She would be seeing him later as he had invited her for dinner. I must remember to ask him if he’d mind Jack being there, she thought. And Laura had rung to say she might call in sometime during the afternoon. Formality between the two friends had not existed for many years.
Geoff returned from the kitchen and placed two bone china cups and saucers on his desk before pulling up a second chair for Rose.
‘What were you going to tell me?’ she asked, suddenly recalling their earlier telephone conversation.
‘I was hoping you’d forgotten.’ He leant back in his swivel chair and folded his arms. ‘I’m not altogether certain I should be telling you at all.’
‘You know perfectly well it won’t go any further.’
He did. Rose was totally trustworthy. ‘Well, I had a rather interesting encounter last night. In Tesco’s, as it happens.’
Rose smiled. ‘There you are. I knew supermarkets had to have something going for them.’ She rarely used them. She was well supplied with fish, plus the vegetables from Cyril Clarke and she preferred to support the local shops. There were numerous bakers and greengrocers in Penzance and two butchers’ in Newlyn, both of which sold meat from the animals the owners reared themselves. ‘Well, go on then, don’t keep me in suspense.’
Geoff stroked his chin. He hoped Rose wasn’t going to think he was merely boasting. ‘I was finishing off in here late last night, locking up, actually, when I noticed this woman drive past.’
‘Noticed? I take it she was good-looking then.’ Rose knew she would have had to have been for Geoff to have noticed her.
‘Indeed. Extremely. Anyway, I decided to get the shopping out of the way and there she was again. I said hello and we got talking. She’d been to see her children, apparently.’ He related the rest of their initial conversation.
‘She let you follow her home? That was a bit risky, wasn’t it? I mean, at that time of night and after she’d told you her husband and children were away. Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t mean you were a risk, I simply meant it from her point of view.’
‘I’d given her one of my business cards.’
‘Oh, and that proves you’re no sort of danger, I suppose. Either the woman’s a fool or she was in a worst state than you imagined.’
‘It was the latter but I certainly didn’t underestimate the state of her mind. Well, I followed her out to this bungalow somewhere the other side of Marazion. Despite how upset she was, she obviously isn’t a fearful woman because the place was in the middle of nowhere and although she’s there on her own at the moment there wasn’t a light on anywhere. It was pitch black out there.’
Warning bells were sounding in Rose’s head at the same instant as the buzzer on the door heralded the entrance of a prospective customer.
Geoff stood up, smiling, and went to offer his assistance. ‘Don’t go,’ he said to Rose. ‘Help yourself to another coffee.’
She shook her head. She didn’t want another coffee, she wanted to hear the rest of Geoff’s story.
Geoff spent almost fifteen minutes with the customer who left without buying anything. He shrugged as the door closed behind her. ‘You can’t win them all. She wasn’t even interested in either of yours. I’ve only got two left, by the way. Are there any more in the pipeline?’
‘Yes, an oil that’s almost ready and another one that shouldn’t take me more than a week or two. Come on, sit down and tell me the rest of it.’
He knew she would not be satisfied until she had been told all the events of the previous night and regretted having mentioned it over the telephone. ‘When we first arrived there I wasn’t sure whether or not to get out of the car. I didn’t want to alarm her but I didn’t like the idea of her in the darkness, trying to get into her house. However, she surprised me by coming over and asking if I wanted to come in for a coffee.’
‘And I bet you thought your luck was in.’ He never gives up, she thought as she pushed back some tendrils of hair which had come loose from the clip at the nape of her neck.
‘Actually, no. I could tell by her manner it wasn’t that. And she’d been in tears in Tesco’s. I realised she just needed someone to talk to. Honestly, Rose, you’d have done the same if you’d seen how sad and vulnerable she looked.’
Rose believed him even though it was a side of Geoff Carter she had never seen before.
