Killed in Cornwall

by Janie Bolitho

  Rose was at Nancherrow Valley. She had driven to St Just then on to Cape Cornwall searching for somewhere suitable to work. She was making a brief return to landscapes in watercolours, mainly to keep her hand in. Here the scenery was far different from the soft, sandy beaches and picturesque streets of St Ives, only a few miles distant. Here was true ruggedness: piles of ancient stones balanced precariously, nothing but sloping scrubland, no trees, no birdsong, and all around the remains of tin mines which had fallen into decay. Even on a warm summer day it was bleak, almost eerie. Rose had finally found a scene which would work. She got out of the car and locked it and walked a little way into the valley. To her right were craggy cliffs, to her left a steep slope covered now with verdant growth, as was the single stack of a disused mine. The low ruins of brickwork were vaguely discernable beneath layers of growth of a weed she could not identify. Between the two slopes a triangle of sea was visible, glittering beneath a haze. Water and sky blended at the horizon. The view provided a perfect composition. She laid out her ground-sheet, got out her gear and her flask and set to work, being careful to use smaller strokes and a more gentle approach than was necessary with oils.

  It was after six by the time she reached Doreen’s bungalow. The time had passed quickly. Although she had worn her battered hat Rose hoped she hadn’t overdone the sun. Her nose, forearms and shins tingled with the heat.

  ‘You’m all red, maid,’ Doreen said when she saw Rose standing outside the kitchen door. ‘Come in and have a cold drink.’

  Rose smiled. Concern was Doreen’s first reaction. She never turned anyone away who just happened to arrive unexpectedly. Doreen opened the fridge and got out some fresh orange juice. ‘Is this all right?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Above a cotton print dress, tightly belted between generous bosom and ample stomach, Doreen’s face was pale, but she worked so hard she rarely saw the sun. ‘It’s darts tonight so you won’t see Cyril ’less you stay late. “I won’t be long,” ’ee says to me every Thursday but he never gets in until closing time. You can tell when he’s lost, he never says a word, it’s worse in the winter when they play in the league, you’d think the end of the world had come. Anyway, what brings you over this way?’

  ‘I was almost passing. I was out at Nacherrow and came back via St Ives. I saw this in Penzance the other day and thought you might like it.’ Rose handed her a small plastic bag.

  ‘Oh, it’s ’ansome, Rose. Thank you so much.’ Doreen held up the flimsy scarf with tiny pearls embroidered around the hems. ‘There was no need for it, I’m always glad to see you.’

  Rose knew that but she and Cyril kept her supplied with fruit and vegetables, flowers and cakes. She had nothing to offer in return except the occasional small gift or some tobacco for Cyril.

  ‘Now you’ve drunk the orange, how about a glass of stout? I always have a couple on Cyril’s night out. It’s only fair, that’s what I say.’

  ‘Just the one, Doreen, I’ve got the car.’ Rose knew that the gift had embarrassed her even though it also gave her pleasure.

  ‘How’s Nathan?’

  ‘He’s doing fine. Better than I expected.’ She flipped the top off two bottles of dark beer and handed Rose a thick ridged glass. ‘He’s starting work next Monday, which’ll do ’im good. No man should be without a job. And he’s talking of selling up. I think the solicitor put that idea in his head. Nathan doesn’t get too many of his own. Besides, that place is so gloomy.’

  ‘Doreen, do you remember the other night when I saw you both in Newlyn?’

  ‘Course I do. I’m not senile.’

  ‘Well, did Nathan say anything?’

  ‘He said quite a bit.’

  ‘About Lucy Chandler, I mean. Do you think he knows her?’

  ‘I doubt it. Why?’

  Rose shrugged and brushed back a few tendrils which had strayed from the clip which held her hair at the nape of her neck. ‘The way he looked at her I thought he recognised her.’

  ‘Well he never said anything to me if he did. You can have a cigarette if you like. After Cyril’s pipe anything’s acceptable.’

  Rose reached into her bag and lit up. Doreen fetched a tin ashtray which had the name of a lager written around its rim. ‘Who was the maid? Lucy Chandler, you said. I don’t know the name.’

