As he helped her out of her jacket, Jo noticed her two half-brothers hovering in the doorway. Jack and Oscar, she tended to forget which was which. The taller must be Jack; he was the oldest.
Her father tousled his hair. ‘I bet you hardly recognize these guys. When they heard you were coming, they insisted on staying up.’
Jo stared at the two little boys in cosy pyjamas and moppet haircuts and they stared back. ‘They’ve certainly grown.’
Then Jack piped up. ‘I got a quad bike for my birthday. You can have a go if you like. But we’re only allowed to ride it in the field.’
Oscar joined in. ‘You have to wear a helmet.’
‘Sounds like fun.’ Jo painted on a smile. She was beginning to wish she’d accepted her father’s offer to come to London. At least she would’ve avoided the sham of behaving as if she and these two little kids were in any way connected.
Nick was gazing at his sons with gentle affection. Had he ever looked at her like that? Not that she could remember.
His tone was chatty. ‘Not a full-sized quad bike of course. A smaller version.’
Suddenly Oscar grabbed her hand; it made her start, contact with his soft sticky palm. ‘You can borrow my helmet. Mum says we have to be nice to you because you’re our sister.’
‘Kids, eh! They always drop you right in it.’ Emily stood in the kitchen doorway, wreathed in smiles, wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘It’s so lovely to see you, Jo.’
Stepmother and stepdaughter exchanged a polite hug.
Emily beamed. ‘You’ve had a long drive. Are you hungry?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ She hadn’t eaten since the afternoon doughnuts.
‘Let me put a few bits on a plate and see if I can tempt you. Darling, open a bottle of wine. What d’you prefer, Jo? White or red?’
‘Whatever. I’m not fussy.’
They sat down at the long solid oak farmhouse table and Emily began to ferry dishes from the kitchen. A cheeseboard, some slices of homemade quiche, fresh chunks of sourdough bread. Jo realized she was starving.
The two boys sat down opposite her, side by side, obedient and watchful. A black Labrador rose from its basket and wandered over.
‘What’s the dog called?’ Jo knew but she needed a topic of conversation.
‘Rosie,’ the boys answered in unison, then giggled.
‘She’s expecting.’ Jack gave her a knowledgeable I’m-the-older-brother nod.
‘Wow! Puppies. That’ll be exciting.’
‘Daddy says they’ll be trained as proper gun dogs so we can’t keep them.’
‘Okay.’
Jo realized she had snippets of her father’s life but not the whole picture. He belonged to a wildfowling club and had a licence to shoot on the marshes, she had the vaguest memory of that. Could he have used one of his shotguns to threaten Briony and get her out of her car?
Nick uncorked a bottle of Merlot and poured Jo a hefty glass.
‘If my memory serves, I think you like red.’
Jo smiled. The last time they’d managed a fairly civilized dinner on one of his rare trips to London, he’d chosen some expensive red that it was hard not to like.
‘Thank you.’ She took a sip of the wine and gave him an appreciative grin.
Emily whipped up a small salad garnished with fresh herbs from the greenhouse. She placed it in front of Jo with what looked like an elegant decanter of dressing. ‘Just eat what you want. I won’t take offence.’
Jo noticed the nerviness of her smile, which melted as she turned to her two boys. She was maybe ten years older than Jo, which made her almost a contemporary of Sarah. It suddenly occurred to Jo that this was his response to the pain of his daughter’s loss; he’d gone in search of a replacement and then married her. The whole thing was vaguely obscene.
Emily adopted a tone of maternal authority. ‘Right, you two – bed!’
After some argy-bargy and complaining and the promise they’d see Jo in the morning, the boys were shepherded upstairs by their mother. Before they went, they each stepped up to give Jo a goodnight kiss. Emily had them well drilled. But their silky cheeks, the soft smell of their skin was enticing. Jo couldn’t help liking them. Her little half-brothers, they were the innocents in all this.
