Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

He had no idea what he was going to find in the bolted room, and he was totally unprepared for the sight of Amy in an awkward huddle by an ancient gramophone, her hands tied behind her back, a scarf wound over her mouth. He was even more unprepared for the wave of emotion that swamped him.

The record came to the end and the needle scratched against nothing, maddeningly and rhythmically. Jan did not even notice it. He was tearing the scarf away from Amy’s mouth, and dragging at the leather strap binding her wrists.

Gasping explanations showered over him. ‘I couldn’t think how else to make you hear,’ said Amy. ‘I think I might have pulled both shoulders out of their sockets, but I managed to wind the thing up. And—’

It was at this point that Jan pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her shoulders did not appear to be out of their sockets at all, because her arms came round him and she clung to him as if she would never let him go.

‘I’m afraid,’ said the CID inspector, facing Amy, Jan and Derek Haywood in the warm, safe sitting room, ‘I’m very much afraid that your wife, sir, was responsible for Veronica Campion’s death.’

Amy had known someone was going to say this sooner or later, and she thought she was prepared for it. She was not, of course. The words were like blows. But if it was bad for her, it must be agony for Gramps. She looked anxiously at him, and thought that although he had looked pale when he was brought home from the police station, now he looked grey.

But he said, ‘I do realize that, Inspector. Was it because…’ he glanced at Amy, then said, ‘because Veronica and I had been such close friends?’

‘Not entirely,’ said the inspector, and Amy was deeply grateful to him because Gramps instantly looked better. ‘It’s difficult to piece it all together,’ he said, ‘but going on what Miss Haywood told us…’ he looked across at Amy as if checking she was happy for him to go on. Amy nodded, and he said, ‘We think your wife was somehow involved in the death of one – perhaps both – of the bodies at Cadence Manor. And that she was afraid of something coming out about it that would incriminate her.’

‘But those bodies had been down there for fifty years, hadn’t they?’ said Jan. ‘She’d only have been a child.’

‘She was ten when the village was closed,’ said Gramps unexpectedly. ‘That’s not so very young.’

‘Indeed not,’ said the inspector. ‘And if Mrs Campion knew something – was threatening to talk… They were old schoolfriends, remember.’

‘Did you ever find evidence to identify either of the bodies?’ asked Amy.

‘Nothing to speak of. We did find a watch that looks relatively modern, but there’s no means of knowing who it belonged to. Forensics think it was gold-plated but the gold’s almost entirely worn away, so any surface marks have gone.’

‘Will my wife be charged with any of this?’ asked Gramps. ‘With Veronica’s death or the attack on Amy or Dr Malik?’

‘We’re still compiling medical reports, psychiatric assessments, but – I’d say it’s out of the question.’

‘She’s not fit – not mentally fit to stand trial?’ Again Gramps seemed able to face these dreadful facts.

The inspector said, ‘She has no memory of what happened. The psychiatrists don’t think she’s faking that. They think she’s somehow closed off all those acts. I don’t pretend to understand their terms of reference, but they’ve talked about denial of something traumatic – something in her childhood, they think.’

Something in her childhood. I know what it was, thought Amy. Serena Cadence, staring with dead eyes out of a diseased face… She shuddered, then said, ‘Gran talked about a man who had seen her mother commit a murder – well, not commit it exactly, but cause a death. She thought her mother might go to prison or even hang, so she killed him to stop him talking about it. But when she heard the music in the old church—’

‘That was me,’ said Jan.

‘Yes, when she heard that, she thought that man wasn’t dead after all.’

‘And tried to kill him again,’ said the inspector, nodding. ‘Yes, that’s what we’ve put together. But when I tried to question her, she seems to shut down.’

‘What will happen?’ asked Amy.

‘I don’t know. But it’s unlikely she’ll be allowed into the world again.’

Broadmoor, thought Amy, in horror. Or a place like Broadmoor. An asylum for the criminally insane. Gramps will never bear it.

But he surprised again. ‘Can I see her?’ he said.

‘Better not, sir. Not for a while, at any rate.’

After the inspector had gone, Jan got up to follow him, but Gramps, glancing at Amy, said, ‘Would you like to stay to supper, Dr Malik?’

‘I’d be intruding,’ said Jan. ‘You’ve got all kinds of family things to cope with and talk about.’

‘I don’t know about intrude,’ said Gramps. ‘You seem to have been pulled into most of it already. You’d be very welcome,’ he added, and Amy thought he sounded a bit wistful. ‘It’ll only be something simple, of course.’

‘Simple is fine,’ said Jan. ‘If you’re sure it’s no trouble I’d like to stay a bit longer. Thank you.’

‘No,’ said Gramps, leaning forward. ‘Thank you .’

‘For staying to supper?’

‘For saving Amy.’

There was a sudden silence. Then Jan reached out to take Amy’s hand. ‘She’s worth saving,’ he said.

After Jan had gone, Gramps came into the kitchen to help Amy with the washing up. Amy could not ever remember him doing this before.

As they put the plates away, she said, ‘I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll have been a nightmare.’

‘So do I,’ he said. ‘Is that everything done now? Good. Let’s have a brandy.’

When the brandy was poured, he said, ‘Amy, I’m sorry you had to find out about Veronica. I was trying to regain my vanishing youth, I suppose. Silly old fool, aren’t I?’

‘No,’ said Amy at once.

‘I’ve only got a few years to go at the office, you see. I’d been dreading retiring.’

‘Did Gran know you were dreading it?’

‘Oh, no,’ he said at once. ‘She thought retirement was something people should look forward to. She didn’t understand about the loss of the companionship you get in an office, or the loss of – of purpose and usefulness.’ There was a faint rueful smile, a ghost of his usual one. ‘To call my work useful is glossing it,’ said Gramps. ‘A local authority auditor doesn’t exactly save the world or make people’s lives easier. Not like the kind of work your father does, for instance. But it provides a service, you know. It makes sure things are being run honestly and fairly.’

‘I know that,’ said Amy. ‘And you’ll find other things to do when you retire.’ She had half expected him to add something like: ‘Your grandmother was always a bit odd.’ Or, ‘I saw the signs of something wrong years ago.’ But he did not. He was loyal to her in his way, dear Gramps. Amy thought one day they would be able to talk about Gran properly, but for the moment Gramps seemed to find it easier to focus on the practicalities.

He drank some more of the brandy, then suddenly said, ‘I like your academic.’

‘He’s not mine.’

‘I think he’d like to be.’

‘He’s probably got a wife back in Oxford,’ mumbled Amy.

‘He hasn’t.’

‘How d’you know?’

‘I asked him.’

Oh God, Gramps had done the Victorian what-are-your-intentions thing with Jan, and Jan would have been hugely embarrassed, just as Amy was now hugely embarrassed, although it did not matter because now she would never see Jan again.