Free The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) by Antonia Frost Page B

that. But in the end I think you’ll agree it was for the best. You have plenty of things to keep you busy, so I dare say you won’t even notice we’re gone.
Please don’t try and find us—I’ll call or write as soon as I can, but I’d like you to understand that this is something I need for my own peace of mind. We’ll miss you.
All our love
Helen and Rowan
    Zanna looked up.
    ‘Where were you at the time?’ she said. ‘Your dad was away in New York. Did she just leave you?’
    ‘I was at my mother’s,’ he said. ‘They were long gone by the time I got back.’
    His face had taken on the wary expression it always held whenever Helen was mentioned, and Zanna wondered how he had coped with the loss of his stepmother and stepbrother. Alexander had said something about his having had nightmares for a few years afterwards. It couldn’t have been easy for a seven-year-old boy, whose family had already been torn apart once after his parents’ divorce, to deal with this second break. And there had been no mention of him in the letter, either. Had he got on with Helen, or had he resented this woman who had come and replaced his mother in his father’s affections? His closed manner seemed to forbid all enquiry of that nature.
    ‘It’s a pretty short letter for someone who was presumably planning to leave forever,’ said Garrett. ‘I wonder why she didn’t say more?’
    ‘That’s obvious enough,’ said Will. ‘She didn’t want to give any clues about where she was going.’
    ‘Silly question, but this is her handwriting, isn’t it?’ said Garrett. ‘I mean, is it certain that she wrote this letter?’
    If Will understood the implication he gave no sign of it.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s definitely her writing.’
    ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ said Garrett, and took a photo of the letter with his phone, then handed it back. ‘Just for the record,’ he explained. ‘I’m a journalist. Force of habit.’
    ‘I don’t know what it can tell you,’ said Will.
    ‘You never know,’ said Garrett cheerfully.
    ‘I don’t suppose anyone managed to find the correspondence from the private investigation agency?’ said Zanna.
    ‘No,’ said Will. ‘Corbin had a look, but he thinks he must have thrown it out.’
    ‘Maybe the agency will have it on file,’ said Garrett. ‘What was the name?’
    ‘He says he can’t remember, but they were based in Newcastle.’
    ‘That’s a shame,’ said Garrett. ‘That might have been worth a try.’
    So that was another avenue of enquiry closed off. It seemed that circumstances had conspired to allow Helen to disappear without trace—as presumably she’d wanted.
    ‘Thanks,’ said Zanna to Will, as he stood up to leave.
    ‘Thank my dad,’ he replied. ‘He’s the one who sent me.’
    He went out, leaving Zanna feeling as if she had been put in her place. His moods seemed unfathomable; one minute he seemed perfectly friendly and normal, then the next the bars came down and closed him off to the world. It did nothing to ease her nervousness in his presence.
    ‘I wonder how we can get another sample of her handwriting,’ said Garrett thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose your dad had any, did he?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Zanna. ‘Why do you want another sample of her handwriting? You don’t mean you think someone else wrote the letter, do you?’
    ‘It’s always possible.’
    ‘So you really suspect foul play, then? But the police checked all this years ago, remember? If they looked into whether Alexander had an alibi for the time she disappeared, surely they must have had the sense to make sure the handwriting on the letter was actually hers.’
    ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘It was never an official missing persons case, was it? I’m surprised they even bothered checking that Alexander was where he said he was, to be honest. But I know—I’m probably barking up the wrong tree. There’s no reason to think anything dodgy happened. I just wanted