“I had an absolute nightmare,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I’ll tell you all about it, but more importantly I just saw your messages so first you have to tell me what the hell happened up there. Are youokay?” He cups her cheek with his hand, and she leans into it and tells him everything.
She will deal with her suspicions about him and Edie later, she won’t forget them, she can still smell the bath oil on her fingers. But for now, tough as she is, Jayne needs him to help her put herself back together.
Mark is appalled by the letter and by the suicide. “How did the farmer seem to you? Was there any sign that he was about to blow his brains out?”
“He drove us up to the barn when we arrived, and I had a nice chat with him in the car but that was all we saw of him. He had a love of the place, for sure. A deep love. And he answered my questions about the history up there very patiently. I liked him.”
“And the policeman? That was his son? He saw the letter?” he asks.
“He did. I think Toby took the letter but I have a photograph of it. Here.”
Mark studies it. She finds it hard to read what he thinks. He hands the phone back.
“What a truly horrible thing for Edie to do. Did you think I was in danger? From her?” he asks.
“No,” she says, leaning on the early confidence she felt, deciding not to share the fear that built. “I thought it was a hoax.”
He gives her a look that she interprets as approval. “But the others freaked out?” he asks.
“They really did.”
“Ruth should have known better. She knows Edie.”
“She was really drunk. You have no idea. She has a problem. I think things have been much tougher for her lately than any of us realized. Maybe you should talk to Toby.”
“She’s always drunk.”
“I don’t just mean tipsy. I mean proper blackout drunk. It was bad.”
He ignores this. “That letter is a piece of work.”
“I know.” But she didn’t like the way he sounded almost admiring. Her adrenaline is crashing and so much that she wants to say is on the tip of her lips, ready to spill out. Years of resentment of Edie, the hatred of her that grew while they were at the barn, Jayne’s biting suspicion about Mark and Edie. But she holds back, nervous of where it might lead. She sniffs her fingers again, discreetly. The scent of the bath oil is cloyingly feminine. But she mustn’t jump to conclusions. This is a conversation best had when the dust has settled.
“Has anyone heard from Paul?” he asks.
“I’m not sure.”
“I wonder if he’s home.”
She frowns. “Are you worried?”
“Paul hasn’t replied to any texts I’ve sent him since yesterday.”
Jayne knows how unusual this is. They stare at each other for a moment, and she realizes that he actually looks worried. It sends a chill up her spine.
“What about Edie?” she asks. “Have you heard from her? I tried to call her from the car, but she didn’t pick up.”
He shakes his head. “She’s away on her retreat until later today. You know that.”
“Tell me what happened to you,” she says. “I was worried when you didn’t turn up. And why didn’t you respond to my calls and messages?”
“I’m so sorry about that,” he says. “Things have been a bit chaotic at this end and my phone ran out of charge this morning when I was at Edie’s house. I couldn’t get it charged until I was in the car on my way home just now.”
“Why on earth were you at Edie’s house?” In her current state of mind, suffused with suspicion, it staggers her that he would say this so nonchalantly, but he explains about Imogen, and the crisis that led him to pick her up early.
“I hadn’t realized how unstable Imogen is,” he says, and Jayne loves that he’s such a Good Samaritan. “Did you know she’s been lying about self-harming? She’s going to need a lot of support in the future. Edie really needs to step up.”
Jayne feels for Imogen, but the selfish part of her relaxes. It’s a huge relief to know that it was Imogen who had a bath and slept here.