‘We went inside and she made us coffee and then she told me about the terrible mess she’s in, a mess she doesn’t know how to extract herself from. She admitted that she’s never been sure if she loves her husband, that she married him on the rebound and that recently she’s been seeing another man.’ He stopped, as if a memory had come to the surface. ‘I don’t usually notice such things but the place was spotless. Mind you, it reeked of bleach, which was a bit off-putting when you’re drinking coffee.’
Rose was astonished on two counts. People confided in her but not usually to the extent that this woman had confided in Geoff upon a first meeting. ‘I suppose she can’t decide between the husband and lover.’ Loyalty ought to come first but if she were desperately miserable and remained at home, no one would gain. Misery, she knew, bred more misery. The second thing which had struck her and which she had at first believed to be no more than coincidence, now seemed certain. But she had to ask. ‘Geoff, this woman’s name wasn’t Carol Harte, by any chance?’
It was his turn to be surprised. It showed in his eyes. ‘How on earth did you know that? Don’t tell me you’ve turned into some kind of Cornish soothsayer.’
‘No. I’ve met her. I’ve been to her bungalow. You’re right, she’s obsessively clean.’ Rose wondered if it would be breaking any sort of confidence by explaining just who Carol was. From what Geoff had said, it appeared she hadn’t told him about Beth. What a traumatic time for the family. Carol would not have been able to confide in her mother or sister. Her problem would have seemed trivial, selfish, even, by comparison with what Sally was going through.
‘When? You seem to know absolutely everyone in the county.’
‘That’s what my father always says.’ She decided to take a chance. ‘The reason I met her is that Carol is Beth Jones’s aunt. Beth’s the little girl who’s gone missing and I happened to see her abducted.’
‘My God, Rose, you never cease to amaze me.’ He grinned. ‘I wonder what Jack Pearce had to say about that.’
Fortunately, it was not as much as Rose had been expecting, but she kept that to herself.
‘No wonder she was so open with me. She couldn’t possibly burden her family with her own problems right now.’
Rose nodded. Geoff had confirmed her theory; Carol had been desperate for someone to talk to, even if a stranger had to suffice. ‘And if she’s thinking of going off with this other man and leaving her children, how on earth is she going to appear in the eyes of her mother and sister?’
‘Ah, but that’s just the point. She isn’t sure if she wants either man. The one she’s involved with has become obsessed with her and she says he’s starting to put the pressure on. If he’s like that now, what’s he going to be like if they’re together on a permanent basis? And he’s threatened to tell her husband. Whether she decides to stay or go her husband’s going to hear about it.’
‘You’re right, it is a mess.’ Once more Rose was thankful for her happy marriage. She had never wanted another man whilst David was alive. She felt the heat in her face as she recalled the several short-lived affairs she had had once she had recovered from her grief. Detective Inspector Jack Pearce had outlasted them all by some time. But Geoff Carter, with his reputation, would surely be more capable of understanding Carol’s point of view than Rose could.
Geoff shrugged in his laconic manner before saying casually, ‘She asked if we could meet again. She claimed she felt better for having talked to me.’
Geoff, twice married and with numerous affairs behind him, was in his early fifties although, admittedly, he looked younger than his years. With his experience of
women he should have more sense than to become involved with someone like Carol. But maybe Geoff was the type of man who would never learn, maybe his ego was too great. Without asking, Rose guessed he would have agreed to her request. ‘This man’s obsessed with her, you say. If you ask me Carol’s a touch obsessional, too.’
‘Oh?’ He raised an eyebrow. Rose’s sharp tone made him wonder if she might be a little jealous.
‘You said it yourself. You’ve been to the place, you clearly remembered the smell of bleach.’
‘I don’t get you.’
‘Don’t be thick, Geoff. You said the bungalow was spotless. When I went there it was the same, not a single thing out of place, even the gravel on the drive had been recently raked.’
‘But I only saw the kitchen. And it was dark, don’t forget. Perhaps unhappy females subjugate their emotions with housework.’
Rose smiled at the idea. ‘Very philosophical. Some might, but I certainly wouldn’t dream of doing so.’
