4★
I always like Kate Morton’s books, and I liked this one too. They are very long, complicated, multi-generational mysteries made up of criminal incidents and unexplained events long past that someone today has become curious about. She doesn’t play favourites. Each generation and character is fleshed out and recognisable. That’s what makes her books so long.
And there are boatloads of red herrings. Every time I’d figured it out and thought—Oh, come on, get on with it already—she’d toss us another little one to send us on another trail.
Today is 2003, and D.C. Sadie Sparrow has been sent out of London to escape the unfortunate publicity about her leaking confidential information to a journalist about a case she’s frustrated with. A mother had apparently disappeared, abandoning her little girl for a week in their flat. Sadie, now unprofessionally close to the grandmother, suspects foul play and has been doggedly pursuing justice at the possible expense of her career.
She goes to stay with her widowed grandfather in Cornwall, and while there, she comes upon a lake house, Loeanneth, abandoned for 70 years following a family tragedy where a much-loved baby brother disappeared in the 1930s. She can see through the windows that it’s still furnished but layered with dust. Another child. Another disappearance. Stuck in Cornwall, she starts researching.
Meanwhile, Morton introduces the people of Loeanneth. The baby’s mother, Eleanor, had been besotted with her first son. She loved his three older sisters
“. . . but with Theo it was more than love. She ‘cherished’ him . . . she’d looked into his eyes and seen there all the wisdom babies are born with before it slips away. He stared back, trying to tell her the secrets of the cosmos, his little mouth opening and closing around words he didn’t yet know, or perhaps no longer remembered. It reminded her of when her father died. He’d done the same thing, staring at her with bottomless eyes, filled with all the things he’d never now have the chance to say.”
I’ve always said newborn babies look as if they have a 45-year-old Martian inside who knows everything, and as they wake up to the world, the Martian gradually disappears.
Eleanor and her husband had bought back her childhood home, Loeanneth, and her mother, Constance, was reduced to moving back in with them. She was a cold, cranky old lady who hated living
“in this godforsaken place where the smell of the sea, its horrible crashing sound when the breeze blew a certain way, was enough to make her blood run cold. Constance despised the sound. It reminded her of that terrible night all those years ago; she’d thought herself rid of it when they’d left the house more than twenty years before, but life could be cruel like that.”
Even the baby’s grandmother has secrets! But that goes back further, and Eleanor and Alice, her middle daughter, and Sadie, the modern-day detective, are the main generations we’re concerned with.
Today, Alice is in her 80s and is a highly successful mystery writer, full of theories as to what might have happened to her baby brother. She was a lively, imaginative girl, and we get to know her well in her teens, when she’s making up stories and trying to be grown-up.
The only time I got confused was when "old" Alice was reminiscing about her youth, and I had to separate that material from when the author was telling us about Alice’s youth as it was happening, so to speak.
I consider Eleanor the main protagonist, the one who held the family and the story together. She was an active, adventuresome, curious little girl who fell madly in love and married, raised children (put up with her cranky mother), and then had to take over and manage her war-damaged husband when he returned from the horrors of WW1.
There are lots of side stories, including Sadie’s original abandoned child story, and they’re all enjoyable. I’ve always liked Morton’s writing. At one point, Eleanor has taken herself to London for an appointment she’d unsuccessfully tried to drag her husband to.
“It was raining outside now and London was slate-coloured and smeary. The streets glistened with dark puddles and a tide of black umbrellas flowed above the human traffic beneath. People moved faster in the rain, their expressions set, their eyes focused, each intent on his or her goal. There was so much scurrying purpose out there that Eleanor was overcome with weariness. Here, in the warmth of the tearoom, she sat inert like a single piece of flotsam in a sea of determination that threatened to sink her. She had never been good at filling time. She ought to have brought a book with her from Cornwall. She ought to have brought her husband.”
As for her spiteful mother, Eleanor has good reason to feel vengeful and finds her chance when the family leaves the lake house after the baby boy disappears. This is not a spoiler, just an excellent example of how Morton winds up even then the smallest storylines.
“There was no question of the old woman moving with them to London, but she couldn’t be abandoned either. Not entirely. Eleanor searched all over before she finally found Seawall. It was expensive, but worth every penny . . . ‘It’s just right,’ Eleanor had said, signing the admission forms. And it was. Just and right. The unrelenting sound of the ocean for the rest of her days had been precisely what Constance deserved.”
These books could be edited down to a more digestible 350 words or so, but then there wouldn’t be room for all those red herrings, I guess. :)