Restlessly, glass in hand, she walked through to her bedroom, glancing into Jess’s as she passed and noting that she’d forgotten to take the book she’d been reading. Just as well she was away, Maggie reflected thankfully; she’d woken herself screaming last night, which would have taken a bit of explaining. Oh God, if only she could turn the clock back! But how far? Three days? Or six years? At what point had it all been set in motion?
She leaned forward to study her face in the mirror. Pale, but some blusher would help, and the darkness under her eyes could be camouflaged. Her hair at least needed no remedial treatment, falling sleek, brown and shiny to her shoulders. How long since she’d been blonde?
She straightened, shaking her head at herself. The past was past and must remain so – especially the most recent past. She had about an hour in which to disguise any signs of strain, and the sooner she made a start the better. Finishing her drink, she set to work.
SEVENTEEN
Patrick phoned that evening.
‘How did it go? Did Tasha’s statement do the trick?’
‘Unfortunately not; with no evidence to back it up, it’s just hearsay.’
He swore. ‘God, you’d think they’d be grateful to her! They’re doing damn all themselves!’
‘Actually, they are doing something,’ Jess told him.
‘Oh? What?’
‘They’ll be making a move soon.’
‘Did they tell you that? When?’
‘I can’t say any more, Patrick. Please don’t ask me.’
‘But damn it, Jess, you’re in danger! They’re not going to use you as a decoy or something bloody stupid, are they?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said, wondering whether in fact that was exactly what she’d be.
‘Did you say anything to Connor?’
‘No.’
He gave an impatient exclamation. ‘So he won’t be ready to help you if it backfires!’
Jess moistened her lips. She regretted now not having taken Connor into her confidence, particularly as they’d become closer at the weekend, but DS Stuart had been adamant. And now another deception lay ahead of her.
‘Don’t worry, Patrick,’ she said quickly, ‘I have to go now, but I’ll keep in touch.’ And she rang off.
Di and Dominic did not join them that evening, but the others met in one of their favourite restaurants.
‘We’ve got someone new at the office this week,’ Jess remarked casually, taking a poppadom from the communal plate on the table. ‘He’s a bit lost, not knowing anyone yet, and it’s bound to be worse at the weekends. I wondered if perhaps I could invite him round on Saturday?’
‘Well, it’s open house, as you know,’ Maggie replied. ‘Bring him along by all means.’
‘Hey, what is this?’ Connor asked jokingly. ‘Should I be jealous?’
‘Of course not! I’m sorry for him, that’s all.’
‘Is he good looking?’ Sarah enquired, spearing a bhaji.
Jess smiled. ‘Reasonably, except for the bump on his nose!’
‘Occasioned by a jealous husband, no doubt!’ Laurence put in.
‘What’s his name?’
‘Dan. Dan Crowther.’
‘Time we had some new blood!’ Maggie observed. ‘No one’s joined us since you came!’
Jess sat back with a small sigh of relief. The seed was sown.
Justin had spent the two most miserable days of his life. He must have been out of his mind for the last three months, behaving like a randy schoolboy instead of a respected member of the legal profession. Midlife crisis, he thought gloomily. He’d always looked forward to going home at the end of the day, but now the house was unbearably empty; it had simply ceased to be a home. His whole life had revolved round Kathryn, he acknowledged belatedly – her calm presence, the seamless efficiency with which she ran their home, the personal traits that made her so essentially herself – and now his greatest fear was not being able to entice her back.
God, what would he do without her? He’d been used to registering some interesting fact during the day and thinking, I must tell Kathryn that! Or a problem would arise which he’d look forward to discussing with her. Her quick, academic brain frequently solved a point that had been troubling him, and she in turn discussed her work with him. They’d often analyse a book they’d just read, or a television programme. Why in the name of heaven had he thrown all that away for a few romps in an illicit bed?
He’d tried several times to contact her over the last couple of days, but his calls were always declined. He’d even tried Anne’s number, hoping to persuade her to plead on his behalf, but it had gone straight to voicemail.
He stood up restlessly and walked to the window, staring out at the summer afternoon, but the bright sunshine exacerbated rather than exorcized his depression. He returned to his chair and sat staring sightlessly at his computer.
There was a tap on the door and, without waiting for an invitation, Patrick came in, closing it behind him.
‘What’s the matter, Dad?’ he asked quietly.
Justin felt a surge of gratitude; he’d been expecting a caustic comment, a smug I told you so! Instead, his son was concerned for him.
‘I’ve been a bloody fool, Patrick.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ve no excuses. I went into it with my eyes open, fully aware my career would be jeopardized if it became common knowledge. How could I have been so insane?’
Patrick seated himself in front of the desk. ‘Did you love her?’ he asked.
Justin snorted. ‘Of course not! I liked her, very much, and more dangerously I found her extremely attractive. Forbidden fruit, I suppose.’
Patrick was silent, remembering the unremarkable woman in the restaurant.
‘And now?’ he prompted after a minute.
‘And now I’ve got my just desserts. Hilary’s off to the States on an extended visit to her son and, far more importantly, your mother’s gone to Kendal to stay with Anne.’
