‘But I owe her that, Dad. All this is my fault.’
He sighed. Gemma had been claiming responsibility for her mother’s accident for the last twenty-four hours and nothing he could say would dissuade her.
‘We can’t expect the girl to come hotfoot from Somerset, when she might not even know the connection. I told you how Fleur—’
‘It’s time Fleur grew up and accepted her share of the responsibility!’ Gemma snapped.
Ron could only agree. ‘Lynn said she was going to tell them, but I don’t know if she has.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s Freddie’s turn now. I’ll go and change places with him.’
Gemma released her mother’s hand and stood up. ‘No, you should stay, Dad. I’ll go.’ She bent forward and kissed her mother’s forehead just below the swathe of bandages. Then, with a wan smile at her father, she went in search of her brother.
Jess hadn’t slept well. The shocks that had been coming thick and fast ever since she arrived home – Dad’s meeting with Bruce Marriott, Cassie’s unexpected parentage and finally Jenny Barlow’s accident – had reverberated in her head all night, and by six o’clock she’d had enough tossing and turning.
She swung out of bed, showered, dressed and went downstairs, leaving a scribbled note on the kitchen table. Minty approached her hopefully but she shook her head. ‘It’s not time for breakfast,’ she told him, and quietly let herself out of the back door.
As on the afternoon she’d discovered the body, she made for the beach. The tide was coming in and there was a stiff breeze. In the distance a couple were throwing a stick for a dog but otherwise she seemed to have it to herself. She lifted her head, breathing in the salty air. God, how she loved this place! Perhaps she should never have exchanged it for Bristol: look at what that move had brought her! Should she have stilled her doubts about Roger, whom she’d loved – if not quite enough – since she was seventeen, and accepted his proposal?
He’d been her first serious boyfriend. They’d met when she was staying with her grandparents during the summer prior to university, when he was in his last year at medical school. They’d phoned and corresponded throughout her time at uni and he’d driven over several times to see her. And, of course, they’d both been ecstatic when the family moved to St Cat’s.
Perhaps, Jess reflected sadly, the phrase ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ implied that presence might make it less so. Having graduated, she’d lived at home while she applied for jobs, but with Roger constantly available and wanting to see her every evening, she’d started to feel suffocated. Then to her delight she was offered a post as PR assistant at a prestigious public relations agency in Bristol, and her parents suggested that since it was so close she could save money by continuing to live at home and commuting daily.
But as her feelings towards Roger continued to wane, his grew stronger. She tried several times to suggest they slow things down, making increasingly frequent excuses not to see him, but when he consistently refused to comply she decided the only course open to her was to move to Bristol. Whereupon, greatly to her distress, he had asked her to marry him.
Suddenly, as though she had conjured him up, she saw him striding across the sand towards her, his Irish setter Fergus at his heels.
‘Jess!’ he called. ‘I thought it was you! You’re an early riser!’
She slowed to a halt as he approached. ‘Hello, Roger. Hi, Fergus!’ She bent to pat the dog, who was leaping up at her in delighted recognition.
‘I didn’t know you were home,’ he said.
She looked up at him, his face flushed from his exercise, dark hair blowing in the wind. She’d forgotten how good looking he was. ‘Just for the weekend,’ she said.
‘Then I’m very glad I caught you. I saw your mother at the surgery the other day. Did she tell you?’
‘No?’ Jess felt a tweak of alarm. What was her mother doing at the surgery?
But Roger, doctor that he was, ignored the implied question. As she started to walk again, he fell into step beside her, while Fergus raced ahead, flagged tail wagging.
‘So how’s Bristol?’ he asked.
‘Fine.’
He shot her a sideways glance. ‘Damned with faint praise!’
‘No, really! It’s a very interesting place, with lots to do.’
‘And the job? Still enjoying it?’
‘I love it, yes; it’s so varied and we have some really well known clients, which is great.’
‘And socially – you’ve made friends?’
