Matt went to the bar for another round, while Will tried to assimilate what he had been told. One odd thing stood out in his mind. When Matt returned to their table, Will posed his question.
‘What about that last picture, Matt? The girl on the marsh with the water around her feet?’
‘Ah, yes. They both said that one was a puzzle. It’s set in daylight, and the child is clearly visible. The kid is terrified, in danger of death from the encroaching mist and the apparently fast incoming tide, and she knows it. Sam suggested it could be how Kate herself feels, like a child, trapped by her emotions, out of her depth, scared of going under. But he said to say that he wasn’t sure.’ He frowned. ‘He reckoned that something in that one didn’t equate. It’s so different to the others it could have been painted by a completely different person. Laura said that she has a colleague who uses art therapy with his patients. If you have no objection, she would like to show him the whole series of pictures, especially that one, and get his opinion. All in complete confidence, of course.’
Will agreed. ‘Sure. Any help is welcome, so long as Kate never finds out.’
Matt nodded. ‘I’ll tell Laura first thing in the morning.’ He looked seriously at Will. ‘You do realise that Laura is sticking her neck out to help you both? This is very much off the record. There are guidelines that she should be following, and she really should not even have seen those paintings without Kate’s permission.’
Will gave an humourless laugh. ‘Kate’s in no condition to give permission or not!’
‘We know that, Will. But just remember, this is between us, and it’s very unofficial, okay? She’s doing this because she fears for both of you. Now, she also asked me about the regularity of Kate’s mood swings, but I wasn’t sure as most of the time I get to see the best of her, so fill me in on the darker side, would you?’
They talked for another hour, Will explaining how his wife would, in the blink of an eye, go from morose to hyperactive, and vice versa. How she got so involved in something that she forgot everything else, and then slept the clock round. And then he said how hard it was to play second fiddle to a pile of bricks and mortar, and a rag doll with the face of a streetwalker.
Chuckling at this description, Matt said, ‘Laura insists you try being nice to that doll. It is Kate’s connection to all the lost children, a bond between her and the other bereaved women of Holland House.’
‘Then why the tart’s face? You’ve seen it, Matt, it is positively lewd! And she is always washing it. It’s a wonder it hasn’t fallen to bits. It was in tatters when she found it.’
‘Far be it from me to start talking like a shrink, but don’t you think that maybe she has transferred a little of the evil of whatever happened to the children to the doll? Her constant washing of it is her way of trying to cleanse it, make it pure again. Bring the child back.’
It was Will’s turn to laugh, even if it was a little hollow. ‘You’ve clearly spent far too long talking to psychologists, Professor Ballard. Whatever, being nice about the thing won’t be easy. Not the way it looks at me.’
Matt smiled. ‘Declare an amnesty, mate. Kate will love you for it.’
‘Speaking of which, I should get back to her. She might not even have noticed that I’ve gone, but I worry about her. I can’t begin to thank you for all you’re doing for us. I’m sure I’d have given up by now if it weren’t for you.’
Matt leant forward and clapped him on the arm. ‘Rubbish! You love her. You’d have found the strength. Anyway, it’s stopped Liz and me from vegetating. And I hate to admit it, but I’m thoroughly enjoying this family history thing. I might even dig up a few ancestral roots from my own family tree when Kate is better.’
Will drove home, repeating those last four words to himself. When Kate is better.
* * *
For the next couple of days, Will pulled out all the stops. He thought he noticed a slight change in Kate’s attitude. There were even brief moments of light-heartedness that gave him cause for hope. But they were very brief. Then he noticed her throwing him suspicious glances, and he backed off a little. He suspected that she was weighing up the reasons for his sudden about-face, especially regarding the doll. Kate was far from stupid, and there was a good chance she had put his change of tactic down to advice from an outside source. And that could mean only one thing to her — doctors. So, he reverted to acting more neutrally towards her, her ideas, and her doll.
Today she was in a strange mood. The night before, she had packed up all her work ready to send off to her agent. She had also photographed them all and sent the images electronically. The book was finally complete. She had told Will that she had never been so glad to be rid of something and had told Hubert that she needed a proper break before embarking on Angela’s final volume. Apparently, he had emailed her back saying that Angela was still struggling with this last book, and it would be a while before there was any more news on that front. Kate had then gone online and booked a courier. She had put it in the hall ready for collection, muttering about good riddance to bad rubbish.
This morning, instead of being elated that the millstone had been removed from her neck, she seemed oddly disconnected from everything around her.
Will’s old concerns flooded back. He stood at their bedroom window, staring out at Kate. She was up on the sea bank again, standing perfectly still and looking out across the muddy terrain. Elizabeth was clasped in her arms.
He looked away. He needed a distraction. He couldn’t keep watching her like this. Maybe he’d take a stroll down to Emilia’s cottage and do a quick walk round. It had been quiet at Little Anchor recently, and the cleaning company had done a great job of removing the graffiti. Now, from being adamant that she would never leave her precious home, Emilia had become reluctant to return. It was all wrong, another injustice that rankled in his head.
Will sighed. That would have to wait. God knows how long Kate would be out wandering the marsh, and the courier had not yet collected the package. He was marooned until they arrived.
He padded downstairs and tried to decide what job he could do that would please Kate, but before he could make a decision, the front doorbell rang. The courier. Good. He flung open the door and stared straight into the excited eyes of his niece, Sophie.
‘Uncle Will!’ She rushed forward and hugged him.
Will stood there holding her tightly. Absolutely terrified.
After stuttering out a greeting, he cast a furtive glance towards the sea bank. Fortunately, Kate was out of sight.
‘We’ve been trying to get you on the phone all the way from Lakenheath. I just couldn’t pick up a signal. Think my mobile is bust.’ Philip Fauve’s great hand was held out to Will. He grasped it and said, ‘Come in, please.’
They made their way to the kitchen. Philip said, ‘Sorry, Will, I couldn’t tell you sooner. Orders only came through late last night. Germany is off until next year — some problems at the German air base so they tell me — but I have to attend a couple of important meetings at the base in Suffolk, and they gave me special dispensation to bring Sophie. When I’ve have finished with work, we have three days’ leave together!’
Their unexpected arrival had left him poleaxed. A pulse was throbbing in his neck, and all he could think of were Laura Archer’s words: no surprises. What could possibly upset Kate more than a child’s presence at Holland House?