The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,93

truly crazy, didn’t she? With that wild hair and the velvet dress that she always wore when she was going through a crisis, weeping in the corner of the headmaster’s office?’

Caz didn’t answer. Neither of them was taking any notice of Gaby now. It was as if she wasn’t there.

‘I did try to help her, to understand what she was going through,’ Christopher said at last. ‘But you’re right, it was too hard in the end. I escaped into my work. I told myself I needed to earn enough money to look after you both, to provide care for your mother.’

‘And with other women?’ Caz shouted at him. ‘Was that how you escaped too?’

He looked as if he’d been slapped, but still he kept his voice even, so quiet that Gaby struggled to hear it above the sound of the gulls and the waves.

‘What about you, Caroline? Didn’t you have your own means of escape? At first it was the pony club and then it was the church. You always liked your form of entertainment to be organized. A hierarchy. A ritual so you didn’t have to think too hard for yourself.’

Caroline seemed on the verge of tears, but Gaby couldn’t bring herself to intervene. She felt a horrible fascination watching the encounter unfold.

‘I’m sorry,’ Christopher said. ‘That was unfair. You were young and of course you wanted some structure in your life. There wasn’t much at home and it wasn’t your responsibility to look after Becca. That was down to me.’ He paused. ‘She would have been proud of what we’ve both achieved at St Cuthbert’s, wouldn’t she? And she’d have adored the Woodyard. All the terrific work that goes on there. The music and the theatre. The art. Don’t you remember how she used to dance?’

‘Yes, yes, she would.’ Caz turned to face him. ‘Is that why you got so involved in it?’

‘Of course. You must have realized that.’

‘We’ve never discussed it,’ Caz said.

‘I’ve tried to talk to you.’

‘I suppose that’s true. But I was always busy. A levels and then university.’

‘I wondered why you came back to North Devon after university,’ he said. ‘You could have lived anywhere. It must have such dreadful memories for you.’

‘Happy ones too, and this is where I remembered Mum best. Besides, I missed it when I was away from home.’ Caz seemed suddenly to make up her mind about something. She turned to her father. She was still standing and looked down at him, accusing.

‘Did you kill her?’

Gaby thought that was why she was here. As some kind of witness, in case Christopher was forced to admit to a ten-year-old crime.

‘No! Of course not!’ There was shock and immediate denial. ‘Is that what you’ve been thinking? All these years?’

‘I saw you,’ Caz said, ‘with a woman. You were all over each other. In a bar in Barnstaple when you believed I was at home. I’d sneaked out to meet my friends.’ A pause. More honesty. Gaby thought this was like one of the truth games she’d played as a student. ‘You thought I was there keeping an eye on Mum, but she was sleeping and I couldn’t face another night in.’

There was a moment of silence. ‘She was called Sophie.’ Christopher Preece spoke very quietly. ‘I thought she was beautiful. She worked with me. She had a law degree and dealt with all our contracts. She was very bright, full of ideas.’

‘You fell in love with her mind,’ Caz said. Gaby thought that sounded like a cheap sneer.

‘I fell in love. But there’s no way I would have killed your mother to be with her.’

‘Did Mum know? You weren’t exactly discreet.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. She wasn’t seeing any of her friends by then. Who would have told her? And I was very careful at home.’ He turned to his daughter. ‘I didn’t want to hurt her.’

‘It was convenient, though, with Mum suddenly off the scene. What happened? You were free to be with Sophie. Do you still see her? Do you hide her in the attic when I come to visit?’

‘I think for Sophie, I was just a bit of fun. She didn’t want a long-term relationship and she certainly wasn’t ready for a teenage stepchild. Besides, I didn’t think I deserved to be happy. I didn’t kill your mother, but she died because of me.’ He’d found a stray piece of long grass and was pulling the dead seeds off one by one. ‘I tried to