He wanted both of them to have died good deaths, without pain or fear, because in some way it seemed to justify the fact that he’d felt so little, that he still felt so little. They’d been his friends and they were dead; he registered that truth but he didn’t know what he was meant to feel, except perhaps that it shouldn’t be nothing.
Suddenly he didn’t want Matt to be hidden away in the silence beyond those gates. Alex had gone there to confront him and yet now he was more troubled by the thought of Matt seeing what he’d become, a shadow of the person they’d known back at college. Whatever Matt had become, it was hard to believe it could be a worse transformation than his.
A raindrop hit him on the cheek. It was icily cold. He lifted his hand and wiped it away but the rain started to fall heavily and quickly. He looked up at the sky, cloud on cloud, angry and dark. The walk out there had probably taken about forty minutes and he wasn’t sure what to do now.
The trees along the road wouldn’t provide much cover, and he didn’t much like the idea of being seen lurking around in the undergrowth. He turned and looked at the gate, the buzzer and intercom on the brick post. Even the briefest contemplation of pressing that button was enough to make him start walking.
He didn’t want to see Matt, not yet. He was no longer convinced that he wanted to see him at all but he was determined that he would. He’d prepare himself and he’d call, because for all that it would expose him, he still saw it as the only way. If he wanted to free himself he’d have to see Matt first, and he would see him – just not yet.
He walked away, a brisk pace back down the lane. The rain was heavy and cold but it was driving into his back so it wasn’t too bad except when it found a way above his scarf and onto his neck. He’d be soaked through by the time he got back but for the moment he felt fine.
Within ten minutes he was cold and making slow progress. The lane seemed longer than it had and though the slight gradient was in his favour now it didn’t make up for the discomfort of being wet. The water was running down from his hair, finding inroads beneath the scarf, the lower part of his trousers soaked through too and sticking to his legs.
He heard a car approaching behind him, the engine quiet but the tyres hissing through the surface water. Alex turned as it got close, making sure the driver had seen him on the edge of the road. It was a police patrol car, slowing down as it reached him, the officer inside staring quizzically at him.
He brought the car to a stop and lowered the window and said, ‘Hi.’ He was middle-aged, bulky, and appeared to have been rendered almost speechless, as if he’d encountered an extra-terrestrial or some character from an urban legend.
‘Hi,’ said Alex. ‘I was out for a walk, but I’m afraid I should have checked the weather forecast.’
The policeman smiled now as if it all made sense, and said, ‘You’re a tourist.’
‘Yes, that’s right. I’m staying at the Furloe on Main Street.’
‘Get in. I’ll take you back.’
‘Thanks.’ Alex walked around the car and got in. ‘This is very kind. I feel stupid for being out here. I’m Alex Stratton by the way.’
‘Jeff Clinton - no relation.’ He smiled and drove off. ‘You could’ve been dressed better but you never can tell when the rain’s gonna come. What brings you to Garrington?’
Alex wanted to tell him, for the insurance it would provide and for any information Jeff might have about the family. But he couldn’t tell him now, guessing Jeff might know the MacAndrews or know of them. Alex had already told him he was just out for a walk so it would seem suspicious.
At the same time he wanted to give an impression of himself as a normal person. Since the day on the tube he’d been conscious of the possibility of a death that looked like suicide, conscious too of the people who’d line up to agree that his behaviour had been odd. He didn’t want to add a policeman to the number.
‘Antiques,’ he said. ‘I’m visiting a friend in New York but I’ve just come up for a couple of days to check out the antique shops.’
Jeff glanced over at him, taking in again the overcoat, the look of him. Alex could see that it all added up in Jeff’s mind, that he was curious rather than suspicious.
‘That’s what brings a lot of people. You seen anything you like?’
‘Couple of things. I haven’t shown too much interest yet though; it pays to keep them guessing.’
‘You got that right.’
They were already approaching the bottom of the lane. Alex felt like the water had worked through his overcoat where his back was pressed against the seat and in the warmth of the car he felt damp and musty. He continued to chat breezily though, as Jeff drove him the final stretch along Main Street which was deserted now.