Pact of Silence, page 17
He came into the kitchen and poured a glass of water down his throat.
Emma passed him a towel. ‘I went to the farm to see Kate, but she’s gone back to Manchester already.’
Luke crashed his glass down on the worktop. ‘I told you to leave this alone! You don’t know what you’re dealing with!’
‘So why don’t you tell me?’ Yesterday’s argument wasn’t over, apparently, and neither were Luke’s evasions.
Desperate eyes met Emma’s, and she lowered her voice. ‘Luke. Let’s go. Leave Ralton Bridge, and leave the problems in the past where they belong.’ That would only work if he told her what the problems were, though.
Luke was shaking his head. ‘No. We have to sit this out. Leave it to me, Emma. Ryan James was the worst kind of scum, but we tell no one what happened to him. Okay? Now, we behave as normal. We’ll visit Dad this afternoon, and not one word – do you hear?’ He wheeled round and went upstairs. The shower in the ensuite started, and Emma slumped into her chair, loneliness mingling with fear in her gut. She was alone here. Telling no one what happened to Ryan James would be easy, because all she knew was that he’d been killed. By whom? Alan? That might explain the suicide. Or – surely not Luke? But that couldn’t be. Luke wasn’t capable of murder. No. But his behaviour now was inexcusable.
The beep of the landline phone interrupted the scary thoughts, and Emma dragged her feet up the room to answer it. This would be Marie, and actually, a visit to York wasn’t the worst idea. Anything was better than staying home. She lifted the phone, but the voice in her ear was Mrs Alderson’s.
‘I’ve found our house plans, Emma, and the estimates and receipts from having the fireplace moved. There’s no mention of asbestos, so you should be safe enough. How are you, dear? This must be hard for you both.’
Emma sat down on the sofa. ‘It is, but we’ll get through it. We’re going down to York to see Marie and Euan today. Euan’s doing well after his operation.’
She chatted for a few more minutes, then rang off. Her parents-in-law were going to be horrified about Alan, and of course it was kinder to wait until Euan was discharged before telling them. Problem was, she wasn’t sure if she could act that well.
The clinic was near the town centre, a long and elegant Victorian terrace, recently renovated by the looks of it. Inside, it didn’t look like a hospital, but the usual hospital smell was wafting around the corridors, although there was none of the hustle and bustle and queueing and noise Emma had experienced on the few occasions she’d visited someone in an NHS place. Money equalled peace and quiet, apparently.
Luke gripped her arm as they went upstairs. ‘We say nothing, remember?’
‘I know. This is hardly the place, anyway.’
Euan was in a two-bed room, propped up in bed with a cage lifting the blankets from his leg. His roommate wasn’t there, but Marie was sitting by his bed. She rushed across the room to fetch chairs for Luke and Emma, and the next few minutes were taken up with hellos and health enquiries.
Marie returned to her place and gripped Euan’s hand. ‘I can’t believe how well he’s doing – aren’t you, love? He’s been up walking with a frame already, and it’ll be home on Wednesday if everything goes well.’
The pair beamed at each other, and a lump rose in Emma’s throat. Would she and Luke be like that in thirty years? Unexpected loneliness stabbed in. What was wrong with her today? She wasn’t even alone in her body, never mind her life.
Luke handed over the book he’d brought for his father, and Euan pointed out his crutches in the corner.
‘The physio’s promoting me to these tomorrow. They’re being very careful with me, after the problems last time.’
Marie was full of chat about Euan’s treatment, but Emma allowed the tales of hospital life to wash over her head. They were such a couple, those two, finishing each other’s sentences half the time, Marie still clinging to Euan’s hand. It was hard not to compare it to the way she and Luke were with each other. But maybe you couldn’t compare a long and happy marriage with one as young as theirs, and people were all different, weren’t they?
The conversation turned to Ralton Bridge, and Luke started talking about the new benches round the village green.
Euan shifted in bed. ‘We had some good times there, didn’t we, Marie? Ralton Bridge is a great little place. We were sorry to leave, but I suppose it was for the best.’
