‘Now, what’s on your mind?’ Barry asked once he had ordered their drinks and paid the young barman who, he knew, played for the local rugby club.
‘That’s the problem, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Barry, it’s something that was told to me in confidence.’
‘Fair enough.’ There was no point in pursuing it, Rose would never break her word. ‘But I can take it it’s to do with Beth.’
‘Yes, unfortunately it is. And I honestly don’t know what to do about it.’
‘What you mean is, should you tell Jack.’ He was grinning. At times like this he could read her like a book but mostly she remained enigmatic. Rose Trevelyan, he thought, was a very complex creature and at that moment looked lovely with her hair wavier from the rain and her raincoat making her seem more petite than she actually was. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror which lined the wall behind the bar and stood straighter. He had always been drop-shouldered and he couldn’t help the fact that his hair was thinning and he had to wear glasses but he was glad that, at Rose’s insistence, he had finally invested in a whole wardrobe of new clothes.
‘You’ve got it in one.’
‘Then tell him; at least it’ll be off your conscience if it’s relevant to the case.’ He was ashamed to admit that he enjoyed seeing her get one over on Jack. As much as he liked and admired the man he had been the cause of much jealousy over the last four or five years. At least Rose had not given in and agreed to live with him. Barry was aware that what he felt for Jenny had not lessened his feelings for Rose but he was now wise enough to realise that he couldn’t go on chasing that dream for ever.
‘Maybe I will.’ In fact, I know I’ll have to, she thought reluctantly. It was a peculiar situation although she had heard of instances where a grandmother had passed off her daughter’s illegitimate child as her own. It was not unremarkable when women became grandmothers in their thirties.
Carol loved and wanted her child but to have kept her would have finished her marriage. Sally, having brought Beth up since she was a tiny baby, probably hadn’t wanted to share her. This could explain the antipathy between the sisters and the reason why Alice Jones favoured Sally. It must have been hard for her to watch one of them produce a child she couldn’t keep whilst the other longed for a baby of her own. Yet Carol had risked her marriage a second time by having an affair with Marcus. Accepted, that was over now, but she had still taken the risk. She’s lonely, Rose guessed, lonely and guilty and has no one in whom to confide. Maybe she wanted to get caught, maybe it would be some sort of punishment to show how unworthy she was.
‘Hello?’ Barry tapped her gently on the head. ‘What?’
‘You were miles away. I asked if you fancied sharing a curry with me tonight.’
‘No, not tonight, thanks, Barry. Later in the week, if you like. Aren’t you seeing Jenny?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s at her Italian class.’ Neither of them had any idea why she went because she disliked foreign travel. But Jenny took a different adult education course every year. ‘At least let me buy you another drink.’
It showed how worried she was when Rose didn’t insist it was her round.
Rose knew she was being antisocial, too preoccupied in her own thoughts, so she made an effort at conversation and mentioned the notelets she was currently working on.
‘Excellent idea. When will they be ready?’
‘In a week or so, weather depending, of course.’
Barry left after the second drink. He was no daytime drinker and he didn’t want to fall asleep in front of one of his favourite television programmes later that night.
‘Lightweight,’ Rose teased as he kissed her goodbye. ‘I’ll stay a bit longer and chat to the usual suspects.’
It was after four by the time she started to walk home. She was glad that she had stayed; the conversation had been stimulating and had taken her mind off Beth for a while.
The wind had dropped and the rain had eased but everything was shrouded in drizzle. All was now still and damp. Rose was thankful for her raincoat but soon warmed up as she walked briskly towards home. She had had to leave the car but she cursed when the Mousehole bus – which stopped wherever passengers requested it to and would have taken her to the bottom of her drive – passed her between stops without her having seen it coming.
As soon as she got indoors she rang Jack. He wasn’t in his office at Camborne and he didn’t answer his mobile so she left a message. Within half an hour he rang back. ‘You said to call you, what’s the matter now?’
‘Don’t snap at me, Jack.’
‘I didn’t mean to. I apologise.’
Rose heard the tension in his voice and realised how much pressure he would be under to solve the case. ‘I was ringing to see if you’d like to come over later. I’ll cook you a meal.’
‘That would be lovely. I think I can get away by seven. And, Rose, I really am sorry for snapping.’
There was time to make a bit of an effort. She sipped black coffee and listened to Radio 4 as she stuffed two large mackerel. There was no point in waiting for the local news on Radio Cornwall, Jack would have said if there had been any kind of breakthrough.
Once the vegetables were prepared she showered and changed into clean jeans and a pale green sweater. She didn’t bother with makeup but returned to the bedroom to spray on some perfume.
Jack arrived a little after seven, bearing flowers and wine. ‘To make up for my teasiness,’ he said, smiling at her surprised expression. Wine, yes, but he was not a man to bring flowers. ‘And, of course, for suspecting you of meddling.’
Oh, dear, she thought, what’s he going to say when I tell him. ‘I’ll have you know I don’t meddle. People simply choose to tell me things.’ She had nearly come out with it straight away. ‘Are you going to open the wine or shall we just look at it?’
‘Why are your cheeks so pink? Have you been on it already?’
