by Lynda Renham
‘But surely if Galbreith had been that close you would have seen him?’
My head spins and I pour more wine into my glass. Donna is right though, I am losing my grip. She never said as much but I know that is what she’s thinking. I’m making insane statements. It’s a fact that without keys, Ewan couldn’t possibly have got into the flat.
‘Perhaps he got someone else to do it,’ I say.
Donna sighs.
‘Please Libby come to us for a few days, if only for a break.’
I shake my head.
‘No I won’t give into this. Besides I’m going to Padley at the weekend. Maybe I’ll speak to his sister and friends while I’m there. I’ll get them to pass on a warning message to him.’
‘I don’t think you should get involved with him,’ says Donna worriedly.
Donna doesn’t have a clue what I’m going through.
‘Just a break Libby, it might really help. Have you thought of talking things through with a counsellor?’
That’s the final fucking insult. I’d seen my fair share of bloody counsellors and shrinks since the murders. Channel your feelings, they’d said. Put that energy into something positive. So, I’d done just that. I took myself to art school and studied graphic design, night and day until I had erased Ewan Galbreith from my brain.
‘Yeah, maybe I will,’ I say to shut her up. I just want her to leave me in peace so I can think things through. The locks are being changed tomorrow. I’m not giving anyone a set of keys. Not even the concierge. The only person able to get into my flat will be me.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Fifteen years earlier
Molly nervously took the stand. Her cheeks were red from the heat in the court room. She couldn’t look at Ewan. It felt like a bad dream. A terrible nightmare that she wished they could all wake up from. She still couldn’t believe that Rose and Edward were dead. Poor Rose, oh, just the thought of what she went through makes Molly want to cry all over again. Who would want to kill lovely Rose Owen? It just didn’t make sense. Not Ewan, surely not. Surely he wasn’t capable of that.
‘Please state your name for the court.’
‘Molly Joanne Lane.’
‘Miss Lane, you worked at Manstead Manor. Can you please tell the court what your role was there?’
‘I was the housekeeper.’
‘How long have you been housekeeper at the Manor?’
‘Just over five years.’
‘So you knew the Owen family very well?’
‘Yes,’ said Molly, feeling the threat of tears coming over her again. She didn’t want to cry in court. It would be in the papers and she couldn’t bear that.
‘Was this a live-in position?’
‘No, it wasn’t. I would start at eight and then normally finish about five, unless there was something special happening and Mrs Owen wanted me to stay later. I was always paid overtime. We all were.’
‘I imagine you knew the other members of staff very well?’
Molly nodded.
‘Yes, I did … I do.’
Her voice had started to tremble. She knew he was going to ask her about Ewan.
‘No need to be anxious Miss Lane,’ the barrister said kindly.
Molly smiled weakly.
‘How well would you say you know Ewan Galbreith?’
‘Quite well, we were friends … are friends.’
‘Mr Galbreith lived in, didn’t he?’
‘In the gamekeeper’s cottage, yes.’
‘I see. Would you describe him as an easy-going person?’
‘Yes, I suppose I would.’
‘You suppose?’
She nodded.
‘Would you say that there is an air of arrogance about him?’
Molly shook her head emphatically.
‘No. Not arrogance. Confident, I’d say he was confident.’
‘Would you describe him as reckless?’
Molly looked puzzled.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did he take chances?’
‘Yes, perhaps sometimes. But everyone takes chances, don’t they?’
‘So, he could be a bit rash. Would you agree with that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Molly said, looking confused.
‘Did you ever see Mr Galbreith take a shotgun from Edward Owen’s gun cupboard?’
‘Yes often. It’s a country estate and Ewan kept the rabbits and vermin under control.’
‘Did you ever see him take a gun when he wasn’t supposed to?’
‘No I didn’t.’ she said firmly.
‘But he took liberties, didn’t he?’
‘No.’
The barrister smiled indulgently.
‘You all took liberties, didn’t you?’
‘No,’ she said, her cheeks reddening.
‘Isn’t it true that you borrowed a Gucci handbag belonging to Rose Owen and that Libby Owen saw you in town with it just before Christmas?’
‘I …’ she glanced over at Libby who had her head bowed.
‘Mrs Owen said I could borrow it. I wasn’t taking liberties.’
‘Really, it’s a shame that Rose Owen isn’t here to collaborate that story isn’t it?’
Molly wrung her hands.
‘It’s true.’
‘So Miss Owen is lying?’
‘No, she did see me, but I did ask to borrow the bag.’
‘I see, and did Ewan Galbreith take liberties too?’
‘I … sometimes he took whisky when he shouldn’t, but Mr Owen never seemed to mind.’
‘On the night of the 31st December did you work late?’
‘Yes, I did. Mrs Owen was having people for dinner and she asked if I would help with the preparations.’
‘What time did you finish that evening?’
‘About 8.30 but I’m not absolutely sure. Mrs Owen said she had a migraine and they wouldn’t be entertaining after all. I remember feeling a bit irritated because I had to wrap all the food that had been delivered and put it into the freezers. The dining room had been prepared so that had to be cleared away.’
‘Did anyone else stay late to help you?’
