The Mercer's House (Northern Gothic Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

whether she’d gone back to her family, but since you’re here, obviously she didn’t. To tell the truth, when I first got your email I hoped you might be able to tell me something of where she went, but it seems not.’
    Zanna shook her head.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m as much in the dark as you are. She and my father fell out, and I didn’t know anything about her until last year.’
    ‘I wish I’d insisted she tell me more about herself,’ he said wistfully. ‘We might all have met long ago, and you might have grown up knowing your cousins—although you and Will aren’t strictly related, obviously. Poor Will; it was hard on him, to lose his stepbrother so suddenly like that. He was here when Helen disappeared—it was the school holidays, you see—and he had nightmares for years about it. For a long time he thought it was all his fault. He was only seven then—old enough to remember them, but not quite old enough to understand.’
    ‘He must have missed his stepbrother very much,’ said Zanna.
    ‘I think he did. When Rowan and Helen came there was a little jealousy—only to be expected, since I married Helen not long after the divorce from Will’s mother was finalized. Will was only three when they came along, and took it all rather badly, but he got over it soon enough. Look.’
    He got up and went to rummage around in a low cupboard, then handed a little album to Zanna. She flicked through, and saw it was full of family photos: pictures of an older Helen than the one in Zanna’s photo, still wearing the same wide smile; pictures of her and Alexander, dressed smartly for their wedding; pictures of her with a baby and a little boy, presumably Rowan and Will. Then a photo of Helen and the two boys a few years later, standing together on the beach, with a dog sitting at their feet. The contrast between the stepbrothers was striking: Rowan cherubic, fair-haired and smiling, and Will, older, dark and solemn.
    ‘I have a photo too,’ said Zanna. She brought it out and handed it to Alexander, who looked at it curiously.
    ‘So that’s Helen as a young girl,’ he said at last. ‘And that’s your father, I presume. They fell out, you say? It’s such a pity when families fracture like that. I’m very sorry he died before she could be found.’
    ‘Where did you meet Helen?’ said Zanna.
    ‘There’s a sort of artists’ colony here in the town—a commune, perhaps. I don’t know what you’d call it. She was staying there, and I found her one day while she was painting on the beach. Or should I say rather that we found each other. I’d just got divorced, and she’d run away from her family, and I think we were both looking for something. We married very quickly—too quickly, perhaps. I’ve always wondered whether that was the problem.’
    Again there was that wistful look, and Zanna felt another pang of guilt at having forced him to bring up the past. Perhaps she should have left well alone; after all, even if she did manage to track down Helen it would be too late to help her father. Perhaps all she was doing was reviving painful memories for no good reason.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t come here to upset you. I thought you might be able to give me some idea of where Helen had gone, that’s all. I know she and my father didn’t get on, but I just thought someone should let her know he’s dead.’
    ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘And I only wish I could help you. She and Rowan disappeared, and nobody knows where to. But don’t just take my word for it. You might ask them at the artists’ place. It’s been run by the same woman for years, and she was very friendly with Helen. I sometimes wonder if she knows something we don’t, but if she does she’s not telling. Alison Maudsley, her name is. You could try her. It’s the big, pink-painted house at the end of the High Street.’
    ‘Thanks. I might do that,’ said Zanna. ‘If she wouldn’t say anything to you I