The Light Between Oceans(99)

‘I’ve …’ Isabel began.

Garstone turned to see who was speaking.

‘I’ve got to see Sergeant Knuckey …’

The flustered constable, half-naked and mop in hand, blushed. His eyes flicked towards Tom. Isabel followed his gaze, and gasped.

Tom jumped to his feet, but could not move from the wall. He reached a hand to her, as she searched his face, terrified.

‘Izzy! Izzy, love!’ He strained at the handcuffs, stretching his arm to the very fingertips. She stood, crippled by fear and regret and shame, not daring to move. Suddenly, her terror got the better of her, and she turned to dash out again.

It was as though Tom’s whole body had been brought back to life at the sight of her. The thought that she might vanish again was more than he could bear. He pulled again at the metal, this time with such force that he wrenched the pipe from the wall, sending water gushing high into the air.

‘Tom!’ Isabel sobbed as he caught her in his arms, ‘Oh Tom!’ her body shaking despite the strength of his hold. ‘I’ve got to tell them. I’ve got to—’

‘Shh, Izzy, shh, it’s all right, darl. It’s all right.’

Sergeant Knuckey appeared from his office. ‘Garstone, what in the name of Christ—’ He stopped at the sight of Isabel in Tom’s arms, the two of them soaking from the pipe’s downpour.

‘Mr Knuckey, it’s not true – none of it’s true!’ cried Isabel. ‘Frank Roennfeldt was dead when the boat washed up. It was my idea to keep Lucy. I stopped him reporting the boat. It’s my fault.’

Tom was holding her tight, kissing the top of her head. ‘Shh, Izzy. Just leave things be.’ He pulled away and held her shoulders as he bent his knees and looked straight into her eyes. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. Don’t say any more.’

Knuckey shook his head slowly.

Garstone had hastily replaced his tunic and was smoothing his hair into some sort of order. ‘Shall I arrest her, sir?’

‘For once in your bloody life, show some sense, Constable. Get busy and fix the blinking pipe before we all drown!’ Knuckey turned to the others, who were staring intently at one another, their silence a language in itself. ‘And as for you two, you’d better come into my office.’



Shame. To her surprise, it was shame Hannah felt more than anger, when Sergeant Knuckey visited her with news of Isabel Sherbourne’s revelation. Her face burned as she thought back to her visit to Isabel just the previous day, and to the bargain she had struck.

‘When? When did she tell you this?’ she asked.

‘Yesterday.’

‘What time yesterday?’

Knuckey was surprised by the question. What bloody difference could it make? ‘About five o’clock.’

‘So it was after …’ Her voice died away.

‘After what?’

Hannah blushed even deeper, humiliated at the thought that Isabel had refused her sacrifice, and disgusted at having been lied to. ‘Nothing.’

‘I thought you’d want to know.’

‘Of course. Of course …’ She was concentrating not on the policeman, but on a windowpane. It needed cleaning. The whole house needed cleaning: she had hardly touched it for weeks. Her thoughts climbed this familiar trellis of housework, keeping her on safe territory, until she managed to haul them back. ‘So – where is she now?’

‘She’s on bail, at her parents’.’

Hannah picked at a hangnail on her thumb. ‘What will happen to her?’

‘She’ll face trial alongside her husband.’

‘She was lying, all that time … She made me believe …’ She shook her head, lost in another thought.

Knuckey took a breath. ‘All a pretty rum business. A decent sort, Isabel Graysmark was, before she went to Janus. Being out on that island didn’t do her any good at all. Not sure it does anyone any good. After all, Sherbourne only got the posting because Trimble Docherty did away with himself.’

Hannah wasn’t sure how to put her question. ‘How long will they go to prison for?’

Knuckey looked at her. ‘The rest of their lives.’

‘The rest of their lives?’

‘I’m not talking about the gaol time. Those two will never be free now. They’ll never get away from what’s happened.’

‘Neither will I, Sergeant.’

Knuckey sized her up, and decided to take a chance. ‘Look, you don’t get a Military Cross for being a coward. And you don’t get a Bar to go with it unless – well, unless you saved a lot of your side’s lives by risking your own. Tom Sherbourne’s a decent man, I reckon. I’d go so far as to say a good man, Mrs Roennfeldt. And Isabel’s a good girl. Three miscarriages she had out there, with no one to help her. You don’t go through the things those two have been through without being bent out of shape.’

Hannah looked at him, her hands still, waiting to see where he was going.

‘It’s a God-awful shame to see a fellow like that in the position he’s in. Not to mention his wife.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m not saying anything that won’t occur to you in a few years’ time. But it’ll be too late by then.’