‘Yes, quite a few.’ Though she barely considered them friends, apart from Connor and perhaps Maggie.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said quietly.
She didn’t reply, and he gave a half-laugh. ‘It’s all right, I’m not going to go all maudlin on you. It’s just that we were part of each other’s lives for so long.’
‘First love!’ she said, trying to lighten his mood.
‘They say you never forget it.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Bless you for that.’
‘What about you, anyway?’ she went on quickly. ‘Still playing tennis every weekend?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, still the same old routine. When I’m not on call, that is. The crowd would love to see you; any chance of you dropping in at the club for half an hour?’
She shook her head. ‘Not this time, I’m afraid. I’m going back this evening, and it’s been a difficult weekend for the family. I want to be with them as much as possible.’
‘Oh?’ His face sobered. ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘Serious enough, but not life-threatening, or you’d have heard! But they’ll be waking up now; it’s time I was getting back.’
‘I’ll walk up with you.’
They parted at the gate to Sandstone. ‘Take care, Jess,’ Roger said.
‘You too. It was lovely to see you.’ She reached up to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘Bye, Roger.’
And she turned and hurried up the path.
After the traumas of the previous day, Sunday passed quietly. There was no further call from Lynn, so presumably no change in Jenny’s condition. Cassie remained subdued. Jess recalled ruefully that her main reason for coming home had been to see if there was any news on her birth mother. Well, she’d had that all right; they all had. In spades. It was a salutary lesson in not trying to trace her own origins. Who knew what murky secrets could be unearthed?
All in all, she wasn’t sorry to be setting off back to Bristol, even though the atmosphere there was fraught with uncertainty. Still, she was meeting Connor tomorrow. And Patrick! she remembered suddenly. Subsequent events had put him entirely out of her mind. What could it be that he so urgently wanted to discuss with her?
The next evening was warm and sultry. It had been a rush to get back from work, have a quick shower and dash out again in time to meet Patrick at six thirty. She was glad to see that drinks were being served in the garden behind the pub, and seated herself at a vacant table. Her watch showed exactly six thirty, and as she looked up again, she saw the tall form of her cousin in the doorway, scanning the garden. She raised a hand and he came out, bending to kiss her cheek.
‘Thanks for coming early, Jess,’ he said. ‘Now, what can I get you to drink?’
‘Something long and cold, please. Don’t mind what!’
He nodded and went back into the pub, returning minutes later with two brimming glasses of spritzer.
‘So,’ she invited, ‘what’s all this about?’
Patrick took a long draught of his drink. ‘I needed that, after negotiating the rush hour traffic!’ He put his glass down and looked across at her. ‘This might seem an odd question, but what do you know about Maggie?’
Jess stared at him. Whatever she’d been expecting, it was not that. ‘Maggie?’ she repeated, and when he nodded, went on, ‘Well, not much. Why?’
‘Did you know, for instance, that she used to live in Australia?’
‘Australia?’ She
must stop repeating what he said, but warning bells had started ringing before she fully understood why. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Pretty sure. At least, Tasha is. Remember at the theatre, she said she thought she recognized her? Well, later she remembered seeing her at a do in Sydney. And furthermore, she was with none other than Bruce Marriott!’
When she continued to stare at him speechlessly, he added, ‘He was the man who was washed up on the beach.’
‘I know who he was,’ Jess said, just above a whisper.
‘What is it, Jess?’ Patrick asked sharply. ‘Are you OK? You’ve gone very pale.’
She’d no option now, and she desperately needed to share her secret. ‘He was in our flat,’ she said expressionlessly.
‘What?’ Patrick frowned. ‘Who was?’
Jess moistened her lips. ‘Bruce Marriott. He was dead!’
Patrick leaned back in his chair, staring at her. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I saw him,’ she went on. ‘The afternoon of Cassie’s party. That’s why I tried to ask what I should do.’