Patrick’s eyes widened. ‘Mum’s left home?’
‘In a manner of speaking. God, Patrick, what have I done?’
‘When was this?’
‘Monday. She wasn’t there when I got home.’
‘Have you spoken to her?’
‘She’s declining all calls. She left a note asking me not to contact her, said we needed time apart till things became clearer.’
‘And you’ve just accepted that?’
Justin stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re just going to sit here meekly at your desk until she allows you to speak to her?’
Justin frowned. ‘I’m giving her what she asked for. It’s the least I can do.’
Patrick shook his head despairingly. ‘You don’t know much about women, do you, Dad?’
This, Justin felt, was a reversal of the usual father and son talk. ‘And what,’ he asked a little aggressively, ‘do you, with your infinite knowledge of them, suggest I should do?’
‘Go after her, of course! Now!’
‘But—’
‘It can’t be much more than a four-hour drive, and motorway all the way.’
‘Patrick, I—’ He broke off, then substituted, ‘Suppose when I get there she refuses to see me?’
‘At least she’ll know you care enough to have tried!’
Justin flushed. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘So collect your toothbrush from home, and go! I’ll cover for you here.’
He hesitated a moment longer. Then, with a decisive movement, he pushed back his chair and stood up.
‘You’re right, Patrick. Thanks.’ And with a pat on his son’s back he hurried from the room.
The closer they came to the weekend, the more nervous Jess became. Suppose something went wrong? Suppose no one reacted guiltily when she related what she’d seen? Ben would be powerless to do anything, but Laurence would doubtless come after her later. Or suppose he did react, and attacked her before Ben could
intervene? On the other hand, she might have been mistaken all along and neither Maggie nor Laurence had anything to do with the murder. In which case, who had?
The various scenarios circled endlessly in her head, interrupting her sleep and adding to her stress during the day. Several times she’d been on the point of pulling out and telling DS Stuart the police would have to manage without her. After all, they had her signed statement to act on.
Illogically, her family being thousands of miles away added to her vulnerability, though how their being at St Cat’s would have made her any safer she couldn’t explain. Even Patrick was fifty miles away.
Connor noticed her jitteriness when they met for lunch on Thursday. ‘Anything wrong, Jess? You seem a bit jumpy!’
‘No, I’m fine. A slight headache, that’s all.’
‘Have you taken something for it?’
‘No, I’m OK, really.’
He didn’t look convinced. ‘You’d tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you?’
‘Just give me a hug!’ she said unsteadily, and as his arms came round her she reassured herself that at least he would be there at the confrontation. How the rest of the group would react she’d no idea.
DS Stuart had also been reviewing the situation. He knew he was taking a gamble, but despite extensive enquiries the last month had thrown up no leads; the top brass were getting restive and the press more and more strident. Although none of the names Jess had given him showed up on any database, her account certainly gave grounds for action, and the DI had okayed the plan. Ridley was a good officer and Stuart had every confidence in him keeping Jess safe. And if the worst came to the worst, back-up would be just round the corner. Nonetheless, he admitted to himself that he would be relieved when Saturday’s encounter was over.
Anne Glover was three years older than Kathryn. She had married a farmer and their three sons, all of whom were married, worked with their father on the farm. Since they each had a house within its boundaries, the complex was like a miniature village. Patrick and Amy had loved holidays spent there when they were young.
His eyes on the M6 stretching ahead of him, Justin wondered what cover story Anne had given her family, sincerely hoping his transgressions weren’t common knowledge. He’d spent most of the journey rehearsing his abject apology and was still not satisfied with it. However he phrased it, it seemed to imply that he wanted Kathryn back because he didn’t like being alone in the house and having to fend for himself. He didn’t, but that only accounted for a small percentage of the sense of loss he was experiencing.
And here was his exit. His heartbeat accelerating, he moved on to the slip road and within fifteen minutes the gates of Mulberry Farm came into view. He got out of the car, opened them, drove through and closed them again behind him. Then he slowly drove the remaining hundred and forty metres to the farmhouse itself, where he parked well to one side to avoid blocking access.
Aware that according to farm etiquette the back door was the main entrance, he made his way round the house and, steeling himself, knocked on it. A voice from inside called, ‘What on earth are you knocking for? Come in, for heaven’s sake, my hands are covered in flour!’
Even with his nerves jangling, Justin had to smile. He obediently opened the door and stepped into the large, stone-flagged kitchen. Anne, her hands in a bowl, turned towards the door – and went suddenly still.
‘Justin!’
‘Hello, Anne. I’ve come to see Kathryn.’
She flushed. ‘I really don’t think—’
‘Look, I’m sorry you’ve been brought into this, but the only way we can settle it is face to face. Is she in?’
Anne still hesitated.
He sighed. ‘I might as well tell you I shan’t be leaving until I’ve spoken to her. Where is she?’
‘In the sitting room, but perhaps I should—’
‘Warn her? No need.’
And leaving her gazing after him he went quickly into the hall, stopping when he reached the door to the sitting room, which was ajar. With a silent prayer to whichever gods might be listening, he pushed it open.
