The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,95

said. I’d do anything for you.’ He put cash on the table and although he’d just ordered coffee, he left it, and walked with them out to the car park.

Chapter Thirty

BY THE TIME MATTHEW LEFT THE police station, it was six o’clock. Jonathan might already be home, opening a beer, preparing a meal. Matthew had a vague memory that friends had been invited for dinner and thought perhaps he should put off seeing Dennis Salter until the following day. Jonathan was tolerant and understood the demands of his work, but this might be one step too far. Then he remembered Maurice Braddick’s description of Grace Salter, battered and humiliated, and he texted Jonathan to say he’d probably be late and they should eat without him. As he started the car and began the now familiar drive to Lovacott, Matthew was honest enough to recognize that he probably wouldn’t have enjoyed the dinner anyway. Meryl and Jo were Jonathan’s friends, people he’d known for years. Matthew was only just being introduced to his husband’s circle. These women were potters who worked in a craft collective on the edge of Exmoor. They were political activists, with a deep distrust of the police.

When he parked outside the house on the square, it was dark. In The Golden Fleece opposite, people were gathering for some sort of celebration. Young women in tight, skimpy dresses and older ones in long, sequinned frocks. Men in various forms of formal wear; one unexpectedly in a kilt. There was a lot of laughter. Someone walked in carrying a bunch of silver balloons with the number 60 printed on them. A birthday party then. The sort of party he would hate.

He knew he was allowing himself to be distracted because he didn’t want to face the Salters, but he got out and rang the doorbell. A hall light was switched on; Matthew saw it through the long sash window next to the door, which was half opened by Grace. Her back-lit face was gaunt, all angles and planes. The grey eyes stared out at him.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Matthew Venn. I was hoping to speak to you.’

‘Is it about Christine? We were so pleased she’d been found.’ She didn’t move to allow him inside, and there wasn’t much expression in her voice, no real sense of pleasure. Matthew thought there was something of the robot about her.

‘Is Dennis there?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘He’s away at a meeting. He’s on the board of governors of the primary school here.’

‘Perhaps I could come in and speak to you.’

‘I’m not sure. He might be a while.’ She stood her ground, pale, thin and angular, in the doorway.

‘What is it, Grace? Does Dennis not like you to speak to people when he’s not here? What is it he’s frightened of?’

At that, she did let him in. They sat again in the large, formal room at the front of the house. There was no heating and he felt a chill as he walked inside. From the kitchen there came the sound of canned laughter; she’d been listening to a comedy on the radio.

‘Should I make you some tea?’ She couldn’t settle and was on her feet again.

‘That would be lovely.’ He felt cruel, because he seemed to be causing her such distress.

She stayed in the kitchen for such a long time that he thought she must be hiding from him. The radio was switched off and the house was suddenly silent. Then he heard muffled words and wondered if she was calling her husband on his mobile, leaving a message for him perhaps, asking him to come home. Covering her back in case Dennis was angry that she’d let Matthew in.

At last she came back with a tray. She poured tea and offered milk. He thought how different she was from Susan. They made unlikely sisters. All they had in common was their membership of the Brethren. He wasn’t sure how he’d persuade Grace to talk. It had seemed easy in advance, driving down the narrow lanes from Barnstaple.

‘Are you very close to your sister? As I remember, you were great friends when you were young.’

‘We were. Great friends.’ Grace shut her eyes for a moment.

‘And now?’

‘Things change,’ she said, but she didn’t look at him and she didn’t explain.

‘Do you often have Christine to stay with you?’

Now her eyes were open and she watched him, wary. ‘Not as often as we used to.’

‘Why is that?’

‘We’re older now. It’s not so easy. Perhaps we like our own routines