by Lynda Renham
‘Could you bring it up please?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m expecting someone at nine. Could you let me know when he arrives?’
I collect my post and James joins me in the lift. My eyes don’t leave the box. James carefully places the bags in the hallway and I give him an extravagant tip before closing the door and locking it. I stare at the box before taking my Harrods bags to the bedroom. Would Simon send me flowers after one date? It seems unlikely but what other explanation could there be? It enters my head that the box may contain a bomb, but I dismiss the idea immediately. It has the florist’s name on the box.
‘He could easily have got a box,’ whispers a voice in my head.
No, a bomb is too intricate for Ewan. If he’s going to get violent, he’ll use a gun. That’s where he’s skilled. I glance out of the window to the apartment block opposite. The lights are on. I pull the blinds and sigh. A hot bath is what I need, and I run the taps, sprinkling a large amount of bath salts. The fragrance relaxes me. I’ve just enough time for a soak before the security guy arrives. I pass the box on my way to the fridge and it’s only after the bath is ready and I’ve poured myself a large glass of wine that I decide to open it. I take my time but I don’t know why. All kinds of thoughts enter my head. Wild imaginings of what may be inside. I glide the scissors around the sides and carefully lift the top. A large mound of tissue paper is protecting whatever is inside. I take a sip of wine before removing the paper and revealing a crystal glass vase. It’s surrounded by two bunches of lilies, carefully wrapped in cellophane. My hands are shaking and I curse. There’s an envelope in the box. I leave it unopened and refill my wine glass. I take a large gulp of wine and slit open the envelope. A small card with a black cat on the front slips out. Inside it simply says, ‘For Libby.’ It doesn’t say who the flowers are from. It’s a thoughtful and extravagant gift. With a feeling of relief, I take the lilies out of the cellophane and arrange them in the vase. Merlin sniffs them and sneezes. I laugh.
‘Aren’t they gorgeous?’ I say, petting him.
I text Simon my new number, but I don’t mention the flowers. I’ll thank him tomorrow.
Great, thanks, he texts back. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.
I try to picture his face but all I see is Ewan Galbreith’s. Is he still good looking, I wonder? Does he still have that animal magnetism or have the years in prison changed him? Is he watching me? I shiver and climb into the bath. I won’t think about him. I refuse to.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Present day
‘Hello Dianne,’ said Fran as Dianne opened the door.
Recognition flitted across Dianne’s face and her expression changed. She frowned.
‘He doesn’t live here any more.’
Fran nodded.
‘Do you have an address for him?’
Dianne lowered her head and sighed.
‘He’s not been out that long. Why are you harassing him? Greg told me you went to the garage.’
‘I’m not harassing him,’ said Fran.
Dianne opened the door wider.
‘The kids are at school otherwise I wouldn’t let you in,’ she said stepping into the hall. Fran followed her to the kitchen. Dianne’s hair was pulled back in the same messy bun she wore the last time Fran saw her all those years ago. Dianne’s eyes fastened on Fran’s and she said,
‘He’s not in trouble, is he?’
Fran licked her lips. She was thirsty. Was this heatwave ever going to break? Although she knew most of her thirst was due to the hangover.
‘I couldn’t have some water could I? This heat is …’
‘Yeah, it’s getting tedious,’ said Dianne, filling a glass with water.
‘Thanks,’ said Fran, throwing it back. She handed Dianne the glass with a grateful nod.
‘Libby Owen has reported that someone is harassing her. She’s been getting messages and threatening texts. It started shortly after Ewan was released.’
Dianne pulled out a chair and sat down.
‘There are plenty of nutcases out there. I imagine she has weirdos contacting her all the time.’
Fran looked down at Dianne’s hands. The knuckles were white where she was clenching them.
‘She feels sure this is Ewan,’ said Fran.
‘Why would he want to do that? He’s just got out.’
‘He threatened her before he went down. He threatened a lot of us.’