‘I’ve just had a shower. But, yes, I did happen to call in to the Yacht on my way home.’
‘Ah, that’s why there’s no car in the drive. Say no more, it’ll be our secret.’
Rose didn’t know whether she was amused or infuriated, but Jack always had that effect on her. ‘The food won’t be long. Let’s drink this in the sitting-room, I’ve lit the fire to cheer the place up.’
Jack thought it was unnecessary. Rose’s sitting-room was one of the most cheerful rooms he knew of. Outside there was the view of the bay and the busy harbour, inside was her comfortable furniture, her bookcases and the small lamps which lit the room with a cosy glow. He sat down. Add to that the crackling of logs on the fire, the flickering shadows of the flames, a glass of wine and a meal to look forward to; and Rose. What more could a man ask for? One thing: the Beth Jones case to be solved.
‘We’re having to start all over again. Thinking that Beth went off willingly had us concentrating on her nearest and dearest. But now it’s back to square one, it could be anyone.’
All my fault, Rose thought. It’s entirely my fault for misleading them but I really thought I was being helpful. Would Beth’s life have been saved if I hadn’t told them what I thought I had seen? No, probably not, she decided. Jack had said that she had been killed on the Tuesday, the same day as she had been snatched. Whoever had done it could be anywhere in the world by now.
‘On the other hand,’ Jack continued, ‘it may well have been premeditated.’
‘How come?’
He told her about the barbiturates. ‘Of course, who’s to say her abductor didn’t always carry them or had just had a prescription filled. We’ve checked all the local chemists, both here and the one in Marazion. They all know their regular customers and neither Sally nor Carol take them. Poole doesn’t either.’
‘Could they have got them from someone else? Alice, say, or even Norma Penhalligon.’
‘Clever girl. But we’ve checked that, too. However, the motive still remains unclear. Beth wasn’t sexually abused, nor was sh
e hurt in any other way and to drug her first meant that whoever killed her didn’t want her to feel anything. It’s all so damn confusing, Rose.’
‘It still sounds like someone who knew her to me.’ Right, he has to know, and he has to know now. ‘I went to see Carol today. And before you say anything, Geoff Carter had rung her and volunteered my services because he told me she was in such a state.’
‘And was she in a state?’
‘Definitely. And her children were more or less fending for themselves.’
‘Well, she’s just lost her niece, it’s understandable.’
‘I don’t think you fully understand, Jack.’ She took a sip of her wine.
‘What, exactly, are you getting at?’
‘Carol told me that Beth was her daughter.’
‘What?’ With the glass halfway to his mouth he almost spilt his drink.
‘That’s what she told me. And there’s definitely a resemblance. It would also explain why she’s taking it so badly.’
‘Okay, Rose, let’s have the whole story.’
Continuing would probably bring trouble to one or both sisters but she had no choice. ‘Before Carol met and married John Harte she was going out with Michael Poole. It seems things didn’t work out but they weren’t helped by the fact that Sally made a play for, and got, Michael. This, apparently, was the pattern of their younger lives. However, Sally and Michael were together for quite a long time and he didn’t want the relationship to end. It was Sally who broke it off.
‘I know this is going to sound unbelievable, but it rang true to me. Carol already had the two girls but she became pregnant whilst John was working abroad. She was in her third month when he returned. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him because he’d know it wasn’t his baby. By then it was too late for an abortion. You see, she hadn’t realised until it was too late that she was pregnant. Her cycle has never been regular. She had two choices. John wasn’t due back again for another six months. She could risk having the baby and try passing it off as his, a baby born prematurely, or she could ask someone else to bring it up for her. Obviously, without John’s permission, there was no question of adoption.’
‘Are you telling me that Sally broke off her relationship with Poole in order to bring up her sister’s child?’
‘Yes. As incredible as it seems, that’s what she did. But she had ulterior motives. Despite what she told people, Sally was desperate for a child of her own. She gave up her job, moved down here and waited for the baby to be born.’
Jack drained his glass and placed it on the floor beside his chair. His deep blue eyes registered bewilderment. ‘This doesn’t pan out. What about the follow up care, the clinics and things that babies are supposed to attend? And there’s the financial question. How did she cope?’
‘Sally said she never claimed any benefits.’
‘So how does she live?’ Not solely upon what Poole contributed, he thought.
‘It’s quite simple: Michael Poole sends money via Alice Jones and Carol gives her the rest. Carol can claim family allowance because she registered the birth legally when she was at her mother’s, but she has to be careful where she keeps the book.’
‘What’s going to happen now? Carol will have to inform the authorities.’
Rose shrugged. ‘We didn’t go into that much detail. Anyway, to answer your other question, the follow-up care bit was easy. Carol usually took Beth, sometimes Sally did. There would be nothing unusual in one sister helping another out. Once they’re not babies fewer and fewer visits are necessary.’
‘All right, so far so good, but what about Tamsin and Lucy, surely … no, I’ve got it, they’d have been two and less than one year old respectively then, far too young to realise what was happening. What about friends and neighbours? Surely someone spotted she was pregnant?’
