‘Well why don’t you explain, and then I can decide that for myself.’
Grace looked squarely at Annabel. ‘It’s just – I keep thinking about the day before Adam disappeared. He was out for a few hours. He said he was going to watch the Arsenal match at the pub in Ockton, and do some Christmas shopping afterwards. But then, while I was in France I heard Dad grumbling about how many games Arsenal had at the end of the season, because of all the ones cancelled for bad weather around Christmas. I went on the internet – and the game had been cancelled that day.’
‘Right. So …?’ Annabel looked uncertain.
‘Well, it means I don’t know where he was.’
‘Perhaps he went shopping.’
‘He didn’t come home with any bags. There was nothing on our credit card. I never found any presents hidden away.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?’
‘Dad convinced me it was nothing – said he probably watched another match instead. I rang Ken Barton as well, but he sounded as sceptical as Dad. There was a big local derby on that day, apparently, which went ahead, and all the pubs would have been showing it.’
‘But you’re not sure?’
‘I don’t know. They might be right. But seeing Niall reminded me of it, that’s all.’
They sat in silence for a while, drinking their wine.
‘Perhaps mention it again when you next speak to Ken Barton,’ Annabel suggested.
‘I will,’ Grace agreed, but doubted she’d be taken seriously. Anyway, her dad was probably right. It wasn’t relevant. Except she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.
Annabel left early the next morning, keen to avoid the Sunday afternoon tailbacks on the long journey to London. Soon after she had gone, heavy rain had begun to pound the windows, and so far showed no signs of slowing. When Millie was settled for her lunchtime nap, Grace sat down in an armchair and began to reflect on everything that had happened since she’d returned. Gradually, the fizzing of her mind abated, and she fell into a half-slumber.
She was woken abruptly by a loud knocking. For a moment she was confused, before she remembered that it would be Ben, calling about the renovations.
‘Hello,’ he said as she opened the door, taking down a large black umbrella. Bess sat next to him, droplets shimmering at the tips of her wet, clumpy fur, her tail wagging. ‘Can I leave Bess here?’
‘Of course.’
Ben led the dog underneath the porch. Bess shook herself, water spraying off her coat, then lay down as Ben said, ‘Stay.’
‘Come in.’ As Grace stepped back she wondered if it were in fact a good idea to let him in, after what she’d witnessed in the pub.
‘So, what are you planning for this place?’ he asked as he followed her through to the kitchen.
Grace pulled out Mike Muir’s papers, and a few rough sketchings of her own. ‘These are really basic,’ she said as she gave them to him, half-embarrassed by her simple designs. But Ben sat down and began studying them carefully.
‘Ah, I see what you’re thinking. Knock out this wall,’ he banged the wall next to him, ‘and you’ve got a nice cosy area. And sort out the bathroom upstairs so it’s en suite. This looks like a good plan.’ He glanced up. ‘Want me to do some proper drawings for this, and then figure out the best way to go about it?’
Grace had gone across to the kettle. ‘Well, we’d better talk money before we get too much further. I’ve only begun thinking about this recently, and I need some idea of how much it would cost.’
Ben folded his arms and looked down at the sketches for a while without saying anything. ‘I’ll tell you what – let me do the plans for nothing, and we’ll figure it out from there.’
Grace was taken by surprise. Ben’s expression was unreadable, but not unfriendly. As she looked at him she noticed that his eyes were framed by grey circles, and there was a melancholy aspect to his face that struck her as almost tragic. A Heathcliff, she thought, and couldn’t decide if the current that ran through her was fear or something else.
‘You don’t need to do that,’ she said.
She thought he might smile, but he just said, ‘I know,’ and began to browse through the papers again. ‘To be honest you’re doing me a favour. I’d be grateful for a project to keep me busy at the moment.’ He raised his eyes to meet hers. ‘Okay?’
Grace faltered under his direct stare. ‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘Can I take these?’ He held up the loose sheets of drawings.
‘Of course. Would you like a drink?’
Ben shook his head as he got up. ‘Don’t worry about that. Why don’t you give me a quick tour of the place, then I can get out of your way.’
‘All right, then,’ Grace agreed. He came for work, she reminded herself, not to pass the time of day. She was only looking for excuses to delay sorting through the cottage.