“And you found me that Saturday job, Mrs. Blackwood. And made me go back to school. I’ll never forget your kindness.” Martin reaches out slowly with his broad hand. “Now let me return the favor. Let me take that now, eh? And we can go and sit down and have a little chat.”
For a long moment, I’m not sure whether she’s heard him. Then she sighs. She flicks the switch to turn the flame off, and he takes the contraption from her.
Martin turns to look at someone behind us. “They on their way?”
Edwin, Danny, and I twist around, and Joel is there, walking calmly up the drive, his phone in his hand.
“Any minute,” Joel says.
Nothing is quite in focus. Next to me, Danny hunches over suddenly as if he might be sick, and then stays in that position, hands on knees. I try to step sideways, but stumble, and then Joel is right next to me, catching me by the elbow. Edwin has gone across to Laura, who still leans against the car door, her face a sickly greenish color.
Martin takes Vera by the arm and leads her toward the end of the drive, but she appears to have second thoughts.
“Actually, I’ll stay here, thank you, Martin. You can take the weed burner, but I’ll stay here.”
“Mrs. Blackwood, we need to ask you a few questions,” Martin says.
Vera draws herself up. “There’s no need, Martin. Everything’s fine.”
“Can you tell me why you asked Ralph Luckhurst to collect you from King’s Lynn station and drop you off at the boatyardyesterday morning, Mrs. Blackwood?” There’s a sharpness in Martin’s tone that wasn’t there a moment ago. “And then asked him to collect you from the boatyard again a couple of hours later?”
I give my head a small shake. What’s Martin going on about?
“That’s none of your business,” Vera says, her chin high.
“Can you explain why there are traces of gunpowder on the passenger seat of Mr. Luckhurst’s van, Mrs. Blackwood? The same type of gunpowder we found on the block of stone that was loosened from the wall of the folly parapet and dropped onto Ms. Silveira’s head yesterday? I imagine it’d be pretty hard to climb up so close to that cannon without getting some of the old gunpowder on your hands.”
I can’t take this in; I feel like I’m two steps behind. Ralph Luckhurst. My grandmother’s greatest fan, her loyal ally. A link between Laura’s attacker and Ralph’s van. Is this all his doing?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vera tells Martin, but her face pales.
“Can you explain why a letter requesting Miss Silveira’s presence at the folly yesterday matches a letter found in Mr. Luckhurst’s van concerning his sister Daisy’s interview at the bakery? Same paper, same ink, same font. The note in the van was signed by you, Mrs. Blackwood. Will we find your fingerprints on both letters, do you think?”
The remaining color drains from Vera’s face. I sway backward, and Joel catches me under my elbows. Vera sags, slowly crumpling into a shrunken version of herself, her head bowed. I see Edwin flinch, but he stays where he is; he doesn’t go to her.
“Gran?” Edwin says. “You didn’t write that note?”
Vera shivers briefly. She doesn’t raise her eyes.
“I just wanted to talk to her,” she says eventually. “To persuade her not to get involved. I might have—leaned against a loose stone while I was waiting for her. It wasn’t deliberate.”
Laura raises trembling fingers to the bandage around her head, staring at Vera with an expression of disbelief.
Martin makes a sound in his throat. “Another question for you, Mrs. Blackwood. When I spoke with you after your son-in-law Dominic’s accident—” He articulates the word with careful emphasis:acc-i-dent. “When I asked you where you were that morning—why did you fail to mention that Mr. Luckhurst had driven you here, to Summerbourne, from the station? Mr. Luckhurst tells me that when he came back to collect you, you were exchanging cross words with Dominic here on the driveway. You sent Mr. Luckhurst away again, and later called him to pick you up from the boatyard.”
Martin’s words rattle inside my head, louder and louder. Ralph drove Vera here. Vera and Dad had an argument. Before Dad’saccident.
“No,” Edwin says. “Gran? No.”
Vera’s voice is small, distant.
“I knew it would look bad. That’s why I didn’t tell you...” Her head sinks as she talks, and she doesn’t seem to notice Laura straightening up and stepping forward. A bubble of noise, halfway between a laugh and a cry, escapes from Laura’s throat.
“And you tried to make out thatIwas the threat!” Laura says.
Vera’s head jerks up. The two women stare at each other, and then Vera deliberately turns her head away, her expression tight with contempt.
“I can assure you, Martin,” Vera says, “Dominic was fine when I left him.”