Geoff grinned at her, ‘I’ve noticed. Not that I’d call you a slut; you’re the sort that blitzes the place once a week but it’s still bugger the cobwebs.’
‘Charming. I’m nowhere near that bad. But who was it who said something along the lines that life’s too short to stuff a mushroom?’
‘Germaine Greer, or one of her ilk. But there’s nothing wrong with your cooking, Rosie.’
She bit back a retort and, instead, said quietly, ‘Please don’t call me that, Geoff. My name’s Rose.’ Rosie had been David’s name for her. The only other person allowed to use it was Barry Rowe who had introduced her to David and who had picked up the habit from him. ‘I must go. Thanks for the cheque.’ She picked up her bag from the floor and stood. ‘Things to do. At least it’s stopped raining.’ Through the glass frontage people could be seen passing with their umbrellas now furled and, although the pavements shone wetly, sunlight was reflected in the shop windows opposite.
With much to think about Rose walked uphill towards the Bristol & West Building Society where she paid in the cheque. The staff there knew most of their customers so they exchanged some smalltalk. Then she crossed over to the greengrocer’s with its bright displays of fruit and vegetables set out on stalls on the pavement. Because of the large selection she always bought more than was on her list. The shop also sold jars of exotic pickles and chutneys and loose, dried fruit. These latter items were added to the vegetables in her bag. She would make the cake tomorrow. Christmas was only about six weeks away. Thankfully, unlike in some towns and cities, no lights or decorations were as yet in evidence and in Newlyn and Mousehole the switching on ceremonies were not held until into December. Surely, she reasoned, if the whole commercial nonsense began too soon, with Father Christmases on every street corner, the magic would soon be lost for many children.
The wind was stiffening and already the pavements were beginning to dry. As she waited by the bus stop for a gap in the traffic wide enough to enable her to cross back over the road, Rose glanced down the steep hill which led to Penzance harbour. How different the view was from earlier. The sea was now a cobalt blue, topped with thousands of small, white-capped waves. Light dazzled from its surface. In the gap between the buildings which lined both sides of the road, she caught sight of the familiar blue hull of the Gry Maritha as she made her way to St Mary’s bearing the necessities of life for the islanders who lived on the Isles of Scilly. In the winter it carried a few passengers, too, but Rose had never made the trip at that time of year. She had heard it was a very rough crossing in the winter. Naturally she had been over to the Scilly Isles on the Scillonian, but that was now docked for repairs. It always made its last trip of the year at the end of October.
There was a gap in the traffic. As she finally managed to cross the road she saw, in the distance, the rain clouds moving out to sea, drifting over towards the Lizard Point where a rainbow began to form an arc.
Now that her shopping was completed, with the additional purchases of dried fruit, the bags weighed heavier than she had anticipated. The plastic handles cut into her hands as she made her way up Causewayhead, where more fruit and vegetables were displayed on stalls in the street, along with cut flowers and hardware and pottery.
The only vehicles allowed access during shop hours were those delivering goods. There were no pavements and the uneven surface was slightly slippery in the parts which were still damp.
She was grateful when she finally reached the car park and was able to offload her bags into the boot of the car.
Once home, she unpacked the food and made a sandwich. This, and a mug of coffee, she took up to the attic where the almost finished oil stood on an easel beneath the north facing windows. The light was perfect to inspect it properly. Yes, the colours were just right. Without vanity, Rose saw that you could almost feel the texture of the granite cottages in the foreground. She even imagined she could smell the almond aroma of the flowering gorse. ‘You’ll do,’ she told it as she bit into the granary bread which she had filled with cheese and salad. But she swore as a slice of tomato slid down her front and on to the floor. That would not have happened to Carol Harte, she thought. Carol would have been seated at a table with a plate in front of her.
Rose sat on a canvas painting stool. Obsessional. Both Carol and the man she was seeing shared the same trait. So what? she asked herself as various ideas formed in her mind, ideas she would not be sharing with Jack.
