‘The break-in . . .’ said Kate. ‘We think it might have been something to do with this case I’m working on.’
‘Oh my giddy aunt.’
The three of them sat in silence. No one was eating, and Kate had completely lost her appetite. Greg couldn’t be involved in this, could he?
FORTY-EIGHT
Later that night, Kate lay in bed, subdued. She was dimly aware Tim was rubbing her back, trying to buoy her up, take her mind off the evening’s revelations. Were they revelations? Because they didn’t reveal anything, not exactly. Tim’s hand moved around to the side of her breast and she could sense him getting amorous. She pushed him away.
He nuzzled the back of her neck. ‘You sure I can’t persuade you?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Only, I was hoping . . .’
‘Not tonight.’ She rolled over to face him. ‘Too much on my mind.’
Tim watched her for a moment, wrestling with something. ‘I’ve got something on my mind too.’
She felt guilty. She hardly ever paid any attention to what might be troubling him. Perhaps something was going on at work. ‘What’s up?’
‘Same as we’ve discussed before.’
She frowned. ‘Sorry . . . you’re going to have to remind me.’
He was silent for a moment. ‘A baby, Kate. I would like to talk about having a baby. With you.’
Her heart sank. ‘It’s just not the right time – not with everything else that’s going on.’
‘But . . .’
‘What?’
‘Well, look where we are. What we’ve been celebrating tonight. The fact is, in another year or so it may not even be an option. It could be difficult now, even . . .’
Kate tensed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just really important to me.’
‘I said I needed some time.’
‘I know. But it’s months since I first brought this up. And realistically – is your case anywhere near over?’
She didn’t answer; they both knew it wasn’t.
Tim took a deep breath. ‘I guess I’ve got to accept that what you’re doing is bigger than me or you.’
She opened her mouth to deny it, but no words came. Having a baby right now felt like completely the wrong thing to do.
He held up a conciliatory hand. ‘It’s OK. I’m not saying that to throw my toys out of the pram. It’s just the way it is. So, what do you think you’re going to do?’ he asked.
‘About what?’
‘Greg.’
Kate shrugged. ‘Not sure yet. I’m seeing him in a few days.’
‘You’re not still going . . .’
‘We’re interviewing candidates for the bursary. It would look strange if I suddenly cancelled.’
‘But—’
‘I honestly don’t know what to do for the best. You see, there’s something else we’ve overlooked here. Something important.’
He waited for her to continue.
‘If there’s an ounce of truth to what we’ve been hypothesizing tonight, that Greg’s involved somehow, then I’ve been working with the man who had my daughter killed.’
Tim placed his hand on hers. ‘I know, but we don’t know for sure. It might just be a coincidence, like you said earlier.’
‘There’s something else.’
He looked at her, puzzled. ‘What?’
‘If it’s true . . . then I didn’t persuade him to improve his fleet of trucks at all. I persuaded sweet bugger all. He was pretending . . . playing me the whole time.’
Tim sat up. ‘Now, I don’t think—’
‘Which makes me just the same dumb arse girl as always.’ Kate took a deep breath. And now . . . well, she was just kidding herself, right? Deluding herself she was some sort of amateur lawyer, when actually she was just a school dropout, who would amount to nothing out of the ordinary.
FORTY-NINE
2010
They were still in the main hall, but Julia and Violet had moved to another table. It smarted, even though Kate had no desire to sit anywhere near them. She glanced across: Julia was laughing and joking with another mother, someone she seemed to know well. Oh, how I detest her.
The headmistress had been furnished with a gavel and was tapping it on the podium in front of her and calling for quiet so they could begin. The first lot was a bottle of sparkling wine that a pupil was holding aloft.
‘I can vouch for it!’ called out Julia. ‘I made it!’
Confused, Kate looked at Becky.
‘She owns the vineyard,’ whispered Becky. ‘Along with several acres of farmland.’
