Martin Edwards - The Coffin Trail

‘I don’t think we were brave. Rash, yes.’

‘I suppose that at least you knew Brackdale. You were friendly with Barrie Gilpin.’

‘That’s right. He was a good companion.’

She said tightly, ‘It’s a shame that everyone remembers him — the way they do.’

‘Your husband is very sure that Barrie killed the girl.’

‘Tom’s very sure about everything.’ She added, as if it was an explanation, ‘He was in the forces, you know.’

Daniel kept quiet, guessing that she hadn’t picked him up out of mere altruism. She needed someone to talk to. He was aware of her trembling in the seat beside him, as if she were worrying that it was a step too far even to hint that her husband’s judgment might not be perfect. Her eyes were locked on the road ahead, although even when it straightened, her speed did not exceed twenty miles an hour. Her natural caution was, he suspected, allied to a conscious fear of the consequences of doing the wrong thing. Anger welled up inside him as he contemplated the ways in which the strong may subjugate the will of the weak. But even if Allardyce used his fists to cow his wife, at least he had failed to rob her of the capacity for independent thought.

After a few moments she said, ‘I felt sorry for Barrie, but after he died, there was nothing more anyone could do for him. Tom said it was all for the best.’

‘Not if Barrie weren’t guilty.’

‘No, no.’ Her voice broke. ‘It ruined his mother’s life, you know. Wrecked it. The way people turned from her, if she went into the village. No wonder she hid away. She was almost a hermit, by the end. The innocent always suffer, don’t they?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They suffer most.’

‘And yet, that’s Tom’s point. He says it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.’

‘Do you agree?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said unhappily, slowing as they approached the market square. ‘I simply don’t know.’

Joe Dowling, his tan apparently replenished by a spell under the sun lamp, came out of The Moon under Water, watering can in hand. He smirked at Jean Allardyce, but treated her passenger to a scowl. Jean edged around the marked-out spaces, but there was no sign of a gap in the rows of cars. A yellow Alfa had double-parked opposite Tasker’s, and Daniel saw Tash Dumelow checking her rosy lipstick in the rear view mirror. As she caught sight of them, a broad smile spread across her face and she waved energetically in greeting.

Daniel waved back and said to Jean, ‘What’s she like to work for?’

‘Over the years, Tash has been very kind to Tom and me.’ To his surprise, Jean’s reply was neither perfunctory nor dutiful, but oddly elegiac. ‘We don’t see that much of Simon, but they make a lovely couple. Tash may not have been to the manor born, but you couldn’t wish for a nicer boss.’

Remembering the bitchiness of the Senior Common Room, he said lightly, ‘So life in the Lakes isn’t all bad, then?’

‘Probably not,’ she said. ‘You really shouldn’t take any notice of me. I’m — not myself at the moment.’

‘Thanks for the lift, anyway. If you could drop me off around here…’

Greatly daring, Jean halted the Land Rover precisely over the double yellow lines. Daniel wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d told him it was the first time in her life she’d flouted the parking regulations. Perhaps he was a good influence on her. She’d be farting in public next.

‘Will this do?’

‘Perfect. It’s very good of you.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ she said absently. He could tell that her thoughts had flown away. To the little house on the prairie? ‘I suppose it’s true what they say. All good things must come to an end.’

The cottage was quiet as he reached their new front gate. His legs and back were aching after the long walk: too many years sitting in libraries, hunched over old manuscripts. He glanced at his watch: quarter-past five, a later return than he’d intended. At least Wayne’s rusty white van had disappeared, so there was no one else in the house. Pausing on the threshold, he took in a draught of air. Time to put things right with Miranda.

She was curled up on the living room sofa, in her white gown, listening to Sheryl Crow. As he walked in, she glanced up and gave him a little smile. He sat down beside her, so that their legs touched, and put his arm around her shoulder, feeling the bone beneath the towelling.

‘I was about to have a bath,’ she whispered.

Something was bothering her, he knew her well enough to be certain of it. Wanting to let her share it in her own time, he said nothing and waited.

‘I feel dirty.’ She bent towards him, so that her face nestled against his. He felt the dampness of tears on his cheek.

‘What is it, Miranda?’

‘It’s — well, it’s Wayne.’

A cold apprehension fingered him. ‘What about Wayne?’

‘After you’d gone, I went to bed. I felt so drained, I needed some sleep. When I woke up, it was after three o’clock and I had a headache. I came downstairs for something to eat and an aspirin and he was in the kitchen, making himself a drink. We were chatting, it was all very friendly, I didn’t even mind that he’d stopped work. He was telling me that he was a keen angler, describing the excitement an angler feels when he catches something. I told him a bit about life in London. And then, just as I was starting to feel okay — well, he made a pass.’

Daniel tightened his grip on her. ‘What did he do?’

She closed her eyes. ‘He put his hands around me. I think he must have gone into the village for a drink at lunchtime whilst I was asleep. He pulled me towards him, his breath smelled of beer.’

Daniel could picture the young man’s leering face, as he decided to take advantage of his opportunity. So many if onlys were passing through his mind.

Miranda kept talking, the words coming out faster as she remembered. ‘It was just as if I was a carp he’d caught and he was reeling me in. I screamed and slapped his face. Daniel, I was out of my mind, I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. He and I were all alone here and I didn’t have a clue when you’d be back.’

Daniel swore. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

‘Thank God, he — he backed off, as though he couldn’t believe I wasn’t surrendering. His cheek was bright red where I’d hit him. It looked so absurd, I’d have laughed out loud if I wasn’t so scared. He turned on his heel, jumped into his van and drove off down the lane. Brakes squealing as he rounded the bend and disappeared. I called his firm straight away and told his boss what had happened. He promised to sack Wayne and asked if I wanted to tell the police, make a charge of assault. I said no, as long as I never have to see him again. The man said of course not. Eddie can finish the work.’

‘Never mind the work. As long as you’re all right.’

She took in a breath. ‘I think so.’

‘We must hire a different builder.’

‘Don’t make a fuss, I just want to forget it ever happened. Everything’s sorted. It was awful, but it only lasted a few seconds. Now it’s over.’

‘Oh God, Miranda. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay, darling. It’s not your fault.’

‘The bastard, the utter bastard. I shouldn’t have left you here with him.’

‘I’m a grown-up. Besides, he’s a chancer, not a rapist. There was no real harm done.’ She took a breath. ‘He simply jumped to conclusions — about you and me. He thought he was in with a chance.’

‘He was eavesdropping when we quarrelled.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ she said, wriggling away from him so that they were standing face to face. ‘Perhaps I was mean.’