Sea Gem (22 page)

Her hand touched the cob’s forelock; pushing it back the correct way, she sighed. Yesterday’s hot anger had been replaced by the cold variety coupled with bitterness at how her
husband had duped them all. She climbed into the trap, clicked her tongue and shook the reins. The amiable cob obliged by moving into a slow trot.

She went along the coast road, intending to cut through the country lanes to King’s Mill and head into town in that direction. It made a change and the fields and hedges would be greenly
soothing, a balm to her injured spirit.

Mary thought about Duret. Surely he would not know he had been found out, so how would he react? Which was the best way to get him off the island and what excuses should be made to the children?
She turned once and saw a cycle in the distance but otherwise she seemed to have the island to herself. The few cottages that were around gave no indication of life as men had gone fishing and
their women were inside.

One mile back, Duret glowered at the retreating trap and drove harder on his pedals. Frequent use had made his legs fit and hard and there was plenty in reserve for a burst of speed.

His tangled mind rested upon the picture of Mary and Victor standing close together like old friends. Was there something between them? Was Grandmère part and parcel of this? His warped
mind considered Edwin. Why had Mary rejected him for so many months after William’s birth, then enticed him back again with a framed poem? Was it possible that Edwin was le Page’s brat?
Had he been cuckolded?

His thrashing by le Page before the women of his family was a bitter humiliation but the final straw had been Grandmère offering her arm to the victor and taking him into her cottage.

Something black swirled in his mind that he did not understand. What he did know was he had a great headache and was obsessed with his wife. He would have all this out with her, once and for
all. He had been too weak. His friends were correct. He had spent the whole night walking, mind ablaze with injustice, and now he was ready to do something about it. The evil in his wife must be
burned out and, as her husband, the task was his alone.

Mary drove blithely on, worrying about the lost stones and what might have been done with them. She turned left and slowed the trap’s pace, wary now of cars that might appear. Once again
she wondered at the island fetish of such high hedges, which reduced nearly all visibility at bends, but the islanders guarded their land and its boundaries jealously.

Suddenly the cob began to limp on his off fore and Mary hastily pulled up, secured the reins and sprang down. She picked up the hoof and saw the shoe had moved to one side, the nails worn thin
and three clenches loose. Mary stifled a groan. Sam usually checked the cob’s hooves but, in his absence, she should have done this. She would have to turn around and walk home unless she
could see someone but the region appeared to be deserted.

At that second, Duret shot around the corner on his rattling cycle. He had two seconds to avoid a crash and swung to the right wobbling over the grass verge while Mary stood flat-footed with
astonishment.

‘Duret,’ she growled, feeling her smouldering anger burst into flames.

Duret jerked to a halt and dismounted with a scurrying jump, then dropped the cycle and turned. He noted where the cob stood and spotted the loose shoe. He faced his wife and quickly realised
she knew everything.

‘I’m glad you’ve decided to emerge from your bolthole,’ Mary shouted angrily. ‘I want a word or two with you!’

Duret looked at the cold contempt on her face. Once such an expression would have frozen him but his jealousy was too strong. He took a step nearer, moving slowly but purposefully.

‘You are a common thief!’ Mary hurled at him. ‘You took the diamonds from behind Tante’s picture to settle your miserable gambling debts and to buy drink. How dare
you!’

Duret glowered at her. ‘They were as much mine as anyone else’s. I’m the heir!’

‘You’re nothing but a miserable, gutless object who stoops to stealing his children’s inheritance.’

‘If they are all my kids!’

‘What!’ Mary gasped. How could he know? Only she had that knowledge. Was he making an educated guess or did he see something different in Edwin? She realised he was in a terrible
mood and knew instinctively attack was the best form of defence.

‘Why didn’t you say you were in financial trouble?’ she continued. ‘Why did you have to start drinking and gambling? Why didn’t you do your share of the work
instead of being a drone, mooning off writing that stupid poetry? You disgust me!’

Duret glared at her. She stood proud and defiant, raging at him, incredibly beautiful in her fury but all he could see was le Page standing next to her. Something was making his fingers clench
and unclench as niggles of power began to surge through his muscles.

