Different Genes

  Mrs Simms naturally turned to Louise for guidance, when she was in Battle. “It’s so lovely to see a woman’s touch in the house, Mr Ellis.”

  Simon was aware of the implicit sexism, but was nevertheless more than happy to delegate his domestic arrangements to Louise. He had spent all of his married life with the household decisions arranged by his (now) ex-wife. He was a very willing helper, but too set in his ways to adjust easily to a more contemporary equal sharing of responsibility.

  Louise aimed to have the Fairlight bungalow on the market before Christmas. She approached Philip at Sussex Estates, and he was happy to offer her the promised discount. Louise then divided her time between making the final arrangements for the sale of the bungalow and ensuring that her first Christmas in Battle was a success. She painted three original watercolours, one each for Joe, Oliver and Simon, and for herself an outside view of the studio in Robertsbridge. She discovered that her father’s share of the farm which had been left in trust to Joan was worth far more than anticipated. It seemed likely that her final inheritance from her mother would give her financial equality with Simon.

  Simon bided his time. He wanted to sell his house in Battle and jointly purchase a home with Louise. He wanted to confirm their relationship in a legal contract. If Louise was willing, he would marry her. In the meantime, he spent his spare time searching the internet for more information about Ruby. Eventually, frustrated by his lack of progress and, with Louise’s agreement, he paid an adoption search agency to take on the task. Louise and Simon had already decided to delay their return to Rochester until early in the new year, so there was no need to hurry.

  Shortly before Christmas, Simon and Louise installed themselves back in Battle for their festive fortnight. Louise had persuaded Simon to let her take charge of decorating his house for Christmas. Louise enjoyed anything creative, but she used pleasing Sophie as an excuse. She also now had a buyer for the bungalow and an exchange of contracts was imminent, so she wanted a distraction.

  “I can’t believe it’s almost sold,” said Louise. “It’s the end of an era.”

  “Are you sure you have taken everything you want from the bungalow, Lou? Nothing of sentimental value left? Did you recheck the loft?”

  Louise admitted to Simon that she had not entered the loft since the week after the funeral, but she was sure there was nothing there. On Christmas Eve afternoon, Louise returned to Robertsbridge to drop off a few Christmas cards, collect an extra box of decorations, and grab a few more paints to add some last finishing touches to her painting for Simon. After she had left, Simon secretly took one set of the keys to Fairlight from their assigned drawer and drove to the bungalow to make a final check of the loft. He imagined how pleased Louise would be, if he discovered an extra photograph or something else of significance.

  Bob had watched Louise’s earlier departure from Robertsbridge. He decided that the Christmas period would be an ideal time to examine her studio in her absence. He still wondered if Joan had left any evidence of her financial dealings with him. He didn’t want to give the police an excuse to search his home in Hastings. In the meantime, having spotted the ‘under offer’ sign on Joan’s bungalow, Bob drove to Fairlight for a final look. He had not dared to break in again, since the police had been called.

  When Bob arrived on Christmas Eve, it was almost dusk. Simon’s car was parked outside the bungalow. The front door was ajar, and Bob pushed it open. He hobbled into the hallway. The retractable loft steps were underneath the loft hatch. Bob could see the flicker of a torch and hear Simon’s feet in the attic. Simon heard the sound of uneven steps coming from the hallway and called out, “Hello. Is someone there?” Bob steadied himself on the hall table and pushed the ladder back up with all his strength towards the loft. He inhaled deeply and with one final thrust swung the hatch upwards. It automatically locked shut behind the ladder. Exhausted and in pain, Bob leaned against the wall to recover. He could hear Simon’s voice calling out. The voice became fainter as Bob picked up Joan’s new house keys from the hall table and hobbled towards the front entrance. He locked the door on his way out and drove straight to Robertsbridge, parking around the back of the studio. He let himself in with his newly acquired key and hobbled very slowly and painfully up the stairs.

  Louise had parked in the High Street, and walked round to the Studio after delivering her cards. She noticed that the outer door was open, and assumed that Doreen had forgotten to lock it. She used her key to unlock the inner door. Unaware of any intrusion, Louise switched on the stairwell light, and climbed straight up to the studio turning on lights, as she went. Bob had no time to hide. He stood and stared at her, when she entered the studio.

