands the truth from everyone, no matter how preferable silence may be.’

‘And do you condone it so easily, this love that I don’t understand – whatever its consequences?’

‘I don’t easily condone anything that’s against the law,’ Archie said carefully, ‘but I do consider the consequences of my actions before I condemn it.’ Morveth flushed at the pointed reminder of the blind eye which Archie had just turned to her own departure from the legal path.

‘Is that why you were so concerned about my spending time with Loveday?’ Josephine asked. ‘You thought I’d find out that Harry was taking advantage of her?’

‘Among other things. The family’s had enough to worry about without that sort of shame getting out.’

‘Other things?’ Archie repeated, conscious that he was being sidetracked yet again from the murder investigation which he had come here to pursue. ‘Do those other things include anything that Loveday might have let slip about Nathaniel’s death?’

‘No. I just meant Harry and Morwenna – I wasn’t to know you were already aware of what had gone on between them. And as far as I know, Loveday doesn’t know what’s happened to Nathaniel. Morwenna thought that she should be allowed to get better first, and I agreed. They were quite close.’ She turned to Josephine. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, you seem very sure of what you know for someone who’s only met Loveday once or twice.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t lay claim to any great feats of perception,’ Josephine said, refusing to be intimidated. ‘I only listened to her, just as you advised me to. You were right, though – few people are wise enough to do that. Most of you are so caught up in your secrets and your intrigues that you miss what’s right under your nose. Loveday adored her big brother, as most young girls do; she was competitive with her sister, as women of all ages are; and she experimented sexually with someone she liked who paid her some attention – again, that’s hardly unusual. So yes, I am sure of that much.’

Josephine’s reference to Christopher reminded Archie of his own conversation with the undertaker, when he had referred to Loveday as damaged goods. ‘Did you tell Jago what you suspected about Harry and Loveday?’

‘Yes. He knew what had gone on before – between Harry and Morwenna, I mean. Sam Pinching was his best friend, so he knew what Harry was like.’

‘The sins of the brother, you mean? So easily repeated with the next sister in line?’ Until now, Archie had managed to maintain a professional detachment, but Morveth’s unwitting manipulation of the lives around her – and the willingness of others to be so easily led – suddenly disgusted him. ‘No wonder Jago was so determined to keep Christopher and Loveday apart, and I’m not surprised he denied any relationship between them – he wouldn’t want his son lumbered with the product of an incestuous relationship.’ He thought about his promise to Morwenna to keep her past out of the investigation, and questioned now that he would be able to stay true to his word: how far had the myth of Harry and Loveday actually travelled, he wondered? ‘Do you think that Jago would have gone as far as saying something to Christopher to put him off Loveday?’

‘No – he’d never do anything like that. He knew he had to keep it to himself.’

‘Really?’ Archie said sceptically, wondering how a woman as intelligent as Morveth could be so oblivious to the irony of what she was saying. ‘Did anybody tell Nathaniel?’

‘Absolutely not. He would have done something about it.’

Like give Harry a chance to defend himself, Archie thought, remembering that the curate’s first response to Loveday’s account of the fire had been to ask the accused man for the truth. ‘Did Harry know what you were all so ready to believe him capable of?’

‘Not at first, no. But Morwenna confronted him with it eventually. She couldn’t help herself.’

‘She told me that she’d accused Harry of never really loving her on the night he died – that was about Loveday, wasn’t it?’

‘I suppose it must have been.’

‘Jesus – no wonder he killed himself,’ Josephine said. ‘The woman he loved – the only woman he could ever love – accused him of turning to their little sister?’

‘But why didn’t he deny it?’ Archie asked, bewildered. ‘Why would he just accept it and say nothing?’ It was, he realised, exactly what Nathaniel said Harry had done when asked about the fire – except then he had been guilty as charged.

‘Perhaps the knowledge that Morwenna could even think that of him was enough to make him want to die,’ Josephine suggested.

‘But they saw each other again after the argument,’ Archie said. ‘And Harry was kind to her – like his old self, she said. He ought to have been indignant with her – furious, even. Why would he make his peace and ride into the lake because of something he didn’t do? It just doesn’t make sense. Something else must have happened in between.’ He looked questioningly at Morveth.

‘That wasn’t the only reason he might want to take his own life,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘He might have tried to make Morwenna see the truth after he’d calmed down, but by then it was too late.’

‘Why? What happened?’

‘He’d done something that couldn’t be denied.’

‘Will you please stop talking in bloody riddles and just tell me what else you know? When was the last time you saw Harry?’ Morveth hesitated, so he asked again. ‘Did you see him on the night he died?’

‘Yes.’

‘At last – we’re getting somewhere,’ he said. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Hesitantly, Harry took a step towards Morwenna and went to touch her face, trying to blot out the memory of the last time the two of them had stood here together, when he had raised his hand to her in anger.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she said, taking a step backwards. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘Don’t come anywhere near me.’

The combination of shock and loathing in her eyes almost made him falter, but he carried on, desperate to make her understand. ‘At least let me explain,’ he said.

‘Has someone kept you away from here until now? Held you prisoner, and prevented you from popping home to tell me that you weren’t actually dead?’

‘No, of course not…’

‘Then how can you possibly explain what you’ve put me through? Do you know what it was like waiting by that lake every day, dreading the moment they found you and yet hoping against hope that you really were dead? Of course you don’t – if you had any idea, you wouldn’t be here now. You left me alone to pick up the pieces of the mess you ran away from. And what about Loveday? All right, so you could do it to me, but how could you make her suffer? Unless… oh God, no – have I really been that stupid?’ Blindly, Morwenna felt behind her for the door handle, then turned and left the house.

‘Unless what?’ he shouted, following her out into the garden. He grabbed her by the arm and made her turn back towards him. ‘Morwenna, tell me what you mean.’

‘Did she know all along? Is this something you made up between you – one of those precious secrets she kept telling me about? She must have known. How else could she have been so sure?’

‘No – I swear Loveday didn’t know. No one knew. I did this for you – only for you. For us.’

‘There is no us, Harry,’ Morwenna said, looking at him, and the quiet certainty with which she spoke frightened him more than her anger or her scorn. ‘There never really has been, has there? We were a sickness, you and I – that much was obvious to me when I found out that you could move on so easily. Everything I thought I was – every honest feeling I’ve ever had – was twisted and warped beyond all recognition when you betrayed me with Loveday. What sort of life do you think that left me with? Now you walk back in here and start talking about us – with God knows who in your grave and some other poor woman going through the hell of not knowing what’s happened to the person she cares about. And do you know what the most priceless thing of all is, Harry? You honestly thought I’d be pleased to see you, didn’t you? Well, didn’t you?’ she shouted, infuriated by his silence.

‘Not straight away, perhaps,’ he lied, trying to ignore the emptiness in her voice whenever she spoke his name, ‘but when you’d had a chance…’

‘A chance to what? Calm down?’

‘To understand.’

‘You just don’t get it, do you? Do you really want to know what I felt when I turned round and saw you standing there, holding Loveday’s hand? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’

‘That isn’t true,’ he said, more defiantly than he felt. He had played out his meeting with Morwenna a thousand times in his head, anticipating her anger, her horror, her disbelief. Not once, though, had he imagined that she could be indifferent and, even to his own ears, his insistence that she would eventually understand felt hollow and ridiculous. He remembered now how tongue-tied he always became whenever they argued as children, how her spirit made everything he said sound slow-witted and insensitive, and suddenly, standing in front of her, his despair was greater than it had ever been in those long weeks apart.

