It was warmer out tonight. So much so that Howard didn't need his parka, only his thick fleece and the same jeans he'd worn the night before. He stood by the picnic bench, his phone in hand, expecting Will's arrival. He readied himself for a confrontation; after all, Will was expecting his step-mother to turn up, not the step-nephew that he was adamant he didn't want.

Howard heard footsteps on the path and held his breath. He saw as Will's slim figure emerged into the pub garden.

"Hello?" Howard called out tentatively. "William?"

There was silence. Howard squinted, trying to make out Will's expression in the darkness. He couldn't.

"You're not Carabella," came Will's gruff voice.

"I know," Howard said hurriedly. "I'm her grandson, Howard."

There was a pause. Howard thought he saw the whites of Will's eyes roll.

"I've come to ask you some questions," Howard said bravely but he found that his voice shook all the same. "Would you mind?"

Will gave a little 'hmph.' Howard paused, unsure of how to react.

"Did Carabella send you?"

Howard froze. "No," he said slowly. "I wanted to get some answers myself."

"Why did I get that text from her, then?"

Howard could feel a flush creeping along his neck. "I sent it."

Will made his way to the picnic bench and tucked his legs into it, beckoning for Howard to do the same. "So she doesn't know you're here."

"No."

"And yet you knew where we'd meet."

Another blush, this time harder. "I... I was eavesdropping."

"I know," said Will, and Howard swore he could see a smile creeping to his face. "I saw your little arse curled up like a leaf." The smile grew wider until his teeth showed. "Try a little harder next time."

Howard didn't reply as he took his place opposite Will, in the same place Carabella had occupied yesterday.

"What's to say your grandma isn't listening in at this very moment?" Will asked playfully.

Howard cast a nervous look around the garden, which caused Will to chuckle. "No one else here, kid. Now get started. I don't have all night."

Howard shifted in his seat. "I want you to tell me the story from the beginning. Everything. The house, your relation to my grandma. I want to know how everyone fits into this. Tell me about Jonathan, your mum, the truth—"

Will raised his hands. "Whoa, slow down, kid. Slow down. One thing at a time."

"Exactly. Start explaining things one at a time."

"Okay, let me just—" he started to pull out something.

"You're not going to smoke, are you?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do. Want one?" Will slipped a cigarette into his mouth and offered one to Howard, who politely declined. Howard waited patiently for the flare in the darkness to pass and the burning smell to fill his nose. "Right, where do I start?"

"Start with the house."

"Right. The house... The house," Will began, "belonged to my dad, who inherited it from his, and so on. I was born into it and since I'm the oldest and he's dead, it's mine."

"The house holds some rather awful memories, doesn't it?"

Will's jaw clenched. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay," said Howard lightly. "What can you tell me about your sister?"

"Eleanor? She's small, young, born ten years after me."

"Same mum?"

"Yeah." Will took a drag and then blew the air in Howard's face. "She died giving birth to Elle, though. Too many operations; Elle was stupidly complicated." Howard thought he heard a tone of resentment.

"And so did Carabella join you after that?"

Will nodded. "I was ten. My dad had a history with women; he'd pick them up from seedy bars and take them home. Give them something to drink so they loosened up. But there were times when he went overboard with the drinking." His eyes turned dark at the memory. "And then he'd grow violent."

"How?"

Will pulled a face. "Violent as in violent. Do I need to tell you what violent means?"

Howard felt stupid at being put down but didn't let it show. "Was he physically abusive?"

Tentatively, Will nodded again. "Yes." He licked his lips, refusing to say more.

"And this way you mentioned your dad bringing in women, he did this to Carabella too?"

"Yes. She came to our house one night. But she was different from the others. She actually spoke to me, asked me how I was. And then they started to drink, and my father crossed the line."

Howard paused, not expecting Will to continue. But he did.

"He was in a drunken rage – something small must have upset him like it usually did. Even the tiniest things set him off, like a chair not being in the right place. And when he got mad, he got mad. He'd throw a fit, rage across the room, get in your face if he thought you were getting in the way. A similar thing happened that night. Where all of the other women had burst into tears at the sight of him, Carabella stood up to him. I remember she told him off, stood her ground. I watched from the stair bannisters." Will shuddered. "I can still feel the individual slots of wood against my back even now."

Will closed his eyes. Howard waited patiently.

"The way she'd stood up to him, of course, made him even angrier, and he started throwing things around the room. He tore the paintings down from the walls and he swung them at her head, but she was too quick for him. She ran out of the room, her eyes crazed – I thought she looked like a hare being chased down by hunting dogs – and she saw me sitting on the stairs."

Will shook his head, eyes still closed. Howard watched as a single tear leaked from his eye. The boy leaned forward. "You're doing great," he murmured encouragingly. "Keep going only if you can."

Will sniffled. He seemed so small, so far away from his old gruff self. Howard could almost see the small boy from the story.

"She picked me up and hurtled up the stairs, but Jonathan caught her ankles and she fell hard. I fell too since she'd been holding me and I later found out I broke a rib. But that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she'd tried to save me."

"Well done, Carabella," Howard breathed.

Will nodded. "Indeed. Anyway, I heaved myself up the stairs and into my room. Elle had seen what was happening but she was only two, so I doubt she remembers any of it. But she just stared at me. She didn't do anything." Will's voice began to rise. "She could have helped me and yet she just gawped at me. I felt humiliated, I was in agony, and yet she was someone who could breeze past all the pain. Christ, she's so lucky."

There was another pause. Will sucked in some air.

"She is," Howard agreed.

He sat in silence for a while, thinking. There was a pattern that was starting to emerge, he realised. Both Jonathan and the farmer had something in common – they'd both been unfaithful to their wives in a domestic setting. Could that be the same crime that the third man had committed too?

Will rested his elbows on the table, the story clearly having affected his body. He finished the cigarette but didn't move to light another. "You have all that you want to know? You want to grill me with some more questions?"

"How do you remember everything so clearly?" Howard asked. "It's all so vivid."

"You heard what I said last night – I write to keep the demons away."

Silence lapsed again. Will looked at Howard as though to say anything more?

Howard pondered for a moment, not sure whether to ask his next question. "Who killed Jonathan?" he asked finally although he already knew the answer. Eleanor had said it loud and clear that night at Tenningway House.

At this, Will's face darkened. "I don't know if I can trust you."

Howard smiled. "I think you can."

Will sat still for a moment, staring at Howard intently. "You can't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"I won't. I promise."

"Well, I was coming out of the house a few days ago and I saw Elle round the back of the house. She seemed to be dragging this white bundle through the door. She didn't see me, though."

"And this white bundle...was it...?" Howard trailed off.

"Jonathan's body, yes."

Howard's throat felt dry. He couldn't talk, couldn't get the next bit out.

"Why drag it into the house?"

Will shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe she wants to do something with it. She is a mathematician. Maybe she wants to be Victor Frankenstein."

"But that's horrible!" exclaimed Howard. "How are you okay with that?"

Again, Will shrugged. "I've seen and done a lot of things in my lifetime, kid. Most of them haven't been pleasant."

Howard grimaced. "And you think the body is still in the house?"

"Yes."

"Have you checked?"

Now it was Will's turn to shudder. "You want me to go looking for a dead body? Is that what you think of me?"

"Okay, maybe not," Howard admitted. "But still."

"I know. Eleanor's a dark person."

Howard recalled the blonde-haired girl, the crazed look in her eyes as she'd brought the lamp down on his head. He remembered the burning pain perfectly. Will was right; she did look like someone dangerous.

"Right, that's all, Will," he said hurriedly. He reached out a hand, which Will took. "Thanks for your time."