by E. A. Clark
After a rather humiliating pat search by a sour-looking female guard, I was directed towards the entrance to the visiting area with the other visitors. The visits hall was equally bleak and uninviting. It smelled of disinfectant and unwashed bodies. I sat uneasily in the corner, at a plastic table on a wobbly plastic chair, staring at the blank walls and painted concrete floor. The inmates filed in wearing coloured bibs over their regular clothes, presumably to distinguish them easily from the anxious-looking visitors. An unshaven Peter took a seat opposite me and smiled thinly across the table, studying my face with mild interest.
‘Thank you for seeing me,’ I began uncomfortably.
He inclined his head a fraction. ‘I wasn’t expecting any visitors. It’s good to have a chance to get out of there for a bit.’ His jutting chin and a sharp upward glance indicated the door at the far end of the room.
‘Think it’s bad in here? You want to see the cells …’ He looked at me curiously. ‘I’m assuming this isn’t just a social call,’ he said.
It was time to take the plunge. ‘Look, Peter, I’m finding this all a bit awkward if I’m honest. I don’t really know where to begin.’ I averted my gaze, finding his intense expression unsettling.
‘This is all going to sound quite odd, I’m sure. But even after coming home from Anglesey, things have carried on … happening to me.’
‘Things?’ He sounded interested. ‘What sort of “things”?’
I swallowed hard. How to mention that the girl he was accused of killing was haunting me? Best to just get on with it, I thought. That’s why I’m here, after all.
‘I don’t know whether you’d realized, but the ghost that kept appearing to me while I was staying at the farm was Aneira. And … well … her spirit seems to have attached itself to me for some reason,’ I blurted out, ‘and she’s implying that there was more than one person involved in her … demise.’
‘Oh – and the word of a ghost will hold up really well in court, won’t it!’ scoffed Peter, his lips curling into an annoying smirk. He looked me full in the face.
‘What do you want me to say? That I had an accomplice? That someone else detested the little witch as much as I did? I’ll tell you straight – and it’s almost a relief now that it’s all out in the open. I’m responsible for Aneira’s death. And believe me, there was no one else involved.’
I didn’t know what to say. I felt stunned. This open admission of guilt was not what I had anticipated. I’m not sure what I expected him to tell me – but then I had never known anyone accused of murder before.
‘So – so you really did kill her, then?’
Peter stared at me unblinkingly. ‘Do you want me to spell it out? Yes, I killed her. But she had it coming, believe me.’ There was a coldness in his voice that made me shudder. This was a side to Peter that I hadn’t witnessed before.
‘What the hell happened, then? I thought you said she disappeared into the night after coming to Tyddyn Bach and that was the last time you saw her?’
Peter paused for a moment. He looked round as if there might be someone eavesdropping over his shoulder. But the table next to us remained unoccupied, and the love-struck young couple on the table behind him were completely engrossed in their own conversation, their hands clasped across the breach. He took a deep breath.
‘I really thought Aneira had left, that night when she turned up. The van had disappeared into the distance, and her with it, so I thought that was that. I went back inside and closed the door, then went into the living room to draw the curtains. The next thing I knew, there she was running through the doorway; launching herself at me, screaming like a banshee.
‘She must have kept her door key to the cottage and had let herself in. She was vile, hysterical. Saying terrible things about Glyn, accusing me of turning him against her. She kept on saying that the cottage should have been their home, and that I had no right staying there. I think she was on something, because her eyes were wide and the pupils dilated. Something in me just snapped. I picked up the poker from the fireplace and hit her. Only once. But she … just dropped like a stone. It was then I realized she wasn’t breathing.’
He stared at the ground, wringing his hands as he relived the experience.
‘There was blood coming from her head and her mouth,’ he said steadily. ‘I panicked. I dragged her up the stairs and rolled her up in a couple of blankets. Then I put her in the trunk in the attic. No one ever uses the loft space any more, so I knew she’d never be found.’ He looked up at me, his eyes narrowing. ‘Until now, of course …’
‘I don’t understand why you risked being found out by inviting me to stay there. Surely occupation of the cottage by someone else could have meant your secret being discovered?’
