Nicola Upson - Angel with Two Faces

Josephine’s reference to Christopher reminded Archie of his own conversation with the undertaker, when he had referred to Loveday as damaged goods. ‘Did you tell Jago what you suspected about Harry and Loveday?’

‘Yes. He knew what had gone on before – between Harry and Morwenna, I mean. Sam Pinching was his best friend, so he knew what Harry was like.’

‘The sins of the brother, you mean? So easily repeated with the next sister in line?’ Until now, Archie had managed to maintain a professional detachment, but Morveth’s unwitting manipulation of the lives around her – and the willingness of others to be so easily led – suddenly disgusted him. ‘No wonder Jago was so determined to keep Christopher and Loveday apart, and I’m not surprised he denied any relationship between them – he wouldn’t want his son lumbered with the product of an incestuous relationship.’ He thought about his promise to Morwenna to keep her past out of the investigation, and questioned now that he would be able to stay true to his word: how far had the myth of Harry and Loveday actually travelled, he wondered? ‘Do you think that Jago would have gone as far as saying something to Christopher to put him off Loveday?’

‘No – he’d never do anything like that. He knew he had to keep it to himself.’

‘Really?’ Archie said sceptically, wondering how a woman as intelligent as Morveth could be so oblivious to the irony of what she was saying. ‘Did anybody tell Nathaniel?’

‘Absolutely not. He would have done something about it.’

Like give Harry a chance to defend himself, Archie thought, remembering that the curate’s first response to Loveday’s account of the fire had been to ask the accused man for the truth. ‘Did Harry know what you were all so ready to believe him capable of?’

‘Not at first, no. But Morwenna confronted him with it eventually. She couldn’t help herself.’

‘She told me that she’d accused Harry of never really loving her on the night he died – that was about Loveday, wasn’t it?’

‘I suppose it must have been.’

‘Jesus – no wonder he killed himself,’ Josephine said. ‘The woman he loved – the only woman he could ever love – accused him of turning to their little sister?’

‘But why didn’t he deny it?’ Archie asked, bewildered. ‘Why would he just accept it and say nothing?’ It was, he realised, exactly what Nathaniel said Harry had done when asked about the fire – except then he had been guilty as charged.

‘Perhaps the knowledge that Morwenna could even think that of him was enough to make him want to die,’ Josephine suggested.

‘But they saw each other again after the argument,’ Archie said. ‘And Harry was kind to her – like his old self, she said. He ought to have been indignant with her – furious, even. Why would he make his peace and ride into the lake because of something he didn’t do? It just doesn’t make sense. Something else must have happened in between.’ He looked questioningly at Morveth.

‘That wasn’t the only reason he might want to take his own life,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘He might have tried to make Morwenna see the truth after he’d calmed down, but by then it was too late.’

‘Why? What happened?’

‘He’d done something that couldn’t be denied.’

‘Will you please stop talking in bloody riddles and just tell me what else you know? When was the last time you saw Harry?’ Morveth hesitated, so he asked again. ‘Did you see him on the night he died?’

‘Yes.’

‘At last – we’re getting somewhere,’ he said. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Hesitantly, Harry took a step towards Morwenna and went to touch her face, trying to blot out the memory of the last time the two of them had stood here together, when he had raised his hand to her in anger.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she said, taking a step backwards. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘Don’t come anywhere near me.’

The combination of shock and loathing in her eyes almost made him falter, but he carried on, desperate to make her understand. ‘At least let me explain,’ he said.

‘Has someone kept you away from here until now? Held you prisoner, and prevented you from popping home to tell me that you weren’t actually dead?’

‘No, of course not…’

‘Then how can you possibly explain what you’ve put me through? Do you know what it was like waiting by that lake every day, dreading the moment they found you and yet hoping against hope that you really were dead? Of course you don’t – if you had any idea, you wouldn’t be here now. You left me alone to pick up the pieces of the mess you ran away from. And what about Loveday? All right, so you could do it to me, but how could you make her suffer? Unless… oh God, no – have I really been that stupid?’ Blindly, Morwenna felt behind her for the door handle, then turned and left the house.

‘Unless what?’ he shouted, following her out into the garden. He grabbed her by the arm and made her turn back towards him. ‘Morwenna, tell me what you mean.’

‘Did she know all along? Is this something you made up between you – one of those precious secrets she kept telling me about? She must have known. How else could she have been so sure?’

‘No – I swear Loveday didn’t know. No one knew. I did this for you – only for you. For us.’

‘There is no us, Harry,’ Morwenna said, looking at him, and the quiet certainty with which she spoke frightened him more than her anger or her scorn. ‘There never really has been, has there? We were a sickness, you and I – that much was obvious to me when I found out that you could move on so easily. Everything I thought I was – every honest feeling I’ve ever had – was twisted and warped beyond all recognition when you betrayed me with Loveday. What sort of life do you think that left me with? Now you walk back in here and start talking about us – with God knows who in your grave and some other poor woman going through the hell of not knowing what’s happened to the person she cares about. And do you know what the most priceless thing of all is, Harry? You honestly thought I’d be pleased to see you, didn’t you? Well, didn’t you?’ she shouted, infuriated by his silence.

‘Not straight away, perhaps,’ he lied, trying to ignore the emptiness in her voice whenever she spoke his name, ‘but when you’d had a chance…’

‘A chance to what? Calm down?’

‘To understand.’

‘You just don’t get it, do you? Do you really want to know what I felt when I turned round and saw you standing there, holding Loveday’s hand? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’

‘That isn’t true,’ he said, more defiantly than he felt. He had played out his meeting with Morwenna a thousand times in his head, anticipating her anger, her horror, her disbelief. Not once, though, had he imagined that she could be indifferent and, even to his own ears, his insistence that she would eventually understand felt hollow and ridiculous. He remembered now how tongue-tied he always became whenever they argued as children, how her spirit made everything he said sound slow-witted and insensitive, and suddenly, standing in front of her, his despair was greater than it had ever been in those long weeks apart.

‘There’s nothing left here, Harry, where it matters,’ Morwenna said, holding her hand against her chest. ‘You made sure of that. Ironic, isn’t it? Both of us back here, alive and dead at the same time.’ She laughed bitterly and took his face in her hands, forcing him to confront the darkness in her eyes that he had tried so hard to ignore. ‘Look at me – look at what you’ve done. We were two parts of the same person, you and I – locked together, for better or worse. What you’ve done has tainted us both. When you ceased to exist, so did I. But there’s no coming back for me – not any more. That’s the difference between us.’ He felt her fingers trace the thick growth of stubble, searching for the familiar contours of his face as if she could somehow find their past there. ‘Why didn’t you let me die when I wanted to?’ she asked. ‘It would have been so much kinder than this.’