She ate quiche and salad and the delicious sourdough bread. Nick poured himself a glass of wine and drank it down as he watched her.
His eyes were shiny and she suspected he’d had a few before she’d arrived. ‘I’m glad you came. I know that, well, each time you walk into all this it can’t be easy for you.’
Jo shrugged. ‘It’s nice to see the boys.’
‘Y’know, none of us planned this.’
‘Carl’s already phoned me and given me the you-have-to-move-on lecture.’
‘Even so. If Sarah had lived—’
‘You’d probably have got itchy feet and traded up for a younger model anyway.’
‘Maybe. I’ve never pretended to be anything special. I know I’ve been selfish. I tried to be a good father. I realize I haven’t managed it with you.’
‘You want me to feel sorry for you? Poor old Nick Boden, struggling along with all this.’ She threw open her palms to encompass the room reaching up to the vaulted ceiling and exposed rafters.
‘I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to give me a hard time. You could’ve done that over the phone.’ He sounded more sorrowful than critical.
Jo fortified herself with a slug of wine. ‘Okay then. Briony Rowe.’
‘What about her?’
‘Apparently she threw herself under a train.’
‘Well, I didn’t much like the woman. But that’s horrible. Suicide, eh?’
‘Possibly. But those who knew her best don’t buy that.’
‘What then? Someone killed her?’
‘Did you try for an injunction to stop the film?’
‘I did speak to the lawyers. But as you rightly said, unless they libelled us, no grounds.’
Jo stared at him and sighed. It wasn’t the same as sitting in an interview room facing a complete stranger. The accusation hung on her lips. How could this be true? Such a cold-blooded act, was he capable of being that kind of monster? He read her look and her hesitation.
‘My God, Jo, you don’t think that I would—’ The tears welled in his eyes and fattened into droplets that rolled down his cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his hand.
She looked down at her plate, rearranged the knife and fork. Watching her own fingers move filled her with an odd sensation, she felt disembodied. And her head started to spin.
‘When did this actually happen?’ It seemed to Jo that his voice came from far away.
She had to concentrate, her thoughts had become quite blurry. ‘Wednesday night. Well, more early hours Thursday.’
He got up slowly, took a tissue from a box on the sideboard and blew his nose. Then he headed across the room towards the far door. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Being left alone was a relief. It gave Jo a chance to try to marshal her chaotic thoughts. She was tired, a stressful day, followed by a long drive, this was the most likely explanation for her sudden giddiness. Or perhaps it was the wine. She thought about escaping while he was gone, but she was too shaky to drive.
She got up, went to the kitchen tap, tipped her wine away down the sink and refilled the glass with water. As she returned to the table he came striding back into the room.
He slapped an A4 envelope down in front of her. ‘Take a look.’
‘What is it?’
‘My air tickets and hotel invoice. Tuesday night I flew to Berlin. From Stansted. I went to present a workshop at an interior design fair on Wednesday morning. I talked about incorporating modern design with traditional materials. There were about fifty people in the audience. You can see extracts on YouTube. I stayed at the Crowne Plaza in Nuernberger Strasse. Flew back on Thursday.’
Jo stared at him. She felt like a twelve-year-old caught s
moking.
His eyes were boring into her. ‘Go on, check it. There are business colleagues, both UK-based and from Berlin, who can confirm I was there. I’ll give you their numbers, you can phone them.’
Picking up the envelope, Jo emptied the contents on to the table, not because she disbelieved him but because it seemed the only way to satisfy him. There were two combined e-tickets and boarding passes and a printed hotel bill, which had been settled by credit card.
‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
‘I’m sorry it’s come to this. That you really don’t know who I am.’
‘It’s being a cop, you end up suspicious of everything.’ She felt both foolish and childish.
‘I blame myself. I let Alison win with you, because that was easier.’
‘She’s hardly the winner. No one is.’