He wore a smug, hateful leer now. ‘Look at you. You’re pregnant – and a mental wreck. One: you’d never have had the physical strength to move the cupboard away from the wall – and there would’ve been no reason for you to, anyway. And two: if you’d suspected anything – for whatever reason – people would probably have thought you delusional. How could anyone take you seriously – newly widowed, screamingly hormonal and doped up to the eyeballs to boot? Plus, with the house occupied it was less likely that Marian Williams would come poking about. Oh I thought it all through, believe me. How the hell was I to know that you staying there would stir up all this shit?’
I felt sickened by his admission. I had spent time in his company – time that I had enjoyed – and all along he had been harbouring such a dark secret, and was so coldly calculating. But I still needed to probe further or my journey would have been in vain.
‘So – you really were all alone, then? Nobody else was at the cottage while this was all happening?’
‘I’ve told you,’ he said, a hint of aggression creeping into his voice now. ‘I acted alone. I’ll pay for what I’ve done. But I’m past caring …’
Whether he had genuinely acted alone or not, he was clearly sticking to his version of events. I realized that I wasn’t getting anywhere.
‘I’m amazed you wanted to keep going back to the island – I’d have thought you would’ve stayed well away after everything that happened …’
A peculiar smile spread slowly across Peter’s face. His eyes met mine and his sly expression chilled me. ‘I was in control of everything at last,’ he said at length. He seemed to be recalling his actions; I saw from the glint in his eyes that he derived some warped, narcissistic satisfaction from their outcome.
‘I could come and go as I pleased now without the fear of Aneira tipping up at my door ever again, or spilling her guts to all and sundry about stuff that was none of her fucking business.’
He darted a sudden look at me as though he had let something slip unintentionally. I made no comment and he continued.
‘She was out of the way for good – and I was confident that no one would ever think of looking for her in the cottage. As long as she lay undiscovered, I felt safe. Plus – if I stopped going to see the Parrys, questions might’ve been asked. I had always visited regularly – if I’d stopped it would’ve looked suspicious. So I carried on, business as usual. Why should I allow her to stop me from going to a place I’d loved all my life? It would’ve meant she’d won, wouldn’t it?’
‘Don’t you feel at all sorry for what you did?’ I couldn’t disguise my disgust. ‘Aneira’s mother has to live with this for the rest of her life. And poor Gwen and Will are distraught.’
‘They’ll get over it in time, I’m sure.’ He deliberated for a moment over his response. ‘I’m sorry if people … got caught in the crossfire. But I’m not sorry about Aneira. I’d be lying if I said I was. I didn’t set out to kill her – but what’s done is done. She brought it on herself.’
I pressed him further, but it was clear that Peter wished to say no more on the matter, and I had no desire to spend any more time in his presence. I left, feeling a sense of hopelessness. My visit had achieved nothing other than to confirm that
what Marian Williams believed all along was true.
Chapter Fourteen
‘So? Did you get anything out of him?’ Sarah asked eagerly, as I climbed back into the car.
‘Nope – well, nothing that we didn’t already know,’ I sighed. ‘He was very candid about what happened to Aneira – it made me feel quite ill, actually. And I got the impression that she did know something about him, although he gave nothing specific away. But as for an accomplice – if he did have one, he’s a very good liar. His story sounded pretty plausible. I suppose it’s possible that he’s protecting someone.’
‘Well, we know he’s an accomplished bloody liar for a start. But if he won’t tell you anything, there’s not much we can do. Unless the police come up with some other evidence, that is.’
‘I can’t carry on like this – having sleepless nights because of some wronged spirit. It’s no joke, I can tell you.’ I turned to look at Sarah, whose brow had creased into a frown.
‘Let’s be logical about this,’ she said slowly. ‘If he were to have had some partner in crime, who would be the most likely candidate?’
