by Lynda Renham
Chapter Sixty-Four
Fifteen years earlier
Ewan held the bible in his hand and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. He handed the bible back and lifted his head.
‘Would you please state your name for the court?’
‘Ewan Michael Galbreith.’
‘Mr Galbreith, what was your job on the Manstead estate?’
‘I was gamekeeper for Edward and Rose Owen.’
His voice faltered over Rose Owen’s name and there was a murmur from the jury.
‘Can you tell us exactly what being a gamekeeper involves?’
‘I take care of the land, I’m in charge of the gardeners and I make sure the wildlife doesn’t get out of control. I organise shooting events and hunting parties. I also did other jobs for Mr Owen.’
‘How long had you been gamekeeper for the Owens.’
‘Six years. I began working on the estate when I was eighteen.’
‘We’ve heard evidence during this trial of your skill as a marksman. Would you agree with that? Are you an excellent shot with a gun?’
‘Yes, I would agree with that,’ said Ewan without hesitation. ’I am a certified marksman.’
‘Some say you never miss your target. Would you agree with that?’
‘Yes, I guess I would. It’s better for the animals if it is a clean kill.’
‘Do you like killing things Mr Galbreith?’
‘Objection.’
‘The witness may answer the question.’
‘No I don’t. I love animals. It’s sometimes necessary though.’
‘So you worked six years on the estate. Did you always see eye to eye with Edward Owen?’
‘No not always. I respected him though.’
‘Mr Galbreith, did you take rifles from the Edward Owen’s gun room for uses other than hunting?’
‘A couple of times.’
‘Did Edward Owen give his permission for this?’
‘Not always.’
‘Did you use one of Edward Owen’s rifles to shoot at Ben Mitchell’s boat?’
‘Yes I did.’
‘Did it ever occur to you that you could have hit one or more of the men on the boat?’
‘No, my intention was to shoot the boat.’
‘So you took guns from the gun room when you shouldn’t have?’
Ewan hesitated.
‘Yes.’
‘Did you threaten Patrick O’Leary with a rifle?’
Ewan’s jaw twitched.
‘It wasn’t loaded.’
‘How many other times have you taken rifles without Mr Owen’s consent?’
‘A few times, he would turn a blind eye to it.’
‘Was Edward Owen a bit soft with you, Mr Galbreith?’
Ewan cracked his knuckles.
‘We had a mutual respect for each other. I liked him.’
‘Not many people did, did they?’
‘He had his fair share of enemies.’
‘But you weren’t one of them?’
‘No, I wasn’t. He was harsh and thoughtless sometimes, but he would listen.’
‘But on the evening of the 31st December you were overheard telling Edward Owen that you’d like to take a shotgun to him.’
‘It wasn’t how it sounds.’
‘How was it then Mr Galbreith?’
Chapter Sixty-Five
Present day
Libby
‘We’ll see you in a couple of hours,’ says Caroline, hugging me.
I watch them walk up the steps and then close the door. Simon is standing by the French doors looking out to the beach.
‘It’s beautiful here isn’t it?’ I say.
‘Yes it is,’ he smiles.
He looks into my eyes and for a second I feel lost in his.
‘Which is my room?’ he says, jolting me out of the dream.
‘Oh yes, of course, let me show you.’
I lead him to the second bedroom. It’s bright and cheerful like the rest of the house.
‘It’s got its own bathroom,’ I say shyly.
‘Great, I think I’ll take a shower.’
‘Right,’ I say uncertainly, stepping out of the room.
I hear the lock click behind me. I look at the French doors and debate whether to lock them too. I decide to play safe, at least until Simon comes back. A few minutes later I hear the shower running and walk into my room to unpack my case. I stupidly can’t stop my hands from shaking. Just the smell of the seaweed has evoked so many memories. It all seems so long ago now. We were young then. Invincible, I’d thought. I ought to visit Uncle Edward and Aunty Rose’s grave. But what if someone sees me? They’ll know I am Libby Owen. Who else would visit their grave? I can’t risk it. I’ll be too vulnerable. I’d be a perfect target for Ewan.
My phone bleeps. My heart races and my hand shakes even more. It’s most likely harmless. Just another email or a text from Donna checking I have arrived okay. I can’t have a panic attack every time it bleeps. I look at the screen. It’s a text from Fran.
Have you arrived?
I send a reply letting her know that I’m at the beach house.
Keep in touch she replies.
Has Ewan now read those messages? If so, then I have just told him where to find me. Maybe now he’ll come. I’m ready for him. I’m almost hoping he will come. I want it over. I want my life back once and for all.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Fifteen years earlier
Libby was shivering on the bench. He was late. Lil had been a fucking pain. Kept saying she’d top herself if he left her.
‘What if the farmer comes?’ she kept repeating.
‘We’re off his land. He won’t come after us now,’ he had assured her.
‘But the caravan Pat, it’s a fucking burnt-out mess. He’s going to be pissed when he sees it.’
He pulled her hand from his arm.