Marie patted his hand, her eyes sombre. ‘Luke will look after everything, love.’
Emma choked back a comment. They chatted for another half hour, then Emma poked Luke when his parents weren’t watching. Time to leave the lovebirds to it. A vague plan formed in her head as they were pulling on jackets, and she took Marie’s arm while Luke was saying goodbye to his dad.
‘Marie – I have my scan tomorrow morning in Glenfield. Luke’ll be going on to work afterwards, so why don’t I drive up to York with him and collect you? We can go for lunch somewhere, just the two of us.’
Marie beamed. ‘That would be lovely. Then you can tell me the latest about the baby!’
Emma smiled back. Disapproval was radiating from Luke, but there was nothing he could do to stop her, was there?
Chapter 25
Monday, 17th May
‘See you tonight, then.’ Emma slammed the car door shut and watched as Luke drove away. She turned towards their old flat, pressing her handbag with the precious first photos of the baby against her chest and barely glancing at the breathtaking gothic towers of York Minster to her left. She’d seen the little blob on the ultrasound screen kick and move around inside her, and it was perfect. For the duration of the scan that morning she had shut out the world and allowed today to be the happiest day, the best day she’d had for weeks, the best moments since that first positive pregnancy test. Luke was thrilled too, and oh, what a long time it seemed since they’d been a normal happy couple. Emma hadn’t wanted it to end, but of course it did.
And here she was, walking on earth again, and having lunch with Marie was going to bring all the horror and uncertainty in her life right now back to centre stage.
Marie had the door open as soon as Emma rang the bell, and the usual ‘this flat was once my home’ feeling swept over her.
‘Hello, Emma dear – did everything go all right?’
Emma produced the three photos she’d been given, and wow, this was lovely too – standing here with Marie, drooling together over the baby.
‘I’m going to make copies, so I’ll send you some.’ And oh, to be able to drool with Oma too. But they would do it on Skype. Oma was good at technology.
Emma sank down on the sofa, watching Marie pore over the photos, and heck, she was going to have to be careful here. Not telling her parents-in-law about Alan’s death until Euan was discharged meant that any questions she asked Marie about the past would need to be very carefully phrased. Marie was all too good at reading people’s body language when there was something wrong, too, and – oh dear. Emma caught sight of a newspaper sitting on a pile of things waiting to go to the clinic that afternoon. But even the local paper for Glenfield and Ralton Bridge had reported the death without naming Alan, so it was unlikely to be in the Observer.
They spent an hour shifting furniture and rugs to make the flat safer for Euan on his crutches, and Emma looked around nostalgically. She would live in York again like a shot, given the chance.
‘Living on the one level is such an advantage.’ Marie gave Emma a rather shamefaced smile. ‘You know, back then, I thought you’d been pushy about the house, but being in York is so much better for us. And of course we understand now, with the baby coming.’
Emma smiled vaguely, her mind whirling. Pushy about the house? Who’d been pushy? Hadn’t the two older Carters concocted the plan in the first place? Uneasiness wormed through Emma’s gut. That evening when Luke had dropped the bombshell on her, pretty much where she was standing now, actually – what had he said? ‘We’re swapping houses with Mum and Dad. They’re desperate.’ According to him, it had all been connected to the hip operation and Euan’s age. It was a sound enough idea – very sensible, in fact – but Marie’s remark was making Emma think that the original push might have come from Luke. But that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t known about the baby when he and his parents made the house swap decision.
She cleared her throat. ‘Had you ever considered selling up before?’
Silence. Marie was gazing earnestly at the now rugless floor, and Emma waited. Was it such a difficult question?
Marie glanced up again, her eyes wide. ‘No, not really. We couldn’t leave the house. I mean – it was our home.’
A jagged thought zipped into Emma’s head. Who had Marie meant with ‘I thought you’d been pushy’? She went into the bathroom to wash her hands and think. She’d taken the remark to mean her and Luke, but what if Marie was under the impression that the removal was all her darling pushy daughter-in-law’s idea? Could Luke have been trying to get his parents out of the house, and done it by vilifying his wife? Surely not. And why would Luke do that, anyway? Emma pressed her fingers to flaring cheeks. Paranoia was striking again, and there was too much she didn’t know here. It was time to go for lunch.