Kate watched as the bottle went for fifty pounds. On a single bottle of wine! she thought, not quite believing anything could taste that good. She sat drinking her tea, clapping politely as each item got sold off. Mothers were bidding for gifts for their children, prompting squeals of delight when they won. A set of horse-riding lessons. A generous voucher for a fashionable clothing store. They were all part of a club, one that excluded her and Becky.
The headmistress was announcing the next prize: two tickets for the Grand Prix at Silverstone in 2011. Kate’s mouth dropped, of all the . . . The heat rose up in her again as Julia looked over to her table with a mocking smile and then started to bid.
Oh, stuff you, thought Kate, turning away. She bit back her tears and kept her gaze towards the stage. She heard Julia’s yelp of delight as she won, heard her daughter’s exclamations of excitement.
‘And now for our last item,’ said the headmistress. ‘A two-week break at Longueville Manor, the most highly rated hotel in Jersey.’ A picture of a lovingly restored mansion with luxurious gardens flicked up on the screen behind the headmistress.
‘Oh, look, that’s where Uncle John stayed while he was house hunting,’ exclaimed Julia to her daughter.
How her voice grates, thought Kate. The self-satisfied smugness, the sense of entitlement.
‘It’s lovely, everyone,’ Julia called out jokingly and a bubble of laughter erupted in the hall.
Kate sat ram-rod straight, consumed with hostility.
‘So, if I can start the bidding at one hundred pounds?’ asked the headmistress.
Kate raised her hand.
‘Mum?’ asked Becky, startled. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Bidding,’ said Kate through gritted teeth. If she did some overtime, she’d be able to pay for it. It was for Becky, anyway. She’d never taken her anywhere special before, maybe this was one way she could do it.
‘But . . .’
‘Two hundred,’ called a voice.
‘Thank you,’ said the headmistress.
Kate’s heart did a little shudder when she heard Julia speak but she wasn’t going to give up that easily. ‘Five hundred,’ she called, firmly.
Becky looked in alarm at her mother. ‘What?’
‘Shush, Becky,’ said Kate. ‘I need to concentrate.’
‘A thousand,’ said Julia.
The room had caught wind of this tussle, the building tension, and eyes were roaming around in interest.
‘Twelve hundred,’ called out Kate, her stomach constricting as she realized that was a heck of a lot of overtime.
‘Thank you,’ acknowledged the headmistress, after a minuscule pause. She knows my financial situation, realized Kate, the added humiliation fuelling her anger further.
‘Two thousand,’ said Julia.
The room gave a collective intake of breath.
‘Two thousand two hundred!’ said Kate, aware that she was way out of the realms of overtime. There was only one place where she had this sort of money. A precious, untouchable sum that had taken her years to save. But some menace had caught hold of her and wouldn’t let go.
‘Two and a half,’ called out Julia.
‘Has your mum gone mental?’ asked Claire, sotto voce, leaning into Becky.
‘Mum, you have to stop,’ urged Becky, her voice lowered.
The hall waited with bated bre
ath.
‘Three,’ said Kate.
A murmur rippled across the room.
‘Are you sure, love?’ asked Sue, awkwardly.
Kate was dimly aware that her daughter was looking at her, stricken, and that Becky knew what money it was she’d just blown: her entire university savings. But now Kate had gone down this hole, there was no way out. For the first time since she’d started bidding, she looked across at Julia, saw the small taunting smile on her face.
Then she realized: Julia was just toying with her, as a cat might a mouse it had by the tail. Suddenly Kate felt her bravado crumble. Oh, please God, let her bid more, she thought.
The whole room was waiting. Julia turned her head towards the stage, her blonde layers fluttering as she did so. She smiled regretfully. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to let my opponent win this one,’ she said graciously.
All eyes swung to Kate. She had been caught in a trap. A trap of her own making.
‘Any other bids?’ asked the headmistress, holding it open longer than she should, Kate knew, a last act of redemption.
No one came forward to save her.
