At the top of the landing I stop and look around. The house, once Adam’s pride and joy, now seems just a shell; empty and unloved.
Something is missing.
Spinning around, I am shocked to find that a framed photograph of Michael which has hung on the wall at the top of the stairs ever since we moved in has been removed.
‘Bastard,’ I whisper, and I spend a frantic half hour searching before I finally discover it in the airing cupboard. I carefully wrap it in a towel and bring it downstairs with the rest of my things.
My final stop is the kitchen for the fridge magnet with the picture of Michael on it. Funny how the most apparently insignificant things seem to have the most meaning. Loading up the car, I lock the front door and drive away.
25
When I arrive in Calstock, Doris is waiting for me with a smile and a hot cup of tea.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind keeping these for me?’ I say, after helping her store the paintings, framed photograph, and box of artefacts in her loft.
‘Not at all,’ she replies.
‘I’m sorry to ring you at short notice like that.’
‘Don’t apologise, my love.’ Doris is toying with a piece of shortbread on her plate. ‘When Adam came by to collect your things after your accident, he did ask me about the diary. If I knew anything about where it might be. He was most insistent.’ She shudders, and I pray that he didn’t do anything to intimidate her. ‘Michael was your son. He was and will always be an important part of who you are.’
I find myself so touched by Doris’s kindness that I can barely speak. ‘I really don’t know what I would do without you.’ I pause, trying to decide just how much I should tell her. ‘But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll collect the diary now.’
‘Of course. It’s still safely locked away in the filing cabinet.’ Doris gets up, stops, and then turns. ‘Aren’t you worried that Adam might find it if you take it back with you?’
I decide then that I can’t keep the truth from my dearest friend any longer. ‘I’m certain he won’t find it, Doris, because I’m taking it with me to Scotland.’
‘Why in heaven’s name are you going to Scotland?’
‘I think I’ve found someone who can lead me to Diving Fish.’
‘Sweet Jesus.’
I spend the next fifteen minutes relating the story of our weekend in Dorset and finding the article about Susan O’Neill. I even show her the wedding photograph from the newspaper. I don’t mention the scene with Adam though.
‘So you’ll be off to Scotland,’ says Doris. ‘But what are you going to do when you get there?’
‘Try and find out what really happened,’ I reply with chilling determination. ‘Find out if Susan O’Neill, or Desra, or whatever she’s calling herself now, was having a relationship with Michael and if she was with him that night at the lake.’
‘So you do think that she’s Diving Fish?’
‘I don’t know, Doris. All I do know is that the moment Lisa thrust that photograph at me there was no going back.’
‘And you still believe what she told you, after everything that happened?’
‘I’ve got to. I’ve got nothing else to go on.’
The next few days are agony as I settle back into my mother’s house and try to concentrate on my journey to Scotland. There are numerous calls from Adam, all unanswered, and then finally, one morning, an angry text suggesting I should think about getting a solicitor. Done that already. I’m determined to be legally separated before my mother’s estate is finalised and her house is sold. I decide not to pack until the very last minute, but I have arranged the clothes I will be taking with me into tidy piles. I have gathered most of my personal documents, including my passport, birth and marriage certificates, and I’ve secured them in a safe deposit box at a bank in Tavistock.
There’s only one thing left to do.
‘Hi Grace, can you talk?’
‘Kat, is everything all right?’ My sister knows me well enough to sense when something is up. ‘Simon and I just got back from a few days away and I tried calling you at home. Adam was … weird. Has something happened? Are you okay? Do you need me to drive down?’
‘Give us a minute,’ I reply. ‘Everything is all right.’
‘You can pretend as much as you like, Kat, but I can tell when something’s wrong.’
I find myself smiling grimly. ‘Depending on how you look at it, something could be wrong, or something could be right.’
‘What?’
I tell her about Adam’s decision to move us to Bristol without asking me.
‘Bastard,’ she replies, with barely contained vitriol.
I also tell her about our argument and my decision to leave him.
‘Did you call the police? Report him?’
‘I’m sure he didn’t mean to hit me with the folder.’ I can sense Grace shaking her head at the other end of the phone. ‘I just wanted him out of there.’
‘But that’s assault!’
‘I’ve taken photos.’
‘And you’re safe at Mum’s? He won’t try anything will he?’
‘I’ve been in touch with a solicitor and a friend from the Domestic Violence Unit at Devon and Cornwall Police.’
‘But you should—’
‘Adam knows full well that an assault charge will end his career. He won’t dare approach me.’
‘That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be punished.’
‘I think I have quite enough on my plate for the moment.’
There’s a long pause as Grace clearly struggles with my decision-making process. Finally she speaks. ‘So what’s next?’
‘I was hoping I could stay here for a while when I get back from holiday. I thought I could do the place up, redecorate, you know, get it ready for selling. Then I’ll find a place of my own.’
‘And your job?’
‘I’ve handed in my resignation.’
‘Okay,’ says Grace, sounding supportive but uncertain.
‘I don’t fancy the two-hour commute to Exeter every day and until I know what I’m going
