The Mill House (48 page)

'Ah, I thought I heard voices,' Emma said, spotting them over by the table. 'Where's Dan? Shouldn't you have picked him up by now?'

'Shannon and I were just having a bit of a chat before I go,' Josh said, still holding Shannon on his lap.

'Oh my, what's the matter with you?' Emma exclaimed, noticing Shannon's tear-stained cheeks. Then her eyes rounded with knowing. 'I expect you're crying about all this mess,' she declared. 'Dad told you off, did he? Well, I can't say I blame him. I really don't know how you manage it...'

She's about to clear it up,' Josh interrupted. 'And I've been explaining to her, that it's time her mother came home so that you can go home too. You've got your own life ...'

'Oh, now that's nonsense,' Emma told him. 'I'm more than happy to be here. Keeps me busy, and you know how much I love being with you all.' 'But it's still time Julia came home,' he persisted. Emma's lips pursed. 'Well, I'd say the question is, does she want to?' she sniped nastily.

Josh sighed and eased Shannon to her feet as he got up. 'I don't have time for this now,' he said. 'We can talk later, when Dan's here too.'

'No,' Shannon protested. 'He always gets his own way and he's bound to want her to come home.'

Josh looked at her sadly. 'And you don't?' She turned away. 'No, I don't,' she muttered. 'You can't blame her,' Emma piped up. 'After what she's been through ...' 'Mum, you're not being helpful.' 'I'm just saying, the poor child had a very unpleasant experience ...' 'Leave it!' Josh barked. 'Now, I'm going to pick

up Dan, then we'll all go out for dinner, so make sure you're ready when I get back.'

After he'd gone Shannon and Emma stood in silence, neither of them quite knowing what to say. In the end Emma spoke first.

'It's all right, sweetie, I'll clear all this up, and I'll be here as long as you need me, so you don't have to let Dad push you into a decision you'd rather not make.'

Shannon kept her eyes lowered.

'I wouldn't find it very easy to forgive either, if I were you,' Emma said sympathetically. 'It was a dreadful thing to see. It would have been bad enough if it was strangers, but your own mother!' She was shaking her head in disgust. 'It's enough to scar you for life. Probably has.'

'It was really horrible,' Shannon said brokenly.

Emma went to hug her. 'Of course it was, horrible and appalling, but it's good that you're talking about it now. It doesn't help to keep it bottled up, and you know you can say anything to me.'.

Though Shannon leaned in to her for a moment, she was soon moving away again. 'Dad really wants her to come back,' she said, staring down at the debris on the table.

'But what you want is important too,' Emma told her.

Shannon said nothing.

'Do you want her to come back?'

Shannon shook her head.

'Then that's that,' Emma said crisply. We'll tell Dad when he comes home, and ...'

'I meant I don't know,' Shannon cried. 'Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't.'

'Then in that case, dear, I think we should abide by an old northern maxim, when in doubt, do nowt.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means don't do anything until you're sure it's what you want - and don't worry about Dan, he's not going through the same trauma you are, so in this instance what he thinks doesn't really count.'

'But he's had two fits, and I know Dad thinks it's because he's upset about Mum not being here.'

'Oh now,' Emma tutted. 'There's no way of knowing what brings them on. It might have nothing at all to do with your mother.'

'But what if it does? It'll be my fault if he has another, because I wouldn't let her come home.'

'Now you just put that nonsense out of your head, young lady. You're not to blame for anything, do you hear me? It's your mother who's at fault, utterly and completely, and don't you forget it.'