‘I’ve got to go out Lil. There’s this guy who owes me money. It’s the only night he can meet up. We need the money, you know that. I’m as sick as fuck about the caravan too but what could I do? The bugger won’t come. He’s got us off his land, that’s all he wanted. They don’t fucking shoot people you stupid bitch.’
He’d got a slap across the face for that.
‘Fuck off,’ she’d screamed.
It had worked anyway. But he was nearly an hour late and Libby was almost blue with cold when he got to her. She was wearing a skimpy little dress with a cropped cardigan over the top. It must be minus three. He pulled his coat off and threw it around her shoulders. She jumped and turned to face him.
‘Pat,’ she said through chattering teeth.
‘I’m sorry baby. I got held up. I had a bit of trouble with the farmer on that field with the caravan.’
She pulled the coat around her and pushed her icy hands into the pockets.
‘Come on. I’ll get a bottle of something to warm us up.’
Libby grabbed his hand and said,
‘I brought some whisky.’
‘You’re a star, do you know that?’ he smiled.
‘Pat,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘Why don’t we get a room at one of those B&Bs? It will be much warmer.’
Patrick hesitated. He couldn’t afford a room for a start, but he knew if they did get one he’d have trouble getting away. Libby would want him to stay the night and he couldn’t do that.
‘I don’t know babe,’ he said. ‘It’s an expense and …’
‘I’ll pay,’ said Libby eagerly.
‘I can’t stay the night babe, you know that?’
‘I know.’
It would be warmer. This fucking weather was doing him in. He’d be glad to get back to Australia. At least the weather was bloody decent.
‘Alright, let’s do it,’ he smiled.
But it was difficult to find a B&B where the owners didn’t know Libby. They ended up in a dive just outside Padley, but it was warm and the bed was soft, and Libby was mo
re than willing to do anything he asked in a warm cosy bed. He was beginning to find her a bit much. She was insatiable. He couldn’t always get it up for her. Even her warm lips couldn’t arouse his tired cock.
‘I can’t baby,’ he said.
Libby smiled and sat up to pour whisky into their glasses.
‘Your breath will smell when you go home,’ he said.
‘I don’t care. I told them I was out with my mates tonight.’
He took a long slug of whisky and laid back.
‘Pat,’ Libby said hesitantly. ‘When I’m eighteen I get my inheritance from my parents.’
Pat’s ears pricked up.
‘I didn’t know you had an inheritance.’
Libby nodded.
‘My parents were rich. I don’t remember much about them. I was only seven when they were killed in a car accident. The car caught fire. I only know what my aunt tells me. That my dad was in property like his brother Uncle Edward and that everything they owned I’ll inherit when I’m eighteen. I was thinking. I could come to Australia. I’ll have the air fare then easily and …’
Patrick sat up. Christ, she had to be joking? He didn’t want her on his heels when he got back home.
‘Look babe, that’s horrible about your parents and that but …’
‘You could leave Lil and we could go together …’
‘Libby,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m leaving for Oz in a week. I …’
‘What?’ she said surprised. ‘I didn’t think you were going yet. I thought when your visa ran out. That’s another month yet.’
‘Look Libby, it’s been great and everything but … the thing is your uncle has threatened to tell the police about us and …’
Libby’s eyes widened.
‘When?’
‘A few days back. It was your uncle or that Scottish bastard that told the farmer. I like you Libby and we’ve had some laughs, haven’t we?’
‘I love you,’ said Libby, tears pricking her eyelids.
‘Come on babe, you knew I was married. I’ve got kids. I’ve got responsibilities.’
‘What about me?’ she pouted.
‘You’re going to be eighteen soon. Like you said, you’ll get your inheritance. There will be tons of men coming after you.’
‘I want you,’ she said.
He sighed.
‘It’s not going to happen Libby. It’s not …’
‘You can just fuck off then,’ she said her fists pummelling his chest.
‘Jesus Libby, calm down.’
‘Get out. I hate you.’
‘Libby.’
‘I’ll tell Uncle Edward you raped me.’
He grabbed her by the throat, careful not to squeeze too tight.
‘No, you won’t. I’m leaving here and you won’t do anything. Do you hear me?’
‘I’m only seventeen. You could get into trouble for what you’ve been doing to me.’
Patrick’s heart pounded. Christ, what had he got himself into?
He released Libby and climbed from the bed.
‘I’ll think about Australia,’ he lied.
‘Really?’ Libby said, calming down. ‘You will? I’ll have my inheritance. We’ll be able to buy a nice house and everything.’
‘Great, let me think about it. I ought to get back.’
‘I love you,’ she said. ‘Can we spend New Year together?’
‘I’m not sure babe. I promised the kids … you know how it is.’
She pulled a face.
‘But New Year’s Day,’ he said to console her.
He wouldn’t be here on New Year’s Day. The sooner he got on a flight to Australia the better. He’d need money. He’d tell Owen that Libby was getting demanding and that she wouldn’t leave him alone. Christ, he couldn’t stay here. It was getting out of control. Stupid bastard, that’s what he was; thinking with his cock instead of his brain. Jesus, he could lose his kids.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he said bluntly.