‘I cannot think what I ever saw in you,’ Mary ranted on. ‘You’ve been no good to me since you returned to this island and don’t try and plead the shell shock. Other
men suffered far worse than you and recovered. No, you are simply an idle drone, not fit to associate with decent people. You expect everything to be done for you. During the last five years
I’ve had to carry you. You are totally useless to me, the children and the Noyen family. I am more than through with you in my bed and my home. You are finished on Guernsey. You will be made
to leave and what you do elsewhere is of no consequence to me now, or in the future!’

Duret took a small step nearer until he stood one foot from her. Mary glowered at him, then a tiny pucker appeared on her forehead. His brown eyes were narrow and they gleamed with an expression
she had never seen before. She glanced down and saw his hands were flexing, clenching into fists then opening again. She shot a look up again and held her breath. Instead of Duret’s usual
dreamy face he wore an implacable mask and had become a stranger to her. In a flash it shot through Mary’s head that he was no longer normal. Something had tipped him over the thin line
dividing sanity from insanity. Whether it was inherited, a trick of breeding or the throwback result of the war, she had no idea. What did register was her peril.

She was memorised by his hands, which were large for his body height. The hands which had fondled her now seemed wicked and terrifying. Mary forced her mind into quick action as alarm whipped
her nerves. With a sudden swerve that took him quite unawares, she spun on her heels and raced back down the lane towards the coast road in the wild hope someone might have appeared.

She was fast and agile, driven by fear and had the advantage for the moment. Behind her, she heard him below with rage.

‘Stop, you slut!’

Mary’s legs pounded as her chest heaved, sucking in the great gasps of air. Her ears strained to hear him behind, then she burst onto the coast road. A quick look in both directions showed
it was empty; there was nowhere she could bolt to for safety. She flung a look at the rear and saw Duret pounding after her, head low, teeth bared in fury.

Running away was anathema to Mary but there was nothing else she could do. She eyed the road. It was impossible to race back to Cobo. He would catch her in no time. She flung a look at the beach
where the tide was advancing briskly. It pushed forward in fairly strong waves, cream-topped, hissing and spluttering with the power of a brisk wind.

Mary hurtled over the road, leaped the tiny parapet, stumbling on the sand, down towards the waves. There were a few rocks there and surely she could at least find a stone as a weapon? The sea
moaned towards her, the waves a little bigger than she had anticipated, tumbling over and over, frothy and clean.

She made for a small collection of rocks and looked around in panic for a stone then her right shoe scuffed and a piece of rock broke loose. Bending she grabbed it and turned. He was nearly on
her. At the same time, the next wave was stronger than the others and advanced with a rush, surging over her knees.

‘Now I’ve got you!’ Duret snarled plunging in the water facing her, making a grab for her left hand.

‘You’re mad!’ Mary screamed at him and raised the rock.

‘You’re le Page’s whore!’ he roared back.

His hands shot out and aimed for her long, slender neck, meeting with their finger ends at the back in a vice-like grip. Mary lifted her right hand and brought it around. She slammed the rock
against Duret’s forehead at the temple. At the last second he saw it, anticipated the blow and swerved aside.

‘Bitch!’ he snarled and tried to tighten his grip.

Mary felt his fingers had loosened a little with his swerve and jumped backwards. He followed her without thinking, his eyes wild and murderous now. Spittle flew from his mouth just as a very
large wave hit them. It thundered against their legs and it was Duret who was the most off balance. He staggered while Mary fell backwards, the wave covering her. Duret was pushed the other way by
the wave’s power and he flung his arms out in a desperate attempt to regain his equilibrium. Then his feet went from under him and he disappeared in the wave.

Gasping and spitting Mary struggled to stand. Her sodden clothing was heavy and there was a pain in her side. The wave went back a few feet then another came, even larger and stronger. She felt
its power and tried to push forward, out of the sea’s reach. With a mighty effort she waded clear and stood bent over, gasping for breath which rasped in her throat. The red mist in her eyes
began to retreat and slowly turning her head, she look for Duret.

