Matthew had been to the cafe often with Jonathan.
The coffee was good and the cakes were better.
A few lingering visitors were finishing tea.
The chef, Bob, was a large man but nimble on his feet.
Jonathan had once said that watching him at work was like seeing an elephant dancing.
Bob hung a tea towel over the hob and looked at Matthew.
I expect you could use a coffee.
Im ready for one myself.
Once the coffee was made, they moved to a table looking out over the river.
Is this about Simon?
Of course, the news would have spread through the place by now.
Saw it on the telly this morning.
He worked with you?
The big man nodded.
He was a lovely baker.
They taught him that in the army.
Apparently, he did a couple of tours to Afghanistan.
Soldiers have to eat like the rest of us.
Again, Matthews perspective on Simon Walden shifted.
Had the man been suffering from PTSD?
Would that account for the mood swings and obsessions?
How did he come to be working with you?
Caroline Preece asked me to take him on.
Her dads on the board of trustees of this place and its not wise to upset Christopher.
Hes a wealthy man and hes used to getting his own way.
He runs the board.
And he dotes on that daughter of his.
But Simon was okay.
Not like most of the volunteers, who are pains in the arse.
He just did what was needed.
I could leave him to get on with it.
Some days hed come in early no fun on the bus from Ilfracombe to start the bread.
We do all our own baking.
It would pretty well be ready when I got here.
Saved me a bit of work.
The cook shook his head.
He killed a child once.
He never got behind a wheel again.
it’s possible for you to understand it.
Matthew thought Walden had confided in Bob more than he had the women with whom he was living.
They were men together, closer in age.
Lucy Braddick works here too?
Only a day a week at the moment.
Bob showed no curiosity in why Matthew was asking.
Her group at the day centre take it in turns.
Not in the kitchen but waitressing, clearing tables.
Shes one of the good ones, Lucy.
A great little worker.
The customers love her.
It only seems fair; shes every bit as good as the regular staff.
Would she have met Simon Walden?
Well, we keep the day centre chaps this side of the counter.
You know how it is.
Anyway, no room to swing a cat back there.
But yeah, they chatted to each other.
Simon was brilliant with all the regulars from the centre.
I think Lucy was a favourite.
Matthew nodded and thought that was one mystery cleared up.
Lucy had recognized Walden from the kitchen.
By the time Matthew had finished talking in the cafe, it was late afternoon.
Outside, there was still a bit of heat to the sun.
Matthew could feel it on the back of his neck as he walked to his car.
Hed been given Christopher Preeces address by Jonathan.
He was interested to meet Carolines father, the man whose money had given birth to the Woodyard.
A row of trees marked the border of the garden; there was a small pond and a terrace.
A pleasant garden, slightly left to run wild.
Wrought-iron gates stood open but Matthew parked outside in the street.
And perhaps there was a brief moment of recognition too.
He smiled, like a politician, anxious not to alienate a voter whom he might have met before.
Matthew held out a card.
Im here about Simon Walden.
He was murdered yesterday.
He was living in the same house as your daughter and her friends.
I heard about it.
And Im sorry, of course I should have recognized you.
A serious frown, followed by the same politicians smile and a good firm handshake.
Preece led him into a back room.
A long window looked out onto a lawn, shrubs.
Inside, there was an upright piano, comfortable chairs gathered around an open grate.
Lots of photos of Caroline, framed music exam certificates, pony club rosettes.
It seemed it had been a comfortable childhood.
Until her mother had died.
Matthew looked for a picture of the mother, but there was just a wedding photograph, formal.
Preece and a fair, willowy woman standing on church steps.
She wore traditional white and carried flowers.
Can I get you something?
Matthew shook his head.
Did you know Simon Walden?
I met him a couple of times, Preece said.
Caroline asked me not to interfere, but I wanted to judge him for myself.
Did you see him at the house in Ilfracombe?
Not the first occasion.
I saw him in the house a few times later when Id calmed down.
Im afraid I lost my temper when I heard shed invited him to stay there.
It seemed such a very reckless thing to do.
But Caroline made it clear that her tenants were none of my business.
Another of the smiles, self-deprecating, confiding.
You see, Inspector, it seems that Im only welcome if Im invited.
And perhaps thats as it should be.
So, where did you meet him first?
Preece took a while to answer.
