by Leah Hope
Letting out a low whistle, John was clearly impressed by the silver beauty as Gil climbed into the driver’s seat. “Well I’ll say this for you two, you have great taste in cars!”
“She’s not bad is she. I might trade up to this model when I change mine next.”
“Alright for some” John replied, without a trace of envy. “It’d be no use to me though, even if I could afford it. I need six seats these days. But a man can dream! Can you find your way back Gil or do you want to follow me.”
“No you carry on John, I’ve still got the paperwork to sort out here. Oh and thanks for the lift. Again.”
“No worries. See you back at the ranch.”
Gil arrived at the farm half an hour after John. After a quick sandwich and a cup of tea, Gil and Bridget set off for the police station at Leyburn. Bridget had no idea Gil had already been to see the wreck of her car. He thought it would be better to give her the bad news on the return journey. He could tell she was stressed enough at having to give a statement about the incident in which two people were seriously injured and over which she might face charges. Mark Addison had been unusually vague about whether Bridget had committed a crime or not when he spoke to her in hospital. He had told her it would be a decision for the local police. Was he avoiding giving her bad news? Or could it be that he genuinely didn’t know the answer? Whatever his reasons, Bridget had taken it to be a bad sign.
Gil waited nervously outside the interview room while Bridget made her statement. After three quarters of an hour he glanced at his watch wishing he’d brought a book or a newspaper. After another half an hour, the door of the interview room opened. Bridget’s brief “thank you officer” gave him no indication of how it had gone.”
“Well?”
“I’m off the hook. They’ve looked at the tyre marks on the road and taken measurements and it appears that Malcolm Cresswell’s car accelerated when it was about twenty yards from me.”
“So it was attempted murder then! Or dangerous driving at least” Gil replied.
“Not necessarily. They’re saying that he could allege that his car was faulty in some way or that his foot jammed on the accelerator or something. Proving it was deliberate might not be that straight forward.”
“Not deliberate my eye! He was making a run for it and he wasn’t going to let you stand in his way. If I could get my hand on him I’d…”
“Probably end up in prison. I’m angry too Gil but Malcolm Cresswell hasn’t made a full statement yet so no-one knows exactly what he’s going to say. He was still woozy yesterday from the anaesthetic and his doctor wouldn’t allow him to be formally interviewed. They did say though that Chief Inspector Addison had managed to get a few brief words with him and is hoping to speak to him further later today.”
“Well let’s hope his conscious pricks him and he tells the truth. As if he hasn’t caused enough trouble, him and his bloody family. I’m fed up with the lot of them.”
“Me too Gil, so we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. I’m sure Mark will let us know if they’re going to press charges or not. In the meantime, let’s get back to the farm. Cathy promised to show us the holiday cottages, I’ve been looking forward to that so let’s not spoil it by getting all het up.”
“Ok, let’s get back then.”
The news about Cindy would have to wait for another time.
*
As soon as they walked into the farmhouse kitchen, Gil and Bridget’s nostrils were tantalised by the smell of something delicious emanating from the oven.
“It’s just a steak and kidney pie” Cathy said modestly “with apple and pear crumble and honey ice-cream for afters. All from of our own produce of course.”
“It sounds and smells wonderful” Bridget said as she sniffed the air again.
George was sitting at the island doing his homework. Hattie sat opposite him, busily working on one of the colouring books Gil and Bridget had given her. With her tongue lolling out, her face was a picture of concentration. Bella was asleep at her feet, apparently none the worse from the trauma of “the pink bow incident” the day before. Seth was babbling away to himself in his play-pen, taking great delight in building a brick tower and then knocking it down again. Bridget took in the scene of domestic bliss and felt an arrow of envy strike her heart. She’d felt like this one before when she’d first met her cousin Jane and family and had instantly berated herself for coveting what someone else had. But it wasn’t that she resented what Cathy or Jane had, far from it, it was just that she would have liked to have had a taste of family life herself. She had often tried to imagine herself as a mother but always found it difficult to see herself with a child. Maybe I was never cut out for it she told herself. Not all women are. Nothing wrong with that. She was brought out of her reverie when Cathy handed her the phone from the hall she’d just answered.
