Simon Beckett - The Restless Dead

I hadn’t. My grasp of history was sketchy at the best of times, and it seemed that every year brought depressing news of more communities hit by flooding. Though apparently that was nothing new.

‘It was a huge disaster in the 1950s,’ Rachel went on, setting down her cup. ‘There was a storm tide that swamped here and northern Europe. It killed hundreds of people on the east coast, and the south-east was really badly hit. Canvey Island was inundated, and Cruckhaven was nearly wiped out. The town survived that, but this is different. Without the harbour it’s hard to see how it’s ever going to recover.’

‘What about the marina development? Wouldn’t that turn things round?’ It was only after I’d said it that I realized anything connected with the Villiers family probably wasn’t the best topic of conversation.

She gave a huff. ‘Don’t get me started. OK, if it was done properly you could probably limit the damage. I’m not a tree-hugger; I know there have to be compromises. But this scheme is basically about taking a wrecking ball to the whole area, burying the marshes under concrete and tarmac and turning the estuary into a glorified waterpark. And because they know people are desperate, they’re dangling the prospect of jobs and prosperity to try and bulldoze any objections. God, every time I hear the name Villiers I could...’

She stopped herself, smiling self-consciously.

‘Well. Never mind. We should be getting back. I promised Fay I’d take her out later, and she doesn’t do waiting.’

She smiled as she spoke, her fondness for Trask’s daughter obvious. I wondered if that was why she’d stayed with the family as long as she had. But I hadn’t realized it was so late either: the wall clock behind the counter showed we’d been sitting there for well over an hour. Reluctantly, I stood up as we prepared to go. I insisted on paying, complimenting the coffee shop owner on her cake, even though my teeth still felt coated with sugar.

‘What are your plans now? I suppose the police want you to take a look at the foot from yesterday?’ Rachel asked as we went back to the Land Rover. She pulled a face. ‘That sounded weird. And don’t worry, I was just asking. I really don’t want to hear any details.’

‘You’re safe enough. I won’t be working on it anyway.’

She looked surprised. ‘How come? I thought you were an expert on that sort of thing.’

‘I think the police feel I’ve done enough.’

‘But if not for you they wouldn’t even have found it.’

I shrugged, not wanting to get into it. ‘That’s how it goes sometimes.’

‘So you’re heading straight off back to London then?’

‘Soon as my car’s ready.’

Rachel was quiet as we walked along the harbour front. I’d been surprised how easy talking to her was, and thought she felt the same way. Now a tension seemed to have come between us. She looked preoccupied as we reached the Land Rover. Taking out her keys, she unlocked it and then paused.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but—’

Her phone interrupted whatever she was going to say. Don’t take what the wrong way, I wondered uneasily? I tried to think if I’d done something else wrong as she answered her phone.

‘Hi, Andrew. I was just... No, why?’

I saw the change come over her expression. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

‘When?’ She listened. ‘OK, I’m on my way.’

‘Everything all right?’ I asked as she thrust the phone in her pocket and threw the shopping bag into the back of the Land Rover.

‘We need to go.’

She was already climbing in and starting the engine. I’d barely managed to get into the passenger side before she was turning the car round.

‘What’s happened?’

Rachel’s face was pale and intent, but the grinding as she crashed the gears betrayed her emotion.

‘Fay’s missing.’

Rachel drove in silence most of the way back to Creek House. She couldn’t tell me much more, only that Trask’s daughter had walked off after an argument with her brother an hour before, and not been seen since. Neither had her dog.

‘Have you any idea where she might have gone?’ I asked.

She slowed to take a narrow bend, then quickly accelerated again. We’d come a different way back, making better time now the tide was low enough to permit the old Defender to bump across still-flooded crossings. ‘Probably into the Backwaters. Apparently she got bored of waiting for me and wanted Jamie to go out in the boat with her. He was busy so she went off in a strop.’

I could hear the self-recrimination in her voice, and felt some of my own. If I hadn’t asked Rachel for coffee she’d have been back home by now. And Jamie had probably been busy working on my car.

‘Has she done anything like this before?’

‘Once or twice. Andrew’s forbidden her to go off by herself, but it hasn’t always worked.’

I felt a little less worried when I heard that. The young girl’s disappearance sounded more like a tantrum than anything more serious.

We’d reached a causeway I recognized as the one where my car had been caught by the tide. It was still partially covered by water, visible only as a pale strip below the surface, but Rachel didn’t hesitate. Dropping to a low gear she drove out on to it, sending a surge of water up around the wheels. I stiffened reflexively, then relaxed. It obviously wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and with its drainpipe-like snorkel the old Land Rover made the crossing seem easy.

Reaching the other bank, she accelerated away again. She drove straight past the boathouse, and in much less time than it had taken Trask to tow me we were at Creek House. Jamie was already running towards us as we pulled on to the gravelled parking area. My own car stood nearby, untended but with its bonnet still open. Rachel wrenched on the handbrake and jumped out.

‘Is she back yet?’

‘No.’ Trask’s son looked pale and worried. He barely spared me a glance. ‘Dad’s getting the boat out.’

‘What happened?’ Rachel asked as they headed back towards the house. Not knowing what else to do, I went as well.

‘Nothing, but you know Fay. She kicked off on one when I wouldn’t drop everything and take her out in the boat.’

‘Did you see her go?’

‘No, but not long after that Dad couldn’t find her. She wasn’t in the house and Cassie’s gone as well. They’re not around here, so she must have taken herself off into the Backwaters. God, she is such a spoiled little—’

‘That’s enough.’ Trask had appeared from around the side of the house as we emerged from the copse, coiling a nylon rope in his hands. ‘If you had more patience with her she might not keep acting like this.’

‘Not just me, is it?’ Jamie muttered under his breath. His father turned on him, jaw muscles clenched.

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing.’

I was beginning to feel more like an intruder than ever. This was a family spat: I’d no business being there. I certainly wasn’t needed.

Still, since I was there I could at least offer. ‘Can I help?’ I asked, more to break the tension than anything else.

With a last hard look at his son, Trask turned to me. ‘No, it’s all right. You might as well—’

We all heard the dog at the same time. There was a low whine from off down the path, and a moment later the girl’s pet appeared through the trees. Its coat was wet and muddy, as though it had been in the creek, and it was limping as it hobbled along the path. I looked past it, but there was no sign of Trask’s daughter. The animal whined again and as it drew closer I saw its fur was clogged with something darker than mud.