Page 32 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House

She really had turned her life around and was completely self-sufficient.

If only the people in the village knew the truth.

He looked about him at her homely and ordered interior, in complete contrast to the exterior.

She’d cleverly not tended to any part of the house or gardens that would draw suspicion, wanting everyone to believe she remained the abusive threat she’d been four years ago so that they’d leave her alone.

Her simple life was surprisingly appealing.

Such isolation from society at large had always appealed to him, but he’d hitherto assumed he would need a degree of wealth to take the edge off his loneliness.

Perhaps this level of self-sufficiency, however, would keep his mind and his body active, and bring its own rewards.

It was certainly a new way of looking at things.

‘If you’ve a mind to be useful, you can help me replace the rotten floorboards upstairs. I have some tools left by my husband, and managed to oil a rusty saw and cut some planks to size from wood washed up from a shipwreck last winter. But I don’t have the strength to pry up the damaged boards.’

‘I’ve never so much as held a hammer in my life.’ She looked disappointed and he felt somehow inadequate. ‘But, if you direct me, I can try.’

They mounted the steep, curved stairs in the back corner of the room and entered a dim attic space.

Edward could see she’d set up two low stools as trestles and cut mismatched lengths of reclaimed wood to the correct lengths.

There was a rusty chisel on the floor, which she picked up and handed to him, and he slid the blade into the gap at one end of the first rotten board and pulled.

But he was strong and the board was weak, so the spongy pine crumbled almost immediately, sending him flying backwards into Maude.

They both tumbled to the floor, Edward landing on his bottom between her legs, and his head falling against her soft stomach.

He looked up as she looked down and, after a beat, they both burst into laughter.

Despite the poor light, they worked efficiently together.

As each board was removed, she sawed it into short lengths and took the pieces downstairs to stack by the fire.

He nailed the new planks into place, quickly learning from her how to hold the hammer and reduce the risk of injury because, she joked, she was running out of petticoats to turn into bandages.

They returned downstairs nearly two hours later to eat the food they’d prepared – the light from the day now all but gone, but the stubborn fog still smothering everything outside.

The stew was only of vegetables, grains, seaweed and a little bit of meat fat, and yet he honestly thought it was one of the best meals he’d ever tasted.

She’d worked magic with the herbs, and the fact that he’d contributed to its creation, combined with his weariness from the hard, physical work, made him appreciate it all the more.

‘I must pay you for the food,’ he said, realising that he’d probably eaten her rations for the next three days without thinking.

‘Despite the betrayal of my servants and collapse of my reputation, I’ll shortly be far wealthier than when I arrived, and certainly far wealthier than you.

I’ve abused your hospitality and must give you something for your trouble.

’ He had some shillings in his pocket and placed them on the table between them.

‘I can’t be bought with coins.’ Maude’s mood turned in a heartbeat. She looked most alarmed and he wondered if she suspected he was trying to secure other, as yet undisclosed, favours.

‘No, you misunderstand. I’d pay for a meal in a coaching inn, and I’d like to pay for the meal you’ve so kindly provided today. Besides, I have money and you don’t.’

‘Thank you, but no. I don’t need your charity and won’t be beholden to any man.’

He was impressed with her desire for independence but she was cutting off her nose to spite her face. ‘And yet, surely charity is what you have bestowed on me these past two occasions.’

‘That’s different,’ she huffed. ‘You know I expected nothing in return.’

‘Apart from the removal of your floorboards,’ he teased.

‘Then we’re even,’ she said, and he nodded his agreement. ‘Will Mr Shaw be worried about you in this weather?’ she asked, as he scraped the tin spoon around the chipped earthenware bowl to collect up every last drop of the stew.

He shrugged. ‘Both he and Mrs Drayton thought I was foolish to come out in such terrible fog, but I was anxious to speak to Dr Appleby’s father. As soon as it’s safe to do so, I must call on him.’

They both stood and she moved to the sink to wash the bowls.

As she brushed past him again, he reached for her free wrist and pulled her close, not knowing quite why he’d been so impulsive or what he would do next, but knowing that he couldn’t fight the urge to hold her a moment longer.

He must look ridiculous with the cotton bandage wrapped around his head, but she was paying no attention to that.

She had her eyes locked on his and he felt she was looking deeper into him.

Edward could hardly focus, as a cascade of thoughts coursed around his giddy mind. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss her, but it was a completely illogical desire. She had a dark past, and as she was a married woman, they’d have no future.

And yet, she hadn’t pulled away, even though there was an unmistakable hesitation on her part. Was his albinism the issue? The immorality of her situation?

‘I like you, Edward—’

‘But you’re married. I understand. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’ He dropped her wrist and put his hands to his shorn head, running his fingers through the velvety crop. What the hell was going on? Because there was definitely something weird floating around the tiny space between them.

She looked at him for a long time and he couldn’t quite understand her distracted expression. It was as though she was turning something over in her mind. She put the bowls on the tiny wooden draining board and turned back to face him.

‘There’s something I need you to see. I haven’t been entirely honest with you. Please try to understand that I’ve been so very frightened… so very alone, and I didn’t know who I could trust.’

She squeezed past him and walked over to an ancient blanket box that stood by the far wall and lifted the heavy lid.

When she turned back to face him, she was cradling a pale skull in her hands, her expression anxious.

It took Edward a moment to realise that there was something strange about it, because the surface was covered with bony deposits, like tiny half-eggs, and there was something odd about the teeth.

‘Is this one from the cliffs?’

She nodded and he noticed how she bit at her bottom lip, as though she was in trouble.

‘Did it fall recently? Will you bury it with the others?’

‘No, this was exposed four years ago when a violent storm swept across Norfolk. It fell to the sand, along with the rest of what remained of Mallory Hornchurch, a young woman of twenty-nine who was part of Samson’s Circus of Astonishing Spectacles.

She was also buried up on the clifftop forty years ago, but much closer to the edge. This skull, Edward, is mine…’