“Don’t,” Kerra said. Finally they’d come to it, and she found she couldn’t bear to hear the details. It was, at heart, the same bloody story with the same bloody plot. Only the leading men altered.
“I will,” Alan said. “And you’ll listen and decide what you want to believe. She claimed the sea caves were perfect for the video. She said we had to go have a look. I told her I’d have to meet her there, and I used as an excuse the fact that I had errands to run, because I had no intention of riding in the same car with her. So we met there and she showed me the cove, the village, and the sea caves. And nothing happened between us because I had no intention of anything other than nothing ever happening between us.” He’d kept his gaze on the beach huts as he spoke, but now he looked back at her. His expression was earnest, but his eyes were wary. Kerra could not make out what that meant. He said, “So now you get to decide, Kerra. You get to choose.”
Then she understood: What would she believe: him or her instincts? What would she select: trust or suspicion? She said hollowly, “They take from me everything that I love.”
He said quietly, “Darling Kerra, that’s not how it works.”
“It’s the way it’s always worked in our family.”
“Perhaps in the past. Perhaps you’ve lost people you didn’t wish to lose. Perhaps you’ve let them go yourself. Perhaps you’ve cut them off. The point is that no one gets taken away who doesn’t want to be taken away in the first place. And if someone’s taken, that’s no reflection on you. How can it possibly be?”
She heard the words, and she sensed their warmth. The warmth made her go quiet inside. It was very strange. It was equally unexpected. With what Alan said, Kerra felt a subtle release within her. Something indefinable was giving way, as if a great internal bulwark were dissolving. She also felt the prick of tears, but she would not allow herself to go that far.
“You, then,” she said.
“Me then? What?”
“I suppose I choose you.”
“Just ‘suppose’?”
“I can’t. More than that just now…I can’t, Alan.”
He nodded gravely. Then he said, “I took a videographer with me. That was the errand I went on before Pengelly Cove. I fetched the videographer. I didn’t go to the sea caves alone.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you say…?”
“Because I wanted you to choose. I wanted you to believe. She’s sick, Kerra. Anyone with sense can see that she’s sick.”
“She’s always been so?”
“She’s always been so sick. And spending your life reacting to her sickness is going to make you sick as well. You’ve got to decide if that’s how you want to live. I, for one, do not.”
“She’ll still keep trying to?”
“Very likely she will. Or she’ll get help. She’ll make up her mind or your dad will insist on it or she’ll end up out on the street on her ear and she’ll have to make a change to survive. I don’t know. The point is, I intend to live my life the way I want to live my life regardless of what your mum does with hers. What, exactly, do you want to do? The same? Or something else?”
“The same,” she said. Her lips felt stiff. “But I’m…so afraid.”
“We’re all afraid at the end of the day because there’s no guarantee of a single thing. That’s just how life is.”
She nodded numbly. A wave broke against the Sea Pit. She flinched.
“Alan,” she said, “I didn’t hurt…I wouldn’t have done anything to Santo.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. No more would I.”
BEA WAS ALONE IN the incident room when she logged on to the computer. She’d sent Barbara Havers back to Polcare Cove to haul Daidre Trahair into Casvelyn for a tête-à tête. If she’s not there, wait for an hour, Bea told the detective sergeant. If she doesn’t show up, call it a day and we’ll lasso her tomorrow morning.