Angel With Two Faces (11 page)

She looked in the box that the nurse had given her and found the pathetic remnants of a life which had come to an end long ago: a photograph of Jane as she had once been; a tiny
bunch of dried primroses, washed-out and fragile; an old pair of spectacles; and a well-thumbed prayer book, similar to the one Morveth used to have before she gave it to Nathaniel. The reminder of the young curate was unwelcome here, where she was feeling so vulnerable; his well-intentioned involvement in the lives of their community was so much like her own, and, judging by what Morwenna had said, he was set on making the same mistakes. Unlike Morveth, though, Nathaniel had youth on his side and all the optimism which that entailed; he still thought he could help everyone, and that made him dangerous. With a heavy sigh, she remembered the panic in Morwenna’s eyes when she realised what Nathaniel had found out and naively repeated, and she knew that something would have to be done about it. Would this burden of responsibility that she had brought upon herself never end?

By the time she heard the undertaker’s van draw up below the window, Morveth had fulfilled her promise to Jane and was nearly ready to go. That, at least, was a relief; she hated seeing Jago here in this building, where the memory of another secret hung so tangibly in the air between them. His debt to her could never really be repaid, but it meant that he would always do as she asked, even if, in his heart, he knew it to be wrong. She wrapped Jane’s fingers lovingly around the prayer book and placed the primroses and Isaac’s bluebells on her chest, surprised at how insignificant the fresher flowers suddenly looked next to those that had been picked so many years before. Then Morveth left the room, bowed by a grief which she would have found impossible to put into words.

‘How he expects these poor people to fight Satan on an empty stomach, I’ll never know,’ said Lettice, tossing the book aside in disgust. ‘Apparently, eating weakens your resistance to the devil. If that’s true, I welcome him with open arms at least four times a day. I hope your book’s going to be a little more believable, darling.’

Josephine looked at the cover and was amused to see that Lettice was reading the new Dennis Wheatley. ‘I didn’t have you down as a follower of the occult,’ she said, leaning back and closing her eyes again. The May sun was a shadow of its August self, but it was glorious to feel the promise of summer on her face.

‘I’m not usually,’ Lettice admitted, ‘but I found this in the Snipe’s room and, after what Pa said last night about Morveth and her conjuring trick, I thought I ought to give it a try. I’d hate to think I was missing something on my own doorstep and I thought Dennis might tell me what to look out for. I’m not impressed so far, but I’ll keep going until we get to the Devil’s Mass.’

‘Where exactly did all that business with Harry happen?’ Josephine asked, sitting up and looking back towards the lake.

‘The body or the accident?’

‘Both.’

Lettice refilled their glasses with lemonade. ‘Well, you can’t
see the place where the body came in from here – it’s just round that bend. But this is where he went in.’ She pointed to the nearest shore of the Loe, where it bordered the beach. ‘It looks harmless enough, but it shelves so steeply that you’re soon out of your depth.’

‘And the horse? Where did he swim to?’

‘Right across to the far bank. You see the track that runs back across the fields, just before the trees start on that side?’ Josephine nodded. ‘That’s where Shilling came out. He was in a shocking state – absolutely terrified.’

Josephine looked across Loe Bar, a short band of sand and shingle – no more than a few hundred feet wide – which separated the lake from the sea. It was an extraordinary experience to be able to take in these very different stretches of water in a single view. She was at once enchanted by the unique, detached beauty of the place and fascinated by its violent past; hundreds of people must have died at sea along this stretch of coast, their bodies buried without ceremony where they came ashore, and their souls scorned by the church which stood at the head of the Bar, its stones looking smugly out towards the unmarked graves from the safety of their own sanctified earth.

The beach now was a very different spot from the one she’d been in a few hours ago – the one which was deserted except for what she thought was the body of a young girl. The cricket match – Loe House versus the rest of the estate – was due to get underway shortly, and people had been arriving for the last half-hour or so, dressed in varying shades of white, warming up as if they meant business and seemingly undeterred by the erratic nature of the pitch. The sound of a motorbike drifted across from the track, and shortly afterwards she saw Archie walk leisurely across the sand to where William was gathering
his team together. Nearby, the Snipe was spreading crisp, clean linen over a couple of trestle tables and organising her band of cricket wives, who obeyed her instructions with a military deference. Obviously they would have to do without the smell of freshly cut grass and the tap of boot studs on a wooden pavilion floor, but everything else she expected from an English cricket match was in place. The only note that jarred slightly was walking across the sand towards her: Ronnie’s exquisite wide-brimmed straw hat would have been more in keeping at Henley or Ascot.

‘Those tables have come down here from the wake with indecent haste,’ Ronnie said, looking over her sunglasses. ‘I hope they’ve scrubbed them well.’

Josephine laughed. ‘They don’t actually use them for the body, so I think you’ll be all right.’

‘You didn’t see some of the people at the funeral,’ Ronnie retorted.