  “Bob, what are you doing here?”

  He thought quickly.

  “I had a Christmas card for you. Doreen lent me the key.”

  “That’s nice, Bob, though I’m surprised she let you in. How on earth did you manage the stairs? Where is the card then?”

  Bob moved past Louise towards the studio door, “I dropped it.”

  Louise became suspicious “I thought Frank said Doreen had lost my key.”

  Bob stepped unsteadily backwards into the upper lobby. He lost his footing and tumbled down the steep staircase. When his crumpled body reached the lower landing, it was motionless.

  Louise hurried down the steps towards Bob. She knelt beside him and listened. He was breathing, but unconscious. She took the mobile phone from her pocket and dialled 999.

  “Yes, he is breathing. No, he is not conscious. No, I can’t see any blood. Yes, I do know him, but I think he stole the keys to my flat and let himself in.” The call centre operator insisted that Louise kept the phone line open, until the ambulance arrived. She stepped over Bob, descended to the ground floor and unlocked the inner door. Eventually two paramedics let themselves in. They checked his vital signs and brought a specialist stretcher chair from the ambulance. Within half an hour, Bob was on his way to the Conquest Hospital in Hastings. Louise rang Simon’s mobile, but there was no reply.

  “Why don’t you answer, when I need you?”

  She locked the flat and drove back to Battle. The house was empty. Simon was still not answering his mobile phone. Perhaps he had gone for a drink with Joe. She mustn’t appear to be too pushy. Louise decided to wait for at least two hours before contacting Joe.

  Simon had not heard Bob enter the bungalow in Fairlight. He had been busy searching through the empty loft area with his torch. He heard a noise in the hallway and looked down through the hatch. He just caught a glimpse of Bob’s face, before the hatch was bolted from the outside. He tried to leave the loft, but realised he was locked in. He put his hand through the metal rungs of the ladder and banged repeatedly at the heavy duty hatch, but it would not move. He searched in his pocket for his mobile phone, and realised he had left it in the car. Darkness had fallen, and the loft light wasn’t working. Simon was totally reliant on his torch. He noticed the brightness was diminishing, and guessed the battery was low. He turned the torch off and on again and the light faded, before disappearing altogether. Simon’s watch was backlit, but provided no more than a very faint glow. He kept pressing the button to check the time. Surely someone would miss him, but how would they know he was here? There was no window in the loft, and without a light he could see very little. His eyes did not adjust to the darkness. The floor was only partially boarded. It was almost impossible for Simon to keep his balance on the batons in the dark. He decided not to move around. He would need to wait until the morning, when he expected that a small amount of light would penetrate gaps in the tiles. At 9 pm, he made a pillow from his coat and hoped the temperature would not drop too low. He tried to sleep.

  At 9 pm Louise rang Simon’s mobile for a final time. It went to ansaphone. Louise rang Joe. Simon wasn’t there, and Joe had not heard from him.

  “I’ll ring Oliver and ge
t back to you.”

  By 10 pm they had contacted everyone they could think of, but without success. Joe left Caroline and Sophie at home and walked round to Simon’s house.

  “I’ll ring the police and see if we can report Dad missing. Have you rung the hospitals?”

  “I am not next of kin, Joe. No one will speak to me.”

  “You’re on coffee duty then, while I make the calls.”

  No-one had any news to help them. Joe rang Caroline.

  “Dad seems to have disappeared. Would you mind if I stayed here tonight, in case he makes contact. Tell Sophie I will be back early tomorrow morning. Yes, I know tomorrow is Christmas Day. I promise I will be back early.”

  “You might as well go to bed, Louise. I’ll sleep in the spare room. We can’t do anything else tonight. If you think of anything at all, write it down, and we can discuss it tomorrow morning.” Louise was struck by how much Joe resembled Simon. She slept hardly at all. Her thoughts were so confused that she could make no sense of her worries. At 4 am Louise went downstairs to make coffee. She was shortly joined by Joe. “Happy Christmas, Louise.”

