‘Christ!’ Greg bit his lips. ‘Look, can you cope in the back? We’ve got to go on and find her.’

‘We’ll be OK. He’s not quite as cold as she was.’ Even so, she could hear his teeth chattering. She bent to open the first aid box. It was difficult rummaging in it in the unsteady light but she managed to find antiseptic and some dressings. As gently as she could she swabbed the blood off his forehead, wincing at the bruises on his hairline. He sat unmoving, seemingly oblivious to what she was doing, though he flinched once or twice as the swab did its work. Taping a dressing across his forehead, she was carefully mopping some of the blood that had dripped down his cheek when he gripped her wrist with sudden, ferocious strength. ‘Alison!’ he gasped.

‘Have you seen her?’ There was a strange cold sickness building in Kate’s stomach. She left her hand in his. His fingers were very strong but they were still very cold.

Bill shook his head, bewildered. He put his hand to his temple and drew it away, looking at his fingers as though he expected to see blood. He did not seem to realise there was a dressing there. ‘She hit me.’

Greg had climbed into the driving seat. He turned, his elbow over the back. ‘Alison hit you!’

‘I tried to stop her. She was with someone. The woman I saw on the beach.’ To her horror Kate saw Bill’s eyes fill with tears. ‘I wanted her to come with me,’ he went on. He was mumbling slightly. ‘I tried to stop her. I took her arm and it was then she turned on me. Her face was -’ he shook his head back and forth several times ‘- it was ferocious. She grabbed a fallen branch. It was a big one. Out there. Pine or fir or something. She lifted it up and crashed it down on my head. I must have lost consciousness. I don’t remember anything else until you came.’

‘You’re imagining it! Allie couldn’t, wouldn’t do such a thing!’ Greg said, horrified.

Kate glanced up at him.

‘What woman did you see with her, Bill?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘I saw her in the distance on the beach. She was tall. Thin. I thought it was you. She was wrapped up tightly against the wind. Her hair was long, falling down, all sort of dishevelled. She was angry. I could feel her anger.’

Greg’s eyes flicked from Bill’s face to Kate’s. He wondered briefly if he looked as frightened and shocked as she did.

She met his eye. ‘You’d better drive on, Greg,’ she said. Her voice had gone husky.

He hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded. Turning round he reached for the ignition.

Kate put her arm round Bill’s shoulders as the Land Rover lurched forward again and she felt him slump against her, shivering. As calmly as she could she edged another blanket out of the pile Greg had thrown on the floor in front of her and tucked it round him. Then she groped for his hand again and held it tightly.

It took them another ten minutes to reach the cottage. Greg swung the Land Rover to a standstill on the grass, directing the headlights past the building, down towards the beach. Kate leaned forward, staring ahead across the back of the seat. ‘I can’t see her.’

Greg reached for the torch and swung his door open. ‘You stay here. I’ll go down to the grave.’

‘I should come with you.’

‘You can’t.’ His voice was curt. Then he relented. Coming round to the back he swung the rear door open for her. For a moment he looked into Kate’s eyes. He held out his hand to help her out, and she felt him squeeze her fingers. ‘You’ve got to stay with Bill. Take him into the cottage. Get the kettle on or something. I won’t be long. We know where she’ll be.’

‘Be careful, Greg.’

‘I will.’ For a moment he stood gazing at her then he leaned forward and gave her a swift kiss on the lips.

She watched the torchlight receding into the distance. After a few moments it disappeared. The Land Rover was silent save for the ticking of the engine as it cooled. Kate swallowed. For a moment she didn’t move. Bill didn’t stir. Taking a deep breath she groped in the pocket of her jacket for the keys. She could see a pale glow of light from the window to the right of the front door where she had left the lamp switched on.

‘Where are you going?’ Bill jerked awake as she turned away.

‘To open the cottage. You’ll be more comfortable there. It’s warm. Do you think you can walk?’

‘Where’s Greg?’ He seemed aware for the first time that Greg had gone.

‘He’s looking for Allie – ’

‘On his own?’ The fear in the man’s voice made her skin crawl.

‘He’ll be all right. Greg’s a big chap. And he knows he has to be careful because you’ve warned us.’ She was astonished at how reassuring her own words sounded. ‘Shall I go and open the door first? Then I’ll come back for you.’

‘No.’ Bill’s fingers clamped around her wrist. ‘I’m coming with you.’

