River of Destiny. Barbara Erskine

blue Guernsey and faded jeans. ‘Can I apologise?’

      Zoë stood back and nodded towards the kitchen. ‘Five minutes. It’s my turn to be busy. I am just going into Woodbridge.’ Now that she was used to the scars on his face she could see what a good-looking man he must have been. She led the way into the kitchen where her handbag and shopping basket were sitting side by side on the worktop with her car keys.

      He grimaced. ‘Bad timing. My trademark. Just like you.’ He followed her in and stood by the table. ‘I just thought a word might be timely about our mutual neighbours. I dare say you’ve noticed that they are here for half-term.’

      ‘I noticed but I haven’t spoken to them yet.’

      ‘The youngest kid, Jade, she’s a good mate of mine. Something she said rang alarm bells. I think there might after all be a plan to try and scare you both. Playing ghosts. Weird noises in the night, you know the sort of thing. They are a malicious bunch and their idea of a joke might not be yours. Or mine, for that matter.’

      ‘So the whole ghost thing is a scam?’ She heard her voice rise at the tightness in her throat. She exhaled sharply. ‘It’s all a joke?’

      ‘Not all of it, no,’ he said quietly. He glanced at her face then looked away again. ‘Sorry. But as they are here, and they appear to be in malicious mode, you might be in for an escalation of events for a few days.’

      ‘They weren’t here, though, when the noises started, were they?’ Her moment of relief disappeared as soon as it had come.

      ‘No they weren’t.’

      ‘So all the door banging was real.’

      ‘Might have been the wind.’

      ‘And last night,’ she was silent for a moment, trying to make up her mind whether to tell him or not, ‘we came back tired after the most god-awful sail I have ever had and I was upstairs, looking down over the balcony and I thought I saw, heard, horses, quietly munching their hay, scraping their hooves. Maybe I didn’t actually see or hear them. I just sort of sensed it.’ She shook her head, embarrassed, sorry she had mentioned it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. ‘Don’t laugh at me. I expect I was hallucinating. I was so tired.’

      ‘I’m not laughing. I am sure horses have lived in here on and off over the centuries. Buildings hold memories. You were tired; your mind was relaxed, open.’ He hitched up to sit on the corner of the work station, one leg swinging. ‘So, what was so awful about the sail? I got the impression you were seasoned mariners.’

      ‘Ken is. He loved it. We were out in the sea, it was a bit rough, I suppose, and he decided to come back and we touched the bottom and suddenly I realised I was scared. Really scared, more scared than I have ever been in my life.’ She put her hands to her face for a moment.

      ‘We all get scared from time to time.’ He spoke with an unexpected gentleness. ‘That’s what gives the adrenaline.’

      She shook her head violently. ‘No. Not like this. It is supposed to be fun. And yes, exciting, but not so deeply, deeply frightening.’ She looked at him for a second and then shook her head again.

      ‘Why did you let him drag you up here if you hate it?’ he asked after a moment. ‘The move wasn’t for your benefit at all, was it?’

      There was a long pause. ‘I don’t hate it. I thought it would work. It was a challenge.’ She held his gaze defiantly.

      ‘And sailing, is that a challenge too?’

      She walked across to the window and stared out. ‘I can’t live my whole life afraid.’

      ‘It strikes me that you would be afraid of very little,’ he said thoughtfully.

      She grimaced. ‘But then you don’t know me very well. Perhaps afraid is the wrong word. In a rut, then. London was comfortable and safe.’

      ‘And sailing isn’t safe.’

      ‘We sailed before.’ She hunched her shoulders defiantly. ‘It was fine. It is fine.’

      In the distance the river water was dull, sluggish, creeping in, creeping up between the banks. She could feel the cold tiptoe across her shoulders and deliberately fought the reflexive shiver. The kitchen was warm.

      ‘It was partly because of his enthusiasm that we came here, of course it was. Our life together has always been like that. He’s the match, and I smoulder into flame.’ She broke off and it was a moment before she laughed. ‘But this time the flame hasn’t caught. Or not the way I expected. I thought I would like it here. I did – do – love it here. But something is wrong.’ Why was she confiding in him like this?

      ‘Does Ken know how you feel about all this?’ he said after a long pause. He had been watching her while she spoke.

      She nodded.

      How could she explain the complexity of their relationship? It was Ken’s enthusiasm, his drive, his passion which attracted her, his wiry single-mindedness. But it was that same single-mindedness which excluded her, blanked the parts of her personality which did not fit his template. Once she had thought she could change him, but the change, if there was to be change, would have to be hers, and that admission, that she had judged him wrongly, and that she must change herself or be for ever sidelined had been too hard to make.

      ‘You love the river,’ she said, turning back to face Leo.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And you love sailing.’

      He nodded.

      ‘Are you never afraid?’

      ‘Everyone is afraid sometimes, Zoë.’

      ‘Yes, but in Ken’s case he’s hooked on the adrenaline. He’s competitive. He is always testing himself against something. Fear excites him.’

      He made no comment and she turned back to the window. ‘Ironically it was the river that drew me to this house. It fascinates me. But now we are here for some strange reason it –’ she hunted for the right word – ‘it repels me as well. I find it as sinister as it is beautiful.’

      ‘I saw you sketching it.’

      She glanced at him, startled. ‘When?’

      ‘You were down on the boat.’

      She shook her head. ‘I can’t draw. I can’t do anything. I was trying to find something to occupy me while he tinkers with the boat. Sketching will not be it.’

      ‘I’m sure you will find something.’ He grinned. ‘Do you have to go down on the boat to keep him company?’

      ‘I don’t think he even notices I’m there half the time.’

      ‘There you are then. You need a land-based hobby.’

      ‘I jog, but that is hardly a hobby. Not for me, anyway. I need to sort out my life, my relationship, my whole raison d’être.’ She shrugged. ‘No. Forget I said that. That is part of something I have to sort with Ken.’

      He gave a half-nod. ‘Fair enough. It’s forgotten.’ He stood up. ‘My five minutes is up. Just keep a wary eye out for the kids from hell, OK?’

      She gave a faint smile. ‘So, apart from your mate, Jade, how many did you say there are?’

      ‘Three boys. Darren, Jamie and Jackson. Jackson doesn’t feature much, thank goodness,’ he grinned. ‘He’s left school and is for all I know collecting ASBOs; I doubt he has any other qualifications. Which is a shame. Jeff and Sharon are decent people, chaotic and noisy and sometimes irritating to a grumpy codger like me, but still salt of the earth.’

      Zoë put her head on one side. ‘In my experience when people are described as salt of the earth it usually means they are just the opposite.’

      ‘Then your experience is unfortunate. I meant it.’