time.
Steven held her close. He was a man now, but he felt like the same boy – only much happier. He wondered whether Lewis would guess he’d had sex and he hoped not. The only witnesses he needed to this moment were the silent ones gazing down at them from his walls. Uncle Billy, Angelina Jolie and the Liverpool first eleven.
‘For ever is a long, long time,’ he said carefully.
‘Good,’ said Em. ‘Then we’ll spend it together.’
The next day they walked up the hill to continue rebuilding their lives and the Suzuki, only to find that Ronnie and Dougie had finished the bike for him, and that all Steven had to do was turn the key and kick it over.
He would never have to walk past Rose Cottage again.
The newspapers and TV were all over the children – particularly Steven, who had cheated death twice before he was old enough to drink. Marcie Meyrick came to the door four times – each time with a higher offer. On the final visit, she actually cried.
Much to Davey’s annoyance, his brother had no interest in getting free money, so he sold his own story to a rival reporter from the
They pretty much stopped going there after that, although for many years afterwards Davey would think about the blackened rafters, the dark chimney, and the box of gay junk that Shane hadn’t wanted.
There was, of course, no homecoming to celebrate for David Peach. While the other children were being returned to their families, he watched Channel 4 Racing with DI Reynolds by his side. For some reason, the man who’d led the investigation had chosen to allow his sergeant to bask in the sunshine of the TV cameras and the grateful parents, while
DI Reynolds was no drinker and almost choked on the first shot. But by the fourth he’d got the hang of it.
So they sat and got more and more slumped and slurred – surrounded by a bright sea of flowers and teddy bears that countless well-wishers had left on the doorstep of the little blue house where Charlie had lived …
For a while after his son’s funeral David Peach did think of moving away, but finally he stayed among friends.
Among those he now counted John Took, who wasn’t half the prick he used to be.
Jonas was the only person who was truly surprised by his homecoming.
After three days in hospital he took a taxi home. He arrived at Rose Cottage as the sun dipped below the moor, and found Elizabeth Rice on his doorstep with a bottle of Rioja.
‘The hospital called. Said you’d discharged yourself.’
‘I had things to do.’
‘DI Reynolds wants a chat tomorrow morning.’
‘But not tonight,’ he said.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘Not tonight.’
They went inside and shared the wine at the kitchen table, where Mrs Paddon had left a vegetarian stew and a yellow Post-it note:
Jonas peeled off the note and rolled it into a tight tube between his fingers as they talked.
Actually
They took the bottle into the living room in an action replay that she knew in her loins was going to have a different result this time.
They stood at the window and, as they watched the coming night turn the Exmoor sky as green as the sea, she kissed him properly.
For a moment there was a rush of hunger between them – then he stepped away awkwardly and looked at the rising moon.
‘It’s getting dark,’ he said.
Rice nodded and felt like a fool. An unwanted fool.
From the mantel Lucy Holly watched her, trowel in hand, smiling in a place that was always warm.
‘Where’s that little gold letter knife you had here?’ she said dully.
Jonas turned and looked at her, silhouetted against the oceanic sky, with the moon on one shoulder and Venus at the other.
‘I don’t remember,’ he shrugged.
As Rice left Rose Cottage, Mrs Paddon opened her front door. ‘I told you you were wasting your time,’ she said.
Rice bit her lip.
But only as far as the gate. Then she turned. ‘Why don’t you just piss off, you nosey old bitch?’
Mrs Paddon closed her door quietly and Rice cried all the way back to the Red Lion.
Elizabeth Rice woke hours later because she was cold, and she was cold because the window was open.
She closed it and looked across the haphazard roofs below, and then up at the moon – a brilliant coin with dove-grey oceans. If she’d had a book, she could have read by this light alone, but her books were packed away now in the small bag by the bedroom door, awaiting tomorrow’s departure. Instead, she held up her hand and looked at the lines criss-crossing her silver palm. She wondered whether her future really could be written in those lines, like music in the grooves of an old 45. She wondered what tunes they might play. Love songs or bitter country heartbreakers.
Rice sighed and dropped her hand, and rested her forehead against the cold glass.
The letter knife was on the window-sill.
She flinched as if burned. She failed to breathe.
She stepped gingerly away from the window, and went quickly into the bathroom – coming back with a few sheets of tissue paper. With that, she picked up the little gold dagger with the engraved handle.
By the light of the moon she could read
Even though the window was now closed, Elizabeth Rice started to shiver.
65
JONAS SHOULD HAVE been in Shipcott at the debrief with DI Reynolds, but instead he was walking across the vast flat sands of Weston-super-Mare beach, eating an ice cream.
He’d left his shoes and socks under the ice-cream van; he didn’t think anyone would take them. Not until the van left for the night, at least – but that particular night was hours away.
It was another spectacular day, and he had to eat fast to keep the vanilla from rolling down his knuckles.
There were plenty of holidaymakers, but the beach was so wide, and they were all so close to the ice-cream van, that it seemed deserted.
He approached the new pier. The old one of his dreams had burned down, surrounded by water. He looked around as he passed between the pilings, even though he would not find Lucy here.
He knew that now.
The thought didn’t make him sad. How could he be sad on a day like this? The sun was hot, the sand was cool, the ice cream was sweet, and he’d kept his promise.
He had saved the boy.
Not Charlie, sadly, but the boy that was himself.
People hurt children. Of course they did. That was the truth. But it was also true that children escaped, they recovered and they survived. Steven Lamb was proof of that twice over. Until Bob Coffin had shown him, Jonas had