‘There’s nothing left here, Harry, where it matters,’ Morwenna said, holding her hand against her chest. ‘You made sure of that. Ironic, isn’t it? Both of us back here, alive and dead at the same time.’ She laughed bitterly and took his face in her hands, forcing him to confront the darkness in her eyes that he had tried so hard to ignore. ‘Look at me – look at what you’ve done. We were two parts of the same person, you and I – locked together, for better or worse. What you’ve done has tainted us both. When you ceased to exist, so did I. But there’s no coming back for me – not any more. That’s the difference between us.’ He felt her fingers trace the thick growth of stubble, searching for the familiar contours of his face as if she could somehow find their past there. ‘Why didn’t you let me die when I wanted to?’ she asked. ‘It would have been so much kinder than this.’

In the distance, Harry could hear the sound of a car engine. Quickly, he pulled Morwenna into one of the stables next to the house, out of sight of the road. The threat of the outside world seemed to renew his sense of urgency. ‘Because I couldn’t let you die believing that of me,’ he said, and now it was his turn to force her to look at him. ‘It isn’t true. Whatever you think and no matter why you believe it, I’ve never loved anybody but you. Loveday’s a child, for God’s sake – she’s our little sister. How could you ever think I’d hurt either of you like that?’ She tried to pull away, but he refused to let her. ‘You know me. The most intimate moments of my life have all been spent with you. Every physical and emotional instinct I have has been shaped and guided by you. Is that honestly what you think you’ve created? A monster?’

‘You’re lying, Harry – otherwise, you’d have denied it straight away. Has it taken you all this time to think of a convincing story? Well, don’t waste your breath. I’ve had enough.’

‘How did you expect me to react? You’d just accused me of never loving you and fucking our sister, who we’ve brought up like our own daughter since she was six years old.’ She flinched as though he’d struck her again, and he tried to stay calm. ‘I was angry when you told me – angry and frightened and dazed, and I didn’t know what I was doing. Then I hit you, and suddenly I no longer trusted myself to be near you. I had to get out before I really hurt you.’

‘But what about later – at the boathouse? You were calm enough then.’ There was a long silence as Harry wondered how to go on, and he sensed a change in Morwenna: for the first time, she wanted to believe him. ‘Don’t play with me, Harry,’ she said, as if reading his thoughts. ‘Loveday reminds me of everything I hate most – the thrill of you, the knowledge that I can’t have you – and I know what it means to fear the violence in yourself. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you both back there.’

He risked a smile. ‘You can’t kill a ghost.’

‘If you knew how often I’d died since you left, you would never say that.’ She sat down on a bale of straw, and asked him again. ‘Why didn’t you even try to convince me the last time I saw you? Weren’t we worth saving?’

He pretended not to have heard the past tense. ‘Of course we’re worth saving – that’s all I’ve ever tried to do. But something happened that night after I left you, Morwenna, something I never planned. By the time I saw you again at the boathouse, things were different. I’d done something I couldn’t undo, no matter how badly I wanted to.’

‘Could there really be anything worse than what I was already thinking, Harry?’ she asked sadly. ‘You’re right, though – I do need to understand.’

‘I met him on the coastal path,’ Morveth said, and she spoke so quietly that Josephine had to lean forward to hear. ‘It was one of those nights when the mist comes in from the sea more quickly than you’d think possible. I’d been up late, talking to Beth Jacks while her husband was out looking for poachers, and by the time I got to the edge of the lake, I was beginning to wish I’d taken the road through the village home – I could hardly see a step in front of me and the torch I had was next to no good. But it seemed such a long way to go back and I was already tired, so I pressed on as quickly as I could. I thought the mist would be better away from the Bar, but I was wrong – it was tenacious, so bad that even the sea sounded a long way away. I heard the horse before I saw Harry – just a quiet nicker, nothing more than that, a warning to his master, I suppose – but it seemed so loud in the stillness that I stopped, just in case someone was about to run me down. Nothing happened, so I carried on for a bit and there he was, sitting by the side of the path. I didn’t know it was him straight away, of course – all I could make out was a man’s figure – but I recognised Shilling, and then it was obvious. I said his name and he looked up, but he barely seemed to know what he was doing. When I got close enough, I could see how terrible he looked. At first, I thought he’d had an accident – come off Shilling in the mist or something – and it might be my imagination playing tricks on me now, but I could smell the blood on him. When I looked harder in the torchlight, I could see he’d been fighting; his left eye was badly swollen and there was a nasty cut on his lip, and more, I guessed, that I couldn’t see. I made him come back to the cottage with me. He didn’t want to but I insisted, and he was in no state to argue – he looked as though all the fight had been knocked out of him at last. I think holding on to that horse’s reins was the only thing that kept him upright along the last bit of path. When we got in, I sat him down by the range, bathed his cuts and tried to sponge the worst of the blood off his shirt, and all the time he was crying.

‘When I’d done the best I could, I tried to find out what had happened to him. As I thought, he’d been at the Commercial Inn all night. He’d had a terrible row with Morwenna earlier in the evening – I could guess what about, but I didn’t say anything – and he’d tried to drink himself into oblivion. It was a trick he’d learned from Caplin and his friends just lately, but that night it got out of hand. There was a group of young men from up country at the bar, all office workers down here on holiday, and you know what it’s like – they have a week’s worth of drink in one night and think they’re invincible. Anyway, there was a fight – not just Harry, a lot of the local lads got stuck in – and they were all thrown out. Harry thought that was that, and he started to walk home with Shilling – he was too drunk to ride – but one of the visitors went after him. Before he got far along the path, he heard footsteps behind him and somebody tried to wrestle him to the ground. He pushed him away easily enough – Harry was so strong – but the lad wouldn’t let it go. He followed him, goading him a bit – pointless, infantile stuff, really, and nothing Harry couldn’t handle, but then the man started hitting Shilling. Well, that was it. Harry was close to breaking point anyway, but you know how he loved that horse. He said he couldn’t explain what happened next; it was like he was standing outside his own body, while this person he didn’t recognise picked up a rock and started hitting the stranger with it, over and over again, until he stopped struggling. When the anger subsided and he came to his senses, Harry knew he’d killed the man – he literally beat him to death. He was sickened by what he’d done and horrified at the thought of what might happen to him. His first instinct was to get as far away as possible and he started to walk away, but he knew in his heart there was nowhere left to run. That’s how I found him – lost, scared and hurt.

‘He asked me what he should do, and I told him there was only one option left open to him. His first instinct was right – he had to leave, and go for good. I know it was wrong of me, but I couldn’t tell him to give himself up – not when there was so much at stake, and not when Morwenna was already sick with grief for what he’d done to her. I couldn’t put her through watching him hang – it would have put a rope around her neck, too. And I saw a chance to give her some peace, so I took it. I knew the only way she’d ever break this hold that Harry had over her was if she thought he’d deserted her, so I told him that if he valued his own life and hers, he’d get as far away from the Loe estate as possible and never come back. He argued, of course – said he couldn’t leave like that without a word, but I managed to persuade him that it was for the best. He left in the early hours of the morning. I didn’t know he intended to see Morwenna one last time to tell her what he was going to do; if I had, I’d have advised him not to in case it weakened his resolve. But as it turned out, he knew he couldn’t stay. Things had gone too far for that. But that’s what happened in between. When he went back to Morwenna, he had another man’s blood on his hands.’

