Embellished Deception: A Psychological Suspense Novel (The Crime Files)

by Netta Newbound

  "He seems to be coping alright, though."

  "That was just an act—he's not really."

  James sighed. "I don't know how we're gonna get him out. We need to play it safe. If Vinny gets one inkling what we're up to he'll make it difficult for us."

  I nodded. "Don't worry. I won't say a thing."

  As James pulled up outside the cottage, I was alarmed to notice the front door was wide open. When Beryl appeared in the doorway, my heart dropped to the stone floor. Her expression said it all—something terrible had happened.

  I got out of the car slowly, not able to think straight.

  "Geri—it's your mum."

  Chapter 35

  "Hey you," Simon said, stepping from his car.

  "I'm so glad you're here." I kissed his cheek, just managing to hold back the tears. Mum was just in the lounge and I didn't want her to see me.

  "How is she?" he asked, glancing towards the cottage.

  "No more seizures, touch wood.” I tapped my head. “Let’s get your stuff inside then we can go for a walk—I don't want her to overhear anything."

  "Of course." He walked around the car and got a white Adidas sports bag from the boot.

  "New bag?" I asked.

  "A gift," he said, avoiding my eyes.

  Mum's face lit up when Simon entered. He hugged her and she seemed to hold on to him extra tight. Then he clapped shoulders with Dad.

  "Put your bag in my room, Si," I told him.

  "Are you sure you don't mind me staying here? I could just as easily go to Kirkby Mayor later on."

  "Course we don't mind," Mum said.

  Dad picked up Simon's sports bag.

  "I'll do that, Max." Simon reached to take it from him.

  "Nonsense—you sit yourself down. You've had a long drive. Are you putting the kettle on, Geri?"

  "Can do. Tea all round?"

  Everyone nodded.

  I returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray full of cups and a teapot. Dad was back downstairs sitting next to Mum on the sofa. Simon sat opposite them on the armchair. They were engrossed in conversation.

  "So I decided to quit the treatment. I was feeling terrible, and I don't want to be in and out of hospital every two minutes because of seizures and the like—things not even caused by the tumour, but by the poisons they were pumping into me."

  "And how do you feel now?" Simon asked.

  "Still incredibly tired—this is the first time I've been out of bed all week. I've been sleeping most of the day and all night. But I'm hoping I'll begin to feel better soon."

  I noticed the look that passed between Dad and Simon, but if Mum had noticed it, she didn't let on.

  And the seizures?" he asked.

  "I've had three small ones since being back home—they put me on some medication, but they don't seem to have got the dose right yet."

  I poured the tea and handed each of them a cup.

  "So are you here just for the weekend, Simon?" Dad asked.

  "At this stage I am—unless of course you need me for anything. I've got a few holidays to take."

  "You can stay as long as you like, dear. But we don't need you to do anything, do we, Max?"

  Dad shook his head, and I noticed that look again.

  "Finish your tea and we can go for a walk," I said.

  "He's only just got here, Geri. Leave the poor boy alone."

  "I'm fine, Grace. I could do with stretching my legs if I'm honest," Simon said.

  Mum harrumphed at me nastily.

  Simon turned to me and our eyes locked. I shook my head and shrugged.

  Once we'd finished our tea, I cleared the cups away and put on my winter coat and my new boots that I'd picked up one day last week after visiting Mum in the hospital.

  "Ready?" I asked.

  Simon jumped to his feet and kissed Mum's forehead before following.

  "She's lost a lot of weight since I was last here," he said as we strolled across the green.

  "I know. She's never hungry anymore. It's a daily battle just to get a few mouthfuls down her."

  "So what did the doctors say about everything? You didn't really go into detail on the phone."

  "Like I said, it could be a matter of weeks or at the most—months. They gave her a scan before she left hospital, and Doctor Price confirmed that the tumour has already grown since the operation, even with the treatment. She said, because of this, the likelihood is sooner rather than later."

  "Fuck, Geraldine." He stopped walking and turned to face me—holding me at arm’s length. "And how are you?"

