The Tapestry Bag

by Isabella Muir

  ‘We went for coffee, that was when she told me about you, that she’d met up with you after years and how pleased she was to have you as a friend.’

  I wished I could take out a notebook and jot down everything he was telling me so that I could work out the timeline. I got the sense there was more to this than a straightforward break-up and the more he spoke the more anxious I felt.

  ‘How did you recognise me? In the disco the other night…?’

  ‘She told me you looked after the mobile library. I’ve been in once or twice. I had a crazy idea I could ask you to intervene for me, to talk to her about Joel, persuade her to leave him. She might have listened to you.’

  ‘When you had coffee with her, did you ask her about Joel? If she was happy with him?’

  ‘I was going to, but then…’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I lost my temper.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I told her she was being stupid, that Joel wasn’t the man for her, that he’d hurt her eventually. Men like Joel, well, you can just tell, they’re only interested in one thing.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure he really cared for her. I can see you might have been angry that he’d taken her from you, but Joel was a good man. He was always buying her presents, taking her out. They were happy together.’

  ‘Ownership. He wanted to possess her, she was a trophy for him, that’s all.’

  ‘And you told her that?’

  ‘Yes, she wasn’t pleased with me.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Anyway, we argued, she told me to mind my own business and to leave her alone. And that’s when I did it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I hit her.’

  He won’t have missed my sharp intake of breath. I fought an impulse to distance myself from him, but instead I sat on my hands and studied his face. ‘You hit her?’

  ‘I’m not proud of myself. I don’t know what happened, it was just hearing her talk to me like that, knowing she’d chosen him over me.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘She got up and walked out of the café. I never saw her again.’

  ‘Oh, Owen.’ I didn’t know what else to say. My mind was struggling to absorb what he’d told me and to work out if it had any bearing on Zara’s disappearance. I couldn’t think straight with him standing there in front of me, still appearing to be mortified by what he’d done. He bent his head and covered his face with his hands.

  ‘And the people in the café? Did anyone tackle you about what you’d done?’

  He shook his head and didn’t respond. I sat still for a few moments, replaying the scene in my mind. My thoughts went to Greg, not just his gentle nature, but his imminent employment with the family of a bully, a woman beater.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ Owen said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘I can’t bear the idea of people knowing. I keep imagining what they’ll think of me.’

  I wondered if his parents knew anything about his relationship with Zara and about the difficulties their son had controlling his temper.

  ‘Do you think Zara will come back?’ he said.

  ‘Right now, I don’t even know where she’s gone, but I’m going to do my best to try to find her.’

  He sat down and picked up the cup of cold tea, twisting it around in his hands, but with no apparent intention of drinking it.

  ‘Did you see the newspaper article about Zara’s disappearance?’ I said. ‘Are you sure you don’t know anything else that might help me track her down?’ I said.

  ‘No, like I say, I haven’t seen her since that day. I read about Joel’s accident in the Brighton Argus and I was tempted to come back to see if I could help, to comfort her.’

  ‘Might not have been your best idea?’

  ‘I still love her.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that, but she’s had a hard time accepting Joel’s gone. Whatever you thought of Joel, Zara cared for him.’

  There was little more to say and I was keen for him to leave before Greg got home.

  ‘If you remember anything else that might help me to find her, come and talk again,’ I said. ‘Although it’s better if you drop into the mobile library, you’re certain to find me there. I wouldn’t want you to have a wasted journey.’

  He stopped at the front door.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I’ve never done it before, you know. Hitting a woman like that. I hope you find her.’

  ‘So do I.’

  It was much later that evening before I had time to reflect on all that Owen had told me. I was grateful he’d felt able to be honest with me, but I got the sense he was still holding something back. His revelations had helped to plant a thought in my mind I wished I could shake off. Maybe Owen had done more than just hitting out at Zara. I fervently hoped I was wrong.

  Chapter 12

  Poirot gave me one look, which conveyed a wondering pity, and his full sense of the utter absurdity of such an idea.

  The Mysterious Affair at Styles - Agatha Christie

  Greg’s sister, Becca, is the jewel in the crown of the Juke family. She’d been at college ever since leaving school and had accumulated more qualifications than I could dream of. Now she had just heard she’d got a place at Sussex University and it was all her parents could talk about. Becca, on the other hand, was surprisingly mute on the subject.

  Greg’s parents had planned a celebratory party, which sounded to me more like an opportunity to show off their clever daughter to various acquaintances and neighbours. As in-laws Jimmy and Nell Juke were okay, but I was frequently uncomfortable when they made their judgemental approach to life a little too obvious. I’d never said a word to Greg, knowing he would rush to their defence, which was completely understandable. It’s easy for any of us to criticise our own family members, but we become like a vicious beast protecting their young if anyone else dares to.