Alice was sitting in the darkness, staring at the dying embers in the hearth. Every now and again they shifted and hissed, or a spark would fly upwards and fade. The clock on the mantel had a loud, lolloping tick, the rain on the leaves outside was a flat, pattering sound that harmonised comfortably with the sough of the wind. The window was open to let in air. She'd close it again before going up to bed. George had said goodnight over an hour ago, though he'd probably be listening for her to come up, needing to know she'd settled, so he could too. She wasn't sure Rene cared about her as much as George, though

considering how loyal Rene had been over the years Alice had no reason to doubt her. Rene's first concern would always be for George though, which was right. She'd want to protect him, but most of all they needed to protect Julia. They'd agreed that all those years ago, when Douglas had left, and had never questioned it since, mainly because it wasn't something anyone ever discussed more than once. It was simply understood that it was for Julia's own good to be kept in the dark, and none of them had ever wavered from that in spite of Julia's threats and rantings, because the truth would no more set her free than it would restore her father to life.

More than a month had gone by now since Douglas's death, and they hadn't heard from Julia since the day George had rung her. Alice had known Julia would pay him no heed, would probably consider him half-demented or delusional, the way she always had when he'd attempted to apply the word of the Lord. She just didn't understand, had never been able to see good in any of them except her beloved father, who'd deserted her, had never contacted her again, and who, she seemed conveniently to have forgotten, had never enjoyed the same adulation from Pam. Had Julia ever questioned herself about that? Did she ever wonder why Pam had never regretted him going? Or why he'd left nothing to Pam in his will? She was an intelligent, insightful and analytical woman, so how had she reconciled these omissions to herself? Was she still breezing over them, as though they didn't exist, the way she always had? Or had she by now learned the truth behind them?

Alice shivered and folded her arms more tightly around her. Julia had been in Cornwall long enough to have gone through Douglas's papers by now. so had he really left nothing, or was she so shattered by discovering the reality of her life that she was unable to face them? Knowing her daughter as she did, Alice felt certain Julia still hadn't found out. If she had, it would be unlike her to keep silent, even over something such as this. True, she probably wouldn't shout it from the rooftops, but her mother was the last person she'd be likely to spare. It was why Alice was finding it so difficult to sleep at night, for she was constantly expecting her daughter to arrive on the doorstep, and when she did ... Dear God Almighty, please save them all when she did.

Chapter Eighteen

The phone was ringing as Julia dashed through the rain and up over the wooden deck into the house. Desperately hoping it was Josh, she threw open the door, dropped the elastic-bound cash box on the table and grabbed the receiver.

'Julia? Hi, it's Fen. Is this a bad time?'

'No, not at all,' Julia replied breathlessly. Though disappointed it wasn't Josh, she was always happy to hear from Fen. 'I was just coming in the door.'

'Ghastly weather,' Fen commented. 'No leaks in the roof, I hope.'

'Not that I've noticed.'

'Well if you find anything, do let me know. We've got a wonderful chap who takes care of things like that.'

'Thanks, I will. Everything OK with you?'

'Everything's great. I was calling to find out what you're doing for dinner. Bob and I have a table booked over at David's place, and thought you might like to come with us.'

Sorely tempted, Julia said, 'Normally I'd love to, he's such a great chef, but I've just collected the cash box from Charles, so I thought...'

'Did he manage to open it?' Fen cut in excitedly.

'Yes. And it contains two journals, one of which appears to cover the time my father left.'

'You re kidding! That's excellent news. I hope. So you're going to spend the evening going through them?'

'That's the plan.'

'Well, you know where I'll be if you need me.'

'Thanks. I appreciate it.'

'Before you go, any news from Josh?'

Julia's nerves fluttered in a way that seemed to accompany every mention of him lately. 'We spoke earlier,' she said, shrugging off her raincoat, 'but he didn't mention anything about me coming back. I'm still aiming to go the day after tomorrow though.'

'What about Shannon?'

Josh says she's started talking about what happened now. Not in any big way, but it's a breakthrough of sorts. He'd rather I dealt with it though, he feels I'd be better at it than he is.'

'Typically male ... Oh, hang on.'

While waiting for Fen to speak to whoever had popped into her office, Julia spotted a note propped up against the kettle and after hanging up her coat walked over to read it.

'Still there?' Fen said, coming back on the line.