‘Yes, Kevin stayed to help.’
‘Did you hear Edward Owen and Ewan Galbreith arguing that evening?’
Molly took a deep breath.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember what time that was?’
‘No I don’t but it was just before I left.’
‘Do you recall hearing Ewan Galbreith shout, and I quote “I should take a shotgun to you, you heartless bastard, that’s all you deserve?”’
Molly bit her lip and glanced at Ewan. He nodded and she gave a weak smile.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Thank you Miss Lane, no more questions for the moment.’
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Present day
Libby
I close the doors and lock them only to unlock them all over again and re-lock for a third time. He can’t possibly get in. They’re new locks. No one can get in except me. I drop the keys into my handbag and pick up Merlin’s basket.
James smiles as I enter the foyer.
‘Miss Warren, thank you so much for the get-well card.’
‘You’re welcome James. I’m so glad to see you back.’
‘Thank you mam.’
I look through the doors to see Simon waiting by his car.
‘I’ll be home on Monday,’ I say.
I don’t mention the change of locks. He nods. Simon waves and James opens the door for me.
‘I just need to drop Merlin at Donna’s,’ I tell Simon.
‘No problem,’ he says.
He smells of Marc Jacob’s ‘Men’ aftershave. It’s fresh and soft. Ewan never wore aftershave. Neither did Uncle Edward. They were alike in a way. I push the thought of Ewan from my mind and smile at Simon. His blond hair has fallen across his forehead. He looks different without it gelled back. His eyes are covered by sunglasses. I’m n
ervous about going to Padley. I don’t want to face Manstead Manor. There are too many memories and I’m still not sure that I’m strong enough to face them. After dropping Merlin off at Donna’s, I make an effort to relax but I still find myself looking out of the back window to see if a car is following us.
‘You need to chill,’ Simon says, putting on some music.
The car is clean and looks new.
‘I like your car. Is it new?’ I ask.
He smiles apologetically.
‘It’s a rental. My car broke down a few days ago. Clutch problems. It wouldn’t have been ready in time.’
The thought of breaking down on an isolated road with the possibility of Ewan tailing us sends a shiver down my spine. I feel vulnerable outside of my flat. I’d been feeling pretty vulnerable in it the past few days but now the locks have been changed I’m feeling a bit more relaxed. It’s the not knowing when Ewan will make his move, if he intends to make a move at all. Perhaps he wants to keep me in a constant state of fear. Yes, that would be Ewan’s style. I try to picture the Ewan I had seen at the nightclub. Does he have a girlfriend? There were always women in his life. Fifteen years without a woman must have driven him mad. The last time I had seen his face was in the court room all those years ago. The hatred in his eyes had been frightening. Now, I’m going back again. Back to the town that had once been my home. Back to Manstead Manor and my hands tremble at the thought.
‘Thank you for coming with me,’ I say turning to Simon.
‘I’m only glad I can help,’ he smiles.
I look out of the window. Maybe Ewan is in Padley already. He always seems to be one step ahead of me. Is that where he will confront me? If only I could stop thinking about him. Was it fair to bring Simon?
I am brought out of my reverie by the trilling of my phone. My heart starts to beat that little bit faster. It’s Fran.
‘Have you arrived?’ she asks without preamble.
‘No we’re on our way.’
‘We?’ she questions.
‘I’m with a friend, Simon Wane.’
‘Let me know when you arrive. Where are you staying?’
‘At William and Caroline’s beach house.’
‘Alone?’
I glance sideways at Simon.
‘I’m not sure yet.’
‘Let me know if you’re going to be alone and I’ll come over.’
‘Do you think he might …?’
‘No but I know that you think he might.’
‘Thanks Fran.’
I click off the phone and turn to Simon.
‘I’ll be staying at William’s beach house. William was my guardian after the murders. You’re welcome to stay there too. It has two bedrooms.’
He smiles.
‘Sounds great,’ he says.
I try not to show my surprise. It was not the response I had been expecting. He’s always shied away from staying too long at my flat so the last thing I expected was him to agree so readily to stay a whole weekend in a house with me.
‘Great. I’ll let Fran know. She was going to come over otherwise.’
‘No need,’ he said.
I send Fran a quick text,
Simon is staying over with me. No need to come.
If Ewan is able to hack my phone then he’ll read the messages. He’ll know I’m not alone. He’ll know the police are suspicious of him. I’ve no need to be afraid. But nevertheless I am.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Present day
Fran read Libby’s text before strolling into Mike’s office. He looked up and she felt sure his eyes lit up with pleasure.
‘I’m going for lunch,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if you …’
‘Yeah,’ he said, standing up. ‘Let’s visit Ben Mitchell while we’re at it.’
‘Ben Mitchell?’ said Fran, surprised.
‘If Libby Warren is coming here for the weekend I don’t want any trouble. Padley’s a small place.’
‘She’s staying at William Grant’s beach house. Some guy named Simon is coming with her. She must have a boyfriend. She kept that quiet.’
Mike whistled.
‘Brave bloke to take that one on.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You think we’ve got baggage. I wouldn’t like to see the size of her suitcases.’
