Dear Little Corpses by Nicola Upson

Author:Nicola Upson [Upson, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Faber and Faber
Published: 2022-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

Cyril sheltered in his shed for a while, until it became obvious that the rain wasn’t going to stop any time soon. He listened as it pounded on the roof, thinking – as he always did – that there were few things more comforting than the sound of rain when you were warm and dry. It took him straight back to being a kid, when he and Winnie had hidden in the attic, waiting for the drink to wear off and their father to forget why he had ever wanted to hurt them. Staying out of sight was something they’d learnt early.

Tonight, he was especially glad of the storm. It cleansed the earth and took the tension from the air, even if it couldn’t begin to wash away the sorrows of the day. With a heavy heart, he thought back to the Ridley girl’s face in the school hall; she had looked so sad and mistrustful, as if the weight of the world were on those tiny shoulders, and he had tried to cheer her up. He hadn’t told Winnie about stopping to play with Annie while he was dropping off the jumble; she had caught him off guard this afternoon, and to admit to the lie now would make it worse; Win would only worry, and – with the police around – it didn’t do to confuse things. Still thinking about Annie, he took an old oilskin off the hook by the door and put it on, then locked the shed and headed home. Several men were still out and about, drifting off gradually to their own firesides, to their wives and children, and Cyril imagined that a few of the village kids would get a tighter hug tonight. There but for the grace. He was a great believer in fate.

His boots were heavy with mud, and he was bone tired. The excitement of the last couple of days had given him more energy than he’d had in years, but the search had taken the last of it, and now it was as much as he could do to put one foot in front of the other. By the time he had crossed the green, the bottoms of his trousers were soaking wet and rain trickled down the back of his neck, making him shiver. He checked his van, then let himself quietly into the cottage, hoping that Winnie wouldn’t be awake to plague him with questions about the search or grumble about the water on the carpet, but the parlour was dark and mercifully peaceful, and she had obviously stoked up the fire for him before going to bed. She could be thoughtful like that, in spite of everything, and she had always been good to him. They’d had their ups and downs over the years, but he didn’t know what he’d do without her.

Quietly, he pulled one of the dining chairs closer to the warmth of the stove and sat down to untie his boots. ‘Was it

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