Lettice glanced across to where the Snipe was unwrapping plate after plate of sandwiches and cakes. ‘I think I’ll risk it,’ she said, and got up from her deckchair. ‘Looks like Pa’s won the toss, so I’d better go and pad up. Wish me luck.’

‘I didn’t know she was playing,’ Josephine said, impressed, as Lettice walked away.

Ronnie sat down in the vacant deckchair. ‘They don’t call her the Slogger for nothing, you know.’

‘She must be solid if she’s opening.’

‘Oh God, don’t tell me you actually understand the bloody game,’ Ronnie groaned. ‘I was sure I’d have an ally in someone from the land of brown heath and shaggy wood.’

‘And I thought cricket would be right up your street. There’s something very elegant about all those men in white.’

‘Nonsense, dear. Cricket whites have exactly the same effect on a man’s looks as alcohol has on his mood – they just emphasise what’s there already, for better or worse.’

As Archie walked over to say hello, Josephine decided that it was certainly the former in his case, but Ronnie seemed unimpressed by her cousin. ‘I have to say, your daywear has been a little monochrome so far this visit,’ she said to him. ‘Perhaps tomorrow you might be tempted to strike out into a daring shade of grey?’

‘We can’t all be Ivor Novello,’ Archie said good-naturedly, lightly throwing a cricket ball into her lap and helping himself to a cigarette from the case which Ronnie had brought with her.

‘Isn’t it time you got started?’ she asked, lighting it for him. ‘You take all day about it as it is.’

‘We can’t start yet – we’ve only got one umpire and the other team’s a man short. Jago and Christopher haven’t turned up.’

‘Good, then I’ve got time to see the Snipe about some drinks. Come and get me if I’m not back in time for the beginning.’

‘For a non-believer, you seem very keen not to miss anything,’ Josephine said.

‘I’ve got no choice, dear – I’m supposed to be scoring. But you can help me as you’re such an expert.’ She strolled off, and Archie sat down on the sand to put his pads on.

‘Are you in at number three?’

‘Four, but it’s best to be prepared. Our number two’s very unpredictable and Lettice will either stay there all day or be caught behind in the first over.’

‘Is that gamekeeper here?’ Josephine asked.

‘Jacks? Yes, he’s their wicket-keeper.’ He pointed to a tall,
broad-chested man with curly black hair and a moustache. ‘Why?’

‘I always like to put a face to a gun.’ She watched Jacks practising with one of his team-mates. He was younger than she had expected, and had an effortless strength about him. She could only imagine what it must be like to be on the receiving end of a blow from one of those fists, and she wondered again what she should do about the secret she had unwittingly walked in on.

‘Here’s our missing umpire,’ Archie said, as a white-haired man hurried down the slope, holding his hand up in apology. ‘Looks like he’s on his own, though.’

They heard William call across the sand to the late arrival. ‘Where’s Christopher?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ the other man shouted back impatiently. ‘He hasn’t slept in his bed, and there’s no sign of him this morning. I would have been here earlier, but I’m having to do everything without him and I’ve only just got back from the Union.’

‘Don’t worry – you’re here now.’

‘I won’t be able to stay for the whole match, though,’ Jago called, struggling into a white coat. ‘Mrs Trevelyan’s not got long and I can’t stand round here all day. Her grandson’s coming to fetch me when I’m needed.’

‘Christopher’s his son?’ Josephine asked as the umpire walked out to the middle of the rough and ready pitch.

‘Yes. He was the one I told you about who nearly dropped the coffin.’

‘He was in the churchyard late last night, near Harry’s grave.’

Archie looked at her in surprise. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Loveday told me.’ As Lettice walked out to the crease – or the closest approximation that the Bar could manage – she told Archie what had happened earlier that morning. ‘I was just glad to see she was all right,’ she said, looking around for Ronnie. There was no sign of her, so Josephine picked up the scorebook. ‘It worried me to think of her wandering round late at night so soon after her brother’s death.’

‘Yes, although it’s not unusual for Loveday to be on her own,’ Archie said, and Josephine wondered if he realised quite how alone the girl felt. ‘I saw Morwenna on the way here, and she said she’d got back all right.’

‘What was their relationship like? Harry and Morwenna, I mean.’

Archie considered for a moment. ‘They were always close as children,’ he said, ‘in that exclusive way that twins often are. It was a very carefree sort of thing, as far as I can remember, even as they grew up. Neither of them was particularly responsible – but then I was that bit older, and the next generation did seem carefree coming out of the war. It was hard for people my age not to resent that, I suppose. It all changed when their parents died, though. They had to grow up suddenly and pull together, so it was a different kind of relationship – but still close.’

There was a triumphant cry from the pitch, and several of the fielding side ran up to the bowler to slap him on the back. The batsman’s middle stump lay dejectedly on its side, and he walked away from the wicket looking furious with himself. ‘Would it surprise you if it was different behind closed doors?’ Josephine asked as another man walked out to the middle to join Lettice. She told Archie what Loveday had said about the arguments between the twins. ‘I wondered what would make
Morwenna lock herself in her room,’ she said, ‘and the only thing I could think of was that she was afraid of him. If that’s true, you’ve got another candidate for wanting him dead.’