The room was unnaturally quiet when Morveth finished speaking. ‘So what happened to the body?’ Archie asked.

*

‘Morveth told me it was the only way you’d ever find peace.’ Harry tried to gauge what Morwenna was thinking as he talked, but her face was impossible to read. ‘She’s always known how to play us, hasn’t she? She knew your happiness was the only reasoning I’d ever listen to.’

‘I think happiness is a bit ambitious now. Too much has happened.’

‘To spare you from even more pain, then.’ He sat down beside her on the straw, and took comfort from the fact that she didn’t move away. ‘If I stayed, I knew it wouldn’t stop at what I’d done to that man. The fire would come back to haunt us, and everything that led up to it – and once everyone knew about that, no one would have believed me about Loveday. People don’t differentiate between evils – bad is bad, and that’s all they see.’ He rubbed his eyes, determined not to give in to an overwhelming tiredness before he finished what he had to say. ‘And as I sat there in Morveth’s kitchen, with that man’s blood on me, I began to think they were right – I’d blighted your life from the moment we were born, and it was time to stop. That sounds like self-pity, I know, but it’s not meant to – I honestly wanted to do what was best for you.’

She looked sadly at him. ‘I believe you, but I meant what I said about feeling nothing, Harry. This is going to hurt you, but it would have been the same for me whatever you’d chosen to do.’ Saying nothing, he stood and walked over to the empty stall which had once been Shilling’s, and she watched as he touched the familiar things that belonged to a happier time – bridles, a saddle and the long leather leading rein she had given him on their eighteenth birthday. ‘He’s all right, you know – Shilling, I mean. William Motley took him – I just couldn’t bear to look at him after what happened. I know it wasn’t his fault, but he was too great a reminder of you. He’ll be well looked after where he is.’

‘I know. I’ve been to see him.’

‘You’ve been to the stables? What if someone had seen you?’

‘I was careful, but I had to go. You’re not the only one I’ve let down.’

Suddenly Morwenna smiled, a genuine expression of warmth which seemed to surprise her as much as it did him. ‘My God, you’ve got a nerve,’ she said. ‘How could I have forgotten that about you? It was always one of the things I loved most.’

He brushed the moment away, wary of investing too much hope in it. ‘Shilling wasn’t any more pleased to see me than you were, as it happens. I’ve a long way to go to rebuild his trust.’

‘What happened after you left Morveth?’ she asked, and he sensed that she was shying away from the future that his words had hinted at. ‘Did you go back to the body?’

‘No, not straight away. When it first happened, I panicked and hid it as best I could in the undergrowth on the edges of the wood by the pool. It wasn’t very well concealed, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it was discovered, but I couldn’t face going back to it again and seeing what I’d done. Anyway, I’d made up my mind to disappear, and it didn’t seem as important as getting out as soon as possible. The mist had cleared by then, so I got back here quite quickly to collect some things and say goodbye to you, but the cottage was empty.’

‘Loveday wasn’t in bed?’

‘No, there was no one here and I couldn’t think where you’d gone. I was frantic because I couldn’t leave without seeing you, but I knew time was against me, so I forgot about the clothes and everything else except finding you. I got back on Shilling and went to all our special places, one by one. Then I saw you from the woods on this side of the pool, sitting by the boathouse, and I knew instantly what you were going to do – what I’d driven you to. I had to stop you, even if it meant risking my get away.’

‘And yet you still didn’t talk to me about Loveday? You didn’t even mention her name, as if you were glossing over the whole thing. The easiest way to talk me out of killing myself would have been to convince me that I’d misunderstood. Why didn’t you try, Harry? Things could have been so different.’

‘Some things would always have been the same. I’ve never done anything but care for Loveday, but I did kill our parents and I did kill that man.’

‘We could have said it was an accident – he provoked you, for God’s sake. And Nathaniel would have kept quiet if you’d begged him to – he’d have done anything for you.’

He looked away from her. ‘No one would have believed it was an accident. I didn’t just hit him once, Morwenna – I smashed his face to pieces. And Nathaniel…’ He paused, thinking about his friend. ‘Nathaniel would always have done the right thing,’ he said eventually, a note of bitterness in his voice. ‘Morveth was right – there was no going back.’

‘But I gave in anyway. I couldn’t argue with you any longer, and the more you talked, the more you said you loved me, the more I hated myself for what we’d done and what it had led to. You thought you were bringing me back from that water by giving me hope, while all you were really doing was proving to me that I had to pay for everything that had gone wrong. And I couldn’t do that by taking the easy way out.’

‘So I persuaded you to punish yourself by living?’

‘Yes. We’ve always been selfish, you and I, and I’ve never really felt any great impetus to make amends for what I’ve taken – but I did then. I looked at your face, and it was cut and bruised and ugly – and that seemed to say everything about the way I’d loved you. Nathaniel would have said that I was paying for my sins, I suppose, but there was nothing noble about it, nothing good, and I don’t expect any great reward for it in another life. This one has been more than enough for me. I thought you’d tricked me, you know.’

‘Tricked you? How?’

‘By persuading me to live and then going into the pool yourself. It was one more thing that I could never forgive you for.’

‘I didn’t plan it that way – you have to believe that. After I left you, I had to get away. Turning my back on you for good was so hard, and I didn’t trust myself to stick with what I’d resolved to do, so I wanted to get out before I weakened and changed my mind. I rode Shilling as hard as I could along the Bar, partly to do just that and partly to feel the exhilaration of that ride one last time, but something got in my way. That idiot Christopher threw something at the horse and frightened him to death. He shied away and started making for the pool, and there was absolutely nothing I could do except hang on. We hit the water, and it was as though I’d suddenly come to my senses. Everything that had happened in the last few hours suddenly seemed more real. I suppose I’d been in shock until then, but everything came into focus and I knew that I was fooling myself. I couldn’t run away from what I’d done, and I couldn’t live without you. You’re right. Death is the easy way out, but I didn’t have your courage and I decided to take it. I knew Shilling was strong enough to make it to the other shore, especially without me to weigh him down, so I just let go.’

‘I don’t understand – why would Christopher do something like that?’

‘Because I’d given him such a hard time over Loveday, I suppose.’

‘But there was nothing going on between him and Loveday. Morveth checked with Jago to make sure.’

‘What would Jago know? What do fathers ever know? Of course there was something going on. I caught them together one evening at the boathouse, told him to keep his hands off the living and gave Loveday a telling-off she’d never forget.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I promised her I wouldn’t as long as it didn’t happen again – not for a few years, anyway. I thought that would make her think twice before going behind our backs.’

Without a word, Morwenna got up and put her arms round him. Surprised, and hardly daring to believe what was happening, he returned the embrace. When she raised her face to him, he saw that she was crying. ‘You didn’t believe me until just now, did you?’ he asked gently. ‘Why, Morwenna?’

‘Because of how she was with you. When things changed between us, you shut me out – you and her.’

‘I missed you, and it felt like Loveday was the only family I had left – but not like that. Never like that.’

‘I’d see you coming back into the house with her after you’d been out somewhere together. She always looked so happy, and I remembered – how could I ever forget? – that was exactly how I used to feel when I’d been with you. Like nothing could touch me, like the whole world was mine for the taking because I had you, and nothing and no one else mattered. So when I found out she was pregnant…’

‘Loveday? Pregnant?’

