‘We’d love to,’ said Kate, with a wide, forced smile. ‘We certainly mustn’t leave it so long next time.’
As Matt and Liz drove down the lane to Emilia Swain’s cottage, Liz let out a long low whistle. ‘Oh my!’
She said nothing further. She didn’t need to.
* * *
Will had just started clearing the dishes and stacking the dishwasher when he saw Kate sitting at the table with a large glass of wine, staring at a wallpaper sample.
‘I thought you didn’t want a drink, honey,’ he said affably, ‘or I’d have poured you one.’
She stared at him coldly. ‘I changed my mind. There’s no law against that, is there?’
‘Of course not,’ he said carefully. ‘Uh, what’s the matter, Kate?’
‘You really don’t get it, do you? Why on earth did you invite them round? You know how much I have to do, but you make me waste all this time.’
Will was dumbstruck.
‘Oh, don’t stand there with your mouth open, for heaven’s sake. I just don’t have time for people and idle chit-chat right now. I thought you would have realised that. And anyway, sure they were very helpful when we moved in, but they aren’t really my kind of people.’
Will suddenly found his voice. ‘What on earth do you mean by that? We’ve spent more time with Matt and Liz than anybody. Hell, you’ve spent enough hours with Liz in the past, drinking her wine and having girlie days out! They’ve been damned good friends to us!’
Kate, her back rigid, stared unblinkingly at the heavy book of wallpaper patterns. ‘Oh, don’t make a song and dance about it, Will. I only said I wasn’t that keen on them. I don’t have to like all your friends, do I? Now, what do you think of this stripe for the hall and stairs?’
Will turned his back on his wife, stormed out of the house and went to the woodshed.
* * *
Kate came by twenty minutes later. He was still hurling the axe into the big, round logs, reducing them to kindling, and himself to a sweating, gasping, mess.
He knew she was there, but he refused to acknowledge her presence immediately. After a while, he let the axe fall and looked at his wife with hurt in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry my friends aren’t good enough for you. You never said as much before, so I really wasn’t to know, was I?’
‘Will, Will, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. There’s nothing wrong with Matt and Liz. I love them, really I do. It’s me. I’m stressed, and really overtired, I suppose. Forgive me?’ She ran to him and held him close, running her fingers through his wet hair.
Will said nothing.
‘I panicked.’ She paused, while he wondered why. ‘I could see us getting into a round of social gatherings again — out for dinner one night, lunch another day . . . I simply can’t handle trying to talk to people, pretending to enjoy myself when I just want to be here, making the house special again, and working in the studio. I have to finish Angela’s bloody fairies! I need to be rid of them, and their damned Magical Garden of Gort! Then, and only then, can I do some real work.’
He realised that she was crying. Still seething with anger and hurt, he said, ‘Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. But you can’t go on like this, you know. You have to slow down. This isn’t you. And you know as well as I do that Angela’s “bloody fairies” have made you — us — a lot of money. You’ve always loved doing them, so why this change of heart?’
‘Because I resent them. They are taking up my precious time. I just want this assignment to be over, so I can get on with what I really want to do.’ She sniffed. ‘I don’t mean to be so horrid to you, but I can’t stop myself. I just seem to get so angry.’
‘You need sleep, Kate, a whole lot of it.’ He released her grip, held her away from him and stared at her. ‘You are exhausted. If you don’t recharge your batteries, you will crash, and then there will be no work done at all. Now, I’m going to get a shower, and if you want to go to your studio, fine, but no late nights, understand? And then tomorrow we’ll try to work out some sort of routine — one that won’t kill you.’
She nodded, squeezed his hand and murmured that she was sorry.
Will hung the axe up on its hook, realising that he had done his injured elbow no favours by attacking half the woodstore in a frenzy. Now it was killing him. He trudged back to the house to find painkillers, get a hot shower and continue worrying about Kate.
* * *
While Matt sawed wood for the repairs to the shed door, Liz and Emilia sat in the cottage kitchen.
‘I couldn’t sleep last night, Liz. I lay awake and came to the conclusion that since you are so kind as to take an interest in me, I really should tell you everything,’ Emilia said.
Liz could have punched the air. ‘There have been more things?’ she asked.
Emilia went to a kitchen drawer, took out an envelope and passed it to Liz. ‘Look inside.’
Liz opened the envelope and removed a single sheet of white paper. On it, in black marker pen, were the words, YOU ARE NOT SAFE HERE.
Liz swallowed. This was a real threat. It took the whole thing to a different level. ‘When did you get this?’ she asked.
‘The day before I found my beautiful Heidi dead.’ Emilia hung her head. ‘It was like they killed her to make sure I understood that they were serious.’
‘You really should have gone to the police, Emilia. You must be terrified out here on your own.’ Liz didn’t mean to frighten her, but she had to appreciate that this was no gang of bored kids. Someone intended her real harm.
‘I am not frightened, Liz, but I am very angry.’ Emilia sat down in a chair opposite her. ‘I have experienced far worse than this, believe me. As I am Jewish, and my family came from Germany . . .’ She shrugged. ‘You can imagine, can’t you? Even though I married an Englishman, my life has not been a bed of roses, I assure you. This makes me livid. I have done nothing to upset anyone. I do not deserve this.’
‘Is there anyone you can stay with, just for a while?’ Liz asked.
‘I will not leave my home. For one thing, they would have free rein to do what they pleased, and for another, I refuse to let them think they have won.’
Emilia set her jaw, and Liz realised that there would be no arguing with her. ‘Then, would you mind if I tell one of my old colleagues at Fenfleet police station? As you said before, it’s unlikely they can do much to help, but they really should know about this. Maybe the occasional visit out here in a marked car might deter whoever is threatening you.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’ Emilia shrugged again. ‘I cannot think why anyone would want to do this to me. It doesn’t make sense.’
Liz agreed. ‘When I was in the police, I came across cases of unscrupulous property developers putting the frighteners on people who refused to sell them their homes or land, but let’s face it, no one would want to build out here on the marsh edge.’ She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ‘No one has made you an offer for your property, have they?’
‘Never. As you said, it’s not in a particularly desirable area. Yes, it’s beautiful in its way, and I love it, but people want amenities, regular transport, shops, schools . . . We have nothing here other than a tiny post office cum village store, and a pub a mile and a half away.’