“It’s someone asking for you Bridget, they wouldn’t give their name.”
Puzzled, Bridget took hold of the receiver. After several “yesses and nos” and a very definite “no you certainly can’t” Bridge returned the receiver to the phone in the hall.
“Who was that?” Gil asked.
“The local paper. They asked if I was the driver involved in the crash on Monday evening and did I want to tell them my story. I’ve no idea how they found me, there was that bit they published yesterday but no names were given.”
“I sometimes think the police give them some titbits in return for a favourable story now and again. It’s not right, but it happens” Cathy said.
“Well it flipping well shouldn’t” Bridget replied, clearly annoyed. “Sorry Cathy, I’m not getting at you. As you know we were almost hounded to death a few years ago over the murders in France and it wasn’t very pleasant. I don’t want to go through that again.”
“You did the right thing Bridge but if they call again, just hand the phone to me. I’ll deal with them” Gil said.
“Well I don’t know about anyone else but I could do with a drink after that.”
Cathy poured a glass of wine for herself and Bridget while Gil helped himself to a beer. He made sure there was another one ready for John and Tom when they got back from milking.
“After we’ve finished this Bridget, would you like to have a look at the holiday cottages? The pie’s got another twenty minutes yet.”
“I’d love to. Do you want to come Gil?” Bridget asked.
“No thanks. I think I might just shut my eyes for ten minutes or so before we eat. I think the events of the last couple of days have caught up with me.”
“Don’t worry Gil, Celia felt the same so she’s having a lie down too. It’s just us girls then Bridget” Cathy said, taking hold of her cousin’s arm.
Cathy and Bridget arrived back just as the oven-timer pinged.
“Oh Gil, you should have come with me. The cottages are gorgeous. They’ve all got Yorkshire stone floors, woodburners and exposed beams. They look so cosy and rustic but light and airy at the same time. I don’t know how you managed that Cathy but you’ve certainly got a flare for interior design.”
“I don’t know about that. Just keep it simple and you can’t go wrong” she replied as she looked around and realised half her family seemed to have gone AWOL. “George” she said to her son, “can you go and chase up your dad and grandad please, tell them there dinner’ll be in Bella’s bowl in ten minutes if they aren’t back. And Hattie, go and find Emma please and tell her to wake Grandma. Do you know Bridget, I sometimes think I need to tick names off on a register to make sure everyone’s here!”
“I don’t know how you do it Cathy, I really don’t” Bridget said in awe.
“By the way Bridge” Gil said “Mark rang while you were looking at the cottages. He’s back in Dover and he wants us to ring him when we get home tomorrow.”
“Did he say what it’s about?”
“He’s spoken to the Cresswells. He says we won’t believe what they had to say.”
CHA
PTER EIGHTEEN
Gil and Bridget set off for home just after nine the following morning after enjoying a hearty farmhouse breakfast. All made as usual with home produce, part from the baked beans. Cathy had packed them a box full of goodies to take back with them including eggs, jars of honey, jam and three different types of chutney she’d even given them a small cold-box so they could take a few joints of beef, pork and home-cured ham and bacon as well as butter and cheeses. Bridget was in seventh heaven and Gil was salivating at the thought of the meals his sister would conjure up from such wonderful ingredients.
As they made their way to the car, Bridget was again waiting for Gil to say that Cindy’s boot would have been far too small to accommodate everything but once more, he said nothing. Bridget wondered why. Before they hit the A1 she would find out.
