you?’
Bill frowned. ‘I’ll do that. Thanks, Greg.’ He hung up. The pencil with which he had been doodling snapped in two. He stared down at it in surprise. ‘Bastard,’ he murmured to himself. ‘Bastard.’
It was nearly two hours after Patrick had left Kate and Alison on their own that Kate, glancing out of the front window saw an ancient vehicle slither to a stop outside. It was driven by a stranger but she saw Diana and Roger climbing out, closely followed by Patrick.
‘Thank God,’ she murmured. Alison was lying, wrapped in blankets once more, on the sofa. The girl appeared to be asleep.
Running to the door Kate pulled it open.
‘Where is she?’ Diana’s face was white with strain. She pushed past Kate and went into the living room.
‘Hi Mum.’ Alison opened her eyes.
‘What happened exactly? Roger paused in the hall and caught Kate’s arm. ‘Sorry, let me introduce you. This is Joe Farnborough. He kindly drove us up here.’
Kate glanced at the tall, white-haired man who was staring down at her with undisguised curiosity. Catching her eye he grinned, his eyes silver in a tanned weather-beaten face. ‘Young Allie got herself in a spot of bother, has she?’ He asked.
She shrugged. ‘I think she’ll be fine. But she ought to be at home.’ They followed Diana and Roger in to the living room and found them bending over Alison. Diana was holding her hand. ‘I’m OK, Mum. Honestly.’ The girl looked white and strained but her voice had regained some of its strength and with it its peevishness. ‘Don’t fuss. Just take me home.’
‘But what happened, Allie?’ Roger sat down, pushing the blankets aside. ‘Come on, you must tell us.’
Alison shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. I went out to the grave. I wanted to see it. It was early. It was still dark.’
‘You went out when it was still dark!’ Diana repeated, shocked.
Alison nodded. ‘I don’t know why. It was just something I had to do. I took a torch. The woods were wet and cold and it was very dark and I was scared.’ Her voice trembled. ‘When I got to the cottage I saw that all the lights were on. That made me feel better. I thought I would knock and ask Kate to come with me. But I couldn’t.’ She burst into tears. ‘I wanted to, and I couldn’t.’
Kate stared at her, appalled. ‘Allie, why not? I would have gone with you.’
‘I don’t mean I couldn’t because I didn’t want to. I wanted to, but she wouldn’t let me.’
There was a moment’s silence. Kate met Roger’s gaze. It was thoughtful; she guessed that Patrick had already told them about Claudia.
‘Who wouldn’t let you, Kate?’ Diana asked gently.
‘Someone. Her. I don’t know. He wants to stop me, but she wants to tell me something. They’re fighting in my head.’ She put the heels of her hands to her temples, still crying. ‘She wants me to know.’
‘She wants you to stop digging up her grave?’ Patrick put in from the doorway. ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘No.’ Allie sat up. ‘No, that’s the point. She wants me to. She wants me there. She wants me to find… something.’ She lay back again.
‘Well, whatever it was that happened, I suggest we get you back home, young lady,’ put in Joe Farnborough from the doorway. ‘I don’t want to hurry you folks, but I must get into town and collect some stuff before this weather gets any worse.’
‘Of course, Joe. I’m sorry. It was so good of you to come like this,’ Diana started to bustle. ‘Roger, can you carry her?’
‘No need, Mum. I can walk.’ Sniffing miserably, Alison swung her legs over the side of the sofa and stood up.
Kate watched as she was ushered out of the door and into the back of the Land Rover – a model even more ancient and muddy than the Lindseys’ own. It was Patrick who turned and looked at her. ‘Dad. Can Kate come with us? I don’t think she ought to stay here alone.’
Roger swung back towards her. ‘Of course. That goes without saying. You must come with us, Kate, my dear. We have got to discuss all this very seriously. And if nothing else, we’ve got to report your phone out of order and get it fixed before you can stay here alone.’ He unhooked her jacket from behind the door and held it out to her.
Kate closed her eyes in relief. For a moment she had thought they were going off without her and she had known she would not have the strength of will to call after them. The urge to stay in the cottage was as strong as the urge to leave it. Turning back into the room she began to switch off the lights. She closed the doors on the stove and glanced round. The water had begun to seep back across the windowsill under the cloth. At the edge of it she could see a few dark specks of soil and there, in the shadows, something small and white wriggled purposefully towards the edge of the sill. She turned away sharply and grabbed her shoulder bag. As an afterthought she picked up the pile of typescript that sat on her desk, and with it the diskette from her computer. Then she followed Roger outside and banged the front door closed behind her.
XXX
Diana had gone downstairs. Alison slid down in her bed. Beside her, out of sight under the duvet was an old, well-worn teddy bear with one ear. All the lights in the room were on.
A couple of minutes later Greg appeared in the doorway. ‘Are you awake, Allie?’
She pushed the teddy bear even further down the bed. ‘What?’
‘Look. We ought to talk.’ He came in properly and shut the door. Sitting down on the edge of her bed he folded his arms. ‘I know I said we ought to scare her off. Kate, I mean. I know I said a lot of things about her being in the way. And I meant it. She’s a pain.’ He lapsed into silence for a minute, staring thoughtfully down at his feet.
‘She was nice to me,’ Alison put in at last. There was none of the usual stridency in her voice.
‘What really happened, Allie?’ He looked at her again. ‘Out there. You weren’t just trying to scare her, were you.’
‘No.’ Her voice was very small.
‘So. What happened?’
‘Nothing.’
‘It can’t have been nothing.’ He put his hand for a moment on the hump of her shoulder beneath the duvet. ‘Come on. You can tell me.’
‘It’s the truth. Nothing happened. I didn’t see anything. It was just feelings.’ Her mouth began to tremble. She sat up and defiantly retrieved the teddy, hugging it tightly against her chest. In her dayglo green nightshirt, with her hair all over her face, she looked about six.
Greg was astonished by the wave of affection which swept over him. ‘What sort of feelings?’ he asked gently.
She frowned. ‘Fear. Anger. Hate. They all sort of hit me, all jumbled up inside my head in a sort of red whirl. It hurt.’ Her eyes flooded with tears.
He stared at her but he wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing a short, grey-haired woman in a pale blue puffa jacket which went ill with her high heels. ‘I saw you staggering about… I wondered if you were epileptic or something…’ the voice echoed in his head.
Under the thick layers of Viyella shirt, lambswool sweater and ancient tweed jacket he could feel the tiptoe of goose flesh up his arms. His mouth had gone dry.
‘What is it?’ Her eyes were huge and round, the pupils dilated. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.’ He never called her that. The endearment frightened her even more than the strange preoccupation on his face had done.
He stood up. ‘Listen, Allie. You must get some sleep. OK? Lie down again and I’ll tuck you in.’ He leaned over as she slid down on the pillows, pulling the duvet up to her chin and patting it with awkward, unaccustomed tenderness. ‘Shall I turn out the lights?’
‘No!’