‘She says not. She said she kept it hidden for quite a while. And besides, you’ve been there, there aren’t any neighbours. Towards the end Sally moved in and did all her shopping and took the children out. Carol went up to her mother’s to have the baby. Meanwhile, Sally found a flat. As soon as Beth was born she moved in with her and everyone assumed it was her child.’
‘It seems she went to a good deal of trouble for Carol. And why, then, is Poole paying towards Beth’s keep? Did Sally tell him it was his child?’
‘Yes. That’s why she couldn’t see him and didn’t want him to find her. He would have known she wasn’t pregnant.’ Rose smiled. ‘But haven’t you guessed, Jack? Sally wasn’t lying. Beth is his child.’
‘Jesus,’ he said. The single word was followed by several seconds of silence.
‘It was the usual story. Michael had come down from Looe to deliver a piece of furniture Alice was storing for Carol. John was away, as I said, and things developed from there. Michael was only here for one night, Carol swears it was just the once, but she was still breastfeeding Lucy and women are more vulnerable then. At the time Michael was living with Sally and neither he nor Carol realised the possible consequences.’
‘Two more questions. Does Poole know that Beth isn’t Sally’s child? And does Sally know that Poole is the father?’
‘The answer to both is no. Obviously Sally would have refused to take responsibility if she had been aware she had been deceived by both her sister and her boyfriend. Don’t forget if Beth really was his child he’d have had to have paid for her keep either way.’
‘Um, I wonder.’
But Rose didn’t stay to hear what was on his mind. She could smell the fish and went to make sure it was not overcooked. ‘It’s ready,’ she called.
Jack sat at the table and poured more wine as Rose dished up. If Poole had discovered he had been deceived would he have harmed the child? Surely it was more likely he would have wanted revenge on one or both women. But then, killing Beth would have achieved just that. And if Sally had discovered Beth’s true parentage, would she have killed her, the child she had cared for for over four years? ‘Rose, you’re a woman, can you think of any other reason why Sally would have put herself out so greatly?’
‘Oh, I thought I’d said. You know now that Sally had always longed for a child but she was born with an abnormality which made this impossible.’
‘And Carol knew this.’
‘She did.’
That explained a lot. No wonder she had not hesitated in asking. It also explained Sally’s willingness in the matter. But it didn’t explain Beth’s death.
Rose placed a plate in front of him. Jack picked up his knife and fork. Pungent steam rose from the mackerel which contained an apricot and walnut stuffing; his favourite. It was time to eat and forget work. He would think about all that he had been told in the morning.
Jack helped with the washing up; living alone Rose saw no point in having a dishwasher. They listened to some jazz then, to Rose’s surprise, Jack said he was leaving. This was so typical of the way things were with them, their moods were rarely attuned. She had felt in need of the comfort of his body in her bed but she would not admit it and would therefore have to do without it.
‘It was, as always, a lovely meal. Thank you, Rose.’ He picked up his jacket and gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead.
So much for passion, Rose thought. She was disappointed but understood that his mind was on what she had told him. ‘Oh, bugger it,’ she said as she rinsed out their coffee cups. There was an inch or so of wine left in the bottle, she would drink it by the dying embers of the fire then go to bed and read.
The last log settled sending lively sparks up the chimney. The scent of applewood made her nostalgic. It reminded her of her teenage years, just before she went to college. Her parents had lost an orchard to disease but the wood had not been wasted. How young Arthur and Evelyn had been then, although to her they had not seemed so. And now her mother was dead and her father was living in Penzance. There was no way in which she could have envisaged any of it, her life or that of her parents, when she had been seventeen.
> As she cleaned her teeth she realised she had had no contact with Sally since she had heard the news of Beth’s death. Should she phone or write or go in person? I’ll go, she decided, as she got undressed. When David had died only her true friends had forced themselves upon her, insisting that she ate and slept and didn’t drown her sorrows in wine, even though she’d hated what seemed like their interference at the time. But many people had avoided her initially, out of embarrassment or a fear of making matters worse. It was daft when matters could not have been worse.
Rose took one last, ritualistic look at the bay then drew the curtains. It had been a long day and she was too tired to read. She lay listening to the wind in the chimney breast, the occasional, late screech of a gull and the ticking as the central heating pipes cooled down. Within minutes she had fallen asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Carol Harte was not expecting another visit from the police. There was nothing more she could tell them. When she opened the door her stomach turned over. The children were back at school; it was pointless to protect them from what they would have to face eventually, but for a second she thought something had happened to one of them. John would be home that evening. Never had she looked forward to seeing him so much.
Jack had interviewed Carol once but even after that brief acquaintanceship he was shocked at her appearance. Only now, after what Rose had divulged, did he understand the reason for it. At his side was a female detective. ‘May we come in?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course, I’m sorry.’
They stepped in out of the rain which was sweeping across the countryside. Water dripped from the trees and the shiny leaves of the shrubs glistened wetly. The lowing of a single cow drifted over the fields.
‘Would you like some coffee?’ Carol asked when she had shown them into the lounge.
‘No thank you.’ Jack wondered how many times a police officer was asked that question during the course of his or her career.
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