She was standing by the fireplace flicking through the pages of a magazine, and looked up as he entered the room. Across it their eyes met and held. She’d been expecting her cousin with the promised cup of tea, and was totally unprepared both for the sight of her husband and for the wealth of emotion that swept over her on seeing him. She’d been missing him far more than she’d anticipated, and had tortured herself by wondering whether she’d done the right thing. Suppose he was relieved to find her gone and made no effort to bring her back? Despite the pain and anger, the last month or two had left her in no doubt as to how much she loved him – perhaps that was why it had hurt so much.
And Justin, watching her standing there motionless, forgot all the carefully chosen words he’d been rehearsing for the last four and a half hours.
‘Kathryn!’ he said softly. ‘Oh, Kathryn!’
He moved slowly towards her, their eyes still locked together, and as he reached her she let the magazine drop on to the coffee table and lifted both hands to cup his face.
‘You came,’ she said. And suddenly the pleasantly modulated kisses that had characterized their marriage were no longer enough. She pulled his face down to hers and started to kiss him with an urgency that was altogether new to her, feeling his arms crush her against him as he responded.
Five minutes later Anne appeared in the doorway with two mugs of tea, glanced into the room and, after a moment, went away again.
Jess had been wondering with increasing anxiety how she could avoid spending Saturday with Connor, since he obviously couldn’t be with her when she met Ben – or Dan, as she must now think of him. But on Thursday evening, greatly to her relief, he told her his mother had asked him to do a few jobs for her at the weekend.
‘So we’ll have to postpone our planned walk till Sunday, I’m afraid, but of course I’ll be here in the evening. For one thing, I’ll need to keep an eye on this guy you’re bringing along!’
It gave Jess the perfect opening. ‘In that case I’ll take the opportunity to go to St Cat’s, check on the house while the family’s away and meet some friends for lunch, which I didn’t have time to do on my last few visits. And,’ she added teasingly, ‘be back in time to introduce you to Dan!’
Then at last it was Saturday, and she was sick with apprehension. She’d barely slept the previous night, endlessly going over possible outcomes, none of which seemed even remotely satisfactory.
Surely she couldn’t be wrong? Maggie had known Bruce Marriott in Oz. He’d ended up dead on her carpet. How could that possibly be coincidence? Then again, how would the rest of them react? With the exception of Connor they were, after all, Maggie’s friends rather than hers. Would they unite against her to defend Maggie? And what exactly could Ben Ridley do before back-up arrived, one man against the rest? It was as well she had the trip to St Cat’s to take her mind off things.
And it did precisely that. It was only about a fifteen-minute train journey and she took a taxi from the station. The house felt strange with no one at home, even Minty, who was boarding at his cattery. There was a neat pile of mail on the hall table, dutifully collected by the neighbour who was officially keeping an eye on the house. Jess gathered that her grandmother had offered, but been told they didn’t want to trouble her. She guessed her father had put his foot down, aware that Gran wouldn’t be above sneaking the odd glance in a drawer or cupboard.
The usual Saturday crowd was at the tennis club – though not, Jess was relieved to note, Roger, who must be on call. She was able to catch up with a group of friends who were glad to see her and hear how she was enjoying life in Bristol – a question that today of all days needed a carefully edited reply. Several of them went on to lunch, a long-drawn-out affair that melded first into tea and then drinks in someone’s garden, after which she was driven to the station to catch the train back to Bristol. Her brief escape was over an
d acute anxiety reclaimed her. At least, one way or another, it would soon be over.
As arranged, Ben was waiting for her outside the office and gave her a reassuring smile as she approached, his eyes raking her face.
‘OK?’
‘Not really!’
‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. It’s very good of you to help like this; it’s the first glimmer of hope we’ve had since the beginning of the investigation.’
‘Suppose I mess it up somehow? Say the wrong thing, or at the wrong time?’
‘Would it help if I gave you a lead-in, to make the subject come up more naturally?’
She nodded gratefully. ‘Yes, I think it would.’ He was the police, she reminded herself, and he’d be with her throughout.
‘Any suggestions?’
She tried to think as they waited on the kerb for the traffic lights to change but her mind had gone blank. This was the journey home she’d made every working day for the last few months, yet she felt strangely distanced, as though watching herself from a great height.
‘You said you’d been about to go on holiday when it all blew up?’ Ben prompted.
‘Yes.’ She moistened her lips, trying to focus.
‘Where did you go?’
‘Italy. Pisa.’ How long ago it all seemed!
‘Well, suppose I say I saw a postcard you’d sent the office pinned up on a notice board, and ask how you enjoyed it?’
‘That would be great, thanks!’
‘Look.’ His voice was gentle. ‘You must relax or they’ll realize something’s wrong.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be; you’re being very brave.’
She gave him a tight smile. ‘That’s what’s worrying me!’ she said.
‘So let’s recap: I only arrived in Bristol this week, having transferred from the Oxford branch. I’ve checked out the firm, incidentally, so if anyone’s interested enough to ask questions – which I doubt they will be – I can answer convincingly. I’m unmarried – not sure what my wife will make of that! – but have a girlfriend, Lois, who I hope will be able to join me here soon.’
The Ties That Bind Page 21