‘Well, I don’t know what to say. Except I truly am sorry.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Waking to sharp splinters of light escaping round the cracks in the blinds, Jo didn’t know where she was at first. Her sleep had been heavy and dreamless, weighed down with a weariness that seemed lodged in her bones. She’d wanted to drive back to London, but Nick wouldn’t hear of it. He’d taken charge, ordered her to bed and, like a small child, she’d complained but complied.
She dressed and went downstairs to the aroma of fresh coffee and warm croissants. Through the vast plate-glass window she could see Jack and Oscar hurtling round the frosty garden. Jack was attacking his brother with something leafy and wet.
Emily was assembling coats and backpacks and kit. She rapped on the window. ‘Come on, you’ll be late for Taekwondo.’
She smiled at Jo. ‘Sleep well?’
Jo nodded.
‘Pour yourself a coffee. Your dad’s in his office.’
‘Thanks.’
Emily seemed about to say something else but thought better of it. Then she laughed. ‘These two! They wear me out. They seem to be taking after Carl. Endless energy. Will you be staying for lunch?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Oh well. Take care, Jo. I must get on. Even on a Saturday it’s a madhouse round here.’
She scurried out, with some relief Jo thought.
Jo wondered about going and saying goodbye to the boys but decided not to. She didn’t want to aggravate Emily by making them late.
She poured herself a mug of coffee and wandered through the house to the back where Nick’s home office was situated. It was light and airy, a vast marshland panorama out of the windows, plans, maps, designs covering the various walls. He was on the phone and gave her a friendly wave as he wrapped up the call.
Father and daughter looked at each other for a moment.
He sighed. ‘Well—’
‘I should be getting back to London.’
He nodded, hesitated but she could sense he was on the brink of a decision and it was difficult.
‘You know this thing you asked me about? When I went down on my own to see Sarah.’
‘Yeah. In November.’
‘There was a reason for me going. She did have a problem. But I’ve never spoken of it to anyone.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I made her a promise. That it would be between the two of us. She particularly didn’t want your mother, or indeed anyone else in the family, to know.’
‘What was it?’
He sighed. Elbows resting on his desk, he steepled his fingers. ‘We all do stupid things when we’re young. I didn’t want her life to be ruined by it. She’d only just started at university.’
‘Don’t tell me she was pregnant.’
‘She met this boy at the very beginning of term. Had unprotected sex. She said only the once. But it could’ve been more than that.’
‘What was his name?’
‘She wouldn’t tell me. I think she thought I’d go after him. And I probably would have.’
‘Was he a postgrad?’
‘I don’t know. He seemed to be putting pressure on her, insisting she was his girlfriend. And she didn’t want that. She was at the beginning of everything, for Chrissake. It was a silly mistake. So I arranged for her to have a private abortion.’
‘Did he know about it?’
‘Certainly not. She’d finished with him by then. We saw a private doctor and the university didn’t know. I didn’t want her future to be affected by it in any way.’
‘Could she have confided in anyone else? A friend maybe?’
‘Jo, she was—’ he had to put his hand over his mouth to stop the tears. ‘She begged me to help her. She was ashamed. And, well, desperate. We pretended she had the flu. She spent a couple of nights in the clinic to make absolutely sure everything was all right. But it was very early stages, so the procedure was straightforward. No one at the university suspected a thing.’
‘Is that why she dropped out of the play?’
‘Yes.’
‘Dad, why didn’t you tell the police this?’
‘Because it had absolutely no relevance to her death.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘She didn’t even start going out with Nathan Wade until after Christmas. Can you imagine what would have happened, what his lawyers would have said about her, if they knew she’d had an abortion? She was the victim, but they would’ve put her on trial. I had to protect her, her memory.’
‘What if this other boy found out about the abortion?’
‘There was no way he could have. Your mother and I met Nathan Wade and I have to say I didn’t think much of him. I told Sarah that at the time. The police thought he was involved in drugs, maybe even selling cannabis to other students. So my instincts about him were right.’
