Launch Code

TWENTY-EIGHT

When they got back to Pear Tree Cottage there was no sign of Bill. He was probably in his study upstairs, working on his tapestry.

The study was at the other end of the landing from his bedroom. Megan whispered that Toby should go into his own room for a minute and then join her in Bill’s bedroom. She would warn him if the coast wasn’t clear.

Toby was uneasy, but he did what he was asked. Megan was waiting for him in Bill’s bedroom. A four-poster bed dominated the room, with a view over the marsh to the dunes. Delicate, elegant English antiques surrounded the bed: two bedside tables, a small chest of drawers and a chair covered with a tapestry of daffodils. There was a feminine feel to the room – something about the pattern of the curtains and the bedspread; and the tapestry on the chair wasn’t one of Bill’s.

It had been Bill’s wife’s room.

‘Here,’ Megan whispered. She beckoned Toby to a built-in wardrobe that took up most of one wall.

‘Lift me up,’ she said.

Toby bent down, grabbed her legs, and raised her up so she could reach into the darkness at the back of a shelf that ran above the wardrobe. She pulled out a small wicker basket.

Toby lowered her. She squatted on the floor next to the basket. It was full of letters, still in their envelopes, softened and crinkled, about thirty of them, addressed to Donna Threadgold at 8 St Mark’s Place Apt 19, New York City. Megan riffled through them, checking the postmarks.

‘This is it,’ she said, extracting one. The postmark was January 20 1984.

With a glance at the open door, she pulled out three sheets of paper covered in handwriting, and passed them to Toby. ‘Read that.’

He read it. ‘Jesus!’ he whispered. Then he read it again.

‘I know, right?’ said Megan.

‘But this means Lars just lied to Justin? About Craig.’

‘Yep. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

‘And you didn’t tell the police?’

‘They didn’t ask me, or at least they haven’t yet. And I don’t think I will tell them. I came across the letters a couple of months after Mom died and I was going through her clothes. They were right up there, behind some shoe boxes. I shouldn’t have read them, but I just wanted to find out more about her. So I did. And this is what I found.’

They heard a door open down the landing and the floorboards creak.

They both stood up and listened. It was Bill. The most likely thing was for him to turn off the landing and head down the stairs.

But the footsteps came closer.

‘Shit!’ Megan said. ‘He’s coming! Give that to me!’

‘No,’ Toby said. ‘We need to discuss this with him.’

‘No we don’t! Jesus Christ, Toby! Stick it back in the basket. Quick!’

Toby turned towards the door.

Which opened.

Bill jerked upright in surprise when he saw Megan and Toby in his bedroom. He took in the basket. The letter in Toby’s hands.

‘What the hell?’

Megan looked scared. ‘Sorry, Dad.’

‘Is that a letter? Is that one of my letters to your mother?’

‘Yeah. I found them when I was looking through her stuff.’

‘And you showed them to Toby? What are you thinking? Those are private!’

‘Yes, I know. But—’

‘But what?’

‘This one mentions what happened to Craig,’ Toby said quietly. ‘On the submarine.’

‘Give it to me!’ Bill held out his hand.

‘No.’

‘What do you mean “no”? Give it to me right now.’ Bill took a step towards Toby.

Toby faced him. ‘No.’

‘I’ve had enough of this. I want you out of my house now!’ Bill was shouting. ‘And you, Megan. Right now! And give me that damn letter.’

He reached out to grab it, but Toby held on to the sheets with both hands. Bill tugged gently, but it was clear that he couldn’t get it away from Toby without ripping it. Bill didn’t want to rip it.

‘Let it go!’

‘No,’ said Toby. For a moment he thought Bill was going to slug him, but he stood his ground. ‘Not until you explain it. You need to tell me what is going on here. What happened to Craig and what it has to do with Alice.’

‘I have to do no such thing. That’s my private correspondence.’

‘Yes, you do,’ said Toby, his eyes fixed on Bill’s. ‘Alice is in police custody. Unless someone does something she will be charged with murder. She may go to jail for the rest of her life. You need to explain this.’

Bill stiffened. Then he released the letter and walked over to the window. It had stopped raining; the marsh gleamed grey-green in the low November sunlight.

Toby and Megan watched his broad back. He took a deep breath and turned to them.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Sit down. There’s a lot to tell you.’