The headmistress still hesitated, not wanting to condemn Kate to her purchase. Kate’s cheeks flamed. The entire hall was watching. Becky was sitting by her side, eyes pained, seeming small and curled up in herself.
Finally, the headmistress tapped her gavel. ‘Sold,’ she said.
There was utter silence. No one clapped. A few faces looked embarrassed, turned away for her sake, Kate knew.
The headmistress rallied. ‘Congratulations! That concludes our day, ladies. Thank you all so much for coming.’ People started to rise in their chairs, make their way out.
‘You must send us a postcard,’ said Julia, as she glided by.
As soon as they got in the house, Becky ran up to her room and closed the door.
Kate stood at the bottom of the stairs. Her heart sank as she thought she caught the sound of a sob.
Climbing the stairs after her daughter, she walked along the landing, stopping outside Becky’s door. She knocked.
Silence.
‘Can I come in?’
She got a muffled ‘OK’, so entered. Becky was lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll work overtime, every weekend. There’ll be money for university. Maybe not as much, but . . .’
‘I don’t care about the money, Mum.’
Kate knew she was putting on a brave face, that she didn’t want to be a burden. Becky had insisted she was going to get a part-time job anyway, but the savings were meant to give her more time to study.
What Kate also knew was that Becky would be the talk of the school in the morning, the butt of the jokes that already made Kate burn with shame. ‘And I’m sorry if I’ve made it difficult with your friends,’ she said.
Becky stayed silent.
‘It’s just that woman . . . she wound me up. I felt like I had to show her . . .’
‘Show her what, Mum?’
‘I don’t know. I lost the quiz, I felt stupid. The poor dumb girl who didn’t get a proper education. A decent job.’
Becky sighed. ‘Mum, you’re not dumb. The only dumb thing you’ve done is let people tell you that’s what you are.’
Silence rang out across the room. After a moment, Kate took a step towards the bed. ‘Room for one more?’
Becky shoved up and Kate went to lie down next to her, their shoulders touching, each feeling the warmth of the other.
‘If she’d gone to four thousand, would you have done five?’ asked Becky.
Kate thought. ‘No.’
‘Oh?’
‘I would have jumped straight to ten. Wiped the smile off her face.’
Becky let out a small giggle. ‘Why stop there?’
‘You’re right. Twenty.’
‘Thirty.’
‘Fifty.’
‘A million!’ said Becky. ‘A million pounds for the swanky Jersey holiday just so you can’t have it, Julia. Stick it up your bum.’ They laughed so hard, tears started pouring down their faces. When the laughter subsided, Kate took Becky’s hand.
‘I’m sorry I let you down, Becky. One day I’ll make it up to you. I promise.’
FIFTY
2018
‘They’re not like the photos of the fellas on the website,’ said Iris as she watched three men in cargo shorts and T-shirts with the moving company’s logo on the back, carry her remaining furniture out of her house and into a large van.
It was true, they were huffing and puffing, and the blue T-shirts had dark sweat patches stretching long under the armpits. But it was a hot day in August. And no one did house removals carrying a box in one hand and holding a thumb up on the other.
Kate had set out a garden chair on the front pavement, so Iris didn’t have to stand while her house was unceremoniously emptied. After they were done, Iris wanted to check nothing was left behind and would then follow on in a cab. Kate was going with her to help get her settled and unpacked. Most of the big furniture had already been sold to a second-hand furniture man on the high street and Iris had just kept what would fit into her new flat.
‘Do you have a buyer yet?’ asked Kate.
‘Oh, I meant to say. Had an offer this morning. Couple with a young family. I’ve accepted.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘They seem very nice. I’m sure you’ll get on with them.’
‘Won’t be the same, though,’ Kate couldn’t help saying.
‘Give over. We’ll see each other all the time.’
‘Can I get you ladies a cold drink?’ called Tim from Kate’s open kitchen window.
Iris raised her stick in acceptance. ‘You’ve got a good man there,’ she said.
