Page 93 of Serenity Falls

‘Afternoon.’

‘That the new one?’ he said, without preamble.

‘Yes, sir. Seems to be.’

He made a noise halfway between a snort and a grunt. ‘Ain’t decent. Disrespectful is what it is.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘Moving in so fast when Carrie is barely cold in her grave. How did that house even come up, that’s what I want to know, when half around here stay empty for years?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said honestly.

He shook his head. ‘Something ain’t right.’

‘I … well, in what way?’

He eyed me suspiciously. ‘She was scared, you know.’

‘Who?’

‘Carrie. She was a nice lady. Used to bring me meals, check on me after Harriet died. Always happy. But not the last few times I saw her. She was scared. And then she asked me to look after this.’ He gestured to the cat in his arms, and only then did I realize it was Carrie’s cat. ‘I’m not so fond of cats myself, but she seemed desperate, so I said yes.’

‘That’s kind of you.’

He made the snorting noise again. ‘She knew.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Carrie knew. The next thing, she’s dead.’

‘What did she know?’

Bryson regarded me with his rheumy, faded eyes. ‘You know too, don’t you?’

‘Know what?’

Bryson nodded as if I’d answered the question. He reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and pulled out a tightly rolled wad of paper. ‘Found this tucked into the cat’s collar.’

I stared at it. My gut churned. Just a wad of paper, yet I was sweating like he was holding a grenade.

Bryson sighed. ‘I’m old, Cash. Eighty-nine with a dicky heart – the doc told me I’ll be lucky to see Christmas, and I guess at my age that is lucky.’ His face grew more serious. ‘It’s too late for me.’ He held out the roll. ‘Take it. Don’t care what you do with it. Bin it, burn it … or you can look at it. See what the nice lady wanted someone to know.’

I took the paper and placed it carefully in my satchel. As if something had suddenly occurred to him, Bryson looked up and down the street and then peered back at me. ‘Ain’t you a little late for your usual round?’

‘I’m, err, just delivering a few extra parcels.’

He nodded. ‘Then you best finish and … you take care.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Once you know, you can’t unknow.’

I watched him shuffle off and disappear inside his house, and then I glanced back at the removals van.

She knew. You know too.

Once you know, you can’t unknow.

26

I used to see Nat all the time.