‘Can you tell us what happened to his father?’ Hawthorne asked. ‘I understand there was an accident.’
‘Yes. To be honest, I don’t really like talking about it . . .’
‘I’m sure.’
She stood there with the clothes now silent, her glass in one hand, the cigarette in the other. She could see that Hawthorne wasn’t going to let go. ‘They used to go caving together,’ she said. ‘They’d been doing it since they were at university. That was where they met. They were at Oxford together. Richard, Charles and Gregory . . .’
‘Gregory?’
‘Gregory Taylor. He’s a finance manager. He lives in Yorkshire.’
That was the county where the accident had happened.
‘What did your husband do?’ Hawthorne asked.
‘He was in marketing.’ She didn’t go into any more detail and I guessed she still found it painful talking about him. ‘They went away for a week every year,’ she continued. ‘I didn’t like it. The very thought of going into a hole in the ground makes me shudder and to be honest with you I’m surprised they were up for it. But it was a chance for the three of them to let their hair down. They didn’t just do it in England. They went all over the world. They’d been to France, Switzerland . . . and one year they even went all the way to Belize. They never took wives or partners. Gregory’s married and I know Susan doesn’t approve. But it would have been foolish to try to stop them. I was just glad when Charlie came home safe.’
She stopped and reached for her wine. She needed it to help her go on.
‘Except one year he didn’t,’ she continued, after she’d taken a big gulp. ‘In 2007, they went to a cave system near Ribblehead. It’s called the Long Way Hole. There was an investigation afterwards and everyone agreed that they took all the right precautions. They’d made contact with the local caving club and left behind a contact sheet saying where they were going and what time they were expected back. They had spare torches and a medical kit and all the right equipment. Gregory was the most experienced of the three and he was the leader but that was just a formality. All three of them knew what they were doing.’
‘So what happened?’
‘What happened was that it began to rain. Heavily. This was April. None of the weather forecasters had predicted it but suddenly there was a flood. They were already well into the cave system but the exit was only a quarter of a mile away. They decided they had to get out as quickly as possible and that’s what they tried to do.’
She took a deep breath.
‘Somehow, Charles got separated from the group. He’d been third in line and when they looked back, he wasn’t there. They’d come to a section that the local cavers called Spaghetti Junction and there was a choice of different passageways. He’d taken the wrong one. You have to remember that the situation was very dangerous. The water was rushing towards them and the danger was that if they spent too much time looking for Charles, they’d all drown. Even so, Richard and Gregory turned round. They risked their lives going back to find Charles, calling out to him and trying to find him, even though the passage was completely flooded. In the end, they had to give up. They had no choice. They got out and called for help, which was the right thing to do. But it was much too late.’ She took a breath. ‘Charles had managed to get himself stuck in what’s called a contortion. It’s like a narrow tube that connects two passages, one above the other. He was still there when the water came pouring in.’ Another pause. ‘He drowned.’
‘The body was recovered?’ Hawthorne asked. He took out his own pack of cigarettes, removed one and lit it.
She nodded. ‘Early the next day.’
‘Did you talk to the others? Richard Pryce and Gregory Taylor?’
‘Of course I talked to them . . . at the inquest. We didn’t say much. We were all too devastated – but they were the main witnesses. In the end, the verdict was that nobody was responsible. It was just an accident.’ She sighed. ‘Gregory took some of the blame . . . which is to say, he blamed himself. After all, he was the team leader. But how could he have known it was going to rain so heavily? How could any of them?’
‘What about you?’ Hawthorne asked. ‘Did you blame Gregory Taylor for what happened?’ He paused. ‘Or Richard Pryce?’
Davina fell silent. Behind her the machine had gone into full spin and when she finally spoke, her voice was so soft that I could barely hear it. ‘I never blamed him,’ she said. ‘But I did resent him . . . for a time, anyway. After all, he was alive and Charlie was dead and actually the trip had been Richard’s idea. He had been much keener on it than Charlie and so to that extent, I suppose he was to blame.’ She gulped down some wine, then, lowering her glass, continued: ‘I loved Charlie very much. He was a wonderful man, fun to be with, a great dad. We’d wanted to have more children together after we had Colin but somehow it never happened. After he died, I felt a terrible emptiness and it was only natural that I should have directed my feelings at Richard. It didn’t matter how kind he was to me. I thought he was buying his way out of jail, if you know what I mean. The more he gave me, the angrier I got.
‘In a way, it was Colin who persuaded me I was wrong. He never saw it that way and when he and Richard were together . . . I could actually see them bonding. Colin needed a dad. And that’s exactly what Richard became.’
She glanced into the wine glass. It was empty.
‘One night, Richard and I got very drunk together – this was before he stopped drinking – and he actually broke down and all the pain and the guilt and the unhappiness that he had been feeling came flooding out. I realised then that I’d been unfair to him and that in a way he had been as much a victim of what had happened as Colin and me . . . and even Charlie. After that, I sort of gave in. I let him help me. When he offered to take over Colin’s school fees, I didn’t argue. Charlie had left me a bit of money but not a lot. There wasn’t any point being cynical about what Richard was doing and anyway, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He really was acting for the best.’
‘Were you aware that he’d left you money in his will?’
‘Yes. I don’t know how much. But he always said I’d be all right if anything happened to him. He was very rich and Stephen must make a fortune from his gallery. I’m going in to see Oliver Masefield tomorrow. He’ll tell me what happens next.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I hope you don’t mind but if you don’t have any more questions, I really have to get on. I want to make sure Colin is doing his homework. And I have to do some mood boards for a client . . .’
‘Of course.’ Hawthorne got to his feet. The cigarette was still in his hand. ‘We may need to talk to you again.’
‘I’ll do anything I can to help.’
She waited until we had left the kitchen, then followed us out. We said goodbye at the door, then stepped back out into the street. It was quite dark by now, although Priory Gardens always did seem quite a shadowy place, tucked away beneath the hill. We walked back to the station. For a while, Hawthorne didn’t speak.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘Tony, mate, I’ve told you this before. I don’t like you asking questions. That’s not why you’re there.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’ I replied. ‘What possible harm could I have done?’
‘I don’t know yet. But let’s not forget what happened last time. You asked one stupid question and you almost destroyed the whole bloody case!’
‘You’re not telling me you think Davina Richardson had anything to do with the death, are you?’