Bridget was devastated when Gil broke the news to her that her beloved Cindy had been damaged beyond repair. She always thought Gil could fix anything. She was shocked to learn this wasn’t true. She felt like a child discovering that their dearly departed pet couldn’t be brought back to life. Too upset for conversation, Bridget passed the time by gazing out of the window at the landscape which gradually became more and more familiar. As they approached home, Bridget dreaded the thought of never again seeing Cindy parked on the drive. Gil would be happy though. She knew he hadn’t been too keen on sharing the space with his beloved Merc. Well he’d got it all to himself now hadn’t he. Lucky him.
Gil hadn’t attempted to break the silence which had broken out when he first told Bridget the news. He knew she was upset. No, it went deeper than that. It almost felt she was in mourning. He knew how much the little car had meant to her and he had no intention of belittling her feelings. When he had suggested they look around for another car over the weekend, her response had been “no, not yet, it’s too soon”.
Gil had made good time and after a brief stop to eat the packed lunch that Cathy had made for them, they pulled into the driveway on the Esplanade at just before four. Bridget unlocked the front door and scooped up the post from the mat, shaking her head at how much had accumulated in just a few short days, most of it junk mail. Gil bought in the boxes of food from Cathy and Bridget put the contents straight into the fridge, she wasn’t in the mood to start sorting stuff into meal-size portions for the freezer. That would have to wait.
After taking their bags upstairs Gil put the kettle on and cut two slices from the loaf cake left over from their lunch. “Are you ready to speak to Mark after we’ve eaten this?” Gil asked, as Bridget sat down opposite him at the kitchen table.
“Not really, but I suppose we’d better call him. He’ll be expecting us so let’s just get on with it.”
“I know this hasn’t been the best of days Bridge, but aren’t you anxious to find out what the Cresswells had to say? I know I am.”
“Of course I am. Or I would have been. It’s just that this thing with Cindy has knocked the stuffing out of me.” Seeing her brother’s look of concern she added that he shouldn’t worry and that she would be better after a cup of tea and a slice of cake.
“Once I get through, I’ll put him on speakerphone so we can both hear and talk to him, ok?”
Bridget nodded in response and soon Mark Addison’s familiar voice was booming out at them from somewhere in the middle of the kitchen table, just to the left of the loaf cake. Ever the gentleman, his opening words were to enquire after Bridget’s health after her ordeal.
“So Mark, you’ve been able to speak to the Cresswells then” Gil asked.
“Indeed, not long after you were discharged Bridget. I spoke to Malcolm Cresswell first of all as although Sheila hadn’t been physically injured in the collision with your car, she was still pretty traumatised and was under sedation and still is I believe. It’s difficult to know where to start but I suppose at the beginning would make sense, but by that I mean the beginning for the Cresswells, not when you both came into the picture.”
“That makes sense” Gil said. “I get the impression this might be a long story.”
“You could say that Gil. As you know from Bridget’s conversation with the Cresswells’ neighbour, Josie Wren…..”
“Ooh is that her name?” Bridget broke in. A lovely woman but nothing like a little bird, she thought to herself, picturing Josie whose whole body had quivered like a jelly when she laughed.
Ignoring the question, the Chief Inspector continued. “I suppose it started with Malcolm and Sheila Cresswell both being made redundant from their jobs with the council. Their severance package wasn’t huge but it was enough to supplement their pensions until their state pensions kicked in. That was the plan anyway until they decided they’d worked hard all their lives so they deserved “a little treat” as Malcolm referred to it and bought themselves new cars. Not brand new, but new enough.”
“That would have made a bit of a hole in their lump sums” Gil interjected.”
“It didn’t stop there unfortunately and next on the list were top-of-the-range laptops and smartphones each plus treats for Rachel and Jamie. Before they knew it, they’d blown almost two thirds of their lump sum. Malcolm now began to worry they wouldn’t have enough left to live on and this is partly why they got into buying and selling at car boots and the like. They’d dabbled in it while they were working but now they had more time, it made sense to put a hobby to good use. They’d already agreed to put a brake on their spending and as the buying and selling picked up, so did their standard of living. But not quickly enough for Sheila. She had enjoyed splashing the cash, and to be fair, who doesn’t, so when she picked up what looked to be a valuable teddy bear for next to nothing at a local jumble sale, she couldn’t believe her luck. If only she’d known where it would lead, she’d have left the blasted thing at the church hall.”
