Free Disturbing Ground by Priscilla Masters Page B

of beauty.”
    “And he likes men,” Alun said sourly.
    “Alun,” she appealed. “I know what the gossips say. Don’t join them, please.”
    “Well they aren’t talking so much about you any more,” he said. “They’ve got something else to concentrate on now.”
    “Temporarily. Memories are long in this part of the world. They’ll never forget. I’ll always be labelled as the doctor who went on holiday, married an Italian waiter. And he preferred men. Even if I married again the gossips would follow me. As long as I stay here, in Llancloudy.”
    “Why do you?” he asked. “Why did you come back?”
    “Because people here need me.”
    “I needed you,” he said, looking away, “once.”
    “But not any more. You’re married now.”
    He nodded.
    “And I hear you’ve a …”
    He was already fumbling in his pocket, pulling out a photograph of a mischievous looking toddler. “That’s Gareth.” His pride was evident. “Two next birthday. And another one on the way.”
    “ You’re happy then.”
    “Oh yes.”
    The worst of it was that she believed him. Alun invariably blushed when he was lying. And he wasn’t blushing now. If anything he looked slightly pale. Mentioning his wife had made him worry talk would trickle back to her about his drinking companion tonight.
    Best to return to safe subjects.
    “And you’re happy that Bianca’s death was simply an accident?”
    “Yes.”
    “One last thing,” she said. “The piece of stone. What have you done with it?”
    “It’s down at the police station.”
    “Describe it.”
    “About four inches long, carved grey stone. As I said, looks like a bird’s claw - or something. Maybe not quite a bird’s claw, Megan. More an animal’s claw.”
    He was distancing himself from her. The pet name had been dropped.
    She stood up. “Can I get you a drink?”
    “Just a half. I’m driving. Wouldn’t do for me to get copped over the limit.”
    They both drank the second drink quickly, swapping information about ex-classmates. Alun drained his glass and glanced at his watch. Megan picked up her bag. She could take a hint. She smiled. “We’d better make a move. Busy day tomorrow and all that.”
    He answered her smile with a vague one of his own. “It’s nice to see you again, Meggie. You look - well.”
    It was one of his typically clumsy compliments.
    They left the pub, climbed back in the car. Alun drove carefully and silently until they reached the bottom of Heol Caradoc. There was a constraint between them and she anticipated his wish. “Don’t come all the way up the road. It’s so narrow and there’s nowhere to park or pull in. Just drop me here. I’ll walk home.”
    She would have preferred not to have read the look of relief that swept across his face.
    “OK.” He leaned across to open the car door for her. “Good night then, Meggie.”
    Somehow she got out without a polite peck on the cheek. She walked up the road self-consciously without even a backward glance and slammed the front door behind her.
     
    It was a little past ten o’ clock. Too early even for her to go to bed with cocoa and a paperback so she pulled her own pathology book from the shelf and began to read, conscious all the time that Alun had not invited her to make contact again even if she had more ideas, theories or questions about Bianca.
    The evening had promised so much - and delivered nothing. Bianca was a real and memorable person to her. But to PC Alun Williams she was a nuisance, a statistic, a file; a pathetic, mad old lady who had slipped and drowned in a grubby little pond.
    Sometimes it is easier if we depersonalise tragedy.

Chapter 7
    They loved funerals in the valleys. Paying last respects was an important ceremony. All who could would attend the funeral - even the funeral of an expired mad, sad creature like Bianca Rhys. She might have been lonely in life, avoided by most, but in death she was far from abandoned. And her dramatic exit had ensured a full