Free The Glass Lake by Maeve Binchy Page A

a crazy jigsaw in his head. And he realized that it had to be crazy because just suppose, suppose for the sake of argument, that all these jumbled ideas spelled out the truth.
    Who on earth could be the father of Helen McMahon’s child if it were not her husband?
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    Martin heard footsteps on the stairs. He got up and came to the sitting room door. “Helen?”
    â€œYes, love.”
    â€œI was looking for you, did you hear about poor Billy Sullivan?”
    â€œYes, Dan told me. I suppose it’s a blessing in a way, he was never going to get better.”
    â€œShould we go in, do you think?” Martin was always a good neighbor.
    â€œNo, Kathleen’s not there, only the two lads. I called on my way back.”
    â€œYou were out late…”
    â€œI was just walking, it’s a lovely night. They say their mother went down to Sister Madeleine. That was a good idea, she always knows what to say.”
    â€œWere you in the hotel, then?”
    Helen looked surprised. “Lord, no. What would I go in there for?”
    â€œYou said Dan told you about Billy Sullivan.”
    â€œDoesn’t Dan stand there at the door, telling the dogs in the street bits of information…. No, I told you, I was walking. Down by the lake.”
    â€œWhy do you want to walk by yourself—why won’t you let me walk with you?”
    â€œYou know why. I want to think.”
    â€œBut what is there to think about?” He looked blank, bewildered.
    â€œThere’s so much to think about that my mind is overflowing…”
    â€œAnd are they good, the things you think about?” He sounded almost fearful of the answer, as if he regretted asking.
    â€œWe must talk…we have to talk…” Helen looked to the door as if to see were they out of earshot.
    Martin was alarmed. “There’s nothing to talk about—I just wanted to know were you happy, that’s all.”
    Helen sighed. A heavy sigh. “Oh Martin, how many times have I told you. I was neither happy nor unhappy, there was nothing you could have done—it would have been like asking you to change the weather….”
    His looked at her, crestfallen. His face showed that he knew he should not have asked.
    â€œBut it’s all different now, it’s all changed. And we have always been honest with each other—that’s more than many other couples.” She spoke as if giving him crumbs of comfort.
    â€œMore than that, surely?” His voice was full of hope.
    â€œOf course more than that—but because I never lied to you, I would always tell you if there was something important.”
    Martin moved away, putting up his hands as if to ward off any explanation that she was about to begin. Her face was agonized. He was unable to bear it.
    â€œNo, my love, I was wrong—haven’t you every right to walk by yourself. By the lake, or anywhere. What am I doing cross-questioning you? I’m turning into an old Mother Bernard before my time, that’s what I’m doing.”
    â€œI want to tell you everything….” Her face was empty.
    â€œNow, hasn’t enough happened tonight with that poor man across the road going to meet his maker—”
    â€œ
Martin…
” she interrupted.
    But he wasn’t going to talk. He took her hands and drew her across the room toward him. When she was right beside him he put his arms around her very tight. “I love you, Helen,” he said over and over into her hair.
    And she murmured, “I know. I know, Martin, I know.”
    Neither of them saw Kit in the shadow pass the door, wait for a moment, and then go on to her own room. She lay in bed without sleeping for a long time that night. She couldn’t decide whether what she had seen was very good or very bad.
    At least it didn’t look as if her mother was wild and fancy free, or whatever Clio was constantly hinting