  Jimmy Juke was okay, in fact Greg was a lot like him, practical, hard-working and fair. But I got the feeling Nell believed the world owed her more than she had ever been given. She had a fairly ordinary family background, as far as I knew, but there was always something aspirational about her. I’m certain when she first met Jimmy, who was a bank clerk back in the day, she had visions of his rapid promotion to bank manager and with it a comfortable middle-class life. Sadly, the war got in the way. After his spell in the army Jimmy returned to his job in the bank, but never rose beyond counter clerk. When Greg and then Becca came along, Nell had all the excuses she needed not to find herself a paid job. But with just one wage coming in, her hopes for an imposing, detached house in suburbia was out of the question.

  Their modest semi in Roselands Avenue was homely, but Nell made it clear that it was a temporary measure and eventually they would move to a larger place. The temporary measure had lasted more than twenty years, but no-one dared to point that out.

  With just three years between them, Greg and Becca were good friends, as well as brother and sister. Greg had always been the practical one, enjoyed being outdoors and active, but not one for sitting still for too long. Becca, however, thrived at school and was only happy when she had her head in a book. There was never any doubt she would eventually go to university. The only query was which one she would choose. We were both surprised she chose one so close to home, or maybe it was me who was more surprised. It was probably my vague antipathy towards Nell Juke that made me think if I was her daughter, I’d be on my way to Aberdeen or Dundee, given half the chance.

  But the new university in Brighton sounded wonderful and offered Becca exactly the course she wanted, which meant taking book reading to a whole new level. I loved books, I spent most of my working week surrounded by them, but spending months deconstructing and dissecting a novel or play was not my idea of fun. I suppose it takes all sorts.

  We’d visited Greg’s parents a few days earlier to let them know their first grandchild was on the way. �
��Well done, lad,’ his father said, shaking Greg’s hand so firmly I thought he would never let go. For a moment it was as though I wasn’t involved at all. Then Nell came over and patted me on the shoulder.

  ‘Oh, Jimmy, our first grandchild. You need to take care of her now, Greg. Spoil her a bit,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean? I spoil her all the time,’ Greg said. ‘I even offered to bring her a cup of tea in bed the other morning and she turned me down flat.’

  This wasn’t the moment to go into details about my problems with tea, so I took Greg’s hand and said, ‘He’s the perfect husband, don’t you worry.’

  ‘And you’ll have to let us spoil that baby, you can’t love a baby too much, that’s what I say,’ she flushed a little as she spoke, her emotions getting the better of her.

  I dispelled any thoughts of Nell fussing around Bean, advising me to feed on demand, or scrutinising newly laundered nappies, ensuring they were whiter than white. Instead I just smiled and told her, ‘It’s a lucky baby to have such doting grandparents.’

  ‘It’s just as it should be,’ she said.

  We didn’t reply, I had no idea what she meant and I don’t think Greg was much the wiser.

  ‘We’ll always be available for babysitting, you know that,’ she said. ‘After all, your dad won’t be able to…’

  I held my breath, wondering how she would finish the sentence without dropping herself into a deep hole. Then Jimmy came to her rescue.

  ‘We must have a get-together to celebrate, your dad must come as well, of course. Let’s make a date on the calendar,’ he said.

  I smiled my sweetest smile and was pleased when Greg said we had to be going.

  ‘Thanks, dad, we’ll have a chat to Philip and sort some dates out,’ Greg said, seemingly unaware that there was any tension to defuse.

  ‘If dad comes, then so does Charlie and your mum isn’t keen on dogs, is she?’ I told Greg later that day, once we were home.

  ‘Oh, she’ll be fine. Don’t take any notice of her moaning, it’s all bluster with her.’

  ‘Right, well, don’t blame me if she complains about the dog hairs.’

  Fortunately, neither Jimmy or Nell mentioned the get-together again and Becca’s party provided Nell with another focus. The party was planned for a Sunday afternoon and was to be held at the Jukes’ house. The forecast was for a glorious summer’s day, which meant the chance for guests to overspill into Nell’s well-tended garden. The menu centred around a delicate display of fish paste and cucumber sandwiches and little home-made scones.

  I promised Greg I would lend a hand, so early on Sunday morning I turned up at Roselands Avenue, prepared to do whatever was needed.

  ‘Here I am, your chief bottle washer and bread butterer, at the ready,’ I said, as Nell answered the door. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t smile, my jokes rarely raised a chuckle from my mother-in-law, but this time her expression indicated more than a lack of humour.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I asked her, following her through into the kitchen where every surface was covered in part-prepared savouries and scones.

  ‘It’s Becca.’

  ‘Is she poorly? What’s the problem?’

  ‘She won’t come out of her room,’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘She’s been in a mood all week and now she says she’s not coming out and we can have the party without her.’

  ‘Ah, so that’s tricky then. Do you know why she’s upset?’

  ‘Upset? I’ll give her upset. I’ve done all this for her and this is the way she repays me. Selfish, that’s what it is.’

  ‘Shall I get Greg? Perhaps he can talk her round? He was going to come over in a couple of hours, but I can go and fetch him now if you like?’

  ‘Her father has already tried talking to her. I told him to give her an ultimatum, but he’s far too soft with her. Stern words, that’s what the girl needs. When I was her age I wasn’t even allowed an opinion.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll listen to me? Would you like me to try?’

  ‘Help yourself,’ she said and waved me through to the hallway and then turned around and walked back into the kitchen without another word.