‘Not any more – she lost the baby, thank God, but I thought it was yours.’

‘Is she all right? She didn’t seem ill.’

‘Yes, she’s fine. She’ll soon forget about it – her big brother’s back and all’s well with the world. I wish it were that simple for all of us.’ She sat on the straw again and pulled him down beside her. ‘What made you change your mind once you were in the water?’

‘Fear. Nothing more honourable than that. I let myself sink deep down into the lake and it was so cold, so dark. I’d never thought about the darkness before – it was the loneliest moment I’d ever known. If I’d weighed myself down or allowed the sea to take me instead, it would have been different – I’d have left myself no choice. But it’s very difficult to stay down there when all your instincts are to live. I don’t know how long I was under the water. It can only have been seconds but it felt much longer. I could tell you that I came back up to punish myself like you did, or I could say that it wouldn’t have been fair to die after persuading you to live – but the truth is I just couldn’t do it. I reached the surface close to the shore, by that tangle of low-hanging branches on the western side, and I was disgusted with myself for not even having the decency to die properly. That’s when it came to me – if everyone thought I was dead, I could start again as someone else. We could start again.’

‘So you used the other man’s body to fake your own death?’

‘Yes. I knew I didn’t have long because it had been light for some time, so I went back to where I’d left it and carried it to the thickest part of the wood. I was exhausted, and sick to the stomach at what I was doing, but I tried not to let myself think of him as a human being. I put my own belt and boots on him, and took his money – he had enough on him to get me out of the area for a bit and to see me through until I could find some casual work in a place where I wouldn’t be recognised. Then I carried him to the bank where the water’s at its deepest. I knew the body would be unrecognisable if I made sure it was in the lake long enough – I remember overhearing Jago Snipe talking to Dad once about a drowning he’d brought out of the pool – so I weighed it down as best I could and pushed it in.’ For the last few minutes, Harry had been afraid to look at Morwenna but he could not avoid it any longer. ‘Aren’t you horrified by what I’ve done?’ he asked, surprised to see how calm she looked.

It was a long time before she answered. ‘I know what you’re capable of, Harry. You killed our parents and it didn’t stop me loving you, but it put a distance between us. Now, I don’t know what I feel. Numb, I suppose, and frightened of the violence.’

‘But I’d never hurt you.’

‘I know you wouldn’t. But you would hurt – you have hurt – because of me, and that’s worse. This darkness in you – I have to carry it inside, too, and it frightens me that I’m prepared to do that, simply because it’s better than having nothing of you at all. What does that make me?’

‘Would you rather I’d stayed away?’

‘No, of course not. I told you – I’m too selfish for that. But it’s not straightforward like it is for Loveday.’ She leaned over and touched his cheek. ‘And like it seems to be for you. You really do think we can start again, don’t you?’

‘Yes, if we went away somewhere. It could be straightforward if nobody knew us, if we could forget about the past.’

‘And what about Loveday?’

‘She can come with us.’

‘Don’t be so bloody naive, Harry. We can’t drag her away from a place she loves and expect her to act out our lies for us – that isn’t even feasible, and it certainly isn’t fair.’ She must have seen the desolation in his face, because her next words were softer and he knew she was trying to be kind. ‘I can be your sister, but I can’t be your lover – here, or anywhere else.’

‘So it’s all been for nothing?’

‘Is that really nothing? You could still have a family, Harry – even here. We could find a way, make something up to explain it.’

‘Here? Now who’s being naive? Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I’m a murderer, Morwenna – I can’t just turn up again from nowhere without people asking questions. I’ve killed someone and let you bury him thinking it was me.’

‘But there’s no proof.’

‘He was wearing my belt, for Christ’s sake. And there’s Nathaniel.’

‘My God, of course – you don’t know, do you? Nathaniel’s dead, Harry. Someone killed him the other night at the Minack. I’m sorry – I know you cared about him and I know this will sound heartless, but he can’t tell anybody anything. He’s no longer a threat to us.’

Sadly, he stroked her hair, then held her face in his hands for a long time. ‘But he is, Morwenna – more so than ever.’

‘For the last time, Archie, I’ve no idea what happened to the body. I keep telling you – I never saw it, and I never asked Harry where it was. That way, I couldn’t be lying if someone came asking. If he had any sense, he’ll have let the sea take it. It’s probably been washed ashore by now – I wouldn’t have heard about it. I’ve had too much on my hands with Morwenna and Loveday.’

‘It hasn’t come ashore, Morveth. When we started looking for Christopher, I asked the coastguard about recent drownings at sea along this stretch and he told me that the only bodies washed ashore in the last two months have been elderly men, women and one child – nobody who tallies with what you’ve just told me about Harry’s victim.’

‘Oh, I don’t know then. He could have hidden it anywhere on the estate – it’s a big enough place.’

‘True, but there are very few places on it that wouldn’t have been worked or at least looked over during the time that’s passed since that night.’

‘It’s possible, though.’

‘Yes, it’s possible, but even you don’t sound very convinced. I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Morveth, so I’ll ask you again. But first, let me tell you something: a clerk from up country was reported missing several weeks ago,’ he said, repeating what Fallowfield had told him. ‘He came down here on holiday and hasn’t been seen since. I’d put money on the fact that he was the man who got in Harry’s way that night, and that he has a family and friends who are worried sick and waiting for someone to knock on their door with the worst possible news. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you feel no sense of responsibility for what those people have been going through? Do I have to fetch Jago Snipe and get him to tell you how it feels not to know what’s happened to your son before you’ll be completely honest with me? All right, so they’re strangers to you but they’ve done nothing wrong and they have a right to any help you can give – a right, I might add, which Harry Pinching forfeited the moment he took another man’s life.’

‘You make it sound so easy, Archie,’ Morveth said sadly. ‘I wish I still had your certainty. I only ever wanted to protect them.’

‘Morwenna and Loveday?’

‘Yes – and Harry, too, I suppose, even after everything he’s done. I’ve looked out for them all their lives – it’s hard to break the habit. But you’re right – that other family’s grief is on my conscience, and more besides, and I don’t trust myself to do the right thing like I used to.’

‘Then I’ll appeal to your conscience now,’ Archie said, more gently this time. Morveth was one of the proudest women he had ever met and, whilst he recognised the truth in Josephine’s opinion of her, he sympathised with how difficult it must be for Morveth to acknowledge her own fallibility – to him but more especially to herself. ‘I’m here to investigate Nathaniel’s death but things have been going wrong in this community for much longer. Please tell me anything you can that might help me piece it together.’

‘All right, but you have to understand – I don’t know anything for sure. I can only tell you what I think – although it’s actually what I’ve been trying not to think.’

‘Go on,’ Penrose urged.

‘It’s going to sound ridiculous, but the longer all this goes on, the more certain I am that Harry didn’t die after all.’

For the first time in many years, Morwenna was afraid. It was an emotion which she always associated with the early days of her relationship with Harry; back then, the fear that someone would discover their secret had been mixed with excitement; now, she felt it in its purest form – paralysing rather than exhilarating, and stripped of all the heroic illusions that had fooled her when she was young. ‘What else have you done, Harry?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice level. ‘Not Nathaniel – please, tell me that wasn’t you?’ As he continued to say nothing, refusing even to look at her, her plea became a scream. ‘Tell me it wasn’t you, Harry.’

‘I had no choice,’ he said, his words barely audible. ‘I’d already killed – what difference could it make?’

