Angel with Two Faces

at least it didn’t. You know, since I first picked this book up, I’ve never been afraid of anything; now, after Harry’s death, I sleep with a lamp burning every night. Actually, that’s a lie – after what Morwenna said the other day, I hardly sleep at all. All I want to do is forget him, wipe him out of my mind – but he haunts me. I keep thinking about him going into that lake all alone – those waters are so cold, so dark. What sort of despair must he have been in if he really did think that was easier than living? I can’t get that out of my head. I’ve always thought of a loved one’s presence after death as some sort of consolation for their loss, an affirmation that it doesn’t all just end when we die. But this isn’t any comfort – this is hell, and he’s beside me all the time, inviting me in.’

Archie heard a noise behind him and looked up. ‘So this is where my two leading men have got to,’ Morveth said. She spoke lightly but her face was anxious, and Archie wondered how much she had heard. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, standing up in front of Nathaniel to give the young man time to pull himself together. ‘We’ve had a touch of stage fright and we thought if we hid here long enough, you might let us off the hook altogether.’

‘You’ll have to try harder than that, my lad – nothing gets past me. I need my jackdaw to practise his take- off.’

‘His what?’

‘She means the jump off the balustrade into thin air,’ Nathaniel explained, trying to emulate Archie’s easy banter. ‘Don’t worry,’ he continued as he saw the look of horror on Archie’s face. ‘All I have to do is drop down on to the backstage path, but it looks spectacular from where the audience is. It’s the highlight of the play, and there’ll be someone there to make sure I don’t overshoot. We wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t safe. After last year…’ He grinned, and handed his costume to Archie. ‘Look after this a minute. I’ll try it a few times in normal clothes first.’

Nathaniel followed Morveth down on to the stage, leaving Archie holding the habit that Harry should have worn. As he looked down at the black silk, he thought about the strange hold that the dead had over the living: they had buried Harry on Sunday, but he had been by far the most powerful presence of this visit so far. What would have made him set that fire all those years ago? Archie wondered. What was so terrible that he would kill and die for it? More to the point, he thought selfishly, what was he supposed to do about it? Was Nathaniel’s motive for telling him just the lightening of a heavy burden or a plea for more tangible help? Even if Loveday were telling the truth, and Harry was a killer, he couldn’t see what good it would do to open up the case now – perhaps that was what Morveth had meant when she warned him to leave things alone – but it wasn’t in his nature to turn a blind eye. So what was he supposed to be – policeman or friend?

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t an actor, he thought resentfully as he walked down from the wings and took his place on the platform which Morveth had pointed out. The stage felt suddenly claustrophobic to him, and far too close to the audience for comfort. As he looked up at the steep grass slope, imagining what it would be like later when it was full of people, he wished more than ever that he had never agreed to take part in The Jackdaw of Rheims.

Chapter Ten

William parked the Lanchester next to Ronnie’s Austin, and he and Josephine gathered up the picnic things between them and walked over the brow of the hill towards the sea. The view of the headland stretched out for miles before her, and she could see people making their way in twos and threes to the Minack, following coastal paths or taking shortcuts across fields, laughing and chatting and, for the most part, laden with hampers and warm clothes in preparation for the evening. A table – covered carefully in pristine white linen and giving the air of a vicarage tea party – stood on the lawn in front of the big house, and served as a box office. After a good-natured skirmish in the queue, William reluctantly conceded the right to buy the tickets and the two of them joined a trail of people making their way down a steep, narrow path lined with furze bushes. As the crowd zig-zagged to left and right, eventually striking off in different directions to stake a claim on a patch of turf or find a more sheltered position against one of the rocks, Josephine could not help but think that this was the strangest entrance to a theatre she had ever encountered – but she was by no means the only person to stop in wonder and pleasure at her first sight of the stage itself, crisp and clear in the evening sunlight.