“So, this is where our story really begins. Sheila Cresswell is quite an accomplished needlewoman, she made a lot of the kids clothes etc, etc, so when she saw what a poor repair someone had carried out on the seam on the bear’s back she decided to unpick the stitching to make a better job of it.”
Unbeknown to Mark, Bridget nudged Gil and whispered that she thought she knew what was coming next. Gil knew too but didn’t want to steal his sister’s thunder.
“Now Bridget, if you get the answer to my question, you get a coconut. So don’t let me down. Right, here’s your starter for ten. What do you think Sheila found when she opened up the bear?”
Bridget had no idea why she put her hand in the air but she did. “Diamonds” she shouted out so loud that Gil almost fell off his chair.
“Correct. Diamonds, dozens of them, cut, uncut you name it. Malcolm said he’s no expert but he estimated there were several hundred thousand pounds worth at least. Now what most right-minded people would have done after finding that lot is to hot-foot it round to their nearest nick. Not just out of conscience but because people who have legally come by a hoard of this size don’t stuff them in the back of a teddy bear. A safe, or a safety deposit box would be the norm. But clearly alarm bells didn’t go off in the Cresswell household to tell them they were probably handling stolen or smuggled goods. So Sheila sews the bear back up and they put the diamonds in a waterproof bag and place it in the cistern in the loft. Ok, I hear you say, no-one knows they’ve got the diamonds in the first place, so what could possibly go wrong!”
“Sorry to interrupt Mark, but where did the bear come from in the first place, I mean how did it end up at a jumble sale?” Gil asked.
“Patience my son, I’ll come to that in a few minutes” Mark said with a laugh. “So I’ll tell you what could go wrong. If you want to keep it quiet that you’ve come by a teddy bear stuffed with diamonds the last thing you do is get your picture in a local rag holding the damn thing. And as we know, that’s exactly what Sheila Cresswell did. So there she is looking like the cat that got the cream, showing it off for all the world to see.” Suddenly Mark’s tone altered. “I’m sorry Mr Brown, I’ll have to call you back” and
he abruptly ended the call.
“So what was all that about? Who’s Mr Brown?” Gil said, still staring at the phone.
“I’m guessing Mark was interrupted by someone coming into his room. He’s not meant to be telling us any of this is he. He’ll ring back soon but in the meantime I’m going to make another cuppa. Want one?”
“Please” Gil replied. “This is like something from a film. I haven’t a clue what’s coming next.”
“Oh Gil, it is easy if you just use ze little grey cells” Bridget said, doing a reasonable impression of Hercule Poirot.
None the wiser, Gil sipped his tea and helped himself to another slice of loaf cake.
“Serve you right if Mark rings back now” Bridget said as her brother took a huge bite of cake.
Right on cue, Mark did indeed ring back. “Sorry about that folks. I didn’t want anyone overhearing. As you know, I shouldn’t be telling you any of this stuff.”
“No that’s fine Mark, we guessed what had happened” Bridget said as Gil almost choked in an attempt to hurriedly swallow the cake.
“So where was I? Ah yes, the photograph. So surprise, surprise, several days after the picture appeared, Mr and Mrs Cresswell get a visit from “a very nice man” who said he recognised the bear as his and which had been taken to the jumble sale accidently. He offered to refund Sheila the £5 she had paid for it. Sheila declined his generous offer saying that she had since been advised that the bear was valuable and that it was his fault for getting rid of it by mistake. Besides, she told the man, unless he could prove the bear was his, it was staying put.”