Involving someone dying, she’d said. Why the hell hadn’t he followed it up?
‘Let’s get this straight,’ Patrick said slowly. ‘You saw Bruce Marriott, dead, in your flat?’
She nodded.
He drew a deep breath. ‘Suppose you take me through this from the beginning.’
So she went through the sequence of that afternoon’s events – returning to the flat to retrieve her paperback, the body on the floor, hiding when some people came in and removed it.
She came to a halt and there was a brief silence. Then Patrick said, ‘And what did the police say?’
She shook her head wordlessly.
He looked at her in disbelief. ‘You’re not telling me you didn’t report this?’
‘Don’t shout at me, Patrick,’ she said, close to tears. ‘I was in shock. All I could think was that I had to get home for the party. Then the next day Rachel and I flew to Italy. It was all … complicated.’
‘Complicated?’
Now he was doing the repeating, she thought dully.
‘But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you at least tell your father, if not me?’
She shook her head again. ‘I should have done, of course I should, but I was frightened. Whoever moved him had presumably killed him. I didn’t know who’d come in, I couldn’t distinguish their voices, but it had to be someone I knew. And if I’d gone straight to the police, they’d have known it must be me who’d reported it. Anyway, how would it have helped? It’s not as though I knew who he was then, and there was nothing whatever to back up my story, no trace of anyone ever having been there.’
‘So you’re telling me you never reported it?’
‘I did when I got back from holiday,’ she said defensively. ‘By then he’d been found and a drawing of him was in the paper. I didn’t say what had happened, but I told them I’d seen him going into the block of flats. That was at least pointing them in the right direction.’
She looked at him hopefully.
‘God, Jess!’ Patrick said helplessly. He had another drink. ‘To go back to my original question, what do you know about Maggie?’
‘Well, she did say she’d lived abroad, though not where, and I didn’t think to ask. She worked in hotels at one time and she’s also done interior designing. And of course she now has a garden centre and recently won a prize. That’s all, really.’
He thought for a moment. ‘You said there were two people; come to think of it, there must have been, to have moved the body of a full-grown man. Has she a boyfriend?’
‘She’s closer to Laurence than anyone else.’
‘Laurence who?’
‘I think his surname is Pope.’
‘Know anything about him?’
She shook her head. He didn’t come recommended, Maggie had said. She leaned across the table and put a hand on his arm. ‘Patrick, I’m trusting you not to repeat any of this to anyone.’
‘Jess, love, I have to! You could be in considerable danger, and—’
‘Not as much as if you do! Look, I’m safe enough; no one suspects I know anything. They think I’d already left for my holiday, and I was away for the next two weeks. I promise that if anything changes in any way I’ll go straight to the police.’
‘But don’t you see, it’s different now! We know there was a connection between Maggie and the victim. The police would certainly be interested in that!’
‘Again, we can’t prove it.’
‘But they probably could!’
‘Promise me, Patrick!’
‘My God!’ said a voice above them. ‘Patrick Linscott!’
Patrick pushed back his chair and stood up, holding out his hand. ‘Connor! Good to see you again!’
‘What are you doing here?’
Patrick glanced down at Jess. Fortunately her colour was starting to come back. ‘We just ran into each other. Jess and I are cousins – not sure if you knew?’ Connor shook his head. ‘I’ve been in Bristol for the day, stopped for a low-alcohol drink on the way home and found her sitting here.’
‘Cousins? Well, it’s a small world, all right! What are you doing with yourself these days?’
Their words washed over her, comfortingly harmless. Apart from her father, they were the two men in the world she most trusted. She wished she’d had time to ask Patrick if she should take Connor into her confidence. Part of her longed to; he could surely have nothing to do with what happened. On the other hand, he’d only lecture her like Patrick and Rachel, and from the safety angle it was wise to limit the number of people who knew.
Patrick was saying, ‘Well, I won’t intrude on your date any further! Enjoy your evening, both of you!’