Emma took Marie’s arm as they ambled through town to Betty’s, the famous tea room. She had to find out whose idea the house swap had been, as well as the reason behind the move. Was it really Euan’s op and the fact that he was getting older, or was it something to do with the house? Or the garden? The worst thought was that something else was buried out there. But Luke had sworn it wasn’t Ryan James’ body, so it wasn’t. Yet – there was his behaviour over the patio, and Marie and Euan had been very quick to agree about appropriateness of a wide patio. The patio they didn’t have, now. Emma shivered. What were they all afraid of? Think, Emma. Ryan James was dead. Killed by an unknown someone in Ralton Bridge. And Luke didn’t know, or wasn’t saying, what had happened to the body. That was what she had to find out.
The waitress showed them to their table, and Emma ordered a glass of prosecco for Marie and grape and elderflower juice for herself. They clinked glasses when the drinks arrived, and Emma grasped her courage and smiled at her mother-in-law.
‘I’m glad you’re loving York as much as I love Ralton Bridge.’ Emma crossed her fingers under the table.
Marie sipped her prosecco, her cheeks pink with pleasure. ‘I’m glad you’re happy there, and this is lovely. Thank you, Emma dear.’
Emma smiled back. ‘My pleasure. Tell me, who do I have to thank for the house swap idea?’ Too bad if Luke had told his parents it was all her idea.
Marie sipped again. ‘It happened when Luke drove his dad to the doctor’s that time he was staying with us in March. They had it all worked out when they came home again. I wasn’t keen at first, but Luke was very persuasive. He was so sure it was best for us, and he said it was what you wanted too. And Euan was all for it, with his bad hip.’
Emma blinked. Hm. Luke had been economical with the truth. ‘It must have been a wrench to leave Ralton Bridge. You’d been there forever.’
‘It was, but Euan and I talked it over and decided Luke was right. We want him to have a good life, you know, after everything that happened when he was young. We had to keep the house, you see. It was Luke’s future at stake.’
Emma sat back as the waitress brought their kedgeree and refilled Marie’s glass. She’d been right. The move was connected to what happened when Luke was a child. Marie chatted away about food while they ate, but when they were sitting with coffee in front of them, Emma swung the conversation back to her investigation.
‘Marie—’ She put a hand on the older woman’s arm. ‘What did happen when Luke was young? He never speaks of his school days, but I know there was a problem with a gymnastics group, wasn’t there?’
Marie sighed, her eyes unfocussed. She put a hand on top of Emma’s and squeezed. ‘The trainer wasn’t a nice man, dear, if you know what I mean. In the end, the menfolk dealt with him; to this day I’m not sure how, exactly. The boys were all quite shaken. We must leave it in the past, Emma. That’s where it belongs.’
The word gave a nauseating jerk, and Emma had to make a conscious effort not to clap her hands over her mouth. Marie knew. At least – she knew something. ‘Not a nice man’ meant only one thing, and why, oh why, had it all been ‘left in the past where it belonged’? Okay, it was the kind of thing her mother-in-law’s Highland Free Church upbringing might not allow her to think about, never mind have a frank conversation about, especially in the middle of lunch in a genteel little tea room. But back in the day – why had no one gone to the police then? Before it got to the point of Ryan James being killed. By someone. Emma took a sip of her grape and elder, her head reeling. What did Marie know about that part?
‘The trainer was Ryan James, wasn’t he?’
‘That’s right.’
How did a nervous woman like Marie manage to be so calm about it? Of course, it was possible she didn’t know the whole story either. Emma continued carefully. ‘But this Ryan, if he was, um, into underage boys, why did no one involve the police?’
Marie went sheet-white and shook her head. Emma winced. She’d gone too far. She wouldn’t get more out of Marie today, that was sure.
‘I’m sorry, Marie. I misunderstood.’ Emma signalled to the waitress, and rummaged for her purse. ‘My treat, remember? Shall we head over to visit Euan?’