  ‘She’s the daughter of someone I know.’ Rose left it at that.

  ‘Just like poor Nichola Rolland. I can’t understand why finding the man that did that to her is taking so long.’

  Rose took a long swallow of her drink, enjoying its bitterness. Doreen didn’t expect a response to her statement.

  ‘All I can say is that they don’t seem to know what they’re about at the moment. I mean, fancy arresting Dave Fox of all people. I saw young Eva the other day and she told me about it. At least that’s in the past. Oh, and she’s got herself a job, too. I’m pleased for ’un. It means she’ll have no cause to leave and you can see that Dave dotes on ’er.’

  ‘I think she does on him.’

  ‘You’re probably right. Now, have you had your supper yet or would you like a bite with me? Cyril’ll buy ’isself a pasty down the pub.’

  ‘No, I’m fine thanks, Doreen. I’d better be off.’ She drained her glass and stood, stretching for a second as she felt the stiffness of having sat working for so long.

  She was about to unlock the car when she turned to her left to see where the sound of a lawn-mower was coming from. Nathan Brown stood high up in his garden cutting the lawn. It would be rude not to say hello. Rose crossed the road and walked towards him; the air was scented with freshly cut grass.

  Nathan looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun which was lower in the sky than when he had begun. ‘Mrs Trevelyan,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘How are you, Nathan? Doreen told me you’d got a job. I’m very pleased for you.’

  He nodded and fiddled with the handle of the mower.

  ‘And she also said you might be moving.’

  ‘I might.’ His tone implied it was none of her business. She took a chance and asked directly, ‘I wondered if you knew the girl who was with me the other night. Lucy Chandler.’

  ‘The name means nothing to me.’

  He’s lying, Rose thought, even though Doreen had once told her she believed him to be incapable of an untruth. Unless, she decided, unless I’m right and he doesn’t know her name. It had never appeared in the press. ‘Are you sure?’ Even as she spoke she could hear Jack’s voice telling her to leave things alone.

  ‘Look, I’m not standing out here for all the world to hear our conversation. I think you’d better come inside, Mrs Trevelyan.’

  She was startled, the invitation was totally unexpected. She went up the steep steps and followed him into the house. After the brightness of the sun it was difficult to focus immediately and when she did she saw what a gloomy place it was. The lower part of the hall walls consisted of brown painted panels which had probably been there since the house was built. Above it was maroon flocked paper. It would not take much imagination to believe the lights were fuelled by gas.

  Nathan flung open the door to his right. Here, too, all was brown; the velveteen suite, the curtains and the carpet which was relieved by bold gold swirls. There was an empty fireplace with traces of soot and some heavy furniture. The only modern thing was a television set with a video recorder shelved below it.

  Nathan turned to face her. He might be short and squat but he was menacing. His checked shirt was open at the neck revealing a patch of springy black hair flecked with grey. There was loose grass on his shoes and the bottoms of his cord trousers. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing. I was at Doreen’s and I came over to see how you were coping.’

  ‘Then why are you asking me about that girl?’

  ‘Because you seemed to recognise her. I meant no harm.’ But she didn’t recognise you, Rose thought, and you are definitely hiding something. And I’m frightened. Nathan had kicked the front
door closed behind them.

  ‘I don’t know anything about her, nor about any other girls.’

  Girls. Can I be right? Her face must have shown what she was thinking because he took a step towards her.

  ‘Just shut up and mind your own business, why don’t you?’ His face was red. ‘Bloody women. Don’t you think I’ve had enough of them? Why can’t you leave me alone?’

  Rose took a step backwards. As she bumped into the edge of something her mobile phone rang. She reached into the open top of her shoulder-bag just as Nathan reached for her. Her hand made contact with the phone. If he touched her she would hit him with it. He grabbed the neck of her T-shirt and pushed his face into hers. She could smell onions on his breath.

  He snatched the phone from her hand and threw it across the room. It seemed to move in slow motion. Rose watched it hit the wall and fall to the ground, apparently unbroken because it continued to ring. ‘Please …’ she whispered. But Nathan was pulling her down onto the settee against which she had come to rest. Dear God, he’s going to rape me, she thought as his large, calloused hand came down over her nose and mouth. It was then that she saw the fading teeth-marks at the base of his thumb.

