get here? Four-wheel drives like Ben’s and Meredith’s were the only vehicles that stood a chance of moving in this weather.
Unlike last night, today Millie was wide awake and not keen to keep still. Grace was struggling to hold on to her by the time the Land Rover reached the gravel drive. The schoolhouse roof had been smothered by snow, and a row of icicles had formed underneath the ledges of the upper windows, their spikes glinting in the morning light.
The front door opened before they were out of the car. Claire waited on the step for them, her face haggard and pale.
Ben hurried around to help Grace with Millie. Bess scrabbled between the seats, trying to come too, but Ben snapped a stern ‘Wait’ and shut the door on her. Bess began to scratch at the windows, barking and whining, as they headed away.
‘What the hell happened?’ Ben asked as they got near the door.
Claire pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. ‘Last night, Mum and Jenny had the row to end all rows. Or, rather, Jenny poured her scorn out on Mum, while Mum sat and listened. I tried to intervene, but Jenny was too furious. She basically told Mum what a terrible person she was, and that as soon as she could get away from here then Mum would never set eyes on her again.’ She paused, peering past them. ‘Are you going to let Bess out?’
They all looked at the Land Rover. Bess was still up at the windows, barking indignantly at being left behind. Millie pointed at the dog, her little face concerned.
‘I’m worried she’ll run off when she’s like this,’ Ben said. ‘I should have left her back at the house… So tell us, what happened in the end?’
‘The conversation went round in circles, until Jenny was hysterically ranting and crying, and I managed to drag her off up to bed. I checked on her a moment ago – she’s still asleep.’
‘And what about Mum?’
‘Mum was just… weird. She sat there and took everything Jenny hurled at her and didn’t say a word. She flinched a few times, but she pretty much gave Jenny a free rein. I know Jenny has a lot to be furious about, but I wish Mum had fought back a bit. After I’d sorted Jenny out, I sat with Mum and tried to hold her hand, but she shook me off, got up and said she was going to bed. I stayed downstairs for a while, knocked back a glass of brandy or two, and by that time it was all quiet. But this morning when I looked in on them, Mum wasn’t there – and her bed hasn’t been slept in.’
Claire’s voice was now barely audible over the sound of Bess’s barking. ‘I’ll have to let her out,’ Ben grumbled, dashing back to the car and opening the door.
In a flash, Bess leapt down and hared around the bushes towards the moorland beyond, still barking. ‘Bess,’ Ben yelled angrily, ‘come back here.’ He threw his hands in the air in frustration. ‘I bloody knew it. I’ll have to go and fetch her.’
As Ben jogged away, Grace and Claire were left alone. They listened to Bess’s barking in uncomfortable silence. Even Millie’s attention seemed held by the noise, as she sat quietly in her mother’s arms. Eventually, Grace murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Claire.’
Claire gave no reply. She was still listening. Grace watched as her features changed, a frown forming. ‘That’s not just Bess barking,’ Claire said. ‘I think it’s Pippa too. It sounds like they’re near the Leap.’
At once, her tired eyes filled with terror. She dashed over to the garage and heaved up the door.
Meredith’s four-wheel drive sat snugly inside.
Claire turned to Grace in horror. ‘She always leaves it on the drive. Except sometimes – in snow… I just assumed…’ And then she began to run towards the noise.
Grace and Millie were left alone on the driveway. Everything around them was frozen, but in the distance the dogs’ demented barking was a dreaded omen. There was another noise now too, very faint – perhaps she was imagining it, but it sounded like a siren.
Ben’s car door hung open. Grace walked across and sat on the back seat, settling Millie next to her and pulling out her phone. She spoke quickly and urgently when her mother answered, and once she knew that her family were on their way, she held her daughter close, waiting for whatever would come next.
44
After Grace had fastened Millie into her car seat, she turned back towards the cottage. Now spring had arrived, the place looked much more inviting. The grey stone glowed in the weak sunshine, and the garden was beginning to burst into flower.
‘You ready?’
Grace looked over the car’s roof at her father. ‘Yes.’
He opened the driver’s door. ‘Let’s go then,’ he said gruffly.
She got into the car and her gaze lingered on the cottage one last time, her eyes drawn to the brand-new ‘For Sale’ sign beside the gate.
‘I found this in there.’ Her father handed her a book.
She was surprised to see the familiar cover. ‘Where was it?’
‘On the alcove shelf. Good job I double-checked.’
Grace put the copy of
‘I’d like that, thanks.’
They set off down the lane, past the pub at the bottom, and on up the hill. As they went, wisps of Grace’s memories floated with them: Adam carrying Millie; Annabel complaining about the weather; James in his tux; Ben whistling to Bess… She was surprised at how fondly she recalled some of them. But there were many others she was glad to be leaving behind.
The schoolhouse stood as dark and empty as it had the past few months, since the day the bodies had been taken away from the bottom of the Leap. Grace had kept her composure remarkably well, until she had seen an ambulance head silently past the house. Then the tears had begun to stream down her face. That phase had lasted a long time – way beyond the point that her parents and Annabel had arrived, and they had all moved to stay in Ockton while an autopsy was conducted. She had been touched at how full the church had been for Adam’s funeral – all sorts of people coming up from London, including James, who sat towards the back, on the opposite side to Ben.
After that, Grace and Millie had gone to London for a time, before returning with Grace’s parents for the weekend, to oversee the final details on the cottage and put it up for sale. Yesterday, soon after they had arrived in Ockton, Grace had spotted Liza hurrying along the street with a pushchair. Before she could decide what to do next, Liza had looked across and caught her eye. Grace had smiled, and was about to go over to congratulate her, but Liza’s stare was empty. She had put her head down and hurried away.
Her father’s grim voice interrupted her reverie. ‘Do you reckon it will ever sell?’ He flicked a hand towards the schoolhouse as they drove by. Grace followed his gaze without a word. It had been empty for months, its ‘For Sale’ sign now much more battered and weathered than the one outside the cottage. Each time Grace went past she didn’t dare look at the windows in case she saw a small boy’s lonely face – or, worse, the viperous eyes of a woman who felt herself wronged.
The car moved on, up the hill, before her dad swore and swerved at the top as a sheep hurried out of harm’s way, two small lambs scampering behind.
‘This place…’ he muttered.
Grace leaned round to check on Millie, who was turning the pages of a board book, her little hearing aids fastened firmly onto her ears. Seeing that her daughter was amusing herself contentedly, she settled back in the car seat and let out a long, slow breath.
A little while later they came to a tall stone cross. ‘See that?’ Grace pointed. ‘That’s one of the way markers
