“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Atterton. “And the dogs,” he added. “They’re brilliant.”
Finn and Tosh, who always seemed to know when they were being talked about, wagged appreciatively and sat. No alarm there.
“Yeah, they’re great.” Kieran stroked Finn’s head and Tosh nosed him and then Atterton, seeking her share of attention, and Atterton gave a good rub to both dogs.
What the hell did you say, Kieran wondered as the silence stretched, to the man whose ex-wife had been your lover?
Freddie Atterton smiled, as if he’d read his mind. “I know about you and Becca,” he said. “Superintendent Kincaid told me. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Okay.” Kieran waited, feeling stranger and stranger, and tried to keep his eyes from straying to what remained of his home.
“Well, I have to admit to a bit of curiosity,” said Atterton. “Wouldn’t be human otherwise, I suppose. But mostly I came to see if you could repair Becca’s boat.”
“The Filippi?” It was the last thing Kieran had expected.
“Apparently it has a crack in the hull. I haven’t seen it yet. But I don’t like to think— She’d have wanted—” Atterton stopped, his voice unsteady, and Kieran realized suddenly that this was a man teetering on the edge of emotional collapse. He knew, because he had stared into the precipice himself, and even now he might stumble into it.
Kieran steeled himself to look across the water. “I would, of course. But I don’t know if I can. My workshop —”
“Superintendent Kincaid told me what happened,” said Freddie. “It doesn’t look too bad from here. How do you get across?”
“I’ve got a skiff.” Kieran gestured towards his little rowboat, tied up a few yards nearer the museum.
“Can we go over? All of us?” Freddie’s nod included the dogs.
Kieran was still feeling befuddled by the whole exchange, but found he was glad enough of an excuse not to go alone, however odd his companion. “Yeah, okay.” He dropped Finn’s lead. “Finn, go get the boat.”
Finn bounded down to the skiff, and, taking the rope in his mouth, pulled the boat up against the bank.
As soon as Kieran reached the boat and grabbed the rope, Finn leapt in, grinning at them in Labrador glee.
“He’d rather swim, I’ll wager,” said Freddie, laughing.
Tosh jumped in only after Kieran and Freddie had joined Finn in the skiff, her dark eyebrows furrowed in a look that said she didn’t like this particular adventure, but would make the best of it.
Kieran rowed across to the island, where Freddie tied them up with quick expertise.
“You row, don’t you?” Kieran asked as they climbed ashore.
“Did,” said Freddie. “But that was a long time ago. Water under the bridge.” He shrugged, then nodded towards the shed. “Let’s take a look at the damage, shall we? Are you game?”
Kieran put the dogs in a stay, swallowed hard, and followed him.
It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Broken glass, water-sludged ash, scorched beams—but his tools and the structure itself seemed to be intact. His clothes, camp bed, and personal belongings were undoubtedly smoke- and water-damaged, but those were things that could be replaced or done without.
The boat he’d been repairing, however, was buggered. Its carbon-fiber hull was blistered and crazed, the scorch marks clearly visible.
“Oh, God,” said Kieran, staring at it. He felt a wave of dizziness. “This—I don’t have insurance to cover this. Bloody hell.”
Freddie joined him in his examination. “Can it be fixed?”
“Well, maybe, but it’ll be a hard job, and can’t be done without clearing up this mess and repairing the damage to the shed—” Kieran shook his head, overwhelmed.
“Look,” said Freddie slowly. “I know it sounds weird, but if it’s hard labor you need, I’ll help. I can sand and scrub and sweep, or whatever.”
Perplexed, Kieran looked at the man he’d first seen standing outside Leander in a perfectly tailored suit, looking as if he’d never dirtied a finger. But Freddie Atterton was an Oxford Blue—God knew Becca had told him that often enough—so he had to be tougher than he looked. “I don’t understand,” Kieran said. “Why should you —”
“Look at this place,” Freddie interrupted, his gesture taking in the undamaged cabinet of solvents, the paint, the polishing rags. “I’m not much for miracles, but the fact that there’s anything left of this place, or of you, is bloody astounding. You can’t just give up. It would be— It would mean that whoever did this to you and to Becca had won. Do you see?”
“I don’t—”
Outside, Finn gave the distinctive little yip he used to greet people he knew and liked.
“Hi, Kieran,” came a shout.
“It’s John, my neighbor,” said Kieran. He suddenly felt he couldn’t stand the stink of wet ash another second. “Let’s go out.”
When they emerged onto the patch of lawn, John greeted Kieran with a handshake and a pat on the back. “That’s quite a bruise,” he said, “but I’m just glad to see you in one piece. You gave us a fright the other night.”
Freddie held out a hand and introduced himself. If John wondered what connection Freddie had with Kieran, he was too polite to ask.
“I’ve got something for you.” John held out a key to Kieran. “Your single’s in my shed. Keep it there as long as you need.” With a wave, he walked back towards his house.
“Your single?” asked Freddie. He glanced at Kieran’s old shell, up on trestles near the landing raft. “I thought—”
Wordlessly, Kieran walked to John’s shed and unlocked it. He pulled the double doors wide so that the afternoon light flooded in, then drew the tarp off the single. Becca’s single. It was unblemished, and even though he had made it, his heart leapt at the beauty of it.
Freddie stared, first at the boat, then at him. “You built this? A wooden shell?”
“I know most people don’t race in them anymore, but I thought if I made some design adjustments . . .”
“You made this,” said Freddie, his voice little more than a whisper. He went closer, ran his hand over the silky wood of the hull, then touched the molded seat and moved it slightly on the runners. “For her.”
Kieran nodded.
“Did she know?”
“No. I thought, when it was finished, I’d tell her . . . But I’m not sure I’d ever have shown it to her, to tell the truth. She might have laughed. Or worse, felt obligated to row in it.”
For the first time, Freddie seemed at a loss. Shaking his head, he walked away. When he reached the lawn’s edge, he stood gazing at the river for a moment, then sank to the grass and wrapped his arms round his knees, like a child seeking comfort. Kieran saw a shudder run through his shoulders.
Reluctantly, Kieran followed and hunkered down beside him, pushing away the dogs when they butted him.
“I never made anything for her,” whispered Freddie. He lifted his head and rubbed the back of his fist across his wet cheeks. “I envy you that,” he added, and Kieran heard the bitterness.
“I lied, you know, when I said I didn’t mind about the two of you,” Freddie went on. “Not that I had any right—but still, there it is.” He looked at Kieran. “Did you love her?”
Slowly, Kieran nodded.
“Did she love you?”
There was nothing left for Kieran but to face it. After a long moment, he said, “No. I don’t think she did. But we had something that worked for a while . . . maybe because I didn’t ask anything of her. Because I knew she had nothing to give.”
Kincaid had asked Doug to send the witness statement and the request for a DNA comparison to a magistrate with whom he had often worked, a man he liked personally, and one he thought would not be influenced by Angus Craig’s threats.
