Silence, Alone In The Garden

Two Years Earlier, Lucy

Early hours of the morning. She was still in the hut in the Remembrance Garden, part of the way through a cigarette. Forbidden to smoke there, but she continued, regardless of the rules. The Remembrance Garden belonged to her and to her late parents.

Before the fire, a lawn had stood here, surrounded by rose bushes. Back then, she'd often lingered a short distance away, paralysed by shyness as she'd watched the other kids from the School, wishing she could join them, aware that she was different, the daughter of the vice-principal there. Not a musician; that had marked her out from the start. Since the fire, gardeners had partitioned off the area and built a crescent with flowers in the centre and a shelter and rockery by the far end, but it still felt a lonely place ten years on.    

The rain had dwindled to a steady patter, the wind sighing. The lad with the black hair had gone, leaving her embarrassed. Gavin; he'd said his name was.They hadn't kissed or anything, but it was still wrong. She'd made a big mistake by mentioning Arthur, but hopefully the lad hadn't noticed. He'd seemed drunk.

She knew that Ash would be angry if he found out about the brief encounter with Gavin. Not that she minded. Maybe that would be for the best. To get Ash angry. He hadn't bothered to respond to her last text. He'd gone to a party in Richmond, North Yorkshire, with his mates - gate crashed the party probably  -  and she'd had a disastrous evening.  He'd switched his phone off.  Or lost it somewhere. He'd still be out with his mates, getting into trouble. And the dog Bruce would be restless. Pacing round the house, whining for Ash, ears flattened in disappointment. Whenever she went round to the house, Bruce liked to jump up beside her, nudge her with his nose and roll over, inviting her to tickle his tummy, eyes mad and brown. She imagined him now, the poor dog, stretched out by Ash's bedroom door, waiting for him to return, pining, his despair matching her own.

A breeze moved through the Remembrance Garden, reminding her of earlier. The strange encounter in the fields. The opened bag on her bed. The sense of someone watching on the promenade. The meeting with Arthur Harlesden in the Service Station. She glanced at the time on her phone. Nearly two o'clock in the morning, and another early start serving breakfasts.

An idea was forming.  Arthur Harlesden's son Terence. Terence's ex-wife still lived in the area, apparently, close to the village halfway between Lyme House and the promenade.  Katie Whittaker.  She didn't remember Katie Whittaker from ten years ago, but that didn't matter. Tomorrow, she would go to see the ex to find out more about the fire. Clear Dad's name. Find out what really happened when she was a little girl.  

Hopefully, Terence's ex-wife would tell her everything.