  No, please don’t let it be true. Laura knew her tears must wait. ‘I don’t know. Have you tried Jack or Barry? Look, you ring Barry, I’ll ring Jack. And anyone else I can think of. I’ll get straight back to you.’

  Shaking, Laura disconnected the line. Jack answered on the second ring. ‘Where’s Rose?’

  ‘Laura? That’s hardly a way to greet an old friend.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Jack, where is she?’

  Jack stiffened. Please, please, please don’t let her be in trouble he prayed. ‘I don’t know. Why?’ He listened and felt the blood drain from his face. ‘We’ll find her. Who else have you rung?’ Together they listed anyone they could think of who knew Rose. ‘Ring me back right away, or I’ll ring you,’ he said, realising too late that if they were trying each other they’d get the engaged signal.

  It was Laura who discovered that Rose had been to see Doreen. ‘She left about fifteen minutes ago,’ Doreen told her. ‘Wait a minute. Her car’s still outside. I …’

  ‘Got to go, Doreen.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ Jack said as soon as Laura conveyed the news. ‘If she’s on her way back I’ll see the car and let you know. Go on up to her house and wait there.’ He knew that Laura had a key, just as Rose did to Laura’s house.

  Jack flung himself into his car. What’s the rush? he kept asking himself, it can’t change anything. Nevertheless he drove faster than was safe and was relieved to see Rose’s Metro parked neatly a few yards from Doreen’s bungalow.

  ‘Where could she be?’ he asked a startled Doreen after he’d hammered on her door. Doreen shrugged. ‘That woman could be anywhere.’ She squinted down the road. ‘Unless she’s gone to see Nathan.’

  Nathan. The man whose mother had died. Yes, that was it. Rose would not forget someone who was lonely.

  ‘That house, the one with the mower outside.’

  Jack walked quickly in the direction in which Doreen had pointed. There was no sign of life. The curtains in the front were half drawn and the rest of the window concealed by net. He rapped on the door. There was no answer. He knocked harder. ‘Rose?’ he shouted through the letter-box, feeling foolish as he did so. There was still no answer.

  Jack turned the handle. Thank you, he whispered when the door opened. ‘Rose?’ he called louder. There was a noise from behind the door on his right. He pushed it open and stood, staring, at the scene in front of him. Bile rose in his throat. ‘You filthy bastard,’ he shouted as he raced towards Nathan Brown who stood with his trousers undone.

  ‘Jack. No.’ Rose’s voice was no more than a croak but it was loud enough to remind him of his position.

  She struggled upright, pulling her torn clothes around her. Her face was bruised where he’d hit her and her legs ached from where he’d tried to pull them apart. Never, ever had she been so glad to see Inspector Jack Pearce.

  Jack’s eyes did not leave Nathan Brown’s face as he zipped up his trousers. He slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands. ‘It was me,’ he said, knowing that he had just forfeited his future, a future which, if he was honest, he may not have been able to cope with. ‘Those girls. It was me.’

  Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He issued a few short, sharp instructions then turned to Rose. Nathan was going nowhere, the man was defeated. ‘Are you all right?’ He hadn’t meant to sound brusque but he didn’t want to hear the answer.

  She nodded. ‘He didn’t, he didn’t,’ but she couldn’t complete the sentence.

  ‘I couldn’t. She’s too old.’ Nathan said innocently, looking up. It was then that Jack hit him. No police officer should act in that way, no matter how provoked, but it was too late to undo the deed.

  Rose got to her feet. Her whole body was shaking. She staggered to where her phone lay on the floor and picked it up, steadying herself with one hand against the wall. ‘I’ve got a message,’ she managed to say. But before she could listen to it, Jack snatched the phone from her. He knew she was on automatic pilot, that no one in her circumstances could possibly be interested in a missed telephone call but he could not allow her to hear this one. ‘It can wait.’

  It was not long before several police officers arrived and took Nathan Brown away. Jack took Rose’s arm and led her out to his car. ‘I won’t be a minute,’ he told her once he had lowered her into the passenger seat. ‘We need to get you to hospital but it can wait a minute or two.’