Fran smiled. No one could have more baggage than Mike.
‘Nice top,’ he said flippantly but Fran blushed with pleasure all the same.
*
Mike wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of fish from Ben’s truck. Rumour had it that Ben Mitchell spent more time in his truck than he needed to. People in Padley felt sorry for him. His wife was a lush, they said. Patti had become a dedicated drunk since the Owen trial. She’d drink until she passed out, sometimes with the bottle still in her hand. Everyone in Padley knew. Some said she drank to forget the baby that Ben had knocked out of her. Patti was seldom sober these days. Fran had never understood Patti standing by her man like she had. It was common knowledge that he knocked her about but she’d never reported it. During the murder trial Fran had tried to talk her into pressing charges, but she wouldn’t. A baby may have been their saving grace, but Ben just couldn’t keep his hands off her, not even then. That had been ten years ago. Patti had declined more with each year. There was a violent side to Ben Mitchell and Fran had always been suspicious of him. But after Libby had accused Ewan of the murders, Fran had to drop her enquiries into Ben, but she’d always been suspicious of him. Had Libby made a mistake? Was it possible?
Ben was sitting by his boat eating a sandwich. The smell of fish and Ben’s angry features threw Fran’s mind back to fifteen years earlier.
*
Ben Mitchell sauntered to the witness stand, his hands loosely pushed into the pockets of his jeans. He took the oath and looked up to face the barrister.
‘Please state your full name for the court.’
‘Benjamin Mitchell.’
‘Mr Mitchell, would you please tell the court what you do for a living?’
‘I’m a fisherman,’ Ben said flatly.
‘Do you know the accused, Ewan Galbreith?’
Ben’s face twitched.
‘Yes I do.’
‘Is it true that on the 15th December you went to Manstead Manor with Adam Price and Matt Broughton?’
‘I might have done.’
‘Yes or no, Mr Mitchell.’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it also true that you went with the intention of ‘giving Ewan Galbreith a good seeing to’?’
Ben frowned and looked around the court room before replying.
‘Yeah, I might have said something like that.’
‘And this ‘seeing to’ was revenge for the accused’s affair with your wife. Is that correct?’
‘They weren’t having an affair,’ snapped Ben.
‘They were having sex though, weren’t they?’
‘Yeah,’ muttered Ben.
‘So, on the afternoon of the 15th December according to Miss Owen’s testimony, you broke Mr Galbreith’s arm and caused some other minor injuries. Is that true Mr Mitchell?’
Ben sighed.
‘Yes.’
‘Isn’t it true that Mr Owen stopped this ‘seeing to’ and removed your balaclava, revealing your identity?’
‘He shouldn’t have interfered.’
‘You must have been very angry with Mr Owen. I imagine you wanted to give him a good seeing to as well …’
‘Objection.’
‘Mr Fosh, please don’t make me warn you again. Please rephrase the question.’
‘Were you angry with Mr Owen?’
‘No, I gave Ewan a warning, that’s all I wanted to do.’
‘Did you though? Didn’t you tell Adam Price that if it hadn’t have been for Mr Owen, Ewan Galbreith would have been on life support?’
‘I don’t remember saying that.’
The barrister picked up a sheet of paper.
‘I have Mr Price’s testimony here, Mr Mitchell. During his testimony he was quite emphatic that you said those words.’
‘Like I say, I don’t remember.’
‘Is it also true that you went back to Manstead Manor a week later?’
Ben chewed his lip.
‘Yeah I did. Galbreith shot at my boat. That was my fucking livelihood. The bugger knew what he was doing. Only Galbreith can shoot like that. He shouldn’t be allowed a gun.’
‘Are you sure it was the accused? Wouldn’t it have been quite difficult for him to shoot with a broken arm?’
Ben laughed.
‘That wouldn’t stop Galbreith.’
‘The housekeeper at Manstead Manor recalls you visiting on the 23rd December. Why did you visit the house on that day?’
‘It was his rifle that wrecked my boat. I figured he could pay for the repairs.’
‘Why didn’t you report the incident to the police?’
‘I …’
‘Wouldn’t that have been easier?’
‘I didn’t want everyone knowing about him and Patti.’
‘And you thought you could get some money from Mr Owen? Is that also true Mr Mitchell?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Did you get what you wanted?’
‘Yeah I did.’
‘Molly, the housekeeper, has stated that she overheard the conversation and, in her words, said that it didn’t sound like you were happy. You’ve got a temper haven’t you Mr Mitchell?’
‘Not really.’
‘Isn’t it true you sometimes lose your temper with your wife?’
‘No!’
‘Did you go back and shoot Edward and Rose Owen on New Year’s Eve?’
‘No I did not.’
‘No more questions.’
*
Present day
Ben looked up as Fran and Mike approached. He gave a cynical smile.
‘So Libby Owen comes home and everyone crawls out of the woodwork.’
‘How are you doing Ben?’ smiled Mike.
‘Not so great but thanks for asking.’
‘Who said Libby Owen has come home?’ asked Fran.
‘Rumours, you know how they travel.’
‘She’s been having a bit of trouble with someone,’ said Fran.