Her eyes widened as she saw him floating face down, going backwards and forwards in the waves’ tugs. She stood frozen. His body was limp, his head and neck moving aimlessly to the
sea’s surges. Her shoulders slumped as she closed her eyes. Duret was dead but from her hand or by the sea? Violent trembles rolled through her nerves as she started to shake
uncontrollably.

‘Lady! Lady! Are you in trouble?’

Mary turned quickly, one hand going to her hair, feeling its sodden cap clinging to her skull. A man appeared, jumped the parapet and ran towards her with huge strides. She saw he was young,
dressed in a rough fisherman’s guernsey which had seen better days. He wore light shoes which were sandy and which, oddly, matched his ginger hair and freckled face.

‘Here!’ Mary called and pointed.

He took one look then waded into the water, grasped Duret’s arms and dragged him back on the sand. The body flopped inelegantly, the head and neck lying at a crazy angle.

‘He’s dead, lady!’ The young man looked at her with a question in his eyes.

Mary struggled to collect her wits, appalled at what had happened. She was trembling all over and hastily plonked herself down on the sand, oblivious to her wet state. She bowed her head and
fought for control. Finally, gritting her teeth, she looked at the young man who stood in uneasy silence regarding her carefully.

‘Do you know Cobo?’ Mary asked.

He nodded and waited, catching his breath. He certainly did know it and well too even though it wasn’t his parish.

‘Go to the Noyens,’ Mary said wearily, waving one hand northwards. ‘Get Sam Mahy. The cob and trap are in the lane up there. The cob’s shoe has moved. Sam will have to
borrow something else.’

Mary paused. It was difficult to think straight and she had gone bitterly cold. She shivered and bit her lip.

‘Drag the body against the wall and I’ll sit there until you bring help,’ she said, then looked up into his serious eyes. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Raymond Falla, Madam, and I’m courting Gwen Ozanne so I do know where to go.’

Mary blinked and examined him a little more closely. Emily had given her a brief résumé of the young man who was hanging around showing an interest in Raoul’s sister.

‘I see,’ she said thoughtfully, then took a deep breath. ‘Well, off you go then and please hurry. I’m cold.’

‘There’s my cottage half a mile away,’ Falla said.

Mary shook her head quickly. ‘No! I’ll stay with the body.’

Raymond Falla waited no longer. His mind buzzed with questions. What on earth was the young Madam Noyen doing in the sea in the first place and fully dressed? He scented an exciting story and
was anxious to relate what he had seen to Gwen.

The Fallas were an old island family who had always been poor; poverty was a way of life with them. He and his parents lived in a bleak two-roomed cottage, set well back from the coast road and
hidden, so it was unknown to most people. The floor was only hard packed earth. The furniture was skimpy and sparse except for a cherished Green Bed. The three of them often lived a hand-to-mouth
existence relying upon the sea whose moods could be fickle. When they caught fish they ate well. When they didn’t, they existed on root soup or went hungry. Their cottage had neither
sanitation nor good well water so Raymond was the only one of a bunch of children who had not succumbed to disease.

For a long time, Raymond Falla had not given all that much thought to how other people lived on the island. They had no pony and trap, no cycle and even his young, tough legs rarely did the walk
to the capital. What was the point when he never had money to spend? It had been chance that had taken him to Cobo one day when he had seen Gwen Ozanne hanging out washing. There had been something
about her that had attracted his attention. She was well made with elfish features and eyes that twinkled.

He had ventured to strike up a conversation and gradually, in what spare time he had from gardening, growing food and fishing, he had commenced a gentle courtship. He was the type who would have
little interest in the town girls whose first thoughts were for make-up and pretty clothes combined with trips to the pictures.

Somehow, without either of them knowing exactly how it had happened, they knew they were pledged to marry but Raymond’s great problem was upon what. Fishing was a precarious way in which
to earn a living and he had often been awed at what he had seen inside the Noyen house when the door was left open. It was possibly the first time he had become envious of those with money, wanting
some of it for himself. No children of his were going to be reared in an unhealthy cottage with an earth floor.