'Mm.' Julia responded. 'Apparently the young couple want the bed, Tilde says, so they'll come over with a van to pick it up tomorrow.' She put the note down. 'Well, at least that's some good

news I can pass on to Josh when I next speak to him. Do you think that insisting I get rid of the bed could mean he's considering paying the inheritance tax so we can keep the house?'

'I'm daring to hope so,' Fen confessed.

Julia felt herself turning light-headed with her own flurry of hopes. 'I was wondering if I should broach the subject of a proper reunion,' she said.

'You feel ready for that?'

'I think so. I guess I won't know till I try and that's not going to happen until I get back to London, so the quicker I sort things out here ...' She paused as her eyes came to rest on the cash box again, and a wave of apprehension coasted through her. 'I wonder what these journals contain?' she said, almost glad they were still sealed inside the box.

'I'm not sure whether I'm any more, or less, keen than you to find out,' Fen replied, 'but it's going to be fine. This is Dougie we're talking about, it can't not be. Anyway, I'm sorry, I have to go, my six o'clock's outside waiting.'

After ringing off Julia remained standing where she was, staring down at the box as she braced herself to open it. If the journals were going to confirm her worst nightmares, she had no idea how she would handle it. It was horrible enough to think of her father as one of society's most reviled offenders, worse still would be to find out that she'd been blocking her own abusive treatment to the point that she was still telling herself she loved him.

Taking a breath, she lifted her head and looked around. Everything was silent in the house, a

small pocket of stillness, calm and almost gracious, like the eye of a storm, while the wind outside howled and whirled, sweeping the rain in thick, misty torrents through the woods and fields. Her eyes travelled from a camera on a worktop, to the toaster, to a fruit bowl, to bottles of olive oil and sauces. The chairs around the table were haphazardly placed, a vase of greenery and berries was slightly off centre, the rattan mats were unevenly stacked. She was totally alone, and yet strangely didn't feel it. She wondered if the dead could see, if her father was watching her now. She pictured him standing against the sink with his arms folded, eyes twinkling merrily as he surveyed her; or sitting at the table, frowning as though listening to something she was saying, or coming down the stairs to find out what was bothering her. She was certain she could sense his presence, not in a creepy or threatening kind of way, just in a curious, cautious way that made her feel both confident and unnerved.

She started as the phone suddenly rang.

Expecting it to be Josh she quickly snatched it up, but it was the voice of her ex-detective contact that came down the line.

'Julia? Rod Fuller. Sorry I've taken a couple of days to get back to you, I've been fishing, and only just got your message. Is there something else I can do?'

'Oh, yes, yes,' she answered, collecting her thoughts. 'I just wanted to ask you, when we last spoke, I got the feeling you might be holding something back.'

'Really?' he said, sounding more wary than surprised.

'You were, weren't you?' she pressed. 'Once I'd told you Douglas Cowan was my father, I think you didn't want to go any further. So I need to know, is there something you were trying to spare my feelings about?'

When he didn't answer right away her insides turned cold, for it was confirmation enough. 'I was really, really hoping you weren't going to ask me that,' he said finally.

Almost wishing she hadn't now, she took a breath and said, 'Just tell me.'

'Are you sure? I mean, if he's your father...'

'I'm sure,' she interrupted.

'OK. Well, there's nothing to prove anything, no actual charges or ...'

'Bottom line,' she said, unable to go through the preamble.

'Right. Well, it seems he was pulled in a few times for questioning in child sex-abuse cases. Like I said, he was never charged. Nothing ever went to trial, and he's definitely not on any sex- offenders list.'

Julia's skin was prickling with sweat. Her insides were churning, and her hand was barely holding onto the phone as images began flashing bizarrely in her mind: her father laughing and swinging her up in the air, the blood on his face the night he'd fought with her mother, the day they'd walked at Frenchman's Creek, the photographs he had of Shannon and Dan, the way he'd always seemed so sad about Pam ... But what was it all adding up to? 'When ... How long