Angel with Two Faces

after Loveday in this living hell. Sometimes, when I think of how he’s betrayed me, the hatred sticks in my throat and I can hardly breathe. It should have been him who had to live, but he fooled me, and I’ll never forgive him for that.’

If Morwenna really blamed Nathaniel for Harry’s suicide – and Archie was now convinced that it was suicide – she would have had a powerful motive to kill him, and her grief might easily have driven her to it, but he couldn’t help feeling that he was no nearer to understanding Nathaniel’s murder and Christopher’s disappearance than he had been two hours ago. All the things that had confused him about Morwenna’s behaviour in the past, however, were suddenly explained: her defiance and lack of trust, her reluctance to make friends with other women on the estate, even the ease of their own relationship; he had, he realised now, filled the gap that her love for her real brother had left vacant.

After a while, she pulled away from him, in control once more. She started to tidy away the things on the table, and gave an ironic smile when she got to the Tennyson. ‘At least we’re in good company – Arthur’s sister was his downfall, wasn’t she?’

‘Is that how you see yourself – as Harry’s downfall?’

‘Of course it is. He killed himself because I wouldn’t do the one thing that could have made him want to live. You can be very persuasive, Archie, but even you couldn’t convince me that I’m not to blame for his death.’ In a story, this would no doubt have had some sort of heroic grandeur to it, but all Archie could see was a very human misery. He watched as Morwenna picked the book up and opened it. ‘You gave this to me after my parents died,’ she said. ‘Do you remember?’

He nodded. ‘It was meant to be a comfort, but perhaps it wasn’t the most appropriate present I’ve ever given.’

‘You know, all I could think of then was how envious I was of the way that you’d mourned your parents. I wished more than anything that I could have felt a grief as pure as that, as simple. I’m sure it didn’t feel simple to you,’ she said, as he opened his mouth to disagree, ‘but at least there were no secrets and nothing to hide.’ She flicked through pages which looked well read. ‘It’s turned out to be a very valuable present now. Harry died to me twice, you know – as a lover, and then as a brother. I thought I might feel a sense of freedom somehow, but I don’t. Perhaps if I read this often enough, I might believe in something, though. You never know.’

It would take more than Tennyson to comfort Morwenna, Archie thought. Death ended a life, but not a relationship, and grief was always worse when so much had been left unresolved. He doubted that there was anything cathartic about what Morwenna was feeling; all she had to define herself by now was her dead brother’s ghost. There was a noise from above and Morwenna looked up. ‘I must go and see how Loveday is,’ she said. ‘I suppose the things I said about her sounded terrible to you, didn’t they?’

‘Not terrible, no. It must be difficult to have to step into a parent’s shoes when it’s not your choice.’

She seemed grateful for his answer. ‘Difficult isn’t the word. But I am trying to do the best I can for her.’

‘And helping her deal with Harry’s death must be torture for you. I can see why you didn’t thank Nathaniel for confusing the issue.’

‘I have no idea how to cope with it,’ she admitted. ‘What do you tell a fourteen-year-old about death, let alone a death as complicated as this? And because I can’t bear to talk about it, it makes it all unreal to her, somehow – he’s just gone away, and she can’t understand why I’ve taken his photograph down.’

‘They got on well, from what I can remember.’

‘Yes, and more so as she got older. He showed her an exciting world of freedom while all I ever did was tell her what she couldn’t do. She’s lost that now, and I know she blames me in some way. She stays away from home whenever she can, and doesn’t ask much of me. I blamed Nathaniel for that, but it’s my fault, not his. I am sorry he’s dead, you know,’ she said as Archie stood up, ready to go. ‘Do you have any idea who killed him?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘And you wouldn’t tell me if you did.’

‘Probably not,’ he admitted, ‘but – for what it’s worth – I will tell you to stay safe. When Loveday’s well again, try to keep an eye on her. No one should be wandering around at the moment, and steer clear of Kestrel Jacks.’

‘Why? Do you think he had something to do with it?’

‘There’s no reason to suspect him more than anyone else, but you know how he feels about you and, with Harry gone, he might try and do something about it.’

‘It’s ironic, isn’t it? He beats his wife up and we all turn a blind eye to it, but Harry and I loved each other and that’s the sin. Nothing makes sense – not to me, at least.’ Put like that, Archie thought, it was not surprising that she should feel so bitter. ‘Anyway, I doubt Jacks would want me if he knew Harry had got there first,’ she added, walking him to the door. ‘I’d be damaged goods as far as he was concerned. It’s almost worth telling him just to see the look on his face.’

‘You’re not serious, are you?’ he asked, with an urgency in his voice. Her words reminded him of what Jago had said about Loveday, and suddenly he feared for Morwenna: there was a fragility about her which her defiance had never entirely masked, and he sensed in her now a lack of concern for her own welfare which bordered almost on self-loathing. It would smoulder in her, he knew, if she did not try to get over what had happened, but how on earth was she supposed to do that? ‘If you’re worried that I’ll make this public, then don’t be. You’ve told me in confidence, and it has nothing to do with the investigation as far as I can see.’

She surprised him by lifting a hand tenderly to his cheek. ‘It’s nice that you care, Archie,’ she said, ‘but how can it matter now if someone finds out? I don’t feel anything any more. What can hurt me?’

Chapter Fourteen

It had begun to rain softly by the time Penrose arrived back at the Minack and, as the mist drifted in from the sea, drawing the horizon ever closer like a magnet, he saw a very different side to the theatre’s character – a side which made Rowena Cade’s stoic determination to make a success of the venture even more remarkable. He had arranged to meet Angus Trew here to review the scene before proceeding with the investigation; last night, it had been virtually impossible to do anything except get Nathaniel’s body to safety and take the necessary photographs. This morning, while he had no great hopes that the Minack would give up any significant physical evidence, he wanted to fix the area firmly in his mind and make sure that every possibility was covered in the questioning which lay ahead. On the way over, he had called in at the police station in Penzance to see what the camera had managed to capture in its race against the tide, and the stark, black-and-white record of the curate’s terrible death helped to focus his mind. Penrose was aware that his attention had, until now, been spread too thin; he had to concentrate on Nathaniel, and stop letting the business with Harry and Morwenna distract him from a murder case. Their grief needed to be laid to rest, in his own mind at least.

Out of courtesy to Rowena Cade, he stopped briefly at Minack House to update her on the police presence on her property, but she was out walking the cliffs so he made his way over the brow of the hill. No time had been wasted today: a thorough search of the scene itself and the nearby cliff paths had begun at first light and was now drawing to a close. Penrose watched, impressed, as a line of men made their way slowly and systematically up the turf slope towards him; everyone involved was, no doubt, aware that this was likely to be a fruitless search but there was no indication of this in their attitude. A single piece of carelessness at this stage could prove to be costly, and Penrose – who had always been used to a trustworthy second in command – thanked his lucky stars for PC Trew. The young constable – who looked altogether different in his uniform – seemed very at home in charge of the proceedings. He had an easy rapport with the older men, Penrose noticed, and it was no small feat to command respect at such an early stage in his career. If he wanted to, there was no doubt that Trew could rise quickly through the ranks, and he smiled as he remembered his sergeant’s cynical remarks; even Bill would be hard-pushed to find fault here.

Trew looked up and waved. ‘Just finishing up here, Sir,’ he called as he came over.

‘Anything I should know about?’ Penrose asked, without any real optimism.

‘Not a great deal,’ Trew admitted. ‘We’ve been over the whole theatre now, including the steps at either side