‘He was distraught. He was going down for something he didn’t do.’
‘He was found guilty, Dianne.’
‘While the real murderer went free,’ said Dianne, standing up. ‘Owen had enemies.’
Fran sighed.
‘It was fifteen years ago, Dianne. I accept that Ewan has done his time, but I still have to follow up the charges, even if it is to eliminate Ewan from the case. Can you tell me where he’s living now?’
Dianne shook her head.
‘I honestly don’t know. But … I think he’s working in London.’
‘London?’ repeated Fran. ‘How long has he been in London?’
‘I’ll have to ask you to leave. If Greg knows I’ve let you in he’ll go mental,’ she said and walked to the door.
‘How long has he been in London?’ Fran asked, with her hand on the door.
‘I’m not sure. I haven’t heard from him in a bit.’
‘I’ll find out where it is. You could save me some time by letting me have the address.’
‘I don’t know the London address.’
Fran didn’t believe her.
‘Thanks, sorry to have troubled you.’
‘No, you’re not,’ said Dianne before slamming the door in Fran’s face.
Fran climbed into her car and fumbled with the air conditioning. As she drove to Padley Pier she wondered if Mike had left the flat or if he would be there when she got back. She doubted it. He had stayed the night, but it wasn’t quite how she’d dreamt it. He’d had far too much whisky and she’d had too much wine. Neither of them could have driven, although Mike was up for it.
‘Do you want to throw your job away as well as your marriage,’ Fran had said. ‘I’ve got a spare bedroom. You can sleep in there.’
It had driven her mad knowing he was in the next room, so near and yet so far away. She had almost gone into him, but something had held her back. The truth was she was afraid Mike would reject her. She pushed the thought of him away and parked her car outside The Crown. It was busy. Holidaymakers were filling up the beach already. How they could enjoy sitting out in this heat Fran would never know.
The pub was heaving. She pushed through the queue and flashed her badge at anyone who got in her way.
‘Where’s Luke?’ she asked the barmaid.
‘He’s in the cellar.’
‘Can you get him out of the cellar,’ said Fran flashing her badge.
It was too hot in the pub. All those sweaty bodies were making her feel sick. The barmaid hurried off and a group of irritated customers grumbled.
Luke appeared and frowned at the sight of her.
‘Can I have a word?’ she said. ‘In private?’
‘You’d better come out the back,’ he said, leading the way and showing her into a pokey office. She sat in front of a fan, the coolness making her feel better.
‘You’re busy today,’ she said.
‘It’s the holiday season. I’d be worried if I weren’t. So, why would a policer officer need to talk to me?’ he asked cautiously. ‘You wouldn’t pay me a visit over a parking ticket.’
‘I hear Ewan Galbreith has a place in London.’
Fran noticed how quickly his expression changed.
‘Is that right, I wouldn’t know. Anyway, what’s it to you? He’s done his time.’
Fran nodded.
‘He has done his time. I would just like a word with him. I need the address.’
‘I don’t have it.’
Fran had no idea if he
knew the address or not. She’d most likely have to try all of Ewan’s old contacts. That was all she needed in this weather, to traipse all over Padley.
‘You’ll be obstructing the police if you do know it and don’t tell me,’ she said sharply.
‘We all felt for Libby Owen you know. It was a terrible thing. No girl of seventeen should have gone through that. But Ewan … maybe did things he shouldn’t, but murder? I just don’t see that.’
‘Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.’
He nodded.
‘Maybe not.’
‘Where does Molly Richards work now?’
‘In the café on the sea front.’
‘Sally Anne’s?’ asked Fran.
‘Yeah and I doubt she’ll know where Ewan is.’
‘Thanks,’ said Fran and pushed her way back through the throng.
Sally Anne’s was less busy. Most of the patrons were sitting out in the sun.
‘Bloody fools,’ muttered Fran.
Molly was wiping tables. Fran remembered her from the murder investigation all those years ago. Molly turned to smile at Fran and then froze.