‘There’s a passage in her journal about wanting to run away. She had some kind of plan to apply for the exchange programme and go to an American university for a year.’
‘Your mother wasn’t keen. But I thought it was a good idea, get her away from him. I think she’d learnt from her mistakes. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen soon enough.’
Nick Boden raked his hand through his hair. Jo watched him, pain radiated from his hunched body. ‘You think I don’t curse myself every day for not having taken action to deal with Wade, to get him out of her life? Afterwards, when the police told me about the drugs, I cursed myself even more. If I’d done something, I could’ve saved her. Now he wants to prove his fucking innocence! I tell you, Jo, if I was going to kill anyone, I’d kill him.’
CHAPTER SIXTY
Oh, Jo, what a disappointment you’ve turned out to be. I really did think we had something special. But it seems you have ideas of your own. As far as I was concerned the past was past, nothing to be gained by raking it over. I’ve accepted my guilt and done my penance. Believe me, I’ve suffered. This was not the life I’d planned.
I was hoping I could rely on you to ignore all this ridiculous hoo-hah. The media are like vultures, always seeking out carrion. They have to feed to survive. But I was sure you’d tell them to stuff it and not get involved. You’re a police officer, you understand that justice is sometimes a fluid concept. What matters is that we have a system we can all believe in, a system that assures us we can sleep safe in our beds. Reality is about perception and so justice depends on fast and dependable convictions. Truth is incidental and can occasionally get in the way.
The truth is your sister was a selfish slut who thought that what she wanted trumped everything else. Would it have helped your family, your poor grieving parents, if that had been exposed in open court? I don’t think so.
And now what are we going to do? I’ve been forced to act, to go back to a version of myself I never wanted to revisit in order to cover my tracks. And this is your fault, Jo. Why oh why couldn’t you leave well alone?
I guess I’m a fool. I did hope, dream even, that with you I’d have a second chance. Maybe you and I could’ve had the relationship I always wanted with Sarah. She was too young and self-centred and arrogant. But I thoug
ht you were different, that you’d appreciate what I had to offer. Seems I was wrong.
So now I have to find a way to stop you. Is there any chance that I can make you see reason? I tend to doubt it. I’ve got a feeling this is not going to end well, which is sad. I had such high hopes for us, I really did.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Leaving Norfolk in the late morning, Jo headed down the M11. The day was damp and dull, leaden clouds threatening more snow. The engine of the old Astra was whining and she kept her speed to a restrained 40 mph. But the needle on the temperature gauge was twitching into the red. She turned into Bishop’s Stortford services and crawled into the car park.
A cursory examination of the front of the vehicle revealed a slow drip from what Jo assumed was the radiator. She considered opening the bonnet but found it hot to the touch. Mechanical problems always left her feeling annoyingly female, although she knew plenty of blokes who’d be as clueless as her, faced with an overheated engine.
Fortunately she’d coerced her mother into investing in annual breakdown cover and carried the card in her wallet. She called them, got herself a takeaway coffee and settled down to wait for rescue. At least she’d made it to the services and wasn’t stuck on some freezing verge beside the hard shoulder of the motorway breathing a cocktail of toxic emissions.
Bundled up against the creeping cold in coat and scarf, Jo extracted the shiny black journal from her bag. This was her sister’s last testament; Jo had skimmed through it searching for clues but now she was re-reading it in the light of what her father had told her.
It was clear why Sarah had cut out the missing pages. If she’d given any hint of her feelings about her unwanted pregnancy and the subsequent abortion then she’d have risked exposure. A journal was no place for proper secrets. Alison was quite capable of claiming parental privilege and reading things that were none of her business. She’d certainly done that with Jo.
Sarah had erased her immediate response to the situation but in the entries from the days and weeks following Jo discovered a subtle change in tone. Nick Boden was certainly right that his daughter was learning from her mistakes.
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