To her relief the house was still warm. Propping Bill against the wall, she switched on all the downstairs lights and drew the curtains. Then she looked at him properly for the first time. His face was a mass of purple bruises. There were lacerations in his scalp she had not seen in the dim torchlight. His sweater and anorak were torn and soaked with dried blood. She schooled her face carefully into a reassuring smile, hoping he had not seen her horror as she saw the extent of his injuries. ‘Bill you must lie down.’

‘No. No, I want to stand for a minute.’ He pushed himself away from the wall. ‘Can we have something hot to drink? I’m so cold.’

‘Of course. She took his arm and ensconced him on the stool in the kitchen while she reached for the kettle. All the time her ears were straining for sounds outside the house. She had locked the front door and drawn the bolt.

‘I ought to try and clean up those cuts for you a bit better,’ she said as she reached down a couple of mugs.

‘Don’t bother. I’ll be all right.’ Beneath the bruises his complexion was returning to a more normal shade. His hands though, when he reached for the coffee, were still shaking visibly.

‘Can you tell me any more about it, Bill?’ she asked quietly as she sat opposite him. ‘About the woman. Did she say anything?’

He shook his head. ‘Not a word. She just sort of hovered in the background.’

‘Hovered?’

‘Well, watched. You know. Her face was impassive. Uninvolved. She didn’t seem to care what Allie was doing.’ His voice trembled again.

‘Bill.’ Kate leaned forward and touched his hand reassuringly. ‘Allie is not herself. She had an accident of some sort on the beach.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t think she knew what she was doing. As for this woman.’ She bit her lip. ‘God knows who she is. Bill?’ She realised suddenly that his attention had been distracted. He was staring at the curtained window, his head slightly to one side.

‘Did you hear that?’ he said.

‘What?’ She held her breath, listening.

‘I thought I heard something – a shout – I don’t know.’ He put his head in his hands.

‘Shall I go and look?’ There was nothing she wanted to do less than open the front door but Greg was out there, alone.

He shook his head mutely. ‘You can’t help him,’ he said after a minute. ‘No one can.’

‘What do you mean?’ She stared at him, whitefaced.

He shrugged. Suddenly he laughed but she saw a tear slide down his cheek. ‘I came over to ask you to supper. I bought some wine and there’s a M & S gourmet meal waiting back at my place.’

She leaned forward and reached for his mug to refill it. ‘That’s a lovely thought. I shall look forward to it.’

‘But not now. Now everything is changed.’

He was like a child talking. Working it out, plaintive that his plans had been spoiled. She looked at him, frightened. Bill was strong, reliable, always there to lean on. This shaking, shocked man was not the Bill she knew.

‘We’ll do it tomorrow,’ she said, keeping her voice bright. ‘Perhaps for lunch. I’d like that.’

‘Yes. For lunch.’ His voice was dull. He pressed his hand to his head again. ‘I feel sleepy, Kate.’

‘Why don’t you lie on the sofa? I’ll stay with you and keep you company.’ She rose and took his hand.

He followed her through into the living room and lay down obediently, his long legs hanging over the arm. She pulled a rug over him, and arranged a cushion gently under his head. He looked very uncomfortable on the small piece of furniture, but he curled up on his side and closed his eyes without a word. She sat down opposite him, watching him uneasily. Almost certainly he had concussion; perhaps a cracked skull. And there was nothing she could do to help until they managed to get him to a hospital.

She leaned back in the chair, gazing into the fire. The house was silent. She strained her ears, trying to hear through the walls, listening for sounds from outside. There was nothing save a gentle scraping of the rose tree at the window which faced the sea. Where was Greg? Why was he taking so long?

XXXVII

Standing on the shingle bank Greg shone the torch ahead of him into the sleet. All he could see were silver needles slanting across the dark; beyond, he could hear the sea above the howl of the wind. The whole world seemed insubstantial, moving. Sand. Shingle. Water. Grasses. All swayed and shifted, formless in the torchlight.

‘Allie!’ Greg yelled. His voice was puny against the roar of the elements. ‘Allie. Where are you?’ Why hadn’t they questioned her more? Why hadn’t they tried to find out why she had run out into the cold at dawn to come here by herself? Why hadn’t they asked her more about what happened? He shuddered violently. What had made her attack Bill, a man she had met dozens of times? Was it that she hadn’t recognised him, or had the attack come from someone else; the woman with her. And who was the woman? Oh Christ, let her be all right!