irritatingly so, in fact.’

‘Okay, I admit I’ve made more convincing excuses – but it’s not as if there isn’t plenty of room for us both.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘And think of how much it would give the girls to talk about. Seriously, though – I really do think you’d be better off here at the moment. You need familiarity and time to think, and – much as I love them – you won’t get that with Lettice and Ronnie breathing down your neck for every detail of the case.’

‘What about your work?’

‘Now you’re talking rubbish. If it’s anything like your cases in London, you won’t be here enough to disturb me. In fact, it’s probably the only way I’ll get to see you at all.’

‘All right – as long as you’re sure your reputation can stand it?’ She nodded. ‘I really must go,’ he said again. ‘I think I’ll start with Morwenna – it can only get easier after that. I’ll see you later, then.’

‘Yes, but there is one condition,’ she said as she walked him to his car. ‘I get to tell Ronnie that we’re moving in together.’

Chapter Thirteen

Penrose knocked at the door of Loe Cottage and waited, but there was no answer. Just as he was raising his hand to try again, he heard footsteps inside and the heavy curtain which had been drawn across the entrance was pulled roughly back. Even through the glass, Archie could see that Morwenna looked exhausted; there was no colour in her face, and the dark rings around her eyes which had shocked him at the funeral were even more pronounced now. He had expected her to be surprised to see him but, if she was, she showed no sign of it. ‘Archie,’ she said, with a trace of impatience, ‘I thought it was only a matter of time before you’d show up. I hear the play didn’t exactly go off as planned.’

‘You know about Nathaniel’s death?’

‘Yes. Morveth came over early this morning. She had to bring some things back that I left at the Minack, and she told me then. I suppose you’re here to find out why I left in such a hurry.’

‘Amongst other things, yes. Can I come in?’

‘All right, but you’ll have to be quiet. Loveday’s not well, and I don’t want her disturbed.’

She stood aside to let him through into the kitchen. ‘Sit down. I’ll make some tea.’ He took a seat, and looked with interest at the picnic rug and familiar copy of Tennyson’s poetry which had been left on the table – presumably the items which Morveth had returned during her early-morning visit. Inside, the cottage showed no sign of the neglect which had puzzled him in the garden on Sunday: the blue slate slabs of the kitchen floor had been swept clean and the furniture was scrubbed and tidy; all that was left of the wake was a pair of empty whisky bottles on the floor in the corner.

‘I’m sorry to hear about Loveday,’ he said, conscious of how formal and strained his words sounded. His relationship with Morwenna had always been relaxed and straightforward; even their brief exchange at the funeral – although dominated by her anxieties – had felt natural and warm, but today he was uncomfortable around her, knowing that he was about to stretch the limits of their friendship. ‘What’s the matter with her?’

‘Stomach cramps,’ she said, bringing the pot over to the table. ‘Girls’ problems, in other words. They came on suddenly last night and she was in agony. I had to get her home, and Jago had been obliging enough to leave his keys in the ignition, so I borrowed his van.’

At least that was one search which could be called off, he thought. ‘Where’s the van now?’

‘Morveth took it back with my apologies,’ she said, and pushed a cup across the table towards him. ‘So you can arrest me for theft, if you like, but not for murder. There have been times recently when I could happily have killed Nathaniel, but I didn’t.’

He was inclined to believe her, but had no intention of leaving the matter there. ‘So how do you feel about the fact that someone else has?’

‘It’s another thing that will hurt Loveday when she comes to understand it properly, and I’m sorry about that, but I’ve used up all my grief lately. I don’t have any left for Nathaniel, as callous as that might sound. He has a community to mourn him, and a God to save him. He doesn’t need me.’

Archie realised that he was going to get very little out of Morwenna if she continued in this mood. He had years of experience in breaking down the barriers that people put up against his questioning, but he sensed that this was different: Morwenna wasn’t being evasive; she was simply past caring, about herself or anyone else, and it was almost impossible to get someone in that state of mind to co-operate. There seemed little point in being anything other than direct with her. ‘It seems to me that Nathaniel knew a lot about this estate,’ he said, ‘and he wasn’t particularly wise about who he shared his information with. Was he right to think that Harry deliberately started the fire that killed your parents?’

She looked at him, and he was ashamed of the satisfaction he took from having managed to surprise her. ‘How should I know?’ she said, recovering quickly. ‘I wasn’t here.’

‘No, but you’ve had eight years to think about it. Surely you don’t expect me to believe you didn’t confront Harry after what Nathaniel said to you, even if that was the first time you suspected anything other than an accident?’ Her defiance was irritating him, and he saw no reason to hide his impatience. ‘Harry’s dead, Morwenna – I can’t hurt him, and neither can you. But other people are going to get hurt if someone doesn’t start telling the truth. This estate will be torn apart by lies and secrets, and I’m not just talking about reputations and loyalties. Nathaniel was murdered. Right now, while we’re sitting here drinking tea, his parents are at the mortuary viewing a body that has been smashed to pieces. His God didn’t save him, and neither will He save the next person who opens their mouth at the wrong time. And there will be more killings, I promise you, because none of you are as careful as you should be with your secrets and your threats – it might be you, it might be me, it might even be Loveday, but someone else will die if I don’t get some help.’

‘That’s quite a speech, Archie,’ she said flippantly, but he could see that she was unsettled. ‘How do you know that the fire had anything to do with Nathaniel’s death?’

‘I don’t,’ he said frankly, ‘but I’ve got to start somewhere. Would you rather I went upstairs and got the truth from Loveday? I’m happy to do that, and I’m sure she’d give it to me.’

‘All right,’ she said, and then, more to herself, ‘what harm can it do now, anyway? Nathaniel was right – Harry did start the fire, and he did it deliberately. I didn’t know at the time, but he told me afterwards. Neither of us knew that Loveday had seen anything, but Nathaniel was only confirming what I knew already and thought I could leave in the past.’

‘Did Harry threaten to hurt you if you told anyone about it?’

‘He didn’t need to threaten me. I wouldn’t have betrayed him.’

‘Not even for killing your parents and – for all he knew – Loveday as well? It’s hardly betrayal. He must have forced you to keep quiet somehow.’ She stayed silent and, convinced now that Josephine was right, Archie searched for the best way to ask the question. ‘If he was violent towards you, it’s understandable that you should be too frightened to say anything. Anyone in your position would have done the same.’

‘What?’ She looked at him in confusion, then seemed to realise what he was getting at. To his astonishment, she started to laugh, but it was a hollow sound, close to hysteria, and it filled him with an unaccountable sadness. ‘You’ve got it so wrong, Archie,’ she said eventually. ‘Is that really how you see me? As another Beth Jacks? I loved Harry.’

‘Of course you did, he was your brother.’

‘Oh, what’s the use any more? It’s all falling apart. I didn’t love him as a brother, Archie. We were lovers, and we had been for years. That’s why I would never have said anything. My loyalty has always been to him, not to my parents, and it will always be to his memory, not to theirs.’

Suddenly it all fell into place – the secrecy, the shame, as Josephine had put it; that was the darkness at the heart of this family. How odd that she should be so close to the truth, and yet so far away. Archie could only imagine the strain of keeping such a secret, and the way in which it must have influenced all of Harry and Morwenna’s relationships – their every meeting with another person, in fact. The split between the mask and the reality must have been unbearable for Morwenna since Harry’s death; she must have longed for someone to listen without judgement – or was that simply his own arrogance speaking, his need to do something constructive when he really felt hopelessly inadequate to deal with the strength of Morwenna’s emotions? ‘When did it start?’ he asked

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