Suddenly she heard a scream outside, coming from the south terrace and growing in hysteria. It was so surreal that for a moment she doubted herself, but one glance at Archie’s face was enough to confirm that she hadn’t imagined it. ‘Keep an eye on Marlene,’ he said as he left his seat and headed out of the church, followed quickly by Hilaria, and Josephine wondered if their reaction was connected to the tensions over dinner; it was as if they had been waiting for trouble, and now it had arrived to confirm their worst fears. Not everyone had heard the scream above the music, but the conversation gradually subsided as the urgency of Hilaria’s departure sunk in, and when it came again, there was no mistaking it. Marlene looked across at them and stood up, clearly determined to follow the more curious members of the congregation outside, and Josephine and Marta joined her.
They hurried round the former lady chapel to the other side of the church, where Mrs Pendean was standing near the door to the smoking room with a man whom Josephine assumed to be her husband. It was obviously she who had screamed, because she was sobbing uncontrollably, and neither Archie nor Hilaria seemed to be having much success in calming her down or making sense of her distress. It was left to her husband to explain, which he did with a simple gesture towards the tower. Josephine looked up and saw, to her horror, the motionless figure of a man in the left-hand corner, slumped precariously on the stone seat with his legs hanging over the edge. It was unmistakably the Reverend Richard Hartley.
Her stomach lurched as she saw in her mind’s eye the sheer drop from such a height, and she felt for Marta’s hand. There was a stunned silence as everyone tried to comprehend what they were looking at, and next to her, Josephine heard the quiet despair in Hilaria’s voice as she said softly: ‘Please God, no.’ The obvious futility of her words seemed to act as a catalyst for the horror to take hold, and Mrs Pendean’s anguish spread quickly through the assembled onlookers, threatening to spiral out of control. Archie responded immediately, singling out the butler who had been one of the first members of staff to follow Hilaria from the church. ‘Stop anyone else from coming round to this side of the terrace,’ he said urgently, ‘and get everyone back into the church. Tell them to stay in their seats and wait there until I’ve been up to the tower to see what’s happened – and under no circumstances is anyone to follow me.’
‘Very good, sir.’
Archie turned to Hilaria, but she pre-empted what he was going to say. ‘The telephones aren’t working, so we can’t call for help. The wires have been down since last night. We’re completely cut off.’
He swore under his breath. ‘All right. I’ll go and see what we’re dealing with. Will you take care of Mrs Hartley?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Hilaria’s voice was calm, but Josephine noticed how much she had aged in the time it had taken her to cross from one terrace to the other. ‘What shall I tell her?’ she asked. ‘Is there any chance that he’s not …’ She tailed off, unable to bring herself to say the word.
‘Tell her that her husband has been hurt and say that we fear the worst. There’s no point in giving her false hope. She’s vulnerable enough, and we don’t want to confuse her more than she is already by keeping anything from her.’ Once again, as she always was whenever she saw Archie at work, Josephine was struck by his sensitivity, even in the most stressful of situations, and she saw that Marlene had noticed it, too; the actress was looking at her escort with something rather more than respect. ‘I need someone trustworthy to go down to the Change House and see what the situation is with the tides and the telephone,’ he said, oblivious to the appreciation. ‘We’re going to need help of some sort from the mainland, and the sooner the better. Who do you recommend?’
‘Tom Pendean,’ Hilaria said without hesitation. ‘He’s the best boatman we have and he’ll know what’s possible, but I’m not sure he’ll want to leave his wife when she’s had such a shock.’
‘I will take care of her,’ Marlene said. Hilaria looked doubtful, but it was a decision rather than an offer, and the actress was already on her way over to the housekeeper.
Without wasting any more time, Archie followed her and gave his instructions. ‘I also need to be sure that no one leaves the island,’ he told Pendean. ‘Should the causeway and the harbour become accessible again, nobody is to use them without my permission, in or out. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Are there any other access points to the Mount that I don’t know about?’
‘You can bring a boat in and out via Cromwell’s Passage, over on the west side, but it wouldn’t be safe in this weather.’
‘You’re sure?’
Pendean nodded and Archie sent him on his way, then walked briskly back across the terrace, stopping abruptly when he noticed Fielding at the edge of the group. ‘Put that bloody camera down,’ he shouted, briefly losing his composure. ‘If I find out that you’ve taken so much as a single photograph in the last few minutes, I’ll have you out of your job before you even get back to the mainland. Is that understood?’
Fielding nodded and did as he was asked, as Archie headed for the church. ‘We keep a flashlight just inside the door to the tower,’ Hilaria called after him. ‘You’ll need it up there. It’s not an easy climb.’
‘Thank you.’
They followed him back inside, and Josephine watched him make his way over to an arched door halfway down the nave, wondering what cruelty and sadness awaited him at the top of the tower. Hilaria went through to the organ loft, and a few seconds later the music stopped. It was hard to imagine the sorrow behind the scenes, but the sudden silence seemed an appropriate mark of respect for the moment when Angela Hartley was receiving the worst possible news about the person she loved. Josephine hoped that for once her mind’s fragility might serve her kindly, protecting her from the enormity of the grief that lay ahead.
2
Penrose found the flashlight where Hilaria had said it would be, and was instantly glad of it when the door closed behind him, plunging him into darkness. As soon as he switched it on, he noticed another torch on the floor and bent down for a closer look. The bulb was broken, as if someone had dropped it down the stairs, and he wondered if it was evidence or merely a coincidence. Already he felt claustrophobic, more so than at any time since the living suffocation of the trenches, but he tried to put the sensation from his mind. The space seemed impossibly small for someone his size, and he realised that the last time he had tried to climb these stairs, he had been a boy of twelve or thirteen. The exhilarating sense of danger he had experienced back then was very different from the deathly apprehension of today, and suddenly all such childish games felt a lifetime away.
He climbed steadily upwards, trying not to breathe in the cloying damp that seemed to cling instantly to his clothes. His mind was racing over what could possibly have led to the dreadful discovery that he was about to make, and – in his panic – he wanted to go faster than was physically possible. He cursed his own clumsiness as he slipped on one of the steps, frustrated by the sharp spiralling of the narrow staircase, and wished heartily that he’d thought to take his overcoat off before starting the ascent; the bulky winter clothes were welcome, but they impeded his progress in the confined space and he paused to remove his scarf and coat before going any further, his fingers fumbling with the buttons in the cold. He shivered as he took his gloves out of his pocket and left the coat on one of the window ledges, but at least he could move more freely now. He pressed on, already dreading the journey back down, and although he tried hard not to pre-empt what could have happened, he was in no doubt of the fear and dread that Richard Hartley must have felt if he had been forced up here against his will. It would be hard to imagine a more inhospitable place to die.