‘You think Morwenna had something to do with Harry’s accident? That’s ridiculous.’

‘Is it?’ she asked, slightly irritated by the dismissal. ‘Loveday says Morwenna lied about being at home when he went into the water, and sending you off on a suicide trail is a marvellous smokescreen.’

‘You didn’t see her,’ Archie insisted. ‘She’s devastated. The idea that Harry committed suicide is tearing her apart. You’re way off there.’

‘All right, all right – I’m only telling you what I thought.’

‘Anyway, you can’t necessarily trust what Loveday says,’ Archie continued, less abruptly but still a little defensive.

‘So everybody says, but she seemed to talk a lot of sense to me.’ They both applauded as Lettice executed a surprisingly elegant square cut for four from the last ball of the over, and Josephine decided to change the subject. ‘Anyway, discovering Loveday has given me an idea,’ she said while the fielders were swapping ends. ‘I’ve got a body on the beach, so I suppose that’s a start. I’ll worry about who she is tomorrow.’ The bowler charged in, seemingly spurred on by his team-mate’s success, and there was a dull thud as the ball hit the new batsman’s pads. ‘That looked pretty plumb to me – I think you’re in.’ Her verdict was confirmed by Jago’s raised finger, and Archie got up. ‘Good luck,’ she said, and he smiled, the tension between them disappearing as suddenly as it had arrived.

As he walked out to the wicket, Archie had to admit to himself that his reaction to Josephine’s hypothesis had
surprised him as much as it had her; he was usually more objective. He chose middle and off, and made his mark on the sand.

‘Don’t make yourself too comfortable, Penrose,’ Jacks said behind him. ‘You won’t be there long.’ There was a chuckle from the slips, offered in a good competitive spirit and without a hint of the malice that lay behind the wicket-keeper’s remark. Well, thought Archie, if he wanted a fight he could have one. The first two balls were short, and he brushed them easily away towards cover for a couple of runs apiece. Comfortably back in his own crease, he smiled at Jacks. ‘It’s a shame Harry’s not here today,’ he said, aware that few things would needle Jacks more than the thought of his old enemy. ‘He was always the star of your team.’

‘We’ve started well enough,’ Jacks said. ‘We don’t need him.’

The next delivery veered wildly to the leg side. Jacks dived to his left, but the ball went wide of his gloves and sped to the makeshift boundary for four byes. ‘Are you sure about that?’ Archie asked as the wicket-keeper picked himself up and scowled. Someone went chasing after the ball, and the estate captain drew back the two slips to create a more defensive field. ‘I gather you saw the accident?’ Archie said, taking advantage of the fact that everyone else was now out of earshot. Jacks ignored him, but Archie had no intention of giving up that easily. ‘I bet your heart leapt,’ he goaded, ‘and I don’t suppose you tried too hard to save Harry.’

‘He was past saving, so don’t start coming the policeman round here. No one in his right mind would go into the Loe, and I’m certainly not playing the hero for that little shit.’

The ball was returned to the bowler, who, as Archie had suspected he would, tried to make up for the loose delivery by
concentrating on a good-length ball. He played a defensive stroke, straight back down the pitch. ‘You must have thought all your dreams had come true at once with Harry out the way. It couldn’t have worked out better if you’d forced him in there yourself.’

‘It wasn’t me doing the forcing that morning. You need to look elsewhere for that.’

‘You mean there was someone else there?’ Archie could have kicked himself for the eagerness in his voice, but he managed to stop short of asking if it was Morwenna. He’d have to sound less desperate for information if he wanted to get anything else out of Jacks, who was clearly enjoying having the upper hand for a while.

‘There might have been,’ the wicket-keeper said, and crouched down ready for the next delivery.

Archie played the next ball effortlessly off his pads, edging it down to long leg, and was furious when Lettice pushed for a third run which took him away from the strike and from Jacks. Stranded at the other end, he opened his mouth to tell Jago about Christopher, but the umpire told him to be quiet before he could utter a word. ‘It’s cricket, Archie, not the bar at the Commercial. There’s been enough chat from you down the other end.’

Never mind: this was the last ball of the over, and Jacks would be back with him as long as Lettice didn’t try too hard to keep the strike. The bowler ran in purposefully, but Slogger had her eye in by now and hit the ball easily away on the off side. It went straight to the man at extra cover and there was no real hope of a single, but Lettice had a habit of being undone by her own optimism and never learned from past mistakes. ‘No!’ Archie shouted, but she was on her way down the pitch
and he had no choice but to run as well. He had started far too late to stand any chance at all: the ball was already coming in from the fielder and, although he dived recklessly for the crease, his bat held out in front of him, he was unlucky with the quality of the throw. Jacks swept the bails off easily, and Archie found himself face down in the dirt.