‘I’ll see you New Year’s Day,’ Libby said.
He felt trapped. If Owen didn’t give him the money then he was fucked. He needed to get away from Libby Owen as soon as possible.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Present day
Fran pulled off her thin cardigan and stood under the fan in the probation office. It was stifling and the water dispenser was empty.
‘Hello, Inspector Marshall?’
Fran turned to a fresh-faced lad who couldn’t be more than twenty.
‘Hi, I’m waiting for Rob Jackson.’
He smiled and held out his hand.
‘I’m Rob.’
Fran tried to hide her surprise.
‘You’re Rob Jackson? Ewan Galbreith’s probation officer?’
‘That’s me. Can I get you some water? I’m sorry about the fan. The air con isn’t working and this was the best I could get.’
‘Water would be great.’
Christ, thought Fran, either they’re getting younger or I’m getting older. He returned with two bottles of Perrier, handed her one and then pulled out a chair for her.
‘How can I help?’
‘Ewan Galbreith. I can’t seem to get hold of him.’
‘I don’t really know how I can help you. He reports when he should.’
‘He phoned in sick at work …’
‘That’s not a crime.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ she said impatiently, standing up.
The weather was making her irritable.
‘You know he’s working in London?’
‘Yes, he told me.’
‘Do you have any idea where I could find him?’
Rob looked thoughtful.
‘He could be at one of his theatre workshops,’ he said thoughtfully.’
‘Theatre workshops?’ said Fran. ‘I wouldn’t have thought Ewan was the theatre type.’
Rob smiled.
‘You’d be surprised what type people become when they are in prison. He became very interested. He completed a diploma course in stage make-up. Prison can open up new worlds for people.’
Fran’s eyes widened.
‘You’re telling me. Thanks a lot.’
Fran left the stifling office and walked out into the fresh air. Who’d have thought it? Ewan Galbreith into stage make-up. Now that was a first.
*
Libby
Simon strolls out of the bathroom. His hair is damp from the shower and his glasses slightly steamed up. He looks at the French doors and then to me.
‘Are you happy to have them open if I’m here?’
I nod, although I’m not happy about having them open at all. Simon is nice. I like him but he’s no match for Ewan. I watch as he fumbles with the doors and steps out. The cool air drifts in and I’m grateful.
‘I’m making tea,’ I say, ‘would you like some?’
‘Great,’ he smiles. ‘I’m just going to wander down to the beach.’
‘Oh,’ I say.
It seems a bit thoughtless to open the doors and then leave me alone. I’m being paranoid again. I know I am. He hasn’t come here to be my bodyguard. I should have brought Grant if I wanted that.
‘It’s fine,’ I say.
‘Be back in a bit.’
I pop teabags into the mugs and wait for the kettle to boil. My eyes travel around the beach house and land on Simon’s open bedroom door. I clench my fists and turn back to the kettle. It would be wrong of me go into his room. The kettle clicks, and I pour the hot water onto the teabags. I can see Simon from the window. He’s strolling towards the sea. He’s relaxed and carefree. It’s how I’d like to be. I sigh and pick up my mug. My eyes again drift to Simon’s room and I walk slowly towards it, one eye on him as he looks out to sea. I peek around the door. His suitcase is empty. Everything has been neatly packed away it seems. The dressing table has his phone charger and toiletries bag on it. A wallet sits by the charger. I feel myself pulled into the room. It smells of his aftershave. The blue shirt
he was wearing earlier has been neatly folded over a chair. I have an overwhelming urge to smell it, to hold it close to me. I step into the room just as my phone bleeps. I turn to go back to the kitchen and freeze as a shadow passes by the window.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Fifteen years earlier
‘Mr Cook, you’re the landlord of The Crown public house, is that correct?’
Luke nodded.
‘Yes I am.’
‘I imagine on the evening of the 31st December last year you were very busy?’
‘We’re always busy on a New Year’s Eve, but yes, that was busier than other years.’
‘And yet you can recall Mr Galbreith’s words that night?’
‘Yes I can. He was upset and Ewan didn’t often get upset.’
‘What was he upset about?’
‘One of the horses at Manstead Manor, it had been sick for a few days.’
‘This was Princess?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was the time when Mr Galbreith came to the pub that evening?’
Luke frowned.
‘I can’t be sure of the time. It was sometime around ten, maybe a bit before. He’d been in earlier for a pint. He was a bit upset then. The medication for the horse wasn’t working and he’d called the vet.’
‘So he left earlier in the evening to go back to Manstead Manor?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell us what happened when he returned.’
Luke glanced at Ewan who sat stony-faced.
‘He was distraught, couldn’t get anything out of him at first.’
‘Was Mr Galbreith distraught or angry, Mr Cook?’
‘Both. He was angry and upset.’
‘And you had time to notice this with the pub being really busy.’
Luke jutted out his chin.
‘Yes, I have time for my regular patrons and Ewan wasn’t just a regular, he was a friend.’
‘Had you often seen Mr Galbreith angry?’
‘No more than any other man.’