  ‘Right,’ I mumbled to myself, ‘so I’ll just go up then, shall I?’

  I hadn’t been in Becca’s room before, but I knew it was opposite Greg’s old room. The door was firmly shut, so I knocked gently at first and then a little harder when there was no response. After a few moments I pushed the door open a crack and popped my head around to see Becca curled on her bed with her back towards me and her arms up hiding her face.

  ‘Go away,’ she said, without turning to look at me.

  ‘Are you okay? Can I come in?’

  Without waiting for her reply, I walked into the room and closed the door behind me. I moved a chair that was beside the window and positioned it next to her bed to face her.

  ‘Having a rough day?’ I said.

  ‘I told her, I don’t even want a stupid party. What’s the point of it? She hasn’t invited any of my friends, just all her old cronies and nosey neighbours. She only wants to brag. Anyone would think she’s the one going to university.’

  ‘She’s proud of you, that’s all. She wants to show you off.’

  ‘Show herself off, more like.’

  ‘Greg and I will be there and it’s only for a couple of hours. The three of us can sneak away into a corner of the garden. You don’t want to disappoint your big brother, do you? He’s looking forward to it.’

  ‘No he isn’t. He told me he was dreading it.’

  ‘Well, the food looks delicious. She’s gone to a lot of trouble.’

  Becca sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She brushed her hair away from her face, which was still wet with tears.

  ‘Hey, it’s not that bad. Just one silly afternoon and then she’ll have got it out of her system. You must be so excited about your course, you’ve done so well, worked so hard.’

  ‘I wish I was leaving today. There’s still weeks to go before I start.’

  ‘There must be loads to sort out. What about your books? Do you have to buy many? I would offer to check some of them out in the library, but I’m guessing our selection won’t be quite what you’re looking for.’

  ‘The uni library is pretty comprehensive. We were given a tour when we went to their open day. You’d love it, although there’s not many crime novels.’

  The Juke family were well aware of my penchant for Agatha Christie and Jimmy often teased me about it. Greg told me once that his dad’s pet name for me was Miss Marple. Thankfully, he’d never said it to my face.

  ‘What about your digs, are they all sorted? Are you staying on campus?’

  ‘I was going to, but then I had an offer of a house share.’

  ‘With one of your friends?’

  ‘Kind of. He’s a friend of a friend. His name’s Owen Mowbray. He rents a big house in Brighton and needs someone to share. My friend Melanie is moving in too. Should be fun.’

  Becca was too busy studying her face in the mirror and re-applying her makeup to notice me flinch at her revelation. She was young and vulnerable. Perhaps my imagination was too fertile, but I couldn’t sit back and say nothing and let Becca move in with someone who might be dangerous. The problem was that I couldn’t think of a way to stop it happening, without showing my hand.

  I rejoined the party and was just planning to move in on the sausage rolls, when Jimmy sidled over to me, extricating himself from one of his neighbours who had a high-pitched voice and a laugh that was more like a cackle.

  ‘How are you keeping? Baby all alright?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, all good.’

  ‘No more news about your friend? Terrible business. Still, it can’t have been easy having her living with you all that time.’

  ‘Has Greg said something?’ I could feel the anxiety hiccups bubbling up.

  ‘Greg? No, I just thought…all that moping about, she never stepped out of t
he door for a whole year by all accounts?’

  ‘I’ll just clear a few of these plates away, give Nell a hand in the kitchen.’

  I couldn’t decide which made me angrier; Greg moaning to his dad, or the fact that both of them were missing the point. We had tried to offer support to a good friend at a time of her life when she was at her lowest. In my book that shouldn’t have come with criticism about how many times she went to the shops.

  ‘Parties exhaust me,’ Greg said, flopping down on the settee, once we were home.

  ‘You are funny. Why? It’s not like you had to do the food, or the clearing up. I noticed you suggested we left before your mum grabbed you for washing-up duties.’

  There was no point saying anything to Greg about my conversation with his dad. It would have just started an argument and I didn’t have the energy for it.

  ‘All that mingling and small talk, it’s boring. I’d rather be down the pub,’ he said.

  ‘Or here with your lovely wife?’

  ‘Yeah, that too. You did well with Becca, talking her round. I’m sure mum was really grateful.’

  ‘No more mention of the get-together with dad? To celebrate Bean’s arrival?’

  ‘There’s no rush, though, is there?’

  I laid in bed that night and tried to divide my worries into little filing cabinets. Greg, Bean, Becca, Owen, Zara. Sleep would have to go on the back-burner for a while.

  Chapter 13

  ‘I have a little idea, a very strange, and probably utterly impossible idea. And yet – it fits in.’

  The Mysterious Affair at Styles - Agatha Christie

  Not wanting to push my luck, I had carefully avoided the subject of Mr Peters when I next met Nikki at the ante-natal clinic. Fortunately, her mind was elsewhere, as the midwife had just told her she was expecting twins.

  ‘Oh my,’ was all I could think of to say, not knowing if she was delighted or terrified. Although the expression on her face soon told me it was the former.