I scan the reports, my eyes darting to and fro across the lines to find out more. There’s talk of a disgruntled estate manager, and also a later mention of David’s father’s financial troubles. Talk of how Adele’s parents disapproved of their relationship. It all stays the right side of outright accusation, but there is a definite shift in mentions of David from hero to something other.
Then on the third page of searches, where the Internet starts drifting into other vaguer territories, I see a report on their wedding. A quiet ceremony in the village of Aberfeld. There are no pictures in this one, and I think of Adele’s suspicions and the fact that maybe between those earlier reports and this one, a terrible crime has been committed and a boy has lost his life. The thought strikes me that maybe that wasn’t in fact the first terrible crime. How much did David want to change his life from poor farmer’s boy to wealthy doctor? Enough to set a house on fire in the middle of the night?
I drink my wine and stare into space for a while, letting it all soak in. I can’t just go to the police with my suspicions about Rob – I’d look like a crazy jilted lover if I tried to explain it. But if there was someone who already had suspicions about David – this Angus Wignall for example – then maybe they’d pay attention to an anonymous letter and at least search the estate?
I Google him and find that he’s still in Perthshire and is now a detective chief inspector based at Perth Police Station. I scribble down the address. Would he take an anonymous letter seriously? Or would it go in the crackpot file? I guess it depends on how suspicious he was of David all those years ago. If he really thought David had something to do with the fire, but couldn’t prove, it then this might pique his interest. It’s better than doing nothing. It’s better than letting all these questions fester inside me for ever.
Maybe there’ll be no body. Maybe Ailsa’s right, and Rob’s just a junkie somewhere living off grid. Maybe David is innocent – of this at any rate – but at least it will bring it all out into the open and free Adele of her doubts. Should I tell Adele what I’m thinking of doing? I decide against it. She’d try and talk me out of it, I’m sure. For all her fears and worries, she’d be afraid of rocking the boat. She’s too subservient to David, and has been for far too long. She wouldn’t like me letting all her suspicions out into the world.
And anyway, this isn’t about them any more. It’s not about them or me or any combination of the three of us. This is about Rob. This is about justice for him. Although I feel slightly queasy at the thought of it, I’m going to write the letter now and send it before I can change my mind. Enough’s enough. Then I’m done.
45
THEN
It’s a warmth, that’s the best way she can describe it. Rob is here and she feels warm inside. Glowing. He’s her friend and he’s back. As much as the time alone has been good for her – surprisingly good for her – there is a joy in Rob being here. The house feels alive again. Rob has no memories of this place like she and David do. There’s nothing to weigh him down, and that frees her. She doesn’t have to be sad with Rob here.
He laughs over and over as she shows him the house. She’d already told him it was about the size of Westlands if not bigger, but it’s clear he hasn’t believed her, and by the end of the tour, even she’s smiling at the ridiculousness of one family owning so much. The only pause for quiet was when she showed him the charred rooms where her parents had died. His eyes were wide then, and they stood in hushed silence for a moment until he said, ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here. It’s stinks.’ She loved him for that. The lack of need to explore her feelings or make sure she was okay. Rob makes her feel strong because he thinks she is strong.
He hasn’t brought much with him, some clothes, his notebook, some beers, and a bag of drugs. They take some of the weed out and then Adele makes him hide the rest in one of the barns.
‘People do come to the house,’ she tells him. ‘A woman cleans a couple of times a week and brings food. My solicitor sometimes pops in. He worries about me being here on my own. Says he thinks this is inappropriate therapy. He says I’m too young.’ She rolls her eyes. Her life has been so pampered compared to Rob’s.
‘Yeah right,’ he says. ‘Like you’re going to set the place on fire or something.’
Her eyes widen with shock at what he’s said, and then she bursts into laughter.
‘God, you’re a dick.’ She links her arm in his.
‘Yeah, but I make you laugh.’ There’s a pause. ‘So be honest, is it really those people you’re worried about finding my stash, or your precious David?’
She says nothing for a moment and then sighs. ‘Yes, maybe David most. He’s not anti-drugs as such’ – she sees the cynical disbelief in Rob’s face – ‘he’s really not, but I doubt he’d think getting high would be good for me right now. He’d think I was using it as a crutch.’
‘It must be so hard to breathe with all these people worrying about you all the time,’ Rob says. ‘If only they could see you how I do.’
‘And how is that?’ she asks.