Page 122 of Reinventing Cato
They returned to the living room. Cato sat at Vigge’s side and pressed up against him. Hendry sat opposite, his hands locked between his knees.
“It was an accident,” Hendry said.
Every bone in Vigge’s body turned to liquid. His lungs stopped working. Cato clutched his hand.
“I didn’t kill him,” Hendry blurted. “But…”
But he’s dead.Vigge heard the unspoken words. And that faint glimmer of light he’d kept inside him went out.
“I was on my way home when I saw Fiona and Anders heading down the side of the bridge towards the water. I don’t know why I thought something was wrong. Maybe it was body language, Fiona was ahead and running, but I got out of my car and went after them. I was about fifteen feet away when Fiona slipped and fell into the water. I shouted at Anders to wait, but he went in after her. She was swept away, went under and didn’t come back up. There was nothing I could do. Anders was still clutching the bank, calling her name. I barely managed to get him out. He was soaked and freezing, white with cold, but begging me to help Fiona. There was nothing I could do for her. I bundled him into my car and brought him here. I saidyou have to get out of those wet things.” He gave a choked laugh. “And I started to help him undress.”
His gaze flicked to Vigge before he dropped his head and stared down at the carpet. “I was so frantic to get him warm that I didn’t want to stop to call anyone until I had him in a blanket in front of the fire. Fiona was gone. I thought I was doing the right thing in saving one of them. I wish I could still tell myself that.”
He gave a choked sob. “Finally, I got him out of his wet clothes and he looked at me and panicked. Shouted not to touch him, that I was a pervert, that I’d perverted you, made you gay, that I was a sick bastard. He lurched sideways to get away from me, tripped on the blanket and hit his head on the corner of the mantelpiece.”
Vigge sucked in a breath and looked at Hendry’s log burner.
“The mantelpiece has gone. I had it ripped out. Every time…”
There had been a mantelpiece. Vigge had clocked something was different. More than that religious painting.Oh God, God, God.
“I dropped down at Anders side and…he looked at me… There was hardly any bleeding, but he had a seizure. His eyes closed… I tried mouth to mouth. I…” Hendry choked out the words.
“I panicked. I had a dead boy in my house and I knew how it would look. I tried to get him back into his clothes, but it was impossible. They were too wet. I couldn’t… I took him out to the shed. I had this idea that I’d carry him and his clothes out onto the moors later that night and it might look as though he’d died of hypothermia. Sometimes people take their clothes off thinking they’re too warm. But I got caught up looking for him with the rest of the village and…then it was too late to say anything. Everywhere had been searched and he’d not been found. The obvious conclusion was that he’d drowned. But he hadn’t.”
Vigge was speechless with shock.Do I believe him?
“If it was an accident, you should have phoned the police,” Cato said.
Hendry glanced at Vigge again. “They wouldn’t have believed me. No one would have believed me.” He stared back at the carpet. “You’d have told them that I made a pass at you and that would have been it. They’d have assumed I was going to… I couldn’t do anything to bring him back and I didn’t want my life to end too.”
You fucking coward. All these years not knowing what happened. You…Vigge wanted to hit him, wanted to hurt him for what he’d done. Cato clung to his hand, tightened his hold, grounded him.
“What did you do with him?” Cato asked.
Hendry pressed his lips together, then released a shaky breath. “Levered up the floorboards in the shed. Dug a hole and put him in there.” Hendry’s voice was soft now. “I found his scarf under the settee and I kept it to remind me what a terrible thing I’d done. I didn’t kill him but he was dead because of me. Every day, I looked at that scarf and remembered. That was the price I paid and I know it’s not enough. I’m sorry. I knew this day would come. I couldn’t leave here. The shed’s falling to pieces. Anyone buying this place would knock it down. The risk of them finding… Well, that’s it. I’ve told the truth. I didn’t do anything to him. I didn’t touch him except to try and get him dry.”
Vigge wanted to believe him. He didn’t want to think Anders had suffered more than Hendry had described, but his heart was hurting. Not just for Anders but because of Hendry’s lies.
“What now?” Hendry asked, finally looking up at Vigge.
“Call the police and tell them what happened.” Vigge finally managed to speak. “We’ll stay here until they come.” He swallowed hard.
“I’m not going to run. If I’d had the courage to kill myself, I’d have done it long ago. I saved him and in saving him, I killed him.” Tears rolled down Hendry’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Vigge clutched Cato’s hand and watched Hendry cry.Where are my tears?Buried under anger and regret.If he’d told his parents that Hendry had come on to him, they’d have stopped both him and Anders having lessons. Would that have saved his brother, if the truth about Vigge being gay had come out sooner?
~~~
By the time Vigge and Cato were driving to Vigge’s parents’ house, Vigge felt empty. Hendry was in custody, and if he could be believed, they now knew where Anders was buried, but there was no sense of peace. If anything, Vigge’s guilt had grown. He’d given a statement to the police and though he’d had to agree to come back up if they needed any more from him, they had no objection to him going back to Cambridge. He’d called his sister and asked her to meet them at the house and as they pulled up, he saw her car parked outside.
After he switched off the engine, Cato kissed him. Feeling Cato’s mouth on his, his arms around him, almost broke Vigge’s fragile control.
“Do you believe him?” Cato asked.
“I do. Hendry isn’t a physical guy. He’s gentle. He’s good with kids. They like him. I think he made a terrible error of judgement, but I don’t think he killed Anders.”
“Will you tell your mother that?”