  "Fine," I said, flatly. "Just getting on with it. We decided she didn't need to know about the scan results, and she thinks it was solely her decision to stop the chemo. But in truth, the doctor agreed it was pointless."

  He sighed deeply. "I am so sorry. I'll stay as long as you need me to—I mean that."

  "I know you do. But you may as well go back to work. We'll probably need you to come back once she gets worse."

  "Anytime. Kevin understands."

  I snapped my head up to look at him and then shrugged his hands off my shoulders and began walking again. "Big of him," I said, nastily.

  "About work, I mean."

  I nodded.

  "Right, where to?" I asked, as we reached the other side of the green.

  "We can just walk right around and back to the house if you want. Unless you want a drink?" He nodded at the pub just as James came out the side door.

  "Oh hi, James."

  "Geraldine—Simon."

  Simon had to do a double-take at James.

  "It's James Dunn." I told him.

  "Oh, bloody hell—so it is. How the hell are you doing, mate?" Simon reached for James' hand and they both did some stupid finger locking thing before bumping shoulders.

  "I'm well—you?"

  "Yeah," Simon nodded. "I'm well, too."

  "Got anything yet, James?" I asked.

  "Nothing. Everyone that is the correct build has an alibi. I really didn't want to go to the police with my theory without having something else to present to them, but it looks as though we don't have a choice."

  I thought I should explain to Simon who was looking at us with a puzzled expression on his face.

  "James and I are trying to prove Carl, you know, that friend of mine, is innocent of the rapes. But we're not getting very far. You saw how unreasonable Vinny can be,"

  "Did I ever," Simon said.

  "Yeah, he's a total prick," James said. "How's your mum today, Geri?"

  "Snappy with me, but okay. She's out of bed which is a good sign, I hope." I crossed my fingers in front of my face.

  "Say hi to her for me, and if there’s anything I can do ..."

  "I know. Thanks, James."

  He carried on strolling towards the top of the village. "Nice to see you again, Simon."

  "You too, mate."

  Once James was out of earshot, Simon grinned at me. "He fancies you."

  I laughed. "You couldn't be more wrong."

  "It's obvious—trust me."

  I shook my head. "Wrong—honestly."

  "Whatever!"

  "Whatever," I mimicked, wiggling my head.

  Simon reached for me, pulling me into a playful headlock and rubbed his knuckles on my head.

  "Get off me, you brute," I laughed, shoving him away. It was good to have him there with me. It was as though all the responsibility I felt, regarding my mother, had halved somehow.

  The weekend flew by.

  Simon stayed until Monday morning and promised to return on Friday. I couldn't see Kevin putting up with this situation for very long. It was no fun for him. But I'd loved having him with me—we'd even shared a bed like the old days. It was so easy to forget all that had gone on.

  "You think there may be some hope for you two?" Mum asked after Simon had left.

  "You know there's not, Mum." I shook my head.

  "I know nothing of the sort. He could be bisexual."

&
nbsp; "Mum!" I laughed, shocked that she even knew the word.

  "I'm not as green as I'm cabbage looking, Geri. I have been about a bit, you know."

  "I know, but ..."

  "So is he? Bisexual?"

  "No, Mum. He's gay."

  "Still loves you though," she said.

  "I still love him, but not like that."

  Somebody tapped on the lounge window, and I went to the front door. It was Beryl.

  "Hi, Auntie Beryl, come in. Mum's downstairs again today."

  "Hi there, lovey. That's good. Is she up to a visitor?"

  "You're not a visitor." I laughed. "You're practically family."

  “Ah—that's nice, lovey.”

  "Fancy a cuppa?"

  Once I'd made them a pot of tea, I went upstairs to change all the beds and clean Mum's room while she was out of it. It was much easier without her breathing down my neck.

  When I returned to the lounge, Mum was asleep on the sofa.

  "You should have shouted me, Auntie Beryl."

  "That's okay, lovey. She's not been asleep for long."

  "Have you heard anything from Carl?"

