The Survivors, стр. 88

‘Oh.’ Surprised, Kieran reached for the bag. ‘Thank you.’

‘Kind of an apology on my part as well.’ George shook his head. ‘Pendlebury stopped by earlier. I didn’t realise I was stirring up trouble with those storm timings. I thought it was interesting, that was all.’

‘Interesting is definitely one way to put it,’ Kieran said. He managed a smile. ‘I’m grateful to you, though. Knowing makes a big difference. For me, anyway.’

‘Good to hear.’

‘Why were you looking into it anyway? You’re not writing about that, are you?’

‘God, no.’ George frowned. ‘The new one’s about biological warfare in a near-futuristic dystopia.’

‘Ah.’

‘Yeah.’ George shrugged. ‘The storm was just something I was reading about on the side.’ He was quiet as he glanced down at baby Audrey. ‘I’m having some custody issues. Personal stuff. My wife – ex-wife – is overseas. It makes things complicated. Legally, and otherwise.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It is what it is. I don’t really like to go into it. But it’s a bit like the landscaping, and the diving, sometimes I need a distraction. Then this terrible thing happened to Bronte.’ George shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It’s not how I expected things to be down here.’

He leaned on the fence as they both surveyed the black upturned soil. Kieran remembered Bronte’s photos and imagined her, alive and vibrant, walking past this very spot, camera in hand as she headed towards the cliff trail. All at once, something itched in the back of his mind, hazy and elusive. He frowned and looked back at the garden. ‘What’s the plan for all this, anyway?’

George scratched his chin. ‘You know, I’m honestly not too sure. The landscaper gives me an invoice every few weeks and I pay it. I should probably ask him. It seemed like a good idea when I moved in, modernise it a bit, make it my own, you know? But now –’ He shrugged. ‘If I’d realised it was going to be such a pain in the arse, I would have left it alone. It’s been more trouble than it’s worth.’

Kieran looked up the street towards the cliff path. Ash’s dirty white ute was nowhere to be seen. The neighbouring houses stood silent, set back from the road with their blinds shut. The niggling feeling remained. He turned back to the excavated garden, its destruction nearly complete. Kieran hesitated, then opened his mouth.

‘You found anything interesting in there?’ His voice was oddly light, even to his own ears.

George’s eyes flicked over in the dark. ‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kieran said. ‘Anything.’

‘The body of Gabby Birch buried in the flowerbeds your mate dug all alone by hand twelve years ago?’

The only sound was the purr of a single passing car.

‘No,’ Kieran said quickly as the road fell quiet again. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ The writer looked a tiny bit amused. ‘This whole time you never once thought that might be what was going on here?’

Kieran didn’t answer.

‘Don’t worry.’ George gave him a knowing smile. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’ He paused. ‘Ash was here this morning actually. He apologised.’

‘Really?’ Kieran couldn’t hide his surprise.

‘Yeah. Or at least I think that’s what he was getting at. I did, too.’ George surveyed the patch of the garden still to be dug up. ‘I’ve been wondering if maybe he and I could work something out with this. I suspect Ash might actually know what he’s doing more than my current guy.’

‘I don’t think you’d be sorry,’ Kieran said. ‘You two would probably get along pretty well if you gave each other a chance. Ash is a good bloke when he wants to be.’

‘Yeah. Well, we’ll see.’ George shivered in the crisp air. ‘I’ll get back inside. If Mia wants any of her books signed, tell her to shout out.’

‘Thanks. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be around, though.’

‘Is that right? I hope not because of anything I’ve stirred up with the storm?’

‘No. Not just that anyway. It’s a few things.’

‘I can’t say I blame you. I really hoped I’d stay here long-term, but now –’ George looked tired. ‘I’m not so sure. Places like this, they need to be tight-knit to work. Once the trust is broken, they’re stuffed. Whether people see it or not, the writing’s on the wall.’ George turned back to his big house, with its torn-up grounds and its sprawling, empty feel. ‘Anyway, it was good to meet you both. Hopefully we’ll cross paths again.’

He raised a hand and Kieran watched him open the front door and disappear into the blazing light. The door closed and the street was dark and sleepy once more.

Kieran stood there alone with Audrey. The writer had gone, Ash’s car was not there, the road to the cliff path was empty. Except suddenly, something new snagged deep in Kieran’s mind.

No. Not new. Different. A dogged feeling that he was missing something tugged at him. Kieran stared into the night and forced himself to think. It was the same sensation he’d had earlier that day, down on the beach with Pendlebury. He closed his eyes and tried to focus, but the idea was like water, slipping through his fingers.

Finally, Audrey stirred and his mobile phone buzzed with a message from Mia. Kieran blinked and began to walk, the elusive thought creeping alongside him, always just out of reach. He chased it, without success, the whole way back.