‘Well, he did have some cousins up in Anglesey. I don’t know anything about them, other than that one of them was a friend of Aneira’s. Her mother told me that the cousin in question had shared some secret with Aneira about Peter. I assumed after the box was found that it must’ve been the fact that he was in love with Glyn …’
Sarah shrugged. ‘Could’ve been – or there could be more to it. I think we need to track down these cousins of his and see if any of them can shed some light on the situation.’
I was dubious but there didn’t seem to be much alternative. ‘I imagine the Parrys will know who they are – failing that, Mrs Williams probably knows where to find Aneira’s friend.’
‘Looks like we need to drive back up to Anglesey, then,’ said Sarah, resignedly.
I groaned. ‘Yes, I suppose we must. We’d better get home and tell Nia and Arfon. They’ve had a bit of a wasted trip!’
*
The Evans’s were disappointed to hear about Peter’s apparent lack of cooperation, but more than happy for us to stay with them whilst trying to find his cousins. Sarah bought everyone fish and chips, and after dinner we set off in our respective vehicles, the Evans’s in their old truck and Sarah and I in her little Fiesta.
Heading west we drove into the most spectacular sunset, enhanced by the backdrop of the Welsh mountains. The evening was pleasantly clement and I sat with my face to the open window, drinking in the warm current and relishing the breeze through my hair. It was such a shame that the purpose of our journey was one of business and not pleasure. I hoped sincerely that our visit would not be a futile one.
Our first port of call was the Parrys’ farm, Bryn Mawr. Mrs Parry opened the door, looking tired and careworn. She was delighted to see us all, but obviously a little perplexed. We exchanged hugs and she showed us into the kitchen. Mr Parry wasn’t home and the old lady had obviously just woken from a snooze. The tabby cat greeted me like a long-lost friend, weaving in and out between my legs and purring.
We sat at the table while Mrs Parry made tea. Arfon proceeded to explain what had happened and how we needed to find Peter’s cousins.
‘It seems, Mrs Parry, that Peter may have had some help. He won’t admit to it, but Aneira’s spirit is implying that more than one person is culpable for her death. Whether the police have found any evidence to indicate this, I don’t know. But poor Annie here seems to have been charged with finding the person or persons responsible and making sure that justice is done.’
Mrs Parry looked shocked. ‘And there’s no doubt that Peter … that he is guilty of killing Aneira, then? There has been no mistake?’
‘I’m afraid not. Peter has confessed to everything – but maintains that he acted alone. We must find his accomplice in order to ensure that Aneira can finally rest and Annie can be freed from these disturbing visitations.’
The old woman’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I had hoped that there had been some terrible mistake,’ she said quietly. ‘I still can’t believe such a wicked thing of Peter. But if he’s admitted to it, well … I don’t know how finding his cousins can help, though. As far as I know, they didn’t really have much to do with one another after he went into care. It upset him a great deal you know, when he had to leave.’
‘Why did he have to leave, Mrs Parry?’ I asked. ‘Did something happen?’
‘Not as far as I know. I think it just got too much for his auntie. Her health wasn’t good and I suppose another child to raise, particularly as he wasn’t her own, was just too much for her. And Peter did go through a bit of a bad patch after his parents died. I know he couldn’t help it – all teenagers can be troublesome at times, and he’d had more to contend with than most. It must’ve been very hard for all of them.’
‘When you say a “bad patch” – what did he do?’ My curiosity was stirred now. Was there some unsavoury element to Peter’s behaviour that his cousin Carys had told Aneira in confidence?
Mrs Parry was dismissive. ‘Oh, nothing major. I think he got into a spot of bother at school for fighting and such. Not much more than you’d expect from a lad of his age – and in his situation. He was always the same old Peter whenever we saw him.’
‘Did you lose touch – when he was sent back to the Midlands, I mean?’ asked Sarah, who had been listening intently. ‘I remember him telling me that he was in and out of various foster homes for a while – it sounded as though he’d had a bit of a rough time.’