  "Not a peep." She shook her head.

  "You know James and I went to see him last week?"

  "Yeah. I meant to ask you how it went."

  "He's not guilty you know?"

  She shrugged. "I want to believe that, he's my only sister's son and it would break her heart if she were here now."

  "He's being set up."

  "Who by? Who would want to set him up, and who had a chance to plant those clothes?"

  "I don't know. However, I do know it wasn't Carl."

  "How can you be so sure, lovey?"

  "I just am."

  Chapter 36

  Christmas week was upon us before we knew it. Not surprisingly, with Mum's situation, we weren't planning on any wild parties. In fact, if it were up to me, I wouldn't have even bothered with any of it—never mind the decorations. However, we needed to keep things as normal as possible.

  It struck me as odd that just a few weeks ago I was admiring how Toby's mum, Susan, was maintaining a front, despite the fact that she was utterly devastated. Yet now, here we were doing exactly the same thing.

  The thought that this was probably Mum's last Christmas spurred me into me making an extra effort.

  So, on Saturday the twenty-first of December, Simon and I got the decorations down from the loft. We even bought a real tree in favour of Mum's fake white one she'd had for the past ten or so years.

  Mum came downstairs, and we played Christmassy music, and she even had a glass of Advocaat, which was her usual Christmas treat.

  We had a lovely evening with lots of reminiscing and laughter.

  Everything was perfect except none of us had arranged Christmas presents, mainly because we hadn't even thought about it. But Mum had no way of shopping and I was stuck looking after her. Dad had never been any good at gift shopping, so we decided that night that we'd scrap exchanging gifts and would wait until the new year. Instead, our main focus was all about family.

  We invited Mum's family for Christmas day, but both her sisters and brother had already made arrangements and promised to catch up at some point. However, Nana—Mum's mum, would be able to spend the day with us.

  James also agreed to join us. Although not family, I couldn't leave him to spend Christmas on his own in the hotel. And Auntie Beryl planned to join us because Julie was going to her husband's family for the holidays.

  Simon, although he'd promised to make an appearance, wouldn't be joining us until after dinner. Kevin had insisted he spend at least part of the day with him, and I couldn't blame him. Maybe I was softening in my old age.

  ***

  On Christmas morning we were all up early—including Mum, surprisingly. She'd spent the whole of Christmas Eve in bed, but she was determined to have a great day.

  Beryl had arrived at the crack of dawn. She'd volunteered to do the majority of the cooking while I concentrated on Mum.

  Dad left at around eleven to go into Carlisle to collect Nana, and would be gone around an hour or so. James wasn't due till 1pm.

  "Right, missus—let’s get you spruced up," I said to Mum. "I'll do your makeup, if you like?"

  She'd had a shower and was sitting in her robe, curled up on the sofa.

  "That would be lovely, thanks," she said. However, she already seemed exhausted.

  I escorted her up to her room.

  The salmon coloured silk dress she'd chosen to wear still had the tags on. It was supposed to be fitted, but it hung on Mum's frail frame. We added a cream coloured belt and it helped. I put a new silk scarf on her head then applied a little makeup and she looked almost her usual self by the time Dad arrived home.

  His eyes filled with tears when he first saw her, but he quickly pulled himself together as he led Nana through to the lounge.

  "Grace—oh thank goodness you're here. This strange man forced me into his car." Nana raced to Mum's side.

  "That's Max, Mum. Don't you recognise him?" she asked.

  Nana blinked several times as she looked from her daughter to her son-in-law.

  "Max?" Nana said.

  Dad nodded. "Hi, Sarah. Merry Christmas." He tooted into a kazoo.

  We all cracked up laughing.

  I left Mum chatting away with Nan and went into the kitchen to check on Beryl who, by the looks of things, was cooking enough food for the whole village. We were having a traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings, and she seemed to have everything under control.

  At bang on 1pm James arrived, his arms filled with gifts.

  "Oh, James, I meant to tell you we decided not to exchange gifts this year. We haven't got you anything."