Kate glanced across at her. Wondered if her neighbour had detected any of the growing tensions between herself and Tim, but Iris was waving her stick at the bearded removal man.
‘Be careful!’ she shouted as they lugged her sideboard across the front lawn, dodging the postman.
‘Nothing for me, I hope,’ said Iris.
‘Nope. Seems Royal Mail haven’t cocked up your redirection,’ said the postman, stopping to hand Kate a pile of envelopes. ‘Bit for you though, darlin’.’
She took the stack and sifted through it as the postman moved on. A statement of her water account, a couple of pieces of junk. Then, at the bottom, a small padded envelope, the kind used to send something fragile. She turned it over. Her address had been printed out in bold, black type and stuck on the front.
Curious, she opened it and peered inside. There was something shiny and metallic at the bottom of the envelope. She frowned, not comprehending. Then recoiled as she saw what it was.
‘Here we go. Two lemonades with ice,’ said Tim, carrying a tray with two glasses over from Kate’s house. He’d put a tea towel over his arm and held out the tray with a flourish. The ice chinked as it rolled and melted in the sun. Two cocktail umbrellas stuck out the tops, each speared into a strawberry. His smile fell when he saw Kate.
‘What’s wrong?’
Unable to speak, she handed over the envelope. Tim placed the tray down on the grass, took the envelope, put his hand inside and pulled out the contents.
‘What the . . .?’
‘What is it?’ asked Iris, shifting forward in her chair to get a better look. ‘I can’t see.’
Tim paused. ‘It’s a bullet.’
‘A what? Bullet? What, you mean from a gun?’
‘Yes.’
‘A real one?’
‘Yes.’ Tim looked the envelope over. ‘There’s no note, no address, nothing.’
‘Who the hell would send something like that?’ asked Iris.
Kate looked at Tim. ‘I . . . we don’t know.’ She rubbed her face with her hands. Then her head snapped up with an idea: ‘What if it’s Rob? He’s got reason to stop me.’
‘Stop you doing what?’ asked Iris. ‘Has this got
something to do with your investigation?’
Kate hesitated.
‘Yes,’ said Tim.
‘Someone wants to stop you so much they’re sending death threats?’ exclaimed Iris. ‘What in the world . . .?’
Kate pulled her phone from her bag and stabbed at the keys, searching for Rob’s number.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Tim.
‘Calling him. I’m not letting him get away with this.’
Rob answered immediately. ‘Kate.’
‘Where do you get off, sending me bloody bullets in the post?’
‘What?’
‘It’s sick, that’s what it is. You’re a sick man, Rob Bolton. I’m not quitting this just so you can get your pay-off. There’s other people affected here too, and I will not be bullied. He’s not offering you enough anyway, it’s paltry what he’s trying to get away with.’
‘He’s not offering me anything because he’s dead,’ snapped Rob.
She reeled. ‘What?’
‘He had an accident. Fell into the grain silo. Would have been like quicksand.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘So, my “paltry” offer,’ continued Rob, ‘has vanished. Luckily, I’ve managed to borrow from Ian. And just for the record, I’ve not sent you anything. Bullets? You really think I’d be sending you bullets? I wouldn’t even know where to get one, even if I had the time to do such a thing, what with caring for my sick wife and daughter.’
‘I . . . I didn’t . . .’
‘Ever thought you’re losing it, Kate?’
‘I’m sorr—’ she started, but he’d hung up. Upset, she looked at Tim.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
‘Justin’s had an accident. At the farm. He’s . . . he didn’t make it.’
‘What? Another accident? And you’ve been sent a bullet. Will you listen to me now? You have to quit this.’
‘Tim . . .’
‘What if it is Greg? You can’t go and see him tomorrow.’
‘Excuse me, Iris,’ said Kate and she pulled Tim aside. Spoke under her breath. ‘Will you stop?’
‘I think it’s good Iris knows about all this. Maybe you’ll listen to her because you won’t me,’ said Tim, stubbornly.
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