Читаем A Finer End полностью

He took the lamp into the bedroom on the right. This room held little other than a narrow iron bedstead, and beside it a plain deal table. Pegs on the wall organized Faith’s few clothes. A white nightdress and a worn plush rabbit were arranged tidily against the pillow. On the bedside table lay the copy of T. H. White’s The Once and Future King he had brought her. There was nothing to indicate where she might have gone.

Returning the lamp to the bedroom, he went back downstairs to the kitchen. Garnet sat in the chair by the woodstove, rocking slowly, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the chair arms.

“Satisfied?” she demanded.

“I’ll find her. And if anything’s happened to her—”

Leaving the threat unspoken, Nick let himself out the door.

The night creatures had begun to venture out of their burrows, but Faith lay still, curled in a nest of leaves beneath the hedge. At last, a bird shrieked nearby and she woke, conscious at first only of the cold and of the stiffness of her limbs. As she moved, a branch scratched her face and awareness seeped back.

At Buddy’s insistence, she’d left work early. A customer had given her a lift up the hill and dropped her at the farmhouse gate. Immediately, Faith saw that Garnet was home—the van stood in the yard, its wheels mud caked.

She hadn’t meant to look. But she couldn’t avoid passing the van on her way to the house, and before she could stop herself she’d swiveled round and stared. The fender was smudged and smeared, with one wide swipe that could have been made by an impact with a large, solid object—a body?

Oh, God. She felt a surge of nausea. Nick couldn’t be right—he just couldn’t. But why had Garnet been so strange when she’d come back last night? And all that time Winnie had been lying nearby, injured and unconscious.…

Faith blinked back tears. Garnet had done so much for her … How could she even think her capable of such a terrible thing? But what if—what if Nick were right? Fear clutched at her. She couldn’t go into the house—couldn’t face Garnet. Not yet. She had to think.

Turning away, she walked out of the yard, into the lane. The pull of the Tor drove her up the hill. As she climbed, tendrils of pain began to radiate from her pelvis round her abdomen, but she picked up her pace, ignoring them. The sun had formed an enormous red ball hovering on the horizon—if she didn’t hurry she’d have to climb in the dark. Her sense of urgency increased. She knew she must get to the top of the Tor, although she couldn’t quite formulate why. Then, as she came in sight of the entrance to the north path, a cramp caught her, doubling her over in pain and surprise.

She stopped, panting, took another step, stopped again. The pain worsened, squeezing at her. She had to get off her feet, just for a little while, make it stop. Then she would go on.

Looking round, she had seen the gap in the hedge, just big enough for her body, and when she’d crawled inside, she’d fallen instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Now, fully awake, she cupped her hands round her abdomen, felt the gentle flutter of the baby turning. The pain had gone, and she realized that whatever had driven her had dissipated as well. Although it still tugged faintly at the edges of her consciousness, it was not as powerful as her desire to go home. She knew now what she had to do.

She could not betray Garnet without giving her a chance to explain herself.

Easing herself from the hedge, she looked up, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The sky was overcast, starless, and her only orientation was the deeper blackness of the hedges. Slowly, she made her way down the hill, watching for the glow of oil lamps that would mark the farmhouse.

But it was the white shape of the gate she saw first. Only then was she able to make out the house, a darker shadow against the Tor’s flank. There was no sign of Garnet’s van in the yard, and when Faith let herself in the unlocked back door, only the cats came to greet her.

It was fully dark by the time Jack reached the hospital. He hurried through the car park, head down against the damp, chill wind, assuring himself that no news from Maggie meant that Winnie’s condition remained stable.

But the first person he saw when he entered the ICU waiting area was Andrew Catesby, sitting with his head in his hands.

“Andrew,” he said sharply. “What’s wrong? How is she?”

Andrew looked up, dropping his hands from his face with apparent reluctance. “I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything.”

Jack swallowed, making an effort to keep his panic in check. “Have you seen her?”

“No. I—” Andrew shook his head. “I couldn’t bear it.” He stood, so that their eyes were on a level, and Jack saw that his face looked sallow and pinched, as if he were utterly exhausted. No trace remained of the boyish charm Jack had seen him display with Suzanne and Fiona.