me, a real priest hole; part of it may have been, but the family that previously lived there were having extensions done and digging out the cellar. Their little girl climbed in.' He sipped his coffee.
'I know, I was checking it out.'
'Ah well, I should have known my little supersleuth would want to cover all the bases. When did you find all this out?'
'Yesterday, in the library.'
She sat opposite him and when he produced a cigarette and lit it, she nodded it was okay for him to smoke.
'Wanted to talk about a couple of things with you now.'
'Right.'
He inhaled and let the smoke drift from his mouth. 'She knew,' he said softly.
'I'm sorry?'
'The old housekeeper knew. There is a mark in her room where the carpet used to be: she moved it over the vent in that room and then placed her rocking chair over it. She then, I think, stacked the sheets and linen over the other air vent.' He paused and drank his coffee. 'Course, we can't prove it.'
Anna hesitated. 'Maybe not, but you realise that Mrs Hedges called Justine? It was Mrs Hedges who told her she could come home.'
'Yeah yeah, I know. I think some things are best left unspoken; I guarantee that you and I are the only ones that have the final piece of the jigsaw.'
'So what are you trying to say?'
Langton took a long pull on his cigarette and she pursed her lips in anger. 'Christ, you won't leave that alone, will you? What do you think I'm going to do, call up that piece of garbage from the newspaper?'
'Never even entered my head.'
He had wrongfooted her yet again; she felt bad for flying off the handle. 'I'm sorry; if this is the way you want it, then…'
'It is, Anna, it is. The less said about it, the better; well, not for you but for me, as I'm running the enquiry.'
There was a pause. She really did wonder if she should keep silent about her suspicions, as he was suggesting. She changed the subject.
'You said there were a couple of things you wanted to discuss so, what else?'
'Well, you'll probably sound off at me again, so maybe I should leave that alone.'
'What?'
He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. 'Never mind.'
'No, now you've started go on. What is it?'
'You want to have dinner with me?'
She was so taken aback she said nothing.
He grinned. 'See, I should have kept my mouth shut.'
'No, no you shouldn't.'
'So is that a yes?'
She flushed. He held out his arms; after a beat, she went over and let him hold her. It was such a gentle, caring embrace.
'Say I pick you up at about eight?'
She was still in his arms. 'Yes, yes that will be fine.'
He tilted up her chin and looked down at her upturned face. 'Till eight then, and maybe think about what we discussed. If you are unhappy with it, then we need to decide what should be done, but you know where I am coming from. Up to you.'
He kissed her lightly on the lips and broke away. Then he was gone.
She couldn't stop smiling. It was crazy, she knew that, but she'd blown it once before and had regretted it. Maybe if it did evolve into something, she might still regret it, but for now, she could think of nothing she would like better than to be with him.
Justine led Emily out into the paddock. It had been such a long time since she had ridden. Justine was encouraging and gentle.
'You see, Em, it's just like riding a bike. We'll walk around the paddock, then you can try going round on your own. Okay, now let's just trot. Remember, let your body relax; hold tight with your knees. That's good, Em, yes that's it.'
Mrs Hedges watched from the fence as Emily slowly regained confidence, and the next moment was riding without the training rein, Justine shouting out encouragement. Emily tilted back her head and laughed, a little girl again, undamaged.
Mrs Hedges knew that what she had done would haunt her for the rest of her life: the sounds, the whimpering pleas, the scratching, that even the rocking of her chair back and forth could not hide.
Soaking in a bath filled with perfumed oils and lazily trying to decide what to wear, Anna thought about what she had agreed. She was still undecided whether it was right. Ethically, it was not. If Mrs Hedges had known Wickenham was hiding, and known about the hidden chamber, she could perhaps have saved him; but she had known the terrible crimes, not just to his own flesh and blood, but to Louise Pennel and Sharon Bilkin. In the end, Anna knew, the old lady had protected the girls who she had been helpless to protect when their father had been at large. He had died a long slow death, but it was nothing compared to the horrors he had committed and the pain he had inflicted for his own sickening sexual gratification.
Anna wrapped herself in a large white towel and sat on the edge of her bath. It was over. She could understand why the Black Dahlia case still held such fascination; no one was ever brought to justice for her murder. In a way, Wickenham's victims had had their justice. She wondered if, trapped and unable to breathe, he had given any single one of them a moment's thought. She doubted it.
He arrived on the dot of eight, wearing a smart suit. She had been dressed, ready and waiting like a teenager, since seven.
'You look good,' he said.
'Thank you.'
'Clean slate?'
'Yes.'
'Right, let's go. You know a restaurant called Fernandez?'
'No.' She shut the front door.
He took her hand and tucked it under his arm. She hadn't felt so happy for so long, and as they headed down the stairs she stopped.
'Can I just do something?'
He was on the step below her and looked up. She cupped his face between her hands and kissed him.