Morwenna stared at him in disbelief. ‘How can you say that? There’s no comparison. The other man was a stranger – and anyway, he provoked you. Nathaniel’s death was cold-blooded murder, something you must have planned – why would you do that?’

‘I don’t know – nothing made sense any more. I did it for us – so we could be together.’

She slapped him, hard, and tried to focus on the stinging in her hand to keep herself from losing all reason. ‘No, Harry – you got away with that when you killed our parents but it’s not good enough any more. Don’t pin this on us – you owe me more than that, and you certainly owe Nathaniel something more. He was your friend, for God’s sake – he loved you. And you’ve just exchanged his life for a fantasy – wiped him out because he got in your way. What’s happened to you? If you can do that, you can do anything. Where’s this going to end?’

‘Oh stop pretending, Morwenna. You’ve known what I’m capable of since we were eighteen. It didn’t bother you then, when it was our parents, so why all this grief now? You didn’t even particularly like Nathaniel, so why choose his life over mine?’

‘It’s not a choice. Why is everything so black and white with you? What you did to our parents was an act of despair, Harry – you wanted oblivion for yourself, and you didn’t care who you took with you. I understood that, and I can understand the type of rage that led you to go too far with a stranger who was stupid enough to push you. But Nathaniel wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time – what you did to him was pure hatred. Can’t you see there’s a difference?’

‘All I can see is that I couldn’t be parted from you, and Nathaniel was in the way. He knew too much – we could never have been happy.’

‘Like we are now, you mean?’

‘Don’t mock me, Morwenna,’ he said angrily. ‘I did hate Nathaniel – and with good reason. I hated him just like I hated that man when he hurt Shilling, only this didn’t pass.’

‘But why? Nothing that’s gone wrong between us was Nathaniel’s fault. He didn’t ask to be told about the fire, and we’ve been perfectly capable of tearing each other apart without any help from him.’

‘How can you say that? I’ve been watching you, Morwenna…’

‘What do you mean? How could you have been watching me? How long have you been back here?’

‘A few days. I read the announcement in the paper, and I could hardly miss my own funeral, could I?’

The sarcasm sounded strange coming from Harry, and the realisation that he was capable of shocking her hurt Morwenna far more than anything he had to say. ‘Where have you been hiding?’ she asked.

‘There’s a tunnel under the church that no one knows about. I’ve been there most of the time, but I had to see you, even if it wasn’t safe to let you know. So yes, I watched you and I saw what it had done to you – the belief that I could forget you and turn to Loveday, and everything else that had happened. All the life in you had gone.’

‘But what’s that got to do with Nathaniel?’

‘No matter what you say, you’d never have believed that of me if he hadn’t put it in your head. You know, I stood under that church, listening while he stumbled his way through that pathetic eulogy, and all I could think about was how none of this would have happened if it weren’t for him – we could still be together. You talk about love, but he was a coward and a hypocrite. Yes, he loved me, but not in the way you think; he wanted me just like I want you, and he couldn’t deal with it. I went out of my way to be friendly to him, to show him that it made no difference, and it really didn’t – not until he had the nerve to preach to you about forbidden love and tell you that I was fucking my little sister.’

‘Harry, he…’

‘Don’t try to defend him, Morwenna. Why would he make up those lies about me? Was it some sort of spiteful revenge for everything he couldn’t have or was he just worried about my soul? If that was it, he should have saved his counsel for himself, because I showed him what damnation really means. I showed him that dead men do come back – and they get what they’re owed.’

‘Listen to me, Harry. He didn’t put anything in my head. I told you why I jumped to the wrong conclusions about you and Loveday, and it had nothing to do with Nathaniel.’

‘But that night, when we were arguing – you accused me of turning to her and never really loving you. Then when I was leaving – when I’d hit you and I couldn’t bear to stay – you called after me. You said that Nathaniel knew everything anyway and it was only a matter of time before he said something to someone else.’

‘I was talking about the fire.’

‘What? You mean he hadn’t talked to you about Loveday and me?’

‘No, of course not, and I would never have said anything to him about it – I was too ashamed.’ The horror of Harry’s misunderstanding hit Morwenna like a physical blow. She got to the stable door just in time and, as the sour smell of vomit rose from the hard earth, she retched again, as if she could somehow empty herself of her grief and her guilt. She felt Harry’s hand on her shoulder. ‘What have we done?’ she asked eventually, turning to look at him. ‘What have I done?’

Her devastation was reflected in Harry’s face. ‘I thought he’d lied to you to spite me,’ he said. ‘I was so sure.’

‘He’d never have done that – not to you, no matter what he felt. He would never have talked about you behind your back.’

‘But he came to you about the fire.’

‘That wasn’t spite, Harry – that was sorrow. Couldn’t you see that in his eyes? He didn’t want to believe it and he hoped you’d tell him it wasn’t true. If you’d denied it, he’d have let it go – even if, in his heart, he didn’t believe you. But you wouldn’t deny it, so he came to me.’

‘The look on his face, Morwenna,’ he said, and she could tell from his eyes that he was reliving that moment with a new sense of horror. ‘I didn’t even have to push him, for goodness’ sake. He was so frightened when he saw me – all I had to do was take a couple of steps towards him.’

‘He thought he’d driven you to suicide,’ Morwenna said quietly. ‘I put that in his head – I was so angry with him.’

‘After everything he’d been through, all the confusion over what he felt and what he knew – he must have thought a dead man had come to take him to hell. It’s what I wanted him to think. What must that be like when you believe what Nathaniel believed?’

Throughout the misery of the last few weeks, Morwenna had, she realised now, been nurturing a vague, elusive hope that there was a way out of the wretchedness, and, as she looked at her brother, she saw it with a clarity which both frightened and astonished her. ‘You’re right,’ she said calmly, knowing that her certainty would reassure him. ‘We do have to go away – I see that now. We’ve got no choice.’

‘Really? But how can we after…’

The look of hope in his eyes almost made her waver. She had always wondered if a day would come when she would destroy him completely, and she realised now that this was it. ‘Don’t argue, Harry,’ she said, putting her finger to his lips. ‘We both need to be strong. We’ll go away, the three of us, and start again, but you need to rest first. You’re exhausted. Let’s go inside and get you something to eat, then I’ll go and find Loveday and tell her what we’re doing.’

At the thought of her sister, Morwenna felt a stab of regret but she pushed it quickly from her mind and led Harry back into the kitchen. She built the fire up and made him sit down next to it, then went into the pantry to fetch some food. When she came back, he was unlacing his boots, wincing with pain as he did so. ‘Here, let me,’ she said, bending down to help.

He smiled gratefully at her. ‘They’re not my boots,’ he explained.

‘They’ll have to do for now,’ she said. ‘We buried your best ones with you.’ Gently, she washed his feet while he ate, noticing how badly blistered and cut they were and trying not to think about the man whose boots had done such damage. ‘Go to bed and rest now,’ she said when she had finished. ‘I’ll bring you a drink up. I think there’s some whisky left over from the wake – it doesn’t seem right that you missed it.’

When she took the glass upstairs, Harry was standing in the doorway to his room. ‘You’ve cleared my things out already,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing left. It’s as if I never existed.’

‘It was all I could think of to do,’ she said, wishing she’d told him to take her bed. ‘The one thing I could control in the middle of so much that I didn’t understand. I’m sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t be – it’s all right. After all, I don’t exist any more, do I? Harry Pinching’s dead. Neither of us can be who we were before.’

