The Confession - Charles Todd [7]
“No. Put it down to curiosity.”
Intrigued, she said, “Is lunch on offer? If it is, I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll do my best. But I have no idea what we’ll find in the way of likely places to dine.”
She considered the warning. “I’ll take the risk,” she answered finally.
And so it was that at eight on the Saturday morning, he arrived at his sister’s house—which had belonged to their parents—and found her dressed for the country and ready to go. As he held the door of the motorcar for her, she said, “The day doesn’t look promising.”
It was true. Clouds had banked over the city, and as they drove east toward Essex, the clouds seemed to follow at their heels. The brightness far out over the North Sea dimmed, and by the time they were well out into the countryside, the sky was slate gray over their heads and the increasingly marshy landscape was colorless and drab with no features of interest. It wasn’t suitable for cultivation or pasturage, and Rutledge decided the people who lived farther out on the hook of land that followed the length of the river must make their living from the sea.
Frances said, “Is this where your curiosity is taking you?”
Rutledge found the turning he was after. “Call it a sudden and irresistible desire to explore. I don’t know this part of Essex.”
“Then how did you know that turning was there?”
“Ah. As it happens, I was looking at a map.”
Just here the river was out of sight beyond the widening stretch of marsh grass and a few wind-stunted trees. But they could see it glinting like pewter from time to time and knew it was there, moving silently and swiftly, the current dark and smooth.
“I’m not sure I like this place,” Frances said after a while, gazing out toward the river. “Whatever possessed you to want to come here?”
“Curiosity,” he answered. “I told you.”
“Yes, well, you must be in desperate need of entertainment. Couldn’t we have explored in Surrey? Or perhaps Oxfordshire? There are some lovely restaurants in Surrey. And Oxford, as well.”
“I think you’ll change your mind before the day is out,” he said. But he had a feeling that she wouldn’t.
The road had begun to narrow before he saw the gates. He thought there had probably been more traffic here during the war, but now the verges were overgrown and uneven.
The tall stone posts were overgrown as well, a rusted chain stretched between them to bar visitors. A handsome pair of stone pineapples, the symbol of hospitality, capped the posts. A vine had twisted itself around the pineapple on the left, while the one on the right was chipped and white with bird droppings. His first thought was that someone had shot off the top. It had that sort of look to it.
Drawing up in the shallow space before the gates, Rutledge said, “Wait here. Do you mind? I’d like to explore a little.”
“I can just see the roof of a house behind those trees. Is that where you’re going?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come with you,” she replied. “I’d rather not sit here alone. I could almost believe eyes are watching our every move. You could hide half a battalion in that grass across the way. I should have thought German spies by the dozens would have found this to be a wonderful landing place. How far is the North Sea, do you think?”
“A few miles. I’m sure this part of Essex was heavily patrolled by the Coastguard for that very reason,” he said. “I’m told there was an aerodrome somewhere out here. They’d have been doubly watchful. Are you certain you want to trek through that tangle?”
She smiled. “Of course I don’t.”
He helped her out of the motorcar and lifted the heavy chain for her to pass under it. They tramped through the high grass and weeds, Rutledge leading the way to break a path for her, and moved up what had once been the drive. Briars caught at her skirts and pulled at the hem of her short jacket.
“Really, Ian!” she said at one point. But they followed the drive for perhaps a quarter of a mile before they reached the trees. Walking through them was easier, but the undergrowth hadn’t been cleared for some time, and at one point a fallen tree blocked their way. Helping