“You’ve known Hannah a long time, haven’t you?” he said carefully.
“Hannah?” Dimity cocked her head to one side, and then smiled suddenly, a knowing, almost cheeky smile. “I’ve seen the pair of you together. Down on the beach, down at the farm,” she said. Zach felt the wintery edge to his own smile.
“I like her. That is… I thought I knew her, but…” He shrugged one shoulder, wondering how much he should say, what he should ask-if anything. But it was weighing too heavily on him, and he had to talk to somebody.
“I’ve known her since she was a child. Not well, not as friends exactly… but as neighbors. She’s a good neighbor. She’s a good girl.”
“Is she?”
“Yes. Why? What has she said to you?” Suddenly, Dimity sounded worried.
“Said to me? Nothing-that’s the problem. I found out… I found out that she’s been lying to me. About something very important.”
“Lying? No. I’ve never known her to do that.”
“Well, she has. Believe me,” said Zach miserably.
“Not telling is not the same as lying, you know. Not the same at all,” Dimity said intently.
“I found out that… Do you remember those pictures by Charles that I showed you, of a young man called Dennis?” Dimity clamped her mouth shut and nodded convulsively. “Well, I found out that it’s Hannah who’s been selling them. It’s Hannah who… has them. Or is producing them,” he muttered. “Or is fencing them,” he added, rubbing his thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes until spots danced across his vision. “She’s known all along that I was trying to find out about them-she knew all along. I must have sounded like such an idiot, with all my theories…”
After a moment, he realized that Dimity still hadn’t spoken. He’d been expecting her to defend her neighbor, or to be outraged that works by Aubrey were being sold in secret, under her nose. He looked up and frowned. Dimity sat perfectly still, her face a blank mask, her mouth still firmly shut. “Dimity? Are you all right?” Zach asked.
“Yes.” She forced the word out; it crawled from between her reluctant lips. Zach took a deep breath.
“Dimity, did you… did you know about this?”
“No! And I’m sure you’re wrong! Hannah’s a good girl. She would never do anything that was wrong… or against the law. She wouldn’t. I’ve known her since she was tiny… Known her family since before either of you were born!”
“Well, I’m sorry. But she has been selling them, and I can’t think why she’d keep it so secret unless she knew she shouldn’t be doing it! I always knew there was something not right about those drawings. At least now I know who to ask.” He broke off and looked at Dimity again, but she merely sat with a helpless look on her face, as if she had nothing else for him. “I’ve got to go,” he said, getting to his feet. Dimity rose as well, and as she did there was a thump overhead and a fluttering sound, like a newspaper dropped onto bare floor. Dimity froze, and kept her eyes down as if determined not to react. Zach waited for another noise but the silence in the house was profound. The skin between his shoulder blades tingled, as though somebody was standing right behind him, close enough to feel them breathing.
“Dimity,” he said softly. “Who’s upstairs?”
“Nobody.” The look in her eyes was firm, but underneath that was a plea he couldn’t understand. “Just rats in the thatch,” she said. Zach waited awhile, but knew that he’d get nothing more.
Dimity followed him to the door, stood on the threshold as he stepped out into the light. There was a large bunch of dried seaweed hanging on a nail outside the door. It had long, thick fingers growing from a central stalk, and it rustled like soft paper when Dimity touched it, running her fingers down it.
“Rain later today,” she said, then saw Zach’s quizzical expression and nodded. “Sea belt. When rain’s coming it draws in water from the air and goes limp, like this.” Her smile faded away. “Storm’s coming. Be careful,” she said. Zach blinked, wondering if it was a warning, or a threat. “Will you leave me the picture of Morocco? Will you leave that one with me?” she suddenly asked, catching his sleeve as he turned to go.
“Of course.” He took the printout from his bag and handed it to her, and she snatched it, eager as a child. Zach squeezed her arm briefly in farewell.
Halfway back along the track to the village, movement ahead caught Zach’s eye and he looked up to see Wilf Coulson’s bent and wizened figure retreating, turning away from him around the bend. Zach jogged until he’d caught up with the old man.
“Hello, Mr. Coulson. Were you coming down to visit Dimity?” he said.
“That’s none of your business,” Wilf Coulson pointed out. He was wearing a tweed waistcoat buttoned up beneath his old jacket, which was patched at the elbows; his hair was combed neatly to one side. Zach almost smiled.
“Spruced yourself up a bit for her, I see?” he said. Wilf paused for a second to glare at him.
“Like I said, it’s no business of yours, what I do or she does or anybody else for that matter…”
“Yes, you’re right. But that’s the trouble with people, isn’t it? We can’t stand not knowing. Ignorance is intolerable.”
“Bliss for some people, or so I’ve heard,” said the old man pointedly. “What you been asking her?”
“Ah-you see, Mr. Coulson? You have questions, too.”
“The difference being it’s at least partly my concern to know the answers.” The old man marched on slowly, and Zach fell into step beside him.
“I know. Mr. Coulson, do you remember how Élodie Aubrey died? The youngest Aubrey daughter?”
“They kept themselves to themselves. Nobody went asking.”
“Really? A nine-year-old girl dies, in a village this size, and nobody’s interested?”
“Flu, the doctor said. Stomach flu, or some such thing. Natural causes, though there were some that said otherwise. But there wasn’t an inquest, no questions asked, you see. People knew when to leave well alone, back in them days.”
“Who said otherwise? What did they say?” Zach asked, but the old man set his jaw, and didn’t answer. “And that was why Celeste left, and Charles Aubrey joined the army?” Zach went on.
“How should I know that? Can I see into people’s hearts now?”
“No, of course not. But you were going down to see her, weren’t you? I mentioned to Dimity last week that I’d met you… She said you were a good man.” The old man glanced at Zach.
“She said that about me?” His voice was low and sad.
“Yes. I think… I think she’d like to see you again, even though she made it sound very complicated. Water doesn’t travel under the bridge very quickly around here, does it?”
“No. I suppose it doesn’t, at that.” Wilf paused, turning to look back at The Watch with a frown.
“I’ve sometimes got the feeling, talking to Dimity, that… she’s not giving me the full picture,” Zach said carefully. At this, Wilf turned a scornful expression on him.
“I’m sure she’s told you more than you’ve a right to know, young man. Take it and be satisfied, would be my advice.”
“You’re very loyal to a woman you knew so long ago and haven’t seen in decades.”
“If you like.”
“Tell me, Mr. Coulson-please. Just tell me-is Dimity Hatcher a… good person?” said Zach. They stopped walking, and Wilf turned to look out to sea, where a heavy bank of cloud was building.
“Just as much sinned against as sinning, was Mitzy,” he said at last. “That’s what people never seemed to see, even though I tried telling them often enough. It weren’t her fault, how things turned out. And I’d have wed her still, after all of it. If she’d have had me. I’d have wed her still. But she wouldn’t. She only had room in her heart for one man, and that man was Charles Aubrey, whether he was worthy of it or not. But he never loved her like I did. How could he have? I knew the bones of that girl; I knew where she came from. But she would not have me. So, there. That’s all I’ll tell you. Don’t ask me anything more, for you’ll get nothing.”