The House At Sea’s End

‘We try to eat in the dining room at least once a week,’ says Hastings. ‘It’s a shame to let standards drop entirely.’

‘But most of the time we huddle round the kitchen table,’ says Stella. ‘Jack reads the paper and I listen to the radio. That’s why it’s nice to have guests.’

‘Do you entertain a lot?’ asks Nelson. He says ‘entertain’ like it’s a foreign word.

‘Not really.’ There’s a twinkle in Stella’s eye as she passes round the cups. ‘Jack’s fallen out with most of the neighbours, you see.’

‘Really, Stella! That’s not true.’

‘I can’t stand most of my neighbours,’ says Nelson. ‘But the wife still insists on asking them round.’

It’s the first time he has mentioned Michelle. At least he didn’t say her name, thinks Ruth.

‘You should be master in your own home, my dear fellow,’ says Hastings.

‘That’s easier said than done,’ says Nelson. ‘I’m outnumbered. I’ve got two daughters, you see.’ He looks at Ruth and away again. ‘They gang up on me.’

‘Clara could always twist Jack round her little finger,’ says Stella. ‘You’ve got all this to come, Ruth.’

Ruth smiles stiffly.

‘I don’t mind being outnumbered,’ says Nelson. ‘I haven’t been first in the bathroom for over fifteen years. It’s hard, though, when they grow up.’

Stella nods, her blue eyes warm. ‘You’re so right, Harry. I remember when Alastair left home I was bereft. I kept wandering into his room and crying. It was the same with Giles and Clara. That’s why I’m glad that Clara’s come back to us for a bit.’

‘She’ll soon be off again,’ says Hastings. ‘She’s thinking seriously about the TEFL course.’

‘You must be proud of her,’ says Ruth. She thinks it’s about time she said something.

‘Oh we are,’ says Stella. ‘She hasn’t had it easy. School was difficult. I was so pleased that she made it to university and got a good degree. I just hope that this latest thing…’ Her voice trails off. The logs hiss in the fire. In the hall, a clock strikes.

‘Midnight,’ says Nelson. ‘I must be for my bed.’

‘Me too,’ says Ruth and blushes. Nelson grins at her.

‘Don’t mind us, ha ha,’ Jack Hastings is quick to enlarge on the joke.

‘Really, Jack,’ says Stella mildly. ‘I’ll show you to your room, Ruth. It’s in the tower. Yours is the one above, Harry. It’s got its own bathroom so you can make up for all those years of missing out.’

Clara’s room is comfortable and untidy. Because it’s in the tower it has curved walls and nothing quite fits. The bed juts out into the middle of the room, cupboards and bookcases stand awkwardly against the rounded walls. It was obviously once Clara’s childhood bedroom – there is a rocking horse grinning in the corner and a pile of teddy bears on the widow seat. Equally obviously, it has been recently decorated, with blameless sprigged wallpaper and curtains held back with little bows. Ruth goes to the window and looks out. Far below is the sea. It looks wrong to see snow on the beach, like a negative, the black waves breaking on the white shore. Far off, she can see a flashing light. It’s probably on the coast road but it makes her think of the lighthouse and the days when its beam would have shone out, warning sailors off the jagged rocks. At the foot of the tower there is a narrow line of snow before the land drops away. The garden and the summer house have disappeared forever. Ruth thinks of the night when the Germans landed, the shots in the dark, the little boy watching from the window. Perhaps this same window? She shivers.

She washes in the bathroom, a thin slice taken out of the room. Stella has lent her a nightdress but it’s floor- length and frilly and she doesn’t want to wear it. (‘Why?’ she asks herself sternly. ‘Who will see it?’) Instead, she keeps on her T-shirt and knickers. She is appalled to find herself stealing some of Clara’s perfume. She doesn’t know what she is thinking of. She and Nelson said a very brief goodnight in the hall. She won’t see him again until morning. She puts her phone on the bedside table, wishing she could ring home again. But Clara will be asleep. Funny to think of her sleeping in Ruth’s bed and Ruth in hers (though Clara insisted that she would be comfortable on the sofa). When she last spoke to Clara, Tatjana wasn’t home. She has obviously decided to stay the night in Norwich.

Ruth sighs. She feels twitchier than ever, every nerve strung up to snapping point. How is she ever going to get to sleep? She fetches a glass of water from the bathroom. Perhaps she’s just a bit drunk. But slow sipping doesn’t help. She goes to the bookcase. She’ll read until she drops off. Clara is nothing if not eclectic in her tastes: law textbooks, Dickens, Jilly Cooper, Agatha Christie. Ruth thinks of Archie and his crime novels. What made him think of that elaborate code? And why leave it to Maria, whose English, according to Nelson, isn’t that good? Perhaps that was a way to ensure that the film would never be found – a way of honouring his promise to Hugh but protecting the memory of the troop. And who, she wonders suddenly, was the third person who knew the secret? The person Hugh mentioned in the film. Presumably he too is dead by now.

Ruth takes out a copy of Riders; she loves books about horses. But as she does so she dislodges a small, leather-bound book that has been lying on top of Jilly Cooper’s epic. It is a diary.

She knows she shouldn’t open it. She knows that. She has no right to read Clara’s private diary. It would be the worst possible invasion of privacy. She should just put it back on the shelf.

Ruth opens the diary.

I hate his wife, she reads. I want to kill him for deceiving me.

Ruth stops reading. Clutching the book, she goes to the window. The snow has stopped. Sea’s End House lies under a cloak of silence; everything is muffled, enclosed, secret. The roads will be treacherous. Ruth is miles away from home. Clara is looking after her baby. She hears Clara’s voice, on the night of the naming day party. I was expelled from two schools.

Why was she expelled?

She hears Stella. She hasn’t had it easy. School was difficult.

Why was school difficult?

On an impulse, Ruth goes to the bedside table and starts looking through the drawers. In the third drawer, she finds what she is looking for.

A pair of dress-making scissors.

CHAPTER 23

‘Nelson!’

The hall is dark. A winding staircase leads up to Nelson’s room but the door is shut. Ruth starts up the stairs, but before she has reached the top the door opens.

‘Ruth! What is it?’

Nelson descends the stairs. He is wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts. Even in the state she is in, Ruth notices.

‘Nelson!’ She grabs his arm. ‘I’ve got to talk to you.’

She turns and screams. A little figure is standing in front of her, wearing a long white robe.

‘Ruth, for God’s sake.’ This is Nelson.

Ruth takes a deep breath and realises that the sinister figure is Irene and the robe is a candlewick dressing gown. She clasps the old lady’s arm.

‘Irene! Why was Clara expelled from school?’

Behind her, Nelson expostulates but Irene does not seem put out by the question. She blinks calmly once or twice.

‘Such a silly fuss. I’m sure it was as much the other girl’s fault as Clara’s.’

‘But what did she do?’

‘They said she… hurt someone.’

‘Hurt? How?’

‘Stabbed them. With some scissors.’

Ruth lets out a low moan and drags Nelson into her room. Unperturbed, Irene patters back downstairs.