The old lady turned to look at her. ‘A couple of years went by when we didn’t hear much from him. But after he came out of care, he got back in touch and started to visit again. I think we were probably the only people he ever felt really close to, after he lost his mam and dad.’
She looked so miserable that my heart went out to her. Finding out that someone you had treated as a son had done something quite so horrific must take some coming to terms with.
‘Do you know where any of his cousins live now, Mrs Parry?’ asked Arfon. ‘We may be barking up the wrong tree, but it might help to ask them a few questions.’
Mrs Parry thought for a moment. ‘I do remember hearing that the girl, Carys, married a farmer from the other side of the island. Marian would probably be able to tell you more. I don’t know if Carys had kept in touch with Aneira, but they were quite good pals at one time.’
‘We’ll go and have a word with Mrs Williams, then,’ said Nia. ‘Hopefully she might be able to point us in the right direction.’ She took Mrs Parry’s hand in her own. ‘I’m so sorry. All this must be very upsetting for you.’
Mrs Parry smiled sadly. ‘It’s been a terrible shock,’ she admitted. ‘But I think it’s affected Will the most. He’s hardly spoken to me since it all came out. I’m quite worried about him.’
‘Maybe he’d benefit from some counselling,’ suggested Sarah.
Mrs Parry looked doubtful. ‘You wouldn’t get him going anywhere near anything like that,’ she said. ‘We were offered bereavement counselling when we lost Glyn. Will refused point blank. He thinks it’s all a waste of time.’
‘Then I’ll send him some healing,’ said Nia. ‘It can’t do any harm and it may help.’
Sarah looked at me and rolled her eyes. I glared at her and prodded her shin with the toe of my shoe under the table. I had come to realize that anything beyond our understanding of the norm was not to be derided.
We said goodbye to Mrs Parry and made our way over to the Williams’ place. It was almost ten o’clock by now, and dusk had well and truly fallen. The lane approaching the house, overshadowed as it was by trees, was in complete darkness. Crawling along after Arfon’s truck, we swung into the driveway, the headlights illuminating our path.
The exterior light to the property was lit but there was little sign of life within. I rang the doorbell and waited whilst the others remained in the cars. Soon enough, the hall light came on and Marian Willia
ms opened the door. She was in her nightclothes and looked a little bleary-eyed.
‘Good grief, I had just gone up to bed!’ she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes. She looked at me quizzically. ‘I thought you’d gone home.’
I didn’t quite know where to begin, so thought it best to keep to the point.
‘Hello, Mrs Williams. I’m sorry if we’ve disturbed you. I was just wondering – do you have an address or telephone number for Peter’s cousin, Carys, please?’
She looked taken aback. ‘You’ve come all this way for that? And at this time of night?’
I nodded, not wishing to expand on my reasons for needing to contact Carys. I hoped that she wouldn’t press me further on the matter.
‘Why do you want to speak to Carys? We haven’t seen her for ages. She’s married now, you know.’ Then a thought occurred to her and she smiled knowingly. ‘Ah – you want to know what she told Aneira, don’t you? I’m not sure how it’ll help now, though, whatever it was. Come in a minute while I find my address book.’
I followed her into the kitchen. The scruffy little dog growled at me from its basket. I ignored it.
After rummaging through a drawer, Mrs Williams produced a small notebook. She leafed through and handed it to me. I stared down at the page.
‘Aberffraw: that’s where she’s living these days. Here, I’ll copy it for you.’
Tearing a strip of paper from an old envelope, she scribbled down the address and phone number from the book.
‘Good luck with it, then’ she said. I thanked her and turned to leave.
‘Mrs Philips?’
‘Yes?’
‘He’s admitted to it all, hasn’t he, that bastard? D’you think they’ll lock him up and throw away the key?’
‘I very much hope so, Mrs Williams. I’m afraid he’s not the man I thought he was. You were right about him. As you said – a mother’s instinct …’
She nodded sadly. ‘I wanted to be wrong, you know. But I knew it – don’t ask me how; I just did.’