Timothy set off from Chester as the rain started to fall. He was glad to be away from the house, though the image of Lisa’s swollen body in the bathtub travelled with him, continually popping back into his head as he looked out at the worsening weather.
He wanted to mourn her, wanted to stop and weep for the sheer injustice of her death. But there wasn’t time for that. He needed to get to Martha. That was why, when his phone rang, he ignored it at first.
It was in his jacket pocket on the passenger seat, the sound of it’s trilling tones echoing around the inside of the car.
When it rang for a second time, he pulled over to the side of the road, leaving the engine running. The indicator blinked on the dashboard as he dug out the phone, wondering if by some miracle it might be Martha, contacting him to tell him she knew what was happening, that she was safe, that the police were with her.
It was his daughter. “Timothy,” she said without preamble. “I need you to do something for me.”
He rankled at the sound of those words, the fact she still wasn’t willing to call him Dad. “You haven’t spoken to me for two years and now you need something from me?”
“Yes. I need you to look after Jennifer.”
“What?” The flare of anger was evident in his voice before he could get it under control. A lorry drove past too close, making it impossible to hear what she said next. He caught the end of it.
“-for me.”
“Hold on,” he said, moving the phone away from his ear, finding the volume button on the side and turning it up. “Say that again.”
“I said I just need you to do this for me.”
“Listen, Catherine. I’m not-”
She interrupted him. “Let me guess, you’re not free at the moment? You’ve got a lot on. You’re busy doing something involving Lisa sodding Kirke. Christ, you should have adopted her, you know that?”
“Lisa’s dead.”
“Oh.” She fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
“I’m in a real bind though. Will you look after Jenny, please? It’s just for a couple of days.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“I can’t explain right now. Would you please just do this for me? Please.”
He sighed, closing his eyes as he did so. He kept them closed while he answered. “Where are you?”
“She’s at homework club. I’m supposed to pick her up at nine. Can you get there for nine?”
“Homework club? She really is just like you.”
“Can you do it or not?”
He looked at his watch. Back to Worcester. Two hundred miles. It was already six o’clock. He could be there by half past eight if he didn’t stop. Then back up to Helmsley. It would make it pretty late by the time he got there.
He froze for a moment, trying to calculate frantically in his head. If he said no, any chance for a relationship with his granddaughter would be gone, she’d never forgive him. But if Samuel was already on his way to Helmsley, what then?
“I’ll come and get her,” he said quietly. Give me the address.”
“Can you hold onto her for a couple of days for me?”
“What about school?”
“It’s half term next week. She won’t miss anything. What do you say? Will you do it?”
He could hear an undercurrent of tension to her voice. Something wasn’t right but he didn’t want to push, he might push her away again. “Sure, I was heading on holiday anyway. I’ve a cottage booked in Yorkshire. She can come with me.”
“Great. I’ll leave the key under the mat. Let yourself in and pack her a few things. She’s got a backpack in her wardrobe.”
“Are you all right, Cathy? Are you in trouble?”
“I can’t talk about it now. I’ll be in touch, okay?”
“Fine.”
She gave him her address, different to the one he remembered though still located in Worcester.
Once he was off the phone, he loaded the Internet and typed in Helmsley Castle. It was worth ringing. It was possible she might answer. He could at least warn her.
He tried the number twice, getting the answer phone both times. He didn’t want to leave a message, just in case Samuel was already there and was listening. He might still have a chance to catch him by surprise. The thing Samuel believed in required a strict timeline, in amongst all the completely insane beliefs he held. He had spoken of a comet, how the offering needed to be made when the comet was brightest in the sky.
Timothy had looked up all the celestial events around the time of the fire and had come to the conclusion that the comet he spoke of was the Churymov, due to return in 2017. He couldn’t be sure his calculations were correct but the proof was back in Lisa’s house. He was looking for Martha in order to offer her up when the comet returned.
He doubted Samuel would act before then. If he was in Helmsley already, he would be watching, nothing more. He had to hold onto that thought, remain positive that it wasn’t too late. Any other thoughts would have crippled him.
He drove back along the roads he so recently travelled. On the way up, he’d been nervously hoping he wasn’t too late to help Lisa. She was already dead and he hadn’t even known. The image of her in the bath again.
Think about something else, think about Jennifer. Little Jenny who he hadn’t seen since she was eight. She would be ten now. How much would she have changed in two years?
All because of a stupid argument. He had not approved of the complete moron his daughter had chosen to live with but he had kept his mouth shut for as long as he could. But when Anthony had begun waxing lyrical at the Christmas table about rights for whites and how people should stick to their own kind, he’d been unable to keep quiet any longer.
He thought Cathy would back him up, remind Anthony that freedom of speech did not mean freedom from consequences. But she had sided with her partner, telling Timothy that the fool “had a point.” Then she had launched into a long prepared speech about his “obsession” with Lisa Kirke as Anthony vanished into the garden for a cigarette.
“Not all of us have got the martyr complex so finely tuned,” Cathy snapped. “But you, you care more about her happiness than your own daughter’s. I like Anthony, Dad. Why can’t you accept that?”
It had been too much for Timothy to bear. He had retreated to the lounge and an hour later they had left, taking a crying Jenny with them. She hadn’t even had chance to open her Christmas present from her Granddad. He hadn’t seen any of them since.
He knew which school Jenny attended although the concept of a homework club weighed heavy on him. She was too young to be drowning in such things. Another image of Lisa flashed into his head. He shook it physically away, twisting his neck rapidly from side to side, forcing his thoughts back towards his own family.
He arrived at the school after a painful journey, his jaw hurting from grinding his teeth together for the last half hour, anything to stop himself thinking about Lisa.
There was a short driveway into the school playground. A number of cars were parked up in front of the doors and he headed to the last space at the end of the row. From there, he could see to his right through one of the classroom windows. The lights were on but there was no one in sight.
Climbing out of the car, he looked at the time. Quarter to nine. He had made it in time. There were several parents standing by the entrance, waiting for the door to open, some talking, others staring down at their phones.
He remained by his car until nine. Only then did he walk across to the door, in time for it to open and children begin to emerge.
He looked for Jenny, hoping he would recognise her. She was the last one out, stopping on the top step and looking down at him. “Granddad?” she asked, running and throwing her arms around him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take you on holiday of course,” he said when she let go of him. “If you want to go, of course?”
“Duh!” she said, giving him a shove. “Of course I want to go. Where are we going?”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Does Mummy know?”
“She was the one who suggested it. Now we need to head to yours and pack. You’ll need things for a few days.”
“Can I bring some books?”
“I suppose so.” As he talked, he walked towards the car and she skipped alongside him. “How was homework club?”
“We found out about the life cycle of the frog. And I got to practise on the piano too.”
“Have you been learning piano?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for her. The child’s seat was still there. He’d never had the heart to take it out.
“For about a year. Didn’t Mummy tell you?”
“She probably did. My memory’s not as good as it used to be. Come on then, you can tell me about frogs playing piano on the way.”