asked me in for a drink. Surgery was over, so I accepted.’
And, thought Theo, perhaps the drink became two or three drinks, and perhaps the two of you ended up in bed.
‘I left around half past seven that evening,’ said Innes. ‘She was perfectly all right. And then the next day . . .’
‘The next day someone killed her,’ said Theo softly, and felt a stab of pain at the thought that Charmery might have spent her last few hours making love to this unknown man. The only way to go, Theo darling, she would have said, with the smile that was half angelic, half mischievous.
‘I phoned her the following evening but there was no reply,’ said Innes. ‘I had surgery the day after that, so it wasn’t until the next day that I called at the house. I was passing on my way back from a clinic day at St Luke’s, so I thought I’d look in to see how she was. There was no response when I knocked on the door, but her car was in the drive so I thought she might be in the garden. She liked the garden in summer, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, very much,’ said Theo. He had no idea what Charmery’s likes and dislikes had been for the last ten years, but he did not want Innes to know that. And Charmery had liked the garden in those long-ago summers.
‘I remember she once showed me a rose bush in the garden here – she said it was called Charmian and that Charmian was her real name,’ said Innes.
‘It was. My Aunt Helen – Charmery’s mother – planted the rose bushes.’
‘She seemed quite proud of them,’ said Innes. ‘And that,’ he said, his face white and pinched, ‘was the last time I saw her alive.’
‘Tell me about finding her,’ said Theo suddenly. ‘I’d feel better if I knew exactly what you found. It can’t be worse than all the things I’ve been visualizing.’
Innes nodded. ‘I went round the side of the house and down through the garden,’ he said. ‘People say, after a tragedy, that they had a feeling something was wrong, don’t they? I’m a man of science, Theo, a doctor, and I don’t have feelings of that kind. But as I walked down to the boathouse that day, I had a very strong feeling of – this will sound impossibly melodramatic – but of something very dark close by.’
‘And that’s when you found her,’ said Theo.
‘Yes. I went into the boathouse – you’ll know it very well, of course. It smelt of the river and it was very dim . . .’
It always did smell of the river, thought Theo, but the dimness was a good dimness, green and secret, with waterlight from the river rippling on the walls.
‘She was wedged under the landing stage,’ said Innes. ‘Right underneath it, jammed against two of the main timber uprights supporting the platform. She had been there for at least two days and probably three.’ He made a brief gesture with his hands. ‘I saw my fair share of violent deaths – car crashes and accidents – when I was training. But since I came to Melbray – well, a country GP deals more with flu and eczema or chicken pox. There’s my work at St Luke’s clinic as well, but that’s more orthopaedics and osteopathy – it’s a branch of medicine I’m quite interested in. The nuns do a very good job with their patients.’
‘I met one of them this morning,’ said Theo. ‘Sister Catherine. She seemed very dedicated to her work.’
‘Yes, she’s very good indeed,’ said Innes. ‘I don’t think the restrictions of religious life come easily to her, though. I think she might be a bit of a rebel under that cool exterior.’ He broke off, then said, ‘I’m sorry, you want to hear about Charmery. Well, as I said, it looked as if she had been dead for at least two days, so . . .’ Again the abrupt gesture. ‘There were post mortem changes,’ he said. ‘But she had been in the water all the time and creatures live in rivers – not just fish, but scavengers. Water rats . . . There was erosion of the flesh, and the face was— It wasn’t
And, thought Theo, perhaps the drink became two or three drinks, and perhaps the two of you ended up in bed.
‘I left around half past seven that evening,’ said Innes. ‘She was perfectly all right. And then the next day . . .’
‘The next day someone killed her,’ said Theo softly, and felt a stab of pain at the thought that Charmery might have spent her last few hours making love to this unknown man. The only way to go, Theo darling, she would have said, with the smile that was half angelic, half mischievous.
‘I phoned her the following evening but there was no reply,’ said Innes. ‘I had surgery the day after that, so it wasn’t until the next day that I called at the house. I was passing on my way back from a clinic day at St Luke’s, so I thought I’d look in to see how she was. There was no response when I knocked on the door, but her car was in the drive so I thought she might be in the garden. She liked the garden in summer, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, very much,’ said Theo. He had no idea what Charmery’s likes and dislikes had been for the last ten years, but he did not want Innes to know that. And Charmery had liked the garden in those long-ago summers.
‘I remember she once showed me a rose bush in the garden here – she said it was called Charmian and that Charmian was her real name,’ said Innes.
‘It was. My Aunt Helen – Charmery’s mother – planted the rose bushes.’
‘She seemed quite proud of them,’ said Innes. ‘And that,’ he said, his face white and pinched, ‘was the last time I saw her alive.’
‘Tell me about finding her,’ said Theo suddenly. ‘I’d feel better if I knew exactly what you found. It can’t be worse than all the things I’ve been visualizing.’
Innes nodded. ‘I went round the side of the house and down through the garden,’ he said. ‘People say, after a tragedy, that they had a feeling something was wrong, don’t they? I’m a man of science, Theo, a doctor, and I don’t have feelings of that kind. But as I walked down to the boathouse that day, I had a very strong feeling of – this will sound impossibly melodramatic – but of something very dark close by.’
‘And that’s when you found her,’ said Theo.
‘Yes. I went into the boathouse – you’ll know it very well, of course. It smelt of the river and it was very dim . . .’
It always did smell of the river, thought Theo, but the dimness was a good dimness, green and secret, with waterlight from the river rippling on the walls.
‘She was wedged under the landing stage,’ said Innes. ‘Right underneath it, jammed against two of the main timber uprights supporting the platform. She had been there for at least two days and probably three.’ He made a brief gesture with his hands. ‘I saw my fair share of violent deaths – car crashes and accidents – when I was training. But since I came to Melbray – well, a country GP deals more with flu and eczema or chicken pox. There’s my work at St Luke’s clinic as well, but that’s more orthopaedics and osteopathy – it’s a branch of medicine I’m quite interested in. The nuns do a very good job with their patients.’
‘I met one of them this morning,’ said Theo. ‘Sister Catherine. She seemed very dedicated to her work.’
‘Yes, she’s very good indeed,’ said Innes. ‘I don’t think the restrictions of religious life come easily to her, though. I think she might be a bit of a rebel under that cool exterior.’ He broke off, then said, ‘I’m sorry, you want to hear about Charmery. Well, as I said, it looked as if she had been dead for at least two days, so . . .’ Again the abrupt gesture. ‘There were post mortem changes,’ he said. ‘But she had been in the water all the time and creatures live in rivers – not just fish, but scavengers. Water rats . . . There was erosion of the flesh, and the face was— It wasn’t
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