‘Use my room,’ she said, opening the door. She watched as he undressed and got into bed, then sat down next to him and handed him his drink. ‘This will help you sleep.’

He downed it in one. ‘God, that’s good. You’ll come back as quickly as you can?’

She took the empty glass from him and went over to the door. ‘Of course. You won’t even know I’ve gone. Then the three of us can leave.’

‘Do you know where you’d like to go?’

‘I don’t mind. As far away as possible, as long as we’re together.’

‘And you’ll fetch Shilling?’

‘Yes, I’ll fetch Shilling.’ She turned to go, but thought better of it and went back to the bed. As she bent her head to kiss him, the taste of the whisky on his tongue – mixed with the familiar feel of his hand on the back of her neck – almost overwhelmed her. ‘You do know I love you, don’t you?’ she asked, when she eventually pulled away.

‘You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t,’ he said, and smiled.

‘You’re right,’ she said sadly. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘So it hasn’t all been for nothing?’

‘No, Harry – not for nothing,’ she said, and left him to sleep.

Loveday listened as her sister moved about downstairs. She had been furious when Harry and Morwenna went outside, leaving her alone in the cottage, unable to hear what was going on. Her anger had soon disappeared when they returned, however: at last, it seemed as though everything she had ever wanted was about to be hers. Harry was back, and the shouting had stopped. Perhaps the three of them could be happy together after all. She would miss the Loe estate – and Christopher, of course – but going away would be an adventure. The adventure that Harry had always promised her.

She sat down on the narrow bed, feeling suddenly quite tired. If she were honest, Morwenna was right – she still wasn’t completely better. Like Harry, she ought to get some rest. Quietly, Loveday crawled between the sheets and waited for Morwenna to fetch her.

There was a long silence in the room. Archie looked at Josephine and saw the shock and disbelief in her face. Rather than share her surprise, though, he felt that something had suddenly fallen into place which would explain everything. He could not begin to imagine yet how Harry had achieved such a complex illusion, but his instinct was to believe that Morveth’s suspicions were correct. ‘You’re saying that Harry put the other man’s body in the Loe Pool to fake his own death?’ he asked.

‘I’m saying it’s possible.’

‘But surely someone must have identified the body?’ Josephine said, still incredulous.

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ Morveth replied impatiently. ‘A body in the water for that long barely seems human. Morwenna identified the belt as Harry’s and Jacks had seen him going into the lake – that was enough to satisfy the authorities.’

‘But wouldn’t the undertaker be able to tell? Is it really that bad?’

‘It can be,’ Archie said. ‘It depends on the temperature of the water and, to an extent, on predators, although most of the decaying organisms come from the body itself. I’ll spare you the details but a month would be long enough to make visual recognition impossible, or at least very difficult – and don’t forget how badly the man’s face was already beaten.’ He turned back to Morveth. ‘And I suppose that certain people were quite relieved to bury Harry Pinching after everything that had gone on. The world was a far more convenient place with him dead.’

‘I can’t speak for Jago, although he’s never given me any indication that he suspected the body wasn’t Harry’s. I certainly didn’t know.’

‘But now you seem quite sure. Is that because of what happened on Tuesday night? You realise, I suppose, that if you’re right, and Harry is still alive, he’s a prime suspect for Nathaniel’s murder? Did you see him at the Minack?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’ Archie asked, exasperated. ‘I’m beginning to lose patience here, Morveth. If Harry Pinching is alive and somewhere on this estate, I need to find him before someone else gets hurt. I haven’t got time to sit around here all day playing word games with you, so I’d be grateful if you would tell me as quickly as possible everything you know about Tuesday night, starting with why you weren’t where you were supposed to be when Nathaniel jumped from the balustrade.’

‘Loveday and Morwenna needed me,’ Morveth said. ‘Loveday was ill and Morwenna came to find me. I suggested they take Jago’s van to get home – it was quick and it meant no one else had to be involved. I helped Morwenna get Loveday up the hill and settled into the van, and I watched them drive off.’

‘But that was earlier in the evening, wasn’t it? Morwenna told me they were away from the theatre before Nathaniel died.’

‘Yes, but I couldn’t bring myself to go straight back. I sat there for a while in the darkness, thinking about everything that had happened to that family over the years, all the sadness and the lies and the guilt. It should have been a wonderful night, with Harry on stage and his sisters watching him proudly in the audience – but it was a mockery of everything that was normal and right. Harry was dead – or so I thought – and his fourteen-year-old sister was pregnant with his child, and Morwenna – well, who can say what grief and insanity she’s been fighting. So I was mourning them, Archie, when Nathaniel died – not just Harry, but the whole family, Sam and Mary too. And suddenly all that artifice and play-acting on stage seemed so wrong. I just wanted to put a stop to the whole thing, but someone else did that for me, and in the most terrible way imaginable.’

‘But can you say for certain who that was?’ Archie persisted.

‘Not for certain, no, but I knew I couldn’t stay away from the play for ever, so I started to make my way backstage by the steps that run alongside the auditorium, and before I’d got very far, I found the cloak – one of the brown habits. It wasn’t hidden – just cast aside, like someone had taken it off in a hurry.’

‘But you hadn’t seen anyone?’

‘No. I picked the cloak up and went further down, and by that time, of course, the play had been stopped and everyone was just standing around, wondering what had happened.’

‘You must have realised that the two things were connected. What did you do with the cloak?’

‘I took it backstage and put it with the rest of the costumes as people were taking them off, next to the bishop’s outfit so that I could find it again.’

‘And it didn’t occur to you to hand it over as evidence?’ Archie asked angrily.

‘I was going to say something, but then I met Jago. He was upset, because he thought he’d glimpsed Christopher in the auditorium but he couldn’t find him anywhere – and I was horrified.’

‘You thought that Christopher might have left the cloak there? That he killed Nathaniel because of the business with his parents?’

‘Yes, and I couldn’t put Jago through that – he’s never really forgiven himself for what we did all those years ago – so I kept quiet until I could find out more about what had gone on. But then I went back to the cloak and, when I picked it up again and held it closer to me, I knew it wasn’t Christopher who’d been wearing it.’

‘How?’

‘Because of the smell. Harry always took a pipe – do you remember?’ Archie nodded. ‘He used to smoke his father’s tobacco – one of those childish acts of rebellion that he indulged in until he found something much more serious to get himself into trouble with – and he never lost the habit. It was always one of the first things you noticed about him – that and his smile. There’s nothing quite like it when you’ve lost someone – the smell of them, I mean. On their clothes, in their books – but that cloak had never been near Harry while he was alive. Yet he might as well have been standing there in it.’

‘And Christopher doesn’t smoke?’

‘No. He might have the odd cigarette to act like a man, but not like this. Pipe tobacco’s very different, and Harry’s brand was quite distinctive.’

‘It still seems odd to me that you’d leap to that conclusion – to pin a murder on a dead man.’

‘Not after what I’d heard that afternoon. I knew about the fire and I heard Nathaniel telling you how he panicked when he found out, so there was no question in my mind that Harry would have good reason to make sure Nathaniel kept his mouth shut. And I couldn’t get the words Nathaniel used out of my head – something about Harry standing beside him and taking him to hell. That’s what he looked like that night on the cliff path, you know – a man in a living hell.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in my asking where the cloak is now, is there?’ Archie said, knowing full well what the answer would be. ‘Destroying evidence is serious, Morveth, and not something I can turn a blind eye to.’