He stooped to kiss her. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said and, with a pat on Connor’s back, he left them.
Connor said, ‘Hang on a moment while I get a drink. Can I top you up?’
‘No, thanks, I’m fine.’
He went into the pub and emerged minutes later with a glass. ‘You never told me you and Patrick were cousins,’ he commented as he seated himself in Patrick’s chair.
‘I only discovered recently that you knew each other, and it just hasn’t come up.’
‘We were at school together.’ He lifted his glass to her in a silent toast. ‘So – how was your weekend?’
‘Interesting!’ Jess said. But she was not going to think about it now, nor about the bombshell Patrick had just dropped. What she craved was a normal, innocuous evening with no decisions to be made except where to go for supper.
‘But it wouldn’t be to you!’ she added quickly. ‘So tell me what you’ve been doing.’
And she leaned back with a sigh of relief, sipping her drink as he told her about the cricket match he’d been to with his brother.
Cassie had avoided being alone with her parents since the disclosure about her birth mother, and after Jess’s return to Bristol had spent her time either in her room or, when she was around, with Verity. However, on the Monday evening she wandered into the kitchen as Fleur was preparing the meal.
‘What time’s dinner?’ she asked.
‘In about half an hour.’ Fleur waved a floury hand towards the table. ‘Sit down and keep me company.’
Cassie hesitated, then did as she suggested. ‘What’s the latest on Auntie Jen?’ she asked, wondering belatedly how she should now refer to her.
‘It seems she’s in an induced coma, which I hadn’t realized.’
Cassie frowned. ‘Is that good or bad?’
‘I think it’s to give the brain time to recover after an injury. Still, Lynn says they were hoping to bring her out of it today.’ Fleur turned to face her. ‘Darling, I’m so sorry about all this. The timing of everything couldn’t have been worse.’
‘You don’t really like her either, do you?’
Fleur sighed, turned back to put the dish she’d been filling in the oven, and came to s
it opposite her.
‘I’m not proud of that, especially if it’s coloured how you think of her. As I told you, I was jealous and resentful from the outset, which God knows I shouldn’t have been, but she really didn’t help, especially in the early days. I’ve always felt she was crowding me, pushing in all the time.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re just different kinds of people; we wouldn’t have been friends even in the normal course of things.’
Cassie was quiet for a moment. Then she said diffidently, ‘We’re still going on holiday, aren’t we?’
Fleur threw her a quick, anxious glance, but she was looking down. ‘Well, yes. I mean, it’s not as though she was—’
‘A relative?’ Cassie supplied, with a half-laugh.
Fleur said carefully, ‘Would you like to go and see her? If she’s allowed visitors, that is?’
‘Do you think I should?’
‘What I think is neither here nor there. As I told you, I’m hopelessly biased and always have been. But if the poor woman is dying, and conscious, and you feel you’d like to, then I’ll take you.’
‘Thank you,’ Cassie said, which was no help. Then she looked up, determinedly meeting her mother’s eyes. ‘I have a confession to make, Mum. Well, not exactly a confession, but an admission.’
‘That sounds very mysterious!’ Fleur said lightly, relieved that the subject had apparently changed.
‘I don’t know if you remember, but a few weeks ago Gran asked me to look for a book of hers in one of the boxes she left in the loft.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I found it, but … a letter fell out of it. From you.’
‘From me? Good Lord! I can’t remember when I last wrote to her!’
‘This was in October 2000.’
‘Oct—’ Fleur’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘That would have been about the time—’
‘Yes.’
‘God, darling,’ she said shakily, ‘you really are having a baptism of fire, aren’t you? I don’t know what I said in the letter, but I do know what it must have been about.’
‘Me,’ Cassie said baldly. ‘When I read it I couldn’t think what the problem was, since Jess had already been adopted, but last night in bed I suddenly remembered it and realized Gran couldn’t have been happy about – about the surrogacy.’
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