A finer end - Deborah Crombie [57]
Surely Winnie was safe as long as she was in hospital, Jack told himself, but his foot seemed to press harder on the accelerator of its own accord.
He was returning from Compton Grenville, where he’d scoured the Vicarage for things he hoped might comfort Winnie. Her favorite nightdress, her hairbrush, a small CD player, and discs of the music she loved most.
In moments he’d reached Ashwell Lane. A quick wash, a change of clothes, and he would be on his way back to Taunton.
Leaving the car in his drive, he nudged the accumulated leaves from the front doorsill with his foot and let himself in. The house felt cold, neglected, his only welcome the red light flashing on his answering machine. He switched on the kitchen lights and pressed the play button.
Faith’s voice filled the room. “Jack, I heard about Winnie. Ring me at the café, please. Please.” She sounded frantic, in tears.
Concerned, Jack rang the café, but when a harried Buddy answered, he said he’d sent Faith home after lunch, as she wasn’t feeling well.
As soon as Jack disconnected, the phone rang. He snatched it from its cradle, fearing bad news. “Jack, Nick rang me about Winifred,” Simon Fitzstephen said. “I’m so sorry. How is she?”
“No change as far as I know. I’m just on my way to hospital again now. Simon, could you do something for me? I’m worried about Faith. She left a message for me, but I can’t reach her at the farmhouse, and I haven’t time to go up there now.”
“Blast Garnet for not having a telephone,” said Simon. “But I’ll check on the girl. Don’t worry.”
Jack hesitated, torn between the desire to make a stop at the farmhouse himself and his need to get away to Taunton, then said, “Right.” He would let Simon take care of it.
Having found the café closed, Nick put his motorbike into first gear for the climb up the steep incline of Wellhouse Lane. If Faith wouldn’t look at Garnet’s fender, he’d do it himself, and then he’d show her what he found. He’d make her see the truth.
But to his dismay, when he reached the farmhouse the yard was already in deep shadow. Garnet’s van was parked with its nose inside the gloom of her shop; there was no way he could examine the fender without a torch. Well, then, he would talk to Faith again, convince her to see reason.
When the sputter of the bike’s engine died away, the yard was hushed except for the squeaking of a flock of blackbirds passing overhead. A butter-colored cat lay curled against the doorsill, as if it had given up seeking entrance. As Nick climbed the steps and rapped on the door, the cat gave him a baleful glance and slunk away.
There was no response, but he could see the glow of an oil lamp through the curtained kitchen window. He knocked again.
The door swung open and Garnet Todd stared at him without speaking.
“I want to see Faith,” Nick said.
“She’s not here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m telling you, she’s not here.” Garnet started to close the door.
Nick stepped forward, jamming it with his shoulder. “Where else would she be? The café’s closed, and she never goes anywhere else, does she? You can’t stop me seeing her.”
“You’re trespassing. This is my house,” protested Garnet, but gave way a step.
Nick’s anger surged with his small victory. Why had he let this witch bully him—and Faith—for so long? “What are you going to do, ring the police? You don’t have a telephone.” Another step and he was in the house, shutting the door behind him. He looked round the kitchen for some sign of Faith, then called out her name.
“I’ve told you, she’s not here.”
“Then where is she?”
“I don’t know!” There was an edge of panic in Garnet’s voice. “When I went to fetch her from work she was gone, and she hasn’t come home.”
“You’re sure she’s not in the house?”
“Why don’t you look, then, if you don’t trust my word.”
Nick turned away without replying and left the kitchen, but once in