‘I know, but I did get rid of it,’ Morveth said. ‘I thought it was for the best. You see, I didn’t want to believe that Harry had done it.’

‘Or that you made it possible for him,’ said Josephine sharply.

Morveth looked at her sadly. ‘Do you think I could ever forget that?’ she asked. ‘My own conscience is far more ruthless than a stranger’s tongue.’

‘But instead of doing anything about it, you’ve just been waiting for him to turn up, haven’t you?’ Josephine continued, ignoring her. ‘That was another reason for driving me out of Loe Cottage yesterday – you think he’ll come back for them, and you’re keeping watch.’

‘Have you said anything to Morwenna?’ Archie asked, standing up ready to go.

‘No – like I said, I’m not certain of any of this, and it’s better that she believes him dead until we know otherwise.’

‘I’m afraid I beg to differ there. She may be in danger.’

‘No, Archie – he’d never hurt them.’

‘Are you sure about that? Eight years ago, Harry was desperate enough to wipe himself out and take most of his family with him. If you’re right about what he’s done now, he’s got even less to lose – and this time, he won’t leave without Morwenna.’

When Morwenna went back upstairs, Harry was sleeping soundly. She watched him for a moment, taking a last look at his face against the pillow, then took the matches from her pocket. The piece of material which she carried – a scarf that Harry had been wearing the first time they made love and the one thing of his which she could not bear to destroy – was faded and worn now, and smelt overpoweringly of petrol; still, if she closed her eyes to blot out the present, she fancied she could still catch the faint scent of earth and leaves and a fourteen-year-old autumn that felt so recent. Who could have predicted then that she would finish what Harry had started, and that this would be her final gift to her brother? An oblivion which she longed for herself, free of the fear and pain that had filled Nathaniel’s last conscious seconds.

As the fire took hold, she shut the bedroom door behind her and locked it, thinking about all the times that she had closed it from the other side, desperate to keep Harry out and deny everything that he had ever meant to her. She paused, glancing towards Loveday’s room, and wondered if she should take something with her to remind her of her sister – but there was really no need; the guilt she felt over the way that she had treated her was more than enough to carry. She locked the side door and removed the key, then went out through the kitchen and back to the empty stable where she had made her decision. Quickly, she took the reins from their hook and ran down through the garden and out into the woods. She had to get away before her resolve weakened and sent her screaming back into the house to save Harry and damn herself.

They saw the smoke long before they were anywhere near Loe Cottage. Archie drove faster, forcing the car down the narrow country lane, and Josephine sat silently beside him, willing them to be in time – for what, she could not honestly have said. Morveth’s conversation with Archie had left her searching for an outcome which could conceivably be described as for the best, and so far it eluded her.

When they pulled up outside, the fire seemed confined – so far – to the first floor and could not have begun long ago. Nevertheless, the flames were making short work of the thatch and a small crowd had already gathered at a safe distance in the garden to watch this new assault on such an ill-fated cottage. Instinctively, Josephine looked up at Loveday’s window, remembering the girl’s face pressed to the glass the day before; please God, let her be all right, she thought. It was an uncharacteristic appeal to an authority in which she did not believe, but that Loveday should be spared seemed to her the only certainty in an unimaginable sequence of events, and she was willing for once to lend her faith indiscriminately.

For want of a better explanation, Josephine realised with a mixture of astonishment and relief that her prayers had been answered. As she and Archie got out of the car, she saw beyond the front row of onlookers to where a group of women had gathered around a small figure – a living and breathing figure, albeit one whose face was blackened by smoke and stained with tears. ‘Loveday – thank God,’ she said, acknowledging her own hypocrisy but feeling it was the least she could do. Mrs Snipe was amongst the women, and Josephine went over to speak to her.

‘She’s not hurt, Miss Tey,’ the Snipe said, her arm still reassuringly around Loveday’s shoulders. ‘But she’s scared half to death and very confused. She keeps saying that Harry’s in there, but she must be getting it mixed up with the last time. It beggars belief, doesn’t it? This happening twice, I mean – it scarcely seems possible.’ She lowered her face and placed a comforting kiss on the top of Loveday’s head. ‘I’ll look after her, though – don’t you worry.’

‘Who got her out? Was it Morwenna?’

‘No, Miss – it was Jacks, of all people. He was working in the woods and saw the smoke. Morwenna’s nowhere to be seen. Loveday swears she’s not at home – keeps saying something about her going to get Shilling, but I don’t think the poor kid knows what’s what at the moment.’

‘And where’s Jacks now?’

‘He’s gone back into the fire.’ She looked up, and Josephine knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘He wouldn’t have it that Morwenna was safe.’

Archie was talking urgently with two men, one of whom turned and left as Josephine approached. ‘The fire brigade’s been called,’ he said, ‘but Jacks has gone back inside. I’ve told Joseph Caplin to go and fetch William – the last thing he needs is to stand here and watch a fire after what he’s been through. Is Loveday all right?’

‘Shocked and upset, but not hurt,’ Josephine said. ‘But Harry is in there. No one else believes her, of course.’

‘Shit. What about Morwenna?’

‘Loveday says not. She went to fetch Shilling, apparently.’

‘Shilling? Why would she do that?’

Josephine shrugged. ‘You’re asking me for logic? Just be pleased she’s not in the cottage. That neither of them is. It looks like Harry made sure this time.’

‘Do something for me – go and speak to Loveday, and try and make sense of what happened. If she insists that Morwenna went to get Shilling, take the car to the stable block and see if there’s any sign of her or the horse.’

‘What about you? You’re not thinking of going in there, I hope.’

‘I don’t have any choice.’

‘Archie, you can’t – it’s not safe. I won’t let you do that – leave it to the fire brigade when it gets here.’

‘Who knows how long that will take? Look, I’m not going to be stupid about it, I promise. If there’s no chance, I’ll come out straight away, but two men are in there and I have to try.’

‘Why? Just so you can hang one of them if he’s not already dead and let the other one carry on beating his wife? Do you have to be a hero, Archie? Just because we got here too late and there’s nothing else you can do? Can’t you see how selfish that is?’

‘Go and speak to Loveday,’ he repeated, and turned towards the cottage before she could say anything more. Angry and upset, Josephine did as she was asked.

The back door was already open, and Archie headed for the stairs. Before he was halfway up, though, thick, black smoke drove him down into the kitchen again. Realising that he had even less time than he thought before the whole cottage was alight, he went quickly through the sitting room and along the corridor to the back stairs. If anything, the smoke was even worse here: already, his eyes were smarting and he found it difficult to breathe, but, as he climbed the steps, he could see Jacks halfway along the landing, bent double and choking with the fumes, but still inching slowly forward. He called out, but Jacks either couldn’t or wouldn’t hear him, and Penrose had no choice but to follow. He grabbed the gamekeeper’s arm and tried to pull him back towards the stairs, but was pushed roughly aside.

‘Fuck off, Penrose. I need to find Morwenna.’

‘She’s not here, Jacks. There’s nothing more you can do.’

‘You’re lying. That door’s locked – there must be someone in there. I can’t just leave her.’

‘It’s not Morwenna,’ Penrose insisted, still trying to force Jacks back downstairs.

‘Who else would it be? You just want to play the hero.’

‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,’ he said, already tired of an accusation that he had heard twice in as many minutes. ‘That isn’t Morwenna and this isn’t a game. Look at those flames – whoever it is, he’s beyond our help. Come with me – now, before the roof collapses.’ The sound of exploding glass from the nearest bedroom served to underline Penrose’s warning, although he suspected that the thought of another man in Morwenna’s bed was more influential in Jacks’s decision. Reluctantly, the gamekeeper turned and allowed himself to be pushed towards the stairs.

Help arrived sooner than Penrose could have hoped for. By the time he and Jacks emerged from the cottage, choking and gasping, an ambulance driver was wrapping Loveday in a blanket and the clanging of a fire engine’s bell could be heard across the fields. He brushed aside any medical assistance for himself but made sure that Jacks was in safe hands, then walked back to the road. There was no sign of Josephine or the car.

‘Sir?’ Penrose turned and saw Trew hurrying over the lawn. ‘I got here as quickly as I could. What’s happened?’

Penrose explained succinctly, impressed – as he had been at the Minack – by the calm and intelligent way in which Trew absorbed information and wasted no time on questions that could wait until later. ‘Tell the firemen what they’ll find inside and clear everyone away before they bring the body out, especially his little sister – make sure she’s looked after. I don’t know how long she was in there with the fire, but the shock alone will need some care. I’m going to look for Morwenna.’

Trew nodded and went to greet the fire brigade, and Penrose headed for the woods which offered the quickest route to the house and stables. Within a matter of minutes, it was as though he had entered a different world. A density of new summer growth cushioned him from the pall of smoke and commotion that clung to Loe Cottage, and he looked with a mixture of astonishment and sadness at the extraordinary beauty which could exist so close to death. The flowers stretched out in front of him, as if someone had taken a brush and covered the ground in a delicate, vein-blue wash, and he had the illusion of walking through water – a continuation of the lake which could be glimpsed here and there through the trees, first lavender, then cobalt, as the light played different tricks on its surface. He picked his way through the bluebells, and their faint but unmistakeable scent brought back his childhood and something else besides – something universal, something lost. The woods were quiet, unnaturally so, and suddenly Penrose knew what he would find. How strange, he thought, that he should feel such a calm acceptance as well as regret; that even he, it seemed, could acknowledge that this was the best – the only – way.

Morwenna had chosen a sycamore tree to mark her death. Her body was hanging from its lower branches by a narrow rope – a lone, dark figure, one for sorrow, certainly, although the grief was no longer hers. A soft breeze ruffled her skirt and the sleeves of her blouse, and the image was so familiar to Penrose that he wondered if that moment all those years ago – that pairing of beauty and death which had affected him so deeply – had, in fact, been a premonition, a sign that it was already too late to save her. There was a pile of logs close to her feet and, as he got closer, Penrose could see that the rope was actually a long leather rein – one of Harry’s, no doubt. Her head was tilted to one side, away from the fatal knot, and the only mark that he could see on her skin was the imprint of a metal ring at the front of her neck. Otherwise, her face was pale and uncongested, suggesting a merciful cardiac response rather than slow asphyxiation. She would probably only have suffered a few seconds of consciousness, but she had left nothing to chance: as he walked around her body, he noticed that her wrists were tied clumsily together behind her; it was a poignant sign of her resolve, and something which he had occasionally seen in those bent on self-destruction who feared they might lose courage at the final moment. Every human impulse in him wanted to raise his arms and lift her gently down, but he knew that he should not touch anything, and he felt the conflict between his job and his heart more sharply than ever.

There was no note that he could see, but then he would not have expected to find one. Morwenna had nothing left to say to the living – she had made that perfectly clear at their last meeting. But on the ground, too close to the place of her death to be a coincidence, Penrose noticed something which was as eloquent an expression of atonement as any suicide note he had ever read. A dead bird lay among the bluebells – a jackdaw. He knelt down and parted the hanging flowers to take a closer look, and saw that there was a piece of rough twine around its neck. Its small, serpent-like eyes were clouded and lifeless and, if Penrose had ever doubted Morveth’s story, he did so no longer. Whatever had gone on between Harry and Morwenna that morning, this was her response to the realisation that their love had killed Nathaniel. This was an end to it.

Josephine got back from the stables to find that Archie had left the cottage and was headed towards Loe House. She left the car this time and hurried off in the direction pointed out to her, keen to catch up with him and make sure he was all right; he might have escaped the fire without harm, but she knew that his emotions would not be similarly unscathed by what had happened.

She saw Archie first, and Morwenna a split second later. He was kneeling on the ground, his head bowed, and she knew that he was examining the scene, but, from where she stood, the action held a much deeper poignancy: it was a moment of great peace and respect and, at the same time, an acknowledgement that however hard Archie had tried to save Morwenna, in the end, it had not been enough. The sun shone through the leaves, gentle and diffuse like light through stained glass, and she stood for a second, caught between an instinct to go to him and a horror of intruding on this most private of scenes. Morwenna was beautiful, even in death – still isolated, and more distant than ever, but suddenly immune to the shadows that had cursed her for so long. Slowly, Josephine walked forward through the bluebells.

‘I’m so sorry, Archie,’ she said.

He had been too deep in thought to hear anyone approaching, but he turned now and walked quickly over to her, shielding her as best he could from the sight of Morwenna’s body. ‘Come over here,’ he said gently. ‘You don’t need to see this.’

She allowed herself to be led a few yards away, and they sat down for a moment on a fallen tree. ‘I went to the stables. Shilling’s still there – but you obviously know that.’ Archie nodded. ‘This must be a shock for you… are you all right?’

‘I don’t know how I feel,’ he said. ‘Morwenna and I have known each other for so long but I didn’t really understand her until yesterday, when she talked about Harry – and part of that understanding was accepting that there’d be no happy endings. So I suppose it is a shock, but not really a surprise.’

‘So much love and so much misery. How on earth did it all come to this?’

It was a rhetorical question, but Archie surprised her by his answer. ‘I think Morwenna knew she had to be strong enough for both of them,’ he said, ‘and I think she started the fire this time, not Harry. He must have told her that he killed Nathaniel – I found a dead jackdaw over there by her feet. There’s a group of them strung up on the fence.’

‘Yes, I saw them.’

‘They’re Jacks’s trophies. She knew all this had to stop and she took things into her own hands. If she needed a sign to justify her decision, I can’t think of anything more appropriate.’

Josephine tried to imagine the utter desolation that Morwenna must have felt when she realised what she had to do – and the strength that was required to see it through. ‘I told her she was using her love for Harry to keep the world at arm’s length and to hide from reality,’ she said sadly. ‘I could hardly accuse her of that now.’

Wearily, Archie rubbed his eyes. ‘At least it’s over for her now – her and Harry.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Come on – I need to get some help to take her down and seal this part of the wood off.’ She followed his gaze as it took in the glory of the woods around him. ‘It’s always the beautiful things that death taints for the living, isn’t it?’ he said, with anger in his voice.

Josephine hesitated, remembering all that Morveth had said to her about protecting Archie and wondering if his acceptance of Morwenna’s death was as final as he thought it was. ‘Shall I fetch someone while you stay with her?’ she asked.

He smiled at her gratefully. ‘Thank you. At least I can make sure that she’s looked after now. It’s ironic, isn’t it?’ he added sadly as she walked away. ‘You always said that Morwenna had killed Harry, and I’m sure you’ve turned out to be right.’