A finer end - Deborah Crombie [71]
“Did Garnet have something in particular against him?”
“She and Nick rubbed each other the wrong way from the very beginning. She thought he meant to turn me against her.”
“Garnet didn’t like that.” Gemma made it a statement.
“No. But there was more to it, her worrying, I mean. It was like she knew something she wasn’t telling me. And all the time the pull got stronger.…”
“What pull?”
“Can’t you feel it?” Faith shuddered. “I did, even before I met Garnet. The Tor …”
Gemma thought of the odd feeling she’d had that morning when the Tor had first come into view. “What about the Tor?”
“Last night … it was so strong. I couldn’t stop. Then the pain came. I had to rest, and when I woke up it was gone.” Faith seemed to read Gemma’s confusion. “The force. The pull.”
“What does it want you to do, this force?”
“It’s not like that. There aren’t any words. I just have to climb.” She plucked at the sheets again and said, almost querulously, “Where’s Nick? Jack said Nick was coming.”
“It’s only just lunchtime. Don’t worry,” Gemma soothed her, wondering just exactly how Nick fit into the equation. Was he the baby’s father, perhaps?
She poured Faith another cup of tea from the old brown teapot, much loved by someone, if the chips and crazing in the glaze were any evidence. It occurred to her that she’d given up tea entirely when she was pregnant with Toby, and that she wasn’t at all sure she’d have the discipline to do it again.
“Tell me what happened yesterday,” she said. “Why were you so worried about Garnet?”
“Nick said … When I told him Garnet had gone out after we saw Winnie pushing her bike up the hill, he said he thought Garnet had hit Winnie with the van. I was so angry … but when I went home I looked at the van and I saw a smudge … I was afraid.”
“Then what happened?” Gemma asked it gently.
“I—I couldn’t face her. I was so ashamed for even thinking such a thing. I climbed the Tor. When I came back, she was gone. I never saw her again. If I’d only gone into the house—”
“You can’t know what would have happened,” interposed Gemma. “No one can.”
“But if she went looking for me, and someone—”
“I’m sure it had nothing to do with you,” said Gemma, not sure at all. “And there’s no point in speculating. What we have to do now is look after you. Jack said the doctor wanted you to go to the prenatal clinic for a checkup today—”
“No!”
Gemma jerked back in astonishment at the violence of Faith’s response.
“I won’t go,” the girl insisted. “I can’t. Garnet—Garnet promised to take care of me … how could she leave me like this?” She began to cry again, her shoulders heaving.
Gemma slipped her arms round the girl, holding her and murmuring, “It’s all right, it’s all right,” just as she would with her own son. Faith was still a child, after all, and she had just lost the woman who seemed to have been in some powerful sense a substitute mother.
After a bit, Faith’s sobs subsided, but she kept her face buried in Gemma’s shoulder, sniffing occasionally. Gemma stroked the short, damp hair back from the girl’s forehead.
Faith smiled sleepily, whispering, “You’re nice. Like my mum,” as her eyes drifted closed. In moments she was asleep, and not even the loud buzz of the doorbell disturbed her.
It amazed Jack how quickly sitting at Winnie’s bedside, stroking her hand, and talking to her as if she could understand, came to seem normal. He told her that his cousin had come to visit, and that Faith was staying with them for a bit. He said nothing about Garnet’s death.
His thoughts strayed to Duncan. What had he found when he accompanied Detective Greely? How had Garnet died? And how had his cousin—the boy who had gone white with distress at every injured bird or dead fox in the road—grown into a man who took death so easily in his stride?
When Maggie, who was back on duty today, motioned him that it was time for a break, he went reluctantly to the hospital canteen and had a sandwich. Suzanne Sanborne had told him that Andrew had been there most of the morning, but had