‘A holiday.’ Merrily inhaled and leaned her head over the torn back of the Astra’s passenger seat and closed her eyes. ‘So what’s that like, exactly?’
‘Boring,’ Lol said, ‘as I recall.’
‘We had a few odd days, when Jane was younger. Not for a while, though.’
‘How is she?’
‘Raging. Eirion’s stepmother seems to think she enjoys being a nanny to her youngest kids.’
‘Taking a risk there.’
‘And can she even begin to know how much of one?’ Merrily closed her eyes. ‘Don’t really want to get there. I want to drive through the night talking inane crap. Like when we were young.’
‘That’s a holiday. I remember now. Inane crap with bits of sex in between.’
‘You and Alison?’
‘Once. Five days in Northern France. You ever see Alison in the village?’
‘Well, she’s still with James Bull-Davies, if that’s what you mean. They say she’s really taken him and his decrepit house in hand. But they don’t come to church.’
‘So who sits in the Bull pew now?’
‘Nobody. People are so superstitious, aren’t they?’
She felt the car slow and turn, and when she opened her eyes the road had become an alley between rows of short wooden pylons. Entwined around them, luxuriant growth seemed to be surging towards the awakening stars.
It was Lol who was shivering. He pushed his compact body back into the seat to stop it, but she felt the tremor and she knew his hands were tightening on the wheel.
‘Time to abandon The Prince of Wales Guide to Making Stupid Conversation, I think.’ Merrily caught some ash in the palm of her hand. ‘What haven’t you told me?’
Lol watched the road winding between the hop-yards, put on his headlights. ‘So exactly how long have you been a vicar?’ he said.
She recognized the church, embedded in shadow, fusing with the bushes above the river bank. There was a light on in the vicarage, just one. It was the kind of light you left on when you went out for the night, to create an illusion of habitation.
The Astra crawled through the village, if you could call it that. There were several cars on the forecourt of the pub. One was a station wagon with its rear hatch flung up, a man pulling out a black tripod.
‘Didn’t take them long, did it?’
Lol drove slowly past. He even managed to give the man a suspicious glance, like a true local in his battered old car. Subtle. There are rooms at Prof’s studios, he’d said. It’s not finished yet, but it’s quite respectable. Who else would be there? Only me, in a loft, out in the stables.
The road curved out of the village, up a slight incline and down again. The Malvern Hills disappeared and reappeared, undulating with lights like gems mounted on a jeweller’s velvet tray.
‘Is this going to help?’ Merrily said. ‘Us coming here?’
‘Trust me, I’m a drop-out trainee psychotherapist.’
‘Well, I’m not any kind of psychotherapist.’ She squeezed out her cigarette, turned to look at him, her back resting against the passenger door. ‘But I’ve learned enough about your little ways in the short time we’ve known each other to know that when you’re at your most facetious it usually means you’re also kind of scared.’
Lol turned through a gap in the hedge, went very slowly downhill and eventually came to a stop. She could see the humps of buildings but no lights. What had she expected: The Prof Levin Studios, in neon?
‘You’re obviously not scared of the dark, though,’ Merrily said.
‘No, I like the dark.’
‘Yes, you would.’
Lol switched off the engine. ‘When…’ He hesitated. ‘When I first came here… I went out for a walk in the dark. Well, actually, it wasn’t that dark, bit like tonight. I walked down there.’ He pointed through the windscreen to a line of poplar silhouettes. ‘Over the river bridge, then I picked up a path and wandered into a wood. Then I got a bit lost.’
‘Your thing, being lost,’ Merrily said softly.
‘Is it?’
‘But it’s produced some lovely songs. Ask Jane.’
‘She’s just being kind.’
‘She’d take that as a serious insult. Go on – you went for a walk. You got lost.’
‘And then I came to this abandoned hop-yard. Everything cleared or dead, with the poles and the frames naked.’ He paused. ‘And a woman – Stephanie Stock. She was naked, too.’
Merrily stiffened. The summer night gathered around the old car, opaque now like November fog.
25
Soured
DOWN PAST THE inn, at the edge of the old harbour, there was a stony footpath, and if you followed it for about half a mile you came to a fairly secret cove. Or at least it seemed secret at night; there was probably an oil refinery beyond the headland.
‘You can’t.’ Eirion stood with his back to a millpond sea. There were just the two of them on the beach. One of the great things about Pembrokeshire was that you could still find lonely beaches in July.
Jane climbed onto a rock so that she was looking down on him. Post-sunset, the sky was luminous, almost lime green.
‘What?’ Hoping her eyes were glittering with an equally dangerous intensity.
Eirion backed off, the heels of his trainers almost in the water. ‘Well, yes, all right, of course you can.’ He would always start to sound Welsh when he was agitated. ‘You can do what you want. You’re free, you’re sixteen years old, you’re—’
‘English.’
He moaned to the brilliant sky. ‘Don’t start that again! Please, please, don’t hit me with that racism stuff again. They’ve just been brought up to be proud of their language and their culture.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Jane. ‘Their culture.’
This evening they’d been to the movies, to a cinema in Fishguard. Well, not actually a cinema, a cinema club. Where they’d seen this thriller, with not-bad car chases and a couple of half-hearted love scenes and a leading actor who Jane recalled from TV and who was moderate totty, in his fresh-faced way.
It had actually helped that it was in Welsh and that snogging had been rendered impractical due to two small girls sitting in between them with their chocolate ripples. It had allowed Jane to contemplate the terrible turn events had taken, and the element of guilt she could no longer reject.
An unexpected wave hit Eirion’s ankles and pooled into his trainers. He groaned. ‘Jane, please don’t do this to me. Stay until the weekend, at least, then we can think of something.’
‘I’ve thought of something. I’ve thought of a taxi. I’ve thought of the nearest station. I’ve thought of… lots of things.’
‘But there’s nothing you can do there!’ Eirion sat down in the sand and took off his trainers to empty the sea out of them.
‘I let her down.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘I dumped her in it.’
‘That’s ridic—’
‘Because I didn’t have the guts to say to Riddock, “This is naff, this is dangerous, this is wrong.” ’
Jane came down from her rock, and began to ramble up the beach – but slowly, always keeping Eirion in sight. People here still talked about that couple who were murdered years ago on the Pembrokeshire coastal path and nobody was ever caught. English couple, as it happened, on holiday.