Roots of Evil(29)

‘Don’t look so frightened, you solemn little owl. We’re not going to tell the police anything.’

‘We’re not?’

‘No. That house – Pedlar’s Yard – is a very long way away from here. And you brought that last letter I sent, didn’t you? Well, I know you did.’

‘I thought you might need to see it so’s you’d know I really was me.’

She smiled. ‘I can see you’re really you without any letters,’ she said. ‘Even without the photo you brought, I can see it.’ A pause. ‘I’m glad you brought that.’

‘I wanted to remember Mother as happy. She’s happy in the photo, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’ Alice had looked at the small photo for a very long time, occasionally reaching out a finger to trace the features. Once she said, ‘You’re more like your mother than your father.’

‘I know.’

‘Were there any other papers in the house? Anything that might link Pedlar’s Yard to this place? Other photographs, perhaps? Old ones?’

‘Not really. There wasn’t much space for things like that. I only knew about you from the stories. My mother liked telling me stories. She was good at it – she used to make me see the people and the places. Once said she would have liked to be a writer. A proper writer, I mean. Books and things.’

‘And – you do remember her as looking happy sometimes? Like she was in this photograph?’

‘Oh yes. She once said he – my father – could be very charming.’ And for a moment Mother’s face was vividly there, half-sad, half-happy, talking about the charming young man she had married and must once have loved very much…

‘Charming,’ said Alice thoughtfully, as if trying out the word. ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s true.’ And again a memory came surging upwards – this time of Mother saying that families were odd things; that if you married someone your family did not like…

And then, with a switch of mood to practicality, Alice said, ‘Well now, it doesn’t sound as if there’d be anything in that house to connect me – or you – with it. And so I think we can count ourselves safe.’

This had to be considered carefully. Then, because it was as well to get things absolutely clear, ‘You mean we aren’t going to say anything to anyone?’

She took a moment to answer. ‘No, I don’t believe we are,’ she said at last. ‘We’re going to keep it just between the two of us. I’m glad to know she talked to you about me, though.’ She said this half to herself, but there was a flicker of sadness. ‘It means that out of all that hatred and violence, I’ve got you.’ The smile showed briefly. ‘But now your mother’s dead, I think we should make sure we keep her memory as a good one. Keep the photograph carefully, won’t you?’

‘Yes, of course. Uh – do you mean we’re going to keep what she did a secret? In case people think of her as – um – a murderer?’ The word came out a bit bumpily, but Alice did not seem to notice.

She said, ‘Yes, that’s just what I do mean. People love to gossip and to speculate, and they aren’t always very kind. You’d grow up with everyone whispering behind your back.’ Again there was the pause, as if she was arranging in her mind what to say next. ‘And the truth is that your mother was defending herself – and you. Mothers do defend their children – very fiercely at times.’ Again there was the flicker of anger and grief all mixed up together.

‘Yes, I understand that.’

‘Also,’ said Alice, ‘it’s the intention that counts, remember that. I was brought up to be quite religious – most people were when I was young – and I know it’s the things in your heart and in your mind that count. That’s what God sees and hears and knows about. And I don’t believe your mother intended to kill him.’

They looked at one another. Impossible to say, But how can we be sure?

If Alice heard this thought, she did not show it. She said, ‘Everything will be perfectly all right. No one will find you here, and no one here will ever connect you with Pedlar’s Yard.’ This was said with absolute conviction. ‘I’ve lived in this village for a great many years, and I’m very well thought of here.’ She paused. ‘But I think what we will do is to tell a small lie about you. I don’t think you’d better be known as my grandchild, because people are inquisitive. They might say, “Goodness, Alice, a grandchild? We didn’t even know you had any children.” So I think you’ll just be a young relative.’ The smile that was so beautiful you wanted it to go on for ever beamed. ‘But whatever we say, you’ll be safe. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.’

‘All right. Thank you.’

‘Good.’ She stood up. ‘So now you are here, you’d better have some supper, hadn’t you? If you’ve been travelling all day you probably haven’t had a proper meal. I want to hear all about your journey, and I want to hear all about you. And after you’ve eaten, we’ll see about making up a bed for you. There are a couple of very nice guest rooms upstairs. Would you like to be at the back of the house, overlooking the trees, or would you like to be at the side, overlooking the lane?’