  "I don't want anything. I'm just grateful you invited me."

  We went through to the lounge and he handed Mum and Dad each a parcel. Mum's was huge and squishy, and I was intrigued by it. She opened it slowly, her energy completely zapped, but she smiled when she saw what was inside.

  It was a special type of microfiber pillow. She'd mentioned, the last time she saw him, that her ears ached from lying down so much. She tucked the pillow underneath her head right away and pretended to fall asleep.

  Dad's gift was a dynamo solar crank radio for his shed. He was thrilled with it.

  "Don't think you're going to the shed to try it out until after dinner," I said, and we all laughed.

  Then James handed me the smallest parcel. I felt silly as I took it from him, and carefully opened the pretty gold wrapping.

  My breath hitched as I opened the box within. A fine gold chain with a single emerald teardrop pendant lay on a bed of cream satin.

  "Oh, my God! James. You shouldn't have done that."

  "Do you like it?" he asked, softly.

  "Like it—I love it—but it's too much."

  "No, it's not. Here let me help you." He unclasped the chain and stood behind me as he placed it around my neck.

  I realised everyone was staring at us. Mum's eyes were glistening and she smiled.

  I suddenly felt very silly. Once the necklace was in place, I touched it with my fingertips and turned back to face James. "Right then, what are you drinking?"

  "I've got some wine and beer in the car. I'll just go and get it," he said.

  James also brought in a huge box of chocolates and some handmade biscuits.

  "Oh lovely," Auntie Beryl said as he placed them on the kitchen worktop.

  "Right, gimme a job." James rubbed his hands together and looked around the kitchen.

  "Nonsense. Go through to the lounge. I have everything under control, lovey."

  "I want to help. I always used to help my mum at Christmas, it was a kind of tradition." He smiled, glancing at us both.

  I felt my heart contract at the mention of his mum, who had been taken from him much too soon, and the gaping hole she'd obviously left in his life. I had to blink back the tears and try to get a grip of myself.

>   "How are you with a peeler?" Beryl asked.

  "Back in the day I peeled a mean spud." James laughed.

  "Well, in that case, follow me."

  I left them both having a potato peeling competition and headed upstairs to splash my face. The immense sadness I felt seemed to be intensified by the occasion, and a melancholy air seemed to surround me.

  I turned the bathroom door handle and was surprised as it suddenly swung inwards and Dad appeared, wiping his eyes on a wad of toilet tissue.

  I couldn't hold the tears back any longer, and we both fell into each other’s arms and sobbed.

  Afterwards I felt much better, but we both looked terrible. "I'd better re-do my makeup," I said.

  "Good idea." Dad grinned.

  I smiled. A heavy, weary smile. "What are we going to do, Dad?"

  He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. "I really don't know, lass, but we have each other," he whispered.

  I nodded as he hugged me again. Then he stepped aside for me to enter the bathroom.

  I fixed my makeup and then went downstairs to set the dining table. Mum had a huge selection of table decorations. Every year she spent a lot of time making the table look fantastic. I hadn't inherited her flair for making everything look pretty, but I didn't do a bad job, even if I did say so myself.

  Back in the lounge, Nana and Dad were laughing at some television programme, and Mum was curled up on the end of the sofa, her head snuggled into her new pillow, having a snooze.

  Soon after, Auntie Beryl and James began serving the dinner. It was bang on 3pm, the time Mum had requested. Dad had to wake Mum and then escort her to the bathroom to freshen up.

  Once we were all sitting around the table, Dad, who wasn't usually religious, said a short prayer of thanks. Then we all pulled a cracker.

  "What do you call a bee with a quiet hum?" Dad asked.

  "Dunno, what do you call a bee with a quiet hum?" we all said together.

  "A mumble bee." He laughed.

  Everybody groaned except Nana. "A mumble bee," she said. “I get that." She laughed.

  We all laughed at her.

  "Okay—" James cleared his throat. "Why did the hen cross the road?"

  "I don't know—why did the hen cross the road?" We sang out.