  He walked a few yards away from the car and spoke to Laura, asking her to let everyone know that he was with Rose and that he would be in touch as soon as possible.

  ‘What’s happened, Jack?’ Laura sensed immediately that all was not well.

  He gave her a brief explanation after she had sworn to tell no one. ‘That’s why I can’t tell her yet. Maybe in an hour or so.’ Jack went back to

  the car. ‘I’m not going to hospital. I want a bath.’

  ‘It’s evidence, Rose,’ he said gently. He wanted to hold her, to stroke her hair and promise to make everything all right, but it was a promise he couldn’t keep. He needed to be professional, to act as he would if this was another woman, one he didn’t love.

  ‘You’ll have your evidence. He’s raped two girls, DNA testing will prove that. He didn’t rape me. The bruises will be evidence enough but I doubt that you’ll need it. Take me home, please, Jack.’

  He did so, driving very slowly and very carefully, aware of Doreen Clarke’s plump frame behind her gate as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘Someone can pick up your car tomorrow.’ Rose didn’t answer. She took her phone from her bag and depressed a button. ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘why aren’t you angry?’ At other times when she had behaved stupidly he had been furious. She was staring at the displayed number of the missed call. ‘Please tell me.’

  ‘Not now.’ He stared at the road refusing to look at her face.

  ‘Why were you there at all? No one knew where I was going? What’s going on here?’ It was a puzzle but she didn’t really care. All she wanted was to get home and run a bath and try to pretend it hadn’t happened. She had not been raped, Lucy Chandler had been, and so had Nichola Rolland. Compared with them she was lucky, so how on earth must they have felt?

  ‘Leave it for now, Rose. I promise I’ll tell you when we get you home.’

  Home. So he wasn’t going to insist she went to hospital.

  Laura was waiting anxiously at the house. She opened the door as soon as she heard his car in the drive. Sitting beside him was Rose, pale-faced beneath her tan. Laura couldn’t imagine what the news would do to her at such a time. Jack went around to help Rose out then half carried her into the kitchen. ‘Make some tea,’ he told Laura.

  Laura filled the kettle. For the first time in all the long years of their friendship she had no idea what to say to her frie
nd.

  Neither of them noticed Rose press the button to dial the number of the call she had missed until it was nearly too late. ‘No. Don’t do that.’ Jack snatched the phone from her hand.

  Rose shook from head to foot. ‘It’s my parents’ number. Tell me what’s wrong, Jack.’

  He studied her face and felt his stomach sink. How could he cause more pain after her ordeal? But he had to. ‘You father’s been trying to reach you since about three o’clock this afternoon. He guessed you’d be out working but when he still couldn’t get you at tea time he called Laura.’

  ‘He’d lost your mobile phone number, Rose,’ Laura added. ‘I gave it to him then rang Jack and Barry then we both tried to find out where you were. Doreen said you’d been there and then Jack found you.’

  Rose looked from one to the other. No, she thought. No. Don’t let it be true. ‘It’s Mum, isn’t it?’

  Jack nodded. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said as he reached for her hand. ‘There was nothing anyone could do.’

  ‘I wanted to go up, Dad said not to.’

  Jack closed his eyes. It would all come, the guilt, the disbelief, the pain and the grief. But how much worse for Arthur Forbes?

  ‘Who’s with Dad?’

  ‘June Potter.’

  Rose stood up. ‘I have to go to him.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jack knew it would be pointless to argue but she was not in a fit state to drive. ‘Drink your tea first. Laura, can you put a shot of brandy in it?’

  Laura went to find it. She touched Rose’s shoulder as she walked past her chair.

  ‘I need to make a phone call.’ Jack, too, left the room. He rang the station where Nathan Brown would have been taken. Someone else would be dealing with the fall-out. For now Rose needed him. He explained he could be reached on his mobile if necessary and that a witness’s mother had just died.

  Rose was silent and dry-eyed throughout the whole of the journey. Jack concentrated on driving. Only when he pulled in to a service station did Rose turn to face him. ‘Do we have to stop?’