Arthur was in his spacious kitchen slowly and methodically preparing the evening meal. Not yet fully adept at catering, he knew the task would take him most of the afternoon. Evelyn, as he had always known, had spoilt him. On the farm they had shared the work; the greater part of the outdoor work being his, although Evelyn had always turned a hand when it was lambing or calving time or if one of the workers didn’t turn up. Until they had sold up and moved they had never been fully aware of just how much time they had put into the livestock, just how much of a tie they had been.
Once they had moved to their Cotswold house, Evelyn had continued to do most of the housework and cooking. Arthur now felt ashamed he had not done more to help her. Perhaps if he’d … No, it wouldn’t do to go down that road. Guilt would not bring her back. And if their GP was to be believed he had told Arthur that his wife must have been suffering symptoms for some time. ‘And her daughter takes after her, they’re both as stubborn as hell and won’t confide in anyone,’ he muttered. He often found himself talking aloud or arguing with a presenter on the radio. He was not yet used to living alone.
Once more he consulted the recipe book and wondered how women could chat whilst flitting around their kitchens and making cookery look so easy.
With three bedrooms and a separate lounge and dining room, the house was really far too big for him but Arthur had known that when he moved it would have to be somewhere completely different from the cosy home he had shared with his wife. Here, the large rooms with their high ceilings provided a contrast with their beamed Cotswold place and he had deliberately tried to create a more masculine environment. But it was also an investment. He lived on very little; it was something Rose would be able to sell at a good profit when his time came to join Evelyn.
Evelyn’s things had been disposed of before the move, but not even Rose knew that he had kept her favourite nightdress and her hair brush in which a few strands of her hair remained. Sentimental old fool, he told himself, as he tasted the beef and wine casserole; a meal he had been led to believe was simple. But all that chopping and adding things at various times had taken an age. The carrots and shallots had been added, the mushrooms would follow in half an hour, then the whole thing would go in the oven to finish cooking.
He laid the table for four, using the dinner service they had had for years. He folded the paper serviettes but they refused to stay in the wine glasses the way they had done for Evelyn. Shrugging, he placed them on the side plates instead, then weighted them down with the butter knives.
Rose did not know that he had also
invited Barry and Jenny. He hoped it would be a pleasant surprise. She hadn’t mentioned anything in their recent telephone conversations but he was aware that Beth’s disappearance was very much on her mind and that she was probably more involved than she had led him to believe. Hopefully, the evening’s entertainment would prove to be a distraction. Arthur had contemplated asking Jack but that would have been taking a risk. If the two of them had argued, neither of them would have been comfortable, and nor would he have been.
He listened to the news. There was no mention of Beth. It was almost as if she had never existed.
‘Michael was here?’ Carol wondered if her mother could hear her heart thudding. It seemed to pound in her ears and her mouth was dry.
‘You must’ve known he would come.’ Alice watched her daughter carefully. ‘Only you could have given him the address.’
Carol’s face reddened. ‘Yes. I saw no reason not to. He is Beth’s father and he loves her. It would have been cruel to refuse under the circumstances.’
‘Does he ring you often?’ Alice ran a hand through her short grey hair. She was on the verge of collapse but she had to be strong for Sally. What was going through Carol’s mind? Alice knew that closed expression and prayed that there wouldn’t be some sort of scene if Michael arrived while Carol was still there.
Sally appeared fresh from the bathroom. She now wore clean but worn jeans, a shirt and a sweatshirt. Her short, blonde hair had been spiked up with either mousse or gel but she hadn’t bothered with makeup. It would only have exacerbated the ravages of grief which showed plainly in her face. ‘Hello, Carol. How are you?’
Carol hugged her briefly. ‘I’m fine,’ she said avoiding her mother’s eyes. ‘More to the point, how are you?’
Sally laughed, but no humour was intended. ‘Me? I really don’t know any more. It’s just like, well, if Beth’s dead, then I might as well be, too.’
Caught Out in Cornwall Page 9