But at ten o’clock when it was time for the TV news they all gathered silently in front of the set. Southgate, Clacton, Eastbourne and Colwyn Bay had been added to the list of towns to be evacuated. Army patrols had been out again, trying to clean up some of the worst-infested areas. The colonel they interviewed admitted that the best weapon against worms was a good strong stick; flame-throwers had been tried, but there was always a risk to property. The Ministry of Agriculture was also experimenting with various poisons in spite of conservationists’ protests that this would only result in the extermination of most of the country’s wild life and would permanently upset the ecological balance.
The death toll for the day was high, including several children, two soldiers and two Ministry of Agriculture inspectors.
‘I can hardly believe it,’ said the landlord. ‘I don’t know about you, but I can hardly believe it.’
Next morning Matt drove the ten miles to Sue’s house. It was built on high ground well away from the village, a generously proportioned Edwardian house with a glass-covered conservatory along one side and stables at the rear. When Matt arrived he noticed their two ponies grazing in the adjacent meadow. A mud-splattered Volvo estate car stood on the drive.
He’d never seen much of Sue during all the years of his marriage to Helen. Perhaps a brief annual visit, just for the day. Or less than that, once every eighteen months, though Jenny had been invited down there every so often for a week’s holiday with her cousins. They’d still be at boarding school, of course. Sue’s husband was managing director of an engineering firm with a strong export record which meant he was away from home a great deal. She was on several important committees, as well as the county council.
As he parked the Landrover by the spread of rhododendrons, which were in full bloom, she came across the drive to meet him.
‘Gorgeous, aren’t they?’ were her first inconsequential words. ‘Particularly lovely this year. It’s ironic.’
She was a good ten years older than Helen and the first lines had already appeared on her neck, under her cheeks, beginning to indicate how she would look in middle age. Her hair was short and practical, mouse-coloured, as Helen’s had been before she’d decided she preferred it blonde. But then Helen would never have worn those clothes, that thick sensible tweed skirt and sweater, the flat walking shoes.
‘How’s Jenny?’ he asked.
‘Better this morning. Taking her out did her good.’ Her tone was crisp, almost medical. ‘She’s decided to see you, but go easy, Matt. I’ve promised there’s no question of you taking her away.’
‘I’m very grateful to you,’ he said, lost.
‘It’s the least I could do.’
He followed her into the house where they found Jenny in the rear sitting room, staring out of the window. She looked around slowly, her face set, as though determined not to betray any emotion. As usual, she wore jeans, and her long blonde hair covered her shoulders.
‘Hello, Jenny,’ he tried.
A pause before she answered. ‘Hello.’
‘Are you … all right here?’ What the hell could he say? However he’d attempted to put his feelings into words, going over it again and again as he drove here in the Landrover, he’d always known in his heart she’d react against them. Yet there was so little time.
‘Yes. There was no need for you to come, I’m all right.’ Brittle; the words carefully chosen to hurt. ‘Don’t know why you bothered. I’m living with Auntie Sue now.’
‘I’m staying with Tegwyn Aneurin Rhys. I told you about him. Westport’s been evacuated, and a lot of other places too.’ Stick to the facts, he told himself. Don’t lie; don’t try to disguise anything. ‘The Government’s given me a job which keeps me very busy.’
She looked at him, unmoved, as though patiently waiting for the visit to end.
‘I hear you were playing tennis yesterday.’
That didn’t work either; she said nothing.
‘And you go riding, I imagine.’
‘No!’
It was an outburst; her face flushed with hostility. She stared at him, her eyes dark with hatred. He stood there uneasily, awkwardly, in front of his ten-year-old daughter and didn’t know what to say next. She broke the silence.
‘You’re back with that Fran,’ she accused him. ‘You’re glad Mummy’s dead, aren’t you? Both of you? Now there’s nothing to stop you. You’re glad.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he told her quietly. ‘You know very well that’s silly.’
‘When I got home I didn’t know where she was. I called out for her just to say I was back. I knew she was around somewhere ’cos the lights were on. So I looked upstairs in case she was lying down. She’d been drinking whisky. Then I heard water from the bathroom and I went to look and…’
‘Don’t, Jenny. Don’t.’ He moved to put his arm around her but she flung away from him.
‘They were eating Mummy, your worms. In the bath. There was blood, and they were eating inside her.’ She backed towards the door, her lips quivering, but her voice hard and un-dramatic. No tears either. ‘I turned off the shower and I went to phone you. Mummy had the number of the hotel written down on the pad. They said you were back but there was no answer from your room. Then I thought, he’s with her, that’s what they’re doing. Like Mummy said once. So I asked for her room, and you were. Daddy, I despise you. D’you understand? I don’t want to see you again.’
She turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Matt wanted to rush after her, hold her, rock her as he used to when she was smaller, tell her that everything was going to be… But it wasn’t. And she was right.
‘I did warn you,’ Sue commented briskly. ‘I only hope your visit hasn’t set her back. The doctor said she was to be kept quiet and allowed to adjust at her own pace. When’s the funeral?’
‘Funeral?’ He was startled.
‘Helen’s,’ she said patiently. ‘I imagine you’ll be there. If Jenny insists on going, it’ll be unavoidable that you two…’
Matt tried to explain that Helen’s body was still at Westport, together with the others who’d died there. Since the town had been evacuated, there was no question of arranging funerals or anything else. But Sue didn’t seem to understand. She repeated her question slowly, trying to get through to him.
‘How d’you mean, no funeral? Of course Helen must have a funeral.’ It sounded more like an accusation than a statement, implying that she’d always known Helen had married beneath her but there were family standards to be upheld. ‘It’s your duty to start making decent arrangements as soon as you possibly can.’
He was hardly listening to her. Through the window he’d just seen someone on a pony galloping across the meadow and jumping the hedge at the far end. ‘Isn’t that Jenny?’
‘Where? Oh! Oh, now you’ve done it!’ she snapped. She tugged the window open. ‘Jenny! Jenny, come back!’
‘She mustn’t go on the moor!’ Matt cried.
He ran out of the house to the Landrover, started the engine and reversed to get out of the drive, grazing the side of the Volvo estate. Luckily the road was clear. He shot along it, taking the first turning off to the left, a narrow lane, and praying it would lead in Jenny’s direction. It skirted the meadow where the second pony was patiently chewing; then the hedges grew high and he could see nothing more. The lane began to wind and twist; he lost all sense of where he was heading till suddenly it joined a wider road and he found himself on the very edge of the moor, fairly high up, with a good view of the farmland behind him.