‘I saw your car from upstairs. I thought . . .’ Glynis seems to run out of strength, leaning against the doorpost.
‘We haven’t charged anyone with Rhys’s murder yet,’ Leo says, ‘if that’s what you were hoping.’
Glynis gives a small nod, her lips tight. ‘People are saying you arrested Ceri.’
‘A woman is helping us with our enq—’ Leo stops. What is it Ffion calls him? Mr Corporate Speak. ‘She’s been bailed,’ he tells Glynis.
‘I think . . .’ Glynis looks close to tears. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong person. I know what Rhys did to her, but that was years ago, they were just kids.’
‘Have you seen Seren?’ Ffion leans across Leo.
At the sight of her, something crosses Glynis’s face, and Leo wonders if Ffion was right. Had Glynis known, deep down, what her son was like? Had she turned a blind eye to what lay beneath her son’s talents and success?
‘Not me,’ Glynis says. ‘But I was just on the phone to Llinos. She saw Seren walking towards the boathouse an hour or so ago. Said she had a bottle of vodka with her. Is everything—’
But Leo is already driving away, too fast for the snow, his tyres losing traction as they turn the corner at the end of the high street.
The boathouse is in darkness, bar a single light in the office, and Leo shines a torch around the yard, checking for movement. There are several boats on trailers, some with cabins they should check. At least Seren would be warm and dry, if she’s climbed into one of them.
‘Seren!’ Ffion hammers on the door to the boathouse. There’s no sound from within, but, when she pulls on the huge sliding door, it’s unlocked. She drags it open and Leo brings up the lights with a flicker that feels like lightning.
‘Seren?’ Leo walks through the boathouse. The office is in the corner of the vast space, a light showing through the obscured glass pane in the door. Inside, Steffan’s slumped at his desk. Leo shakes his shoulder and the man groans.
‘Has Seren been here?’ Ffion says. There’s no response from Steffan. Leo shakes him again.
‘Gerroff!’ Steffan pushes himself upright, blinking at the intruders in his office. He scowls at Leo, then slowly focuses on Ffion. He jabs a finger towards her. ‘Where’s my boat?’
‘He’s out of it,’ Leo says.
‘What boat?’
‘You took my boat!’ Steffan gets unsteadily to his feet then frowns again. ‘No, not my boat. Fixing a boat. You stole it!’ The words slide into each other, making no sense, except Steffan seems quite certain Ffion has—
Leo looks at Ffion, as realisation dawns on them simultaneously.
‘Steffan.’ Ffion speaks slowly. ‘Did Seren take a boat out?’
The boatman peers at her then nods gracelessly. ‘Not you. The other one.’
Leo looks out towards the lake. The blizzard’s too dense to see the water, but the sound of the waves makes him shiver. ‘She wouldn’t have tried to go out in this, would she?’
Ffion’s mouth is set tight. ‘She’ll be okay.’ Leo isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince. ‘She’s been sailing since she was six. She knows the lake like the back of her hand, even in bad weather. She’ll have got off the water when she realised how bad it was getting.’
Steffan bangs a hand down on the desk. He’s swaying, leaning on the desk and waving his free arm around as though conducting the words he’s now trying to force from his mouth. ‘Angharad,’ he manages. ‘Angharad’s boat.’
‘That’s okay,’ Ffion says. ‘She knows her way around a lugger.’
‘No!’ Steffan shouts. He bangs the desk again. ‘Not fixed yet.’
The colour drains from Ffion’s face.
‘Boat broken.’ Steffan sways. ‘No time to fix it. Not been well.’ He slumps back into his chair and shrugs. ‘S’got a hole in the hull.’
FORTY-SEVEN
DECEMBER 27TH | STEFFAN
As the year draws to an end, Steffan Edwards is feeling optimistic. He’s spent much of the past month putting together a business plan for the boathouse, in order to apply for a bank loan. No sooner does the money hit his account than it’s out again, paying for much needed repairs on the boathouse, as well as the additional kit needed to accommodate The Shore’s owners.
The second round of building is due to start at the end of January, with another ten lodges built by Easter, and the whole resort finished in time for next summer. Steffan’s head is buzzing with possibilities. He’s bought a giant Zorbing ball for the kids, and paid a deposit on a water trampoline. He wonders about more jet-skis. Bobby Stafford rented one for the entire summer this year, and other owners might do the same. Steffan hovers over a listing on eBay: would an inflatable obstacle course be too much? He has already spent such a lot of money, but you have to speculate to accumulate.