He sat on a wooden feeding trough and stared out across the salt marsh. He had to remember that he was not dealing with a rational person, to remind himself that Kate was ill and that was why she was behaving as she was. Most of all, despite her betrayal, he knew she still loved him.
He felt drained. Empty and confused, and lonely. Then he thought of Matt and Liz. Matt was right. He should say nothing to Kate about what she’d done. After all, she had suffered a similar illness in the past and come through it. With his help and love, she would do it again.
His phone rang. It was Matt. ‘I’ve been thinking, Will, and I had to ring.’
‘You can only be five minutes up the road!’
‘I know, but listen. You know how much Kate is obsessed with the house. I swear she simply couldn’t stop herself from going to the Holland woman’s funeral. To her mind, she had no choice. It had nothing to do with not wanting to go to Canada with you. Just think, she really couldn’t have stood at a graveside, not after little Emma. It would have destroyed her. The Holland funeral was quite different. She saw it as a responsibility that she couldn’t neglect. She was compelled to go. You do see where I’m coming from, don’t you?’
Will exhaled. ‘Yes. Yes, I think I do.’
‘So, keep what you know to yourself, okay?’
Will felt a rush of affection for Matt Ballard. He was truly lucky to have such a caring friend. ‘I’ll do as you say, Matt. And we’ll talk tomorrow. Oh, and thank you. I could have really blown it this evening.’
‘Hang on in there, my friend.’
Will spent the rest of the way back to the house rehearsing what he would say to Kate. He had never been a good actor. Eventually, he decided to blame any change in his behaviour on the pain in his arm.
He opened the door to a silent house. Maybe she was in her studio again. Then she came in from the garden and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek.
‘How is Mrs Swain? You were gone ages. I was worried about you.’
He choked back his sarcastic retort and managed a grin. ‘She’s gone to stay with a friend. Matt has her key, and we said we’d forward her mail. She’s understandably cut up. In fact, she’s thinking of moving away.’
‘Oh no! That’s terrible. The poor thing. It’s not fair!’ She brushed a strand of hair from her face and he noticed how prominent her cheekbones were. He hadn’t expected her to show so much sympathy for Emilia’s plight, and it took him aback slightly. Recently she hadn’t seemed to care much about anyone or anything other than the house.
Will tried to keep his voice level. ‘I’m sure she’ll see things differently if we can nail the bastards who are doing this.’
‘We?’
‘Sorry. I meant the police — and Matt and Liz.’
She touched his face gently. ‘Do you miss it very much?’
He swallowed. Her mood swings were very hard to cope with. He didn’t know who he was talking to any more, or how to respond. He was tired of having to constantly try not to upset her. ‘Oh, you know, sometimes, I guess. But there is plenty to do here, isn’t there?’
She looked miserably down at her trainers, and then into his eyes. ‘You are having to do everything, aren’t you, my Bear? You are carrying me at present, and it’s not fair on you. I promise that as soon as this book is finished, I’ll pull my weight again, I really will.’
He wondered vaguely why, after an encouraging start, all his good nourishing meals seemed to have made no difference to her. He ran his fingers through her hair. How dry it was. Only a short while ago her hair had been rich and shiny, full and thick. She was turning into a black-and-white negative, all colour drained from her. She, who had shone so brilliantly. He held her to him and kissed her. ‘I love you, babe. I’ll do it, for as long as it takes.’
She kissed him back. ‘I love you too.’
He began to berate himself for his anger over the way she had sneaked off to attend that woman’s funeral. If she was sick, she needed his support, not his condemnation. Perhaps it would not be so difficult to act normally after all.
‘I want you to see something, Will. Come up to the studio.’
He started. She wanted him to see her work? He followed her upstairs.
The studio was unusually tidy. Only the doll, leering at him from the windowsill, jarred. He looked away.
‘I have been forced to accept that if I really want to spend time on the house, and my own work, I have to get Angela’s illustrations out of the way, so . . .’ She removed the paper covering from her worktable. ‘I admit that I was working all hours, but I’ve produced these.’ She stood back.
Will approached the table, looked down and gasped. ‘This is for the new book? You’ve done all these? That’s amazing.’
The table was covered with finished illustrations, every one of them delicate, intricate. They must have taken hours to complete. Looking closer, he noticed that they seemed darker, slightly more malevolent than the ones she had done for previous books. He wondered if this was intentional, because of the storyline, or whether her depression was creeping into her work. ‘They are incredible, darling. This new character is quite powerful, isn’t she?’
‘Mmm, she turned out just as I hoped. And seeing that Angela’s next book is the last, I thought I’d ramp it up a bit. Give her Magical Garden of Gort a bit of an edge.’
Well, you certainly did that, thought Will.
‘I just have the main plate to finish now, and then it’s done.’ She went to her easel and took the cover from her work in progress.
Again Will gasped. ‘What’s her name? She’s amazing!’
Kate laughed, and he heard the old Kate in it. ‘She’s called Alyena. I think Angela drew the inspiration for her from Helen of Troy. She was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the known world.’
‘Wow. Well, she’s that, alright!’ Alyena was indeed beautiful, but he detected the slightest hint of cruelty around her lips.
Will stood back and couldn’t help taking a quick glance around, just to see where her collection of “alternative” paintings was stacked. He spotted them at the back of the room, all shrouded in dust-sheets. Now he knew where to find them when he returned to take his clandestine shots for Laura.
‘You can see why I was so tired,’ Kate was saying, ‘but all for a good reason. Two more sessions on Alyena here and I can kiss the bloody fairies goodbye for a while, and do what I want to do.’
‘And eat and sleep and build yourself up again,’ he added. ‘I think your work is breathtaking.’ He hugged her. ‘I’m so proud of you, Kate.’
Did he feel her flinch slightly, or was it his imagination? He really must not analyse her every movement or expression. He should just enjoy having the old Kate back for a while, because it wouldn’t last.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Matt paced the kitchen, fuming at their inability to protect one little old lady from vandals and threats. ‘It has to be someone who wants that cottage, but why? There’s nothing special about it. There’s an empty cottage two houses before Little Anchor, it’s the same size and of similar design. If they wanted somewhere close to the marsh, why not have that? It’s going for a song, apparently.’