The train journey home gave Emma time to think. A chat with Luke would be the next step, and heaven only knew if he would talk about it. All this was driving a huge wedge right down the middle of their marriage, and if they were to survive as a couple, Luke was going to have to tell her what had happened.
Home again, she sat down for an hour on her laptop, finished her translation project and heaved a sigh of relief. She’d leave it for a day or two and then re-read it to make sure all was as it should be, then send it to the publisher to be proofread. Job done. Now, half-four might be a good time to call Kate and see how she was doing, and it might not be an easy call.
She was right about that.
‘Emma, please leave me alone. I don’t want to think about you or Ralton Bridge now. Alan would still be alive if we’d never met, and I’ll never get past that.’
The connection broke before Emma had said a word. She slammed her phone down on the sofa and burst into tears. Kate had stopped short of ‘this is all your fault’, but that was what she’d meant. And that was wrong.
She was banging about in the kitchen when Luke arrived home. He went straight to the photos of the baby on the coffee table, and stood there with a big grin on his face. Emma lost the last scrap of control she had.
‘That scan was the one good part of the day, and it’s ruined now. Why did you want to move here? And don’t tell me it was your dad’s hip, because it wasn’t. It’s to do with whatever you’re not telling me about Ryan James’ death. I hate this, Luke, and just know I’m within half a millimetre of packing my bags and going back to York. With the baby.’
Luke dropped the photo, his face white. ‘Emma, no. You know why we’re here. The house, and—’
‘All I know about this bloody house is there’s some secret attached to it – it’s like the house is blackmailing you into living in it. What is it that’s keeping you here, Luke? If I’m to stay here too, I’m going to need a bloody good answer right now.’
Wow. She’d never yelled at him like that. Emma waited, her eyes fixed on his.
He swallowed. Then a hoarse whisper. ‘There’s a – a parcel of Ryan here.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
His head dropped until his chin was nearly on his chest, and he leaned both hands on the kitchen table, his face almost grey now. ‘They made him into parcels. We all had to hide one.’
Emma clutched her stomach, fighting the rising bile. Calm, Emmy, look after the baby. She took a few careful breaths through her mouth, and the nausea subsided. Who? – why? – where? were all waiting for answers. For the moment, she pushed the horrific mental picture to one side and concentrated on the most important thing.
‘Where is this parcel hidden?’ The moment she spoke, she knew. ‘It’s where I wanted to dig the veggie patch, isn’t it?’
A silent nod from Luke.
‘Why? And who killed him?’
‘We were all there with sticks, prodding and jabbing at him. And Mark – he had a knife. He and Alan both used the knife. But… Ryan was alive when we left him with the dads. I think. But I don’t know…’ He closed his eyes, his face agonised.
Emma clapped her hands to her face. Oh my God. Alan. She’d chatted to him, clinked glasses with him, she’d made friends with his wife – and Kate hadn’t known either. Children… and they’d killed their tormentor.
‘But why hide it? Why did no one tell the police? Ryan James was the criminal.’
He blinked at her. ‘The dads decided that. It was to save us from becoming a media sensation.’
Emma gazed out to the garden, her thoughts reeling. Right, wrong, true, false – but he was telling the truth now, that was clear. Again, the most important thing should be dealt with first.
‘Come on. We’re digging.’ She pushed him out the back door.
He gave a start, then strode towards the shed. Emma bent over the original ex-veggie patch. Luke returned with the spade for him and the fork for her, and two pairs of gardening gloves. Emma pulled hers on thankfully. What would they do when – if – they found the parcel of Ryan?
Half an hour of heavy work by Luke and assistance from Emma followed, then they looked at each other. Luke’s face was blank with astonishment. ‘It’s not here.’
Emma leaned on the fork. ‘Are you sure we’ve dug in the right place?’
His head swivelled right and left as he stared at the corner of the house, then the rectangle of dug-over ground. ‘Positive. Mum and Dad bought the bulk of their veg at the market, with the patch here for radishes and a few beans and things. We’ve covered way more than her little plot.’