‘Hello Molly,’ Fran said, sitting at a table.
Molly didn’t reply.
‘Can I have a diet coke and a minute of your time?’
Molly looked at the woman behind the counter. Fran realising it was most likely her boss, got up and flashed her badge.
‘I won’t keep her long. It’s nothing she’s done. I just want to ask her some questions.’
‘Ten minutes at the most,’ said the woman.
Molly took a diet coke from the fridge and a glass from behind the counter before walking towards Fran.
‘I hear Ewan Galbreith has gone to London.’
‘I don’t know where Ewan goes,’ Molly said quietly.
‘I need that London address.’
Molly wrung her hands and fidgeted on her feet.
‘If I don’t give it to you?’
‘I think you know the answer to that.’
‘He’s not doing anything wrong,’ Molly said sullenly. ‘But he said if you pestered, then we were to give the address.’
‘Why would he think we’d pester?’ said Fran.
‘Because you already have, that’s why.’
She pulled a pen from the pocket of her apron and wrote on her notepad.
‘That’s the address. He needs work. We all do.’
Fran took it and glanced at the address.
‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Molly before walking away.
Fran folded the paper and pushed it into her pocket. The last thing she wanted to do was travel to London, unless of course Mike came with her. It was a possibility. Her heart fluttered at the thought.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fifteen years earlier
‘Go on, just a drop,’ said Peter, pushing the whisky under her nose.
Libby looked at Ewan and Kevin as they prepared to arm wrestle. Ewan had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Kevin laughed.
‘Those muscles don’t scare me Galbreith.’
‘Go on,’ said Peter again.
Libby took the bottle from him and put it to her lips. The whisky stung her lips and burnt her tongue.
‘Let’s watch,’ he said pulling her to where the men were arm wrestling.
‘What’s the prize?’ Ewan asked
‘A kiss under the mistletoe,’ said Molly, ‘from us girls.’
She nudged Libby who reddened immediately. She should really leave. They were staff, after all, and family were supposed to leave the party for the staff to enjoy. Aunty Rose always knew the right time to leave but somehow Libby couldn’t. She was having fun.
‘Sounds like a good prize to me,’ laughed Kevin. ‘Are you on Ewan?’
Ewan looked up at Molly.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he grinned.
‘It’s a kiss Ewan, nothing else,’ she giggled.
‘Okay why not,’ said Ewan, resting his elbow on the table.
‘I thought you’d be up for it,’ said Kevin.
‘On my count of three,’ said Peter.
Libby watched in fascination at the men’s concentration as they fought for victory. She could see the muscles ripple in Ewan’s arm as he strained against Kevin. Libby didn’t fancy Kevin kissing her. He had bad breath, but she’d agreed, and she only hoped Ewan would win. Ewan had his eyes fixed on Kevin’s, and for a moment it looked like he was losing. His hand shook as he pushed against Kevin’s. Libby and Molly held their breath while Peter cheered them both on. With one final push Ewan got the better of Kevin and slowly pushed his arm down. His jaw twitched with the effort. Peter cheered as Kevin’s arm thumped to the table.
‘Well played,’ said Kevin rubbing his arm. ‘Next go is with your bad arm.’
‘I’d still beat you,’ Ewan said confidently. He took a large swig of whisky and looked at Molly.
‘What about that snog then?’ he asked.
‘A kiss under the mistletoe is all,’ she smiled.
Libby stepped back as he stood and drew Molly to him, his arms encircling her waist. He then dipped her backwards and holding her by one arm kissed her passionately on the lips. Libby watched and could feel her face reddening and her nipples hardening.
Ewan released Molly who slapped him playfully.
‘You’re a cheeky bugger you are.’
He turned to Libby and winked.
‘Still up for it?’ he asked.
