Silent Victim(3)

‘You can still see evidence of the Roman occupation dotted all over Mersea,’ I said, having brushed up on the island’s history the night before. ‘The ancient causeway connecting the island is the only way on and off.’ The Strood was something of which I was all too aware. I hated the sense of being trapped as the tide cut us off from the outside world. ‘My father-in-law used to be an archaeologist. He had some fascinating stories. If you’re interested, the Mersea Museum is on the west side of the island.’

‘You don’t find it a nuisance, being cut off by the tide?’ Mark said.

I shook my head. ‘The locals call it the “causy”. It’s what makes the island unique. As long as you’re up to speed on the tide times then you should be OK.’ Perhaps it was because I was a city boy, but settling in Mersea Island was never an option for me. God knows I had tried. It was Emma’s idea that we move in to look after Bob, her father, before emphysema claimed his life. I could not stand by and watch him be placed in a nursing home, so I agreed. However, there was nothing to keep us here any more.

I led them round to the kitchen and opened the back door. ‘The gravel drive is wide enough to accommodate several cars if you’re holding an event.’ I pointed beyond the log store and the numerous fruit trees dotted around our half-acre plot. ‘See that gate behind those trees? There’s a further four-acre paddock that comes with the house. You can’t see it from here, but there’s a wooden bench built into the big oak tree down the end. It would really extend your garden if you took down the back gate and opened the whole lot up.’

‘Now that would be a big back garden,’ Mark said, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled a deep breath. ‘I love the seclusion. You could run around naked and there’d be nobody here to see it.’

‘Not that we would,’ Kirsty laughed. ‘We may act like hippies but I draw the line at baring all.’

I flashed a smile, rubbing my hands together as they spoke. I had a good feeling about this, and knew an offer was on the cards. Impressed by my patter, Mark and Kirsty seemed happy enough to overlook the damp climbing the walls and the crumbling brickwork that needed attention. Their faces gleamed with excitement as I quoted a fair price. My colleagues would have asked for more, but my conscience would not allow it. I reasoned that my lack of ruthlessness afforded me a better reputation than some of the sharks conducting business in my office.

‘My wife was going to turn the land into a giant vegetable patch, but she never got round to it.’ I looked down at Kirsty’s embroidered flat shoes. ‘Do you have any wellington boots? It’s quite foggy, mind; you might be better off coming back when the weather’s cleared a bit.’

‘There’s no need. I’ve seen everything on the plans. It’s just what we want,’ Kirsty said, grinning.

‘We can drive down there if you prefer?’ I suggested for good measure. ‘There’s a laneway leading to the back of the land that’s accessible by road. It’s a bit bumpy, but we can take my car if you like.’

‘No need, honestly,’ Kirsty repeated, turning her gaze to her husband, pleading with her eyes.

‘We’ve literally just put it on the market, so I’d advise you not to delay.’ I had barely uttered the words before Mark spoke.

‘Any movement on price?’

I shook my head. ‘Sorry, we’ve priced it competitively for a quick sale. I’ve been offered a job you see, in Leeds. I can’t afford to hang around. I have other people on my books, and it’s bound to be snapped up. It’s not every day that a property such as this—’

‘We’ll take it,’ Kirsty breathed, clasping her husband’s arm.

He rolled his eyes. ‘So much for playing it cool. Yes, we’d like to offer the full asking price.’

I shook their hands in a firm grip. ‘You’ve done the right thing. There’s so much potential with this property, and it’s easily worth the asking price and more. You’re getting a bargain.’

‘It’s perfect,’ Kirsty said, looking around the room as if it were Windsor Castle. Clearly she could see beauty where I could not. I felt comfort in knowing that they were the right buyers.

My dislike for Mersea Island was deep rooted. I had nothing against the residents, and the landscape could be breathtaking at times, but I could not stand the isolation. I could not escape the suffocating sense of claustrophobia when the tide rolled in and the island became closed off from the outside world. At night fog came like a blanket, so thick you could hardly see your hand. Emma used to laugh as she told me the old story of the ghost that haunted the Strood. I didn’t believe in ghosts but she was voicing my worst fear. Some souls were destined to be here for ever and I did not want to be one of them.

In the past, Emma had seemed pleased when I showed her pictures of the properties we could afford, but this morning as I broke the news in the playground, I could sense her hesitancy. I had a choice: we could delay proceedings by weighing up the pros and cons, or I could carry on full steam ahead. After all, I wasn’t just doing this for me.

Now that I had the buyers in the palm of my hand, I felt a mixture of relief and excitement. I only hoped that by moving on, my wife could leave the ghosts of her past behind.





CHAPTER THREE

EMMA