withdrew it. “No … no. I don’t want to see her this way.” He stared vacantly around the hall, at the walls with their old pictures hung awry, at the stack of folded wooden chairs, at the table with its few unclaimed
bachi
. “What was she playing at? How could this …?”
Happen?
Tom’s mind filled in the word.
Colm’s expression sharpened. “She’s not been … interfered with? She’s not been … beaten?”
“Colm, she looks like she’s resting.”
He seemed relieved. “Then what was she playing at?” he said again. “Why would she be
here
?”
“She didn’t say to you she’d be at the village hall?”
“No. She was working at the café yesterday. I don’t know until when. She didn’t come home last night, but I wasn’t overly worried. I can’t police her, and she’s been good as gold. It was Bank Holiday, so I thought she’d probably gone to Torquay after her shift to stay with some mates. I just bought her that Vespa, now she’s got her licence back.… She texts or phones if she’s going to be away overnight. That’s the arrangement. I’d thought she’d forgotten—that’s all. Oh, Jesus.”
“Liam told me earlier he’d expected her to help him at his stall today.” Tom moved to switch on the rank of ceiling fans.
“Oh.” Colm’s voice broke. “Oh, God, then how long has my daughter been lying here?”
“We don’t know.” Julia looked to Tom, as if for confirmation. “I came down here quite early this morning, but the hall was already open.”
“But she’s a young woman,” Colm pleaded. “Young women just don’t …
die
.”
“People say the girl has a drugs problem.” Northmore observed.
“What? No! Who’d say such a thing?”
“Colonel, you really should conserve your energy.” Julia’s tone turned sharp.
Colm looked wildly about him. “What is going on here?”
“Colonel Northmore’s had a fall,” Tom explained, guessing that Colm’s mind was about to make a wrongheaded connection. “It’s nothing to do with … with what’s happened to Sybella.”
Colm’s face was sudden thunder. “Colonel, Sybella had a drugs problem.
Had
. She’s been good as gold, I said. I should know. I’m her father.”
The glance Julia flicked Tom was full of sorrow, but an intelligence passed between teacher and pastor:
Parents can be oblivious to their children’s failings. They can be the last to find out
.
Catching the glance, Colm responded heatedly, “I’ve been down this road myself, you know.”
They did know. Colm’s career in pop music had been brief and when it went pear-shaped he crashed, with the predictable spectacle of drink, drugs, and infidelity recorded faithfully in the tabloids. He credited his second wife, a self-styled “rock psychologist,” with saving his sanity.
“I can read the signs. Just because she wears all that black gear—”
“You’re right, Colm,” Julia interrupted, dabbing at her eyes. “I’m terribly sorry. I don’t think anyone here means to suggest …”
Her voice trailed off. Tom realised he remained unconvinced. It was the drum. A vicious person might deface the instrument. But surely only a chemically paralytic one would delight in the novelty of crawling inside, oblivious to the possibility of passing out and being discovered later. Then a new thought entered his mind unbidden: suicide. Had Sybella taken her own life? And if so, why in such a bizarre and showy fashion?
But this new thought was interrupted by a new presence in the room. He’d expected it to be Alastair, in golf togs, but it wasn’t. It was his verger, Sebastian John, and he was as pale as the whitewashed wall of any cottage in the village.
The Vicarage
Thornford Regis TC9 6QX
27 M AY
Dear Mum
,
The most terrible thing happened at the fete yesterday! It was just like that day 30 years ago, only without the lighten lightning. Colm Parry’s daughter was found dead in the v. hall! I’ve told you before she was an
Alana Hart, Michaela Wright