She nodded shyly and stepped under the mistletoe. Much to her chagrin he didn’t encircle her waist with his strong arm or dip her backwards. He barely touched her at all. His lips brushed hers lightly and then it was over. She wanted to cry. Did he not like her in the same way as Molly? Was she unattractive to him? She turned to look at him, but he was already at the door.
‘I’m going to check on the horses,’ he said.
‘You’re mad you are,’ said Kevin. ‘It’s sodding Christmas. They’ll be alright.’
‘I’m checking on the horses,’ Ewan said again, firmly.
Libby decided it was time for her to go. She felt too upset to stay.
‘It’s getting late, I should go,’ she said.
‘Not yet,’ said Peter, disappointment evident in his voice.
‘She doesn’t want to spend the whole evening with us,’ said Molly. ‘It’s not etiquette for a start.’
Libby didn’t think Molly would be saying this if she’d been sober.
‘We’re going to play charades,’ said Peter. ‘Can’t you stay for that?’
Libby hesitated.
‘I’d best not,’ she said picking up her clutch bag.
‘I need some air,’ said Kevin.
‘Me too,’ said Molly, following him.
‘I wish you weren’t going,’ said Peter stepping closer to her.
Libby felt nervous being alone with him. He’d had too much to drink. She realised she was standing under the mistletoe and went to walk away when his hands grasped her wrists.
‘I could beat Ewan you know? Don’t you think I deserve a kiss under the mistletoe too?’
‘I have to go now,’ she said, struggling to pull her hands out of his grasp.
He released one hand and pulled her roughly to him, his lips crushing hers. She fought against him.
‘Peter, please. If my uncle …’
But his lips silenced her and with one arm he pulled her closer while the other hand fumbled with the buttons of her dress. She heard it rip and gasped. She slapped at his chest, but her slaps were futile. The door creaked open and she prayed it was Kevin and Molly. His hand touched her breast and he groaned. She was about to bring her knee up when Peter released his grip.
‘What are you doing Peter?’
Ewan pushed him roughly and Peter fell to the floor. Ewan looked at Libby’s torn dress and her exposed breast. He pulled her dress together and she felt his hand brush her nipple.
‘It’s time for you to go,’ he said roughly. ‘Peter’s drunk too much. He meant no harm. There’s no need to tell your uncle.’
Peter grunted something from the floor.
‘You’d be best to keep quiet mate,’ said Ewan.
‘I wouldn’t have told my uncle,’ Libby said, clutching her dress to cover her breast.
Ewan frowned and said,
‘Do you want me to escort you home?’
She shook her head while her body screamed yes.
‘Thanks anyway. Goodnight Peter.’
She walked from the room, trying to keep her head held high. Why couldn’t it have been Ewan that had torn her dress, she thought.
Chapter Thirty
Fifteen years earlier
Ben looked at his boat. The damage was worse than he’d thought. Damn it. It would be months before he got it back out to sea and what the hell were they supposed to do in the meantime?
Adam looked at the holes and cursed.
‘How long do you reckon?’ he asked. ‘Will it be ready next week?’
Ben laughed mirthlessly.
‘Are you a fucking joker? Am I God? The fucker has finished us for the winter.’
‘I need the extra income, Ben. I’ve got kids.’
‘I can’t wave a magic wand,’ Ben snapped. ‘It needs money that I don’t have. I’ll have to repair the damn thing myself and that’s going to take time.’
It was going to cost enough to fix the damn thing. There’s no way he’d have enough to rent a boat in the meantime.
‘Fuck it,’ he snarled, kicking out at the boat.
‘You should demand Edward fucking Owen pays,’ said Adam. ‘It’s his bloody employee and his guns he used. He should take some fucking responsibility.’
Ben’s eyes glistened. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
‘That’s not such a bad idea,’ he said. ‘If I get enough to rent a boat I’ll be able to do the repairs myself. That would help. That’ll show Galbreith.’
‘I wasn’t really serious,’ said Adam doubtfully. ‘He’ll just tell you to fuck off after what we did to Ewan.’