‘I just have a few things to tie up here. Boring stuff.’
She continues to stare at me and then she suddenly lunges forward and hugs me so tightly I can’t breathe. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
‘Me? Who do you think I am?’
She pulls back and stares at me. ‘My mum.’
I wave Flo off on the train and then I get into my car and head back to Chapel Croft. I drive through the village and pull up outside the same decrepit Victorian house I visited just over two weeks ago. A lot has happened since then. And I have been giving things a lot of thought.
I walk up to the door, but it opens before I can knock.
‘Reverend Brooks.’
‘Aaron.’
‘I got your call.’
He opens the door and I step inside.
‘How are you and your daughter?’
‘We’re getting there. I never had a chance to thank you for calling 999.’
When Flo bolted into the night, she managed to flag down a car. It happened to be Aaron. Turns out that he drove around every night to check on the chapel. Obsessive, odd, but on this occasion, no pun intended, a godsend.
‘You’re welcome. And how are you, Reverend? It must be hard to reconcile your faith with what you did.’
‘Sometimes there is no choice,’ I say tightly.
‘I’ve been praying for you.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile briskly. ‘Now, like I said on the phone, I’d like to talk to your father.’
‘And like I said, you’ve seen him. He can’t talk.’
‘But he can listen.’
I stare at him pleadingly. Finally, he nods.
‘Five minutes.’
Marsh is awake, just. His breathing is laboured. The institutional smell is stronger than ever. And there’s something else. Not specific. But anyone who has been with an ill person towards the end will recognize it. It’s the smell of death.
I sit on a chair beside his bed and I think how life and illness can be so cruel. Would any of us choose to continue with our life if we knew this might be our fate? And then I remind myself that at least Marsh had a choice. At least his life was not taken away by someone else before it had even started.
‘Hello, Reverend Marsh.’
He blinks at me.
‘You remember me, don’t you?’
A small head movement. Maybe a nod. Maybe an involuntary twitch. Hard to tell.
‘Good. Then I’ll keep this brief. We uncovered the vault beneath the chapel. We found Benjamin Grady’s body.’
A slight hitch in his breathing. I lean closer.
‘I know you were involved in hiding it there. I think you did it to protect the Church, and your family, from scandal. I’d like to think you also did it to protect someone else. A young, frightened girl. Is that true?’
Another small head movement.
‘But here’s the thing. We both know that Grady wasn’t killed in the church. His body was moved there from somewhere else. And I remembered something Joan Hartman said: you can’t drive. So you must have had help that night.’
His eyes stare at me helplessly.
‘I’m pretty sure I already know who it was. So, I’m just going to say a name and you can let me know if I’m right.’ I smile. ‘Time to confess.’
SIXTY-FIVE
‘Jack, it is so good to see you. My goodness, what a time it has been for you.’
I allow Rushton to envelop me in a warm, slightly musty hug.
He steps back. ‘I have to say, I didn’t think you would be coming back, not after everything that’s happened.’
‘No. Me neither. But there were just a few things I needed to get straight.’
We walk inside.
‘Is Clara here?’ I ask.
‘No, she’s gone out.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Running, walking. No wonder she keeps so thin. Of course, I work hard to stay in my best shape too.’ He chortles and pats his stomach.
I smile, feeling sad.
‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ he asks now.
‘I wondered if I could talk to you – about Benjamin Grady.’
He stares at me for a long time. And then he says:
‘It’s a lovely day. Why don’t we go in the garden?’
We sit at a small wrought-iron table in the shade of a weeping willow.
All around us wildflowers bloom in a riot of colour. Bees buzz lazily between them. Birds chirrup in the trees.
‘It’s beautiful out here.’
‘Yes, Clara and I have been very happy here. I always used to say that the only way I would leave this place would be in a coffin, or maybe not even then. I always quite fancied being buried under this tree.’
‘Nice spot.’
‘Yes.’ He sighs. ‘Perhaps that’s my weakness. I love it here too much. My life, my wife, my work. My complacency has been my greatest sin.’
‘The curse of being a priest – the need to confess our sins.’
‘And we’re not even Catholic.’
A small smile.
‘Why did you recommend me for the position here?’ I ask.
‘Actually, I didn’t.’
‘When Fletcher resigned, you put my name forward to Bishop Gordon?’
‘Clara asked me to. She’d read about you, in a newspaper. She said that as soon as she saw your picture she knew you were the one. Very insistent, she was.’
I feel something settle inside. A final missing piece slotting into place.
‘Did you know that Clara and Benjamin Grady were friends, that they grew up together?’
‘Yes. I did.’ He regards me with a small, rueful smile. ‘And yes, before you ask, I have always known that Clara was in love with him.’
I stare at him in surprise. ‘She told you.’
‘She didn’t have to. I could see it in her face whenever his name was mentioned – not that anyone mentioned him very much. She keeps a picture of him. Hidden in a book. I found it once, by accident. She doesn’t know.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘First love is a powerful thing, especially when it never has a chance to grow old, to disappoint or become dull. I adore Clara. I know she doesn’t love me as much, but she loves me enough.’
‘And you’re happy with that?’
‘I’m content – and that is all most of us can hope for, don’t you think?’
Maybe, I think. But maybe some of us need something more.
‘I need to speak to Clara,’ I say. ‘You said she’d gone out?’
‘Yes, although I’ve no idea where she goes when she takes off on one of her rambles.’
But I think I do.
SIXTY-SIX
She stands, just as she does in Flo’s picture. Still and silent, staring towards the house. Crime scene tape flutters around the well nearby.
‘Clara!’
She turns. ‘Jack. What are you doing up here?’
‘I could ask you the same.’
‘Oh, I’m just taking a walk.’
‘You come up here a lot?’
She smiles at me, wrinkles crinkling around those enviable cheekbones. A woman who has become more beautiful in her later years. Nothing like the awkward schoolteacher who was never enough for a handsome young priest.