I asked him to come here.
I was worried about a stranger with apparent mental health problems moving into my daughters home.
Preece stared into the garden.
I didnt want to see Walden in the Woodyard where he was a volunteer.
That would have been too formal, too complicated.
Ive always tried to leave the practical business there to the professionals.
I wouldnt want them to think I was meddling.
In this case, I was, of course, but in my daughters affairs, not the Woodyards.
You did get him the place in the Woodyard cafe.
Surely, Matthew thought, that was interference of a sort.
The volunteering was Carolines idea, Inspector.
Nothing to do with me.
Matthew imagined Walden here, summoned to this calm and comfortable house.
Surely it must have been an intimidating encounter.
What did you make of him?
Preece thought about that.
He wasnt quite what I expected.
He paused for a moment.
He told me hed killed a child.
A road traffic accident.
Not enough to be over the limit but enough to lose concentration for a moment.
I was impressed by his honesty.
He told me hed carried the guilt around with him ever since.
We had that in common.
If youve been to the Woodyard, youll have heard about my wife.
As you said, Jonathan Church is my husband.
He explained that shed taken her own life.
Becca had suffered depression on and off since soon after we met.
It was much worse in the last five years of her life.
I didnt understand it.
I wanted to help but I couldnt see how and that was a nightmare for me.
Im a control freak.
I make things right.
But I couldnt make her right.
And there was nowhere to go for help.
The medical profession was completely useless.
I think I took out my frustration and irritation on her.
We had a row the night that she died.
My last words to her were that she was selfish.
He stopped and turned away.
He turned back to Matthew.
I went out to calm down, walked along the river for an hour.
When I got back shed hanged herself.
And that happened in this house?
Matthew didnt think hed be able to stay here with such dreadful memories.
He wasnt sure what to make of Preece.
The story seemed to come easily.
Caroline wasnt here when her mother died, Preece said.
It was a weekend and she was at a festival.
Something for young Christians.
Shed developed a strong faith even before her mothers death.
Afterwards, she didnt want to move, so I didnt think I had the right to make her.
He was still for a moment, lost in thought.
Matthew could tell there was more to come.
I hadnt expected the guilt when Becca died.
I expected the grief.
Missing her, missing the woman Id loved and married.
But, you see, part of me was glad she was dead.
And it was that moment that caused the guilt.
That was what prompted me to get involved in St Cuthberts and in setting up the Woodyard.
Matthew understood what Preece meant about guilt, though.
He was watching the service to mark the death of his father from a safe distance.
The crocus at his feet and the drone of the organ in his ears.
He wondered if hed felt a moment of relief too when hed heard his dad had died?
Because any decision about whether or not he should visit the hospital had been taken away.
It made things cleaner, easier.
Because he hadnt walked round the pool of crocus to stand with his mother in the chapel of rest.
In the silence that followed there was the sound of birdsong, loud and clear, from the garden.
Id grown a number of businesses in this area, Preece said.
Becca was a local girl, but I grew up in London.
We met when I was here on holiday with some friends.
And Ive always been a risk-taker.
I didnt think the British love affair with cheap package holidays would continue.
Not for the discerning young middle classes.
I built an estate of luxury holiday flats in Westward Ho!
and took on a run-down caravan park in Croyde, turned it into an upmarket chalet and glamping site.
Later I diversified into bars and restaurants.
Matthew nodded to show he was listening.
Let the man explain in his own way.
When Becca died, Id already been thinking of selling the businesses on.
Im not really a details man and I was ready for a new challenge.
So, being active in the charity sector wasnt as altruistic as it might have seemed.
The project has developed beyond my wildest dreams.
Then I was ready for something more demanding and I got behind the Woodyard.
It fended off the guilt and the grief, at least for a while.
And it made Caroline proud of me.
Ill always be associated with it.
This, Matthew thought, was the politician talking again.
You say you liked Walden.
There was an intensity about him that I found a bit unnerving.
As if he didnt have a protective skin of any description.
Perhaps he was too honest for his own good.
Gaby Henry has a sharp tongue and Im not sure Id be able to live with her.
Shes entertaining for an evening but I know shed exhaust me after a while.
When did you last see Walden?
About ten days ago.
Caroline invited me to have dinner with them.
Ah, Matthew said.
One of the famous Friday feasts?
You know about them?
