From the garden of the house next door, he could hear voices, some laughter, and the accompanying crack of mallets upon croquet balls. “I’ve got the cocktails ready,” a woman called out. “I’m trying something new. Tell me what you think.”
The conversation ceased as the cocktail was tried. Gorgeous was the first adjective applied.
Lynley smiled at nothing in particular, just the assurance of individuals enjoying each other’s company. He listened longer. Too much longer, as it turned out. He began to feel hollow with loneliness.
He’d felt this before, but tonight the loneliness rose from an isolation that grew out of the void in his life. The void was ubiquitous in his world as it was currently put together, although most of the time he was able to fill it with his work. Investigations comprised very long hours, but the reality was that even in the midst of a case, the void was still present because in the back of his mind, and at a level he didn’t want to consider, he knew that he was piling action upon action in a fruitless attempt to disguise what he was actually feeling.
He wondered if this was what Daidre sensed in him without being able—or perhaps being merely unwilling—to give it voice. Did he love Daidre? he asked himself. Or did he love merely the idea of Daidre, born of his need to be whole again and to love someone as he had loved Helen. After the horrors attendant to Helen’s death, how could he declare himself free of the grief of losing her when the greater part of that grief came from the decision he himself had made to let her go and to free her spirit from her body?
He drank down the rest of his Macallan. It had come from a bottle of thirty-year-old single malt. He wasn’t hungry at all, but he decided to make a go of dinner.
Charlie had left it for him with instructions as to its reheating. As he shut the microwave upon it and set the time, his mobile rang. It was, he saw, Daidre at last. He was happy at this, but cautious as well.
“You’ve been ringing me, Tommy,” she said without preamble.
“I have done, yes,” he replied, starting the microwave upon his meal. “I did worry when you didn’t ring back. Where are you? Are you quite all right? It seemed . . .” He winced and stopped himself. He hated the needy tenor of his voice, and he knew he was talking too much.
“I’m fine, but I’ve had to come to Cornwall,” she said.
“Is there trouble?” he asked. “Are you at the cottage?”
“Goron has left Gwynder on her own, I’m afraid. And without a vehicle, thank you very much indeed. He may have gone back to the caravan, but in any case Gwyn’s completely stranded. Well, you know how isolated Polcare Cove is.”
He did indeed. The isolation of the cottage was the main reason Daidre had purchased it. Its isolation had also made it the only habitation in sight when he’d needed to find a phone, although there hadn’t been one at the time.
“She rang me several days ago, actually,” Daidre went on. “I was certain he’d return soon enough. I thought he’d just taken himself off for a pleasant ride in the countryside or a tour of God-knows-where, or something. But he’s not returned.”
“Could he have come to harm?” Lynley asked.
“That was my first thought as he’s not used to driving. But I’ve rung the hospitals and the various police stations. There’s not been an accident. The only place I can come up with as to his whereabouts is the caravan. With . . . well, with his father.”
“You did tell me he wasn’t happy at the cottage,” Lynley pointed out. “Is his leaving such a surprise?”
“Only in that, stupidly, I didn’t think he could actually find his way back. I mean to the caravan. And in any event, I’m not sure that’s where he is at all. There’s no phone and neither of them—Goron or his father—has a mobile, so I can’t just give them a bell and ask. Gwyn’s become quite frightened something might have happened to him and she’s terrified now she’s alone in the cottage.”
“Not an easy situation,” he said.
“Anything but. I’m trying desperately to sort it all out, but I’m not sure what to do. I mean, I can’t force Goron to remain in Polcare Cove, can I.”
“Is that where you are now?” he asked.
“No, no. The reception there’s wretched for a mobile. I’ve had a landline put in for them, but I wanted a bit more privacy in talking to you. I’ve brought Gwyn up to the inn. I’m in the car park. She’s gone inside for a table.”