She spread the rug out on the ground about halfway up the auditorium and allowed William to wrestle with the deckchairs, aware of the peculiarity in the male psyche that insisted on mastering anything to do with the outdoors. It was a little after six, and there was still an hour and a half to go before the Minack’s equivalent of curtain-up – sundown, she supposed – but already the open spaces were filled with eager theatre-goers and, every now and then, the sound of a popped cork underlined their hopes for the performance ahead. She recognised a few members of the audience: Morwenna was there with Loveday, who waved excitedly from the back of the seating area when she saw Josephine; the unmistakeable bulk of Jasper Motley sat with his back to her in the front row; and several of the spectators from the cricket match had turned out again to support their friends and family – but she was impressed to see that the crowd was largely made up of people who seemed to have no vested interest in the play except a passion for theatre. Looking over their heads and out to sea, she noticed how different this section of coast was from the stretch which bordered the Loe estate; here, on a headland devoid of harbours or any other human footprint, the serrated line of cliffs had a frowning, wave-beaten grandeur which seemed cold and immovable – hostile, even. As the waves frilled around the jagged bases of the rocks, which clawed their way towards the horizon like skeletal fingers, the landscape seemed far more in touch with an ancient, unfathomable past, and Josephine could easily understand how myth and legend still held the balance of power here.

‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ William said, following the direction of her gaze. ‘Coming here always reminds me of something my father said about Cornwall: it’s the best place God ever made – when He finishes it.’

Josephine laughed and sat down on one of the deckchairs. It was true though, she thought, looking out to sea again; the rocks did have an unfinished look about them, as if someone had laid the foundations for a project and then had to abandon it in a hurry. ‘I imagine it takes on a different character altogether when the weather’s in a less forgiving mood,’ she said, waving to Lettice and Ronnie, who had just emerged hand in hand from the backstage area, looking a little shaky. Lettice appeared to have her eyes shut, and Ronnie’s signal made it clear that a drink would be in order.

‘Lettice is terrible with heights,’ William explained, lining up the champagne glasses as his daughters made their way up the slope. ‘The dressing area here always makes her dizzy.’

‘Remind me never to go back there again,’ Lettice confirmed, sitting down heavily and asking a lot from her deckchair. ‘If they want alterations doing, they can come out here for them.’ She leaned over to cut herself a generous slice of pork pie. ‘That wire fence wouldn’t save anyone from an accident – I’m beginning to agree with Hephzibah.’

‘Although don’t you find it interesting that Rowena didn’t see fit to tell her about the new walls behind the stage?’ Ronnie asked, pointing vaguely towards the offending stonework with a stick of celery. ‘If I were being cynical – which of course I never am – I’d say that was a deliberate omission.’

‘Is Archie all right?’ Josephine asked, peeling a hard-boiled egg and smothering it with salt. ‘I expect he’ll be glad to get it over with.’

‘He’s a bit quiet,’ Lettice admitted, ‘but we think that’s just fear. He refused anything to eat or drink in favour of a few minutes alone with his script. He sends his love, though,’ she added, taking a jar of pickles from the hamper.

‘I must confess, I feel a bit guilty for strong-arming him into doing it at all,’ William said. ‘But I didn’t see what else we could do.’

Ronnie picked up the champagne that William had poured for Archie and divided its contents between Josephine’s glass and her own. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it, Pa – a bit of community spirit won’t hurt him,’ she said, with all the benevolence of someone who was rarely required to indulge in it herself. ‘It’ll make a nice change from all that paperwork.’

‘Will anyone mind if I pop backstage and wish him luck?’ Josephine asked.

‘No, dear, of course not – but for God’s sake watch your step. I’m not climbing down after you in these heels.’

Josephine picked up her glass and followed a circuitous path through the rugs and hampers to get to the performance area. A sign marked ‘Players Only’ indicated the backstage quarters. She made her way carefully round the rock, and was surprised to walk in on what felt like a cast of thousands. It was a strange and wonderful