  “And to you, Joe.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Not at all. You?”

  “Me neither.”

  “What on earth are we going to do?” asked Joe.

  Joe’s presence helped Louise to be brave, “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Joe thought for a while and then said, “I want you to tell me again everything you did yesterday.”

  Louise retraced her steps in detail for Joe, her journey to Robertsbridge, finding Bob, the accident.”

  “And Dad’s car isn’t here, so he must have gone somewhere. Tell me everything you can about Bob. Perhaps there is a connection.”

  As Louise began to talk about Bob, she was struck by how much of it was odd, Bob’s arrival at Fairlight after the initial break-in, the unexplained payment of £25,000, Bob’s appearance at her flat yesterday. “I need to tell you something else, Joe, but I’ve not told your dad, so I’d rather you kept it to yourself. When I was eleven, Bob kept trying to hug me. That’s why I refused to play with him any more.”

  “Do you mean… oh you know… touching you? Sorry, I have to ask.”

  “No, Joe, it wasn’t abuse, just a bit over the top, creepy.”

  “How old was he at the time?”

  “About nineteen, I think.”

  “Good thing you kept him at a distance. I do understand why you didn’t tell Dad.”

  “So what should we do?”

  “Do you know where Bob lives?”

  “In Hastings, but he’s in hospital.”

  “Where is his car?”

  “Somewhere in Robertsbridge, I suppose.”

  “Come on let’s go and find it. If Dad wants to make contact, he has your mobile number. It’s better that we do something, anything, I think. I’ll phone Caroline.”

  Joe walked into another room, and Louise heard muffled voices. He returned a few minutes later. “Wrap up warm, it’s cold.”

  The early winter sun had not begun to rise, and the roads were icy. Joe climbed into Louise’s car, and she drove carefully to Robertsbridge. Bob’s car was parked behind her flat.

  “How stupid! I never checked for his car after the ambulance left,” Louise confessed.

  “We’d better stay together,” instructed Joe, as they climbed the stairs to the studio. Louise noticed scratches on the walls where Bob had fallen. Joe searched around Louise’s flat for clues, but found nothing relevant. They returned to Bob’s car and looked through the window. Joe saw an air freshener, a daily newspaper, and, on the passenger seat, an envelope from Sussex Estates. Louise stared at the envelope.

  “That’s the agent who is selling my mother’s bungalow.”

  Thirty

  Simon Reappears

  Joe and Louise climbed back into her car, and she started to drive to Fairlight. She turned off to Battle.

  “Where are you going?” asked Joe.

  “I need the bungalow house key. There are two sets in Simon’s desk.”

  Joe rang Caroline again, while Louise found the key.

  “No, of course you can’t come with us. You can’t leave Sophie, and she certainly can’t come. Yes, I will take care, and, yes, I will look after Louise. I love you too.”

  Louise waited for Joe to finish.

  “One set of keys to the bungalow is missing. We need to hurry.”

  Joe offered to drive Louise’s car, but she refused. She drove as fast as she could.

  They arrived at Joan’s bungalow at 7.30 am. Coloured lights were flashing in the windows of neighbouring properties to welcome the start of Christmas Day. Simon’s car was in the drive.

  “I’m nervous Joe. What are we going to find? Should we ring the police?”

  “Let’s just go in. It will save time.”

  Joe picked up his phone. “I’m going to ring Caroline first.” He keyed in his home number. “Hello darling, we’re in Fairlight. We have found Dad’s car. If I don’t ring back in fifteen minutes, ring the police. Love to Sophie,” Joe finished the call quickly. Louise could only imagine the panic that Caroline must be feeling.

  As they entered the bungalow, they could hear a loud banging noise. It was coming from the lounge. Joe stepped in front of Louise and they both stared into the room. A shower of plaster was falling from a hole in the ceiling. There was a loud crack, and Simon’s feet appeared through the hole. Joe rushed towards his father and helped to steady the rest of his body as it dropped towards the lounge floor. They both fell in slow motion on to the patterned carpet. Simon’s hair was full of dust. Father and son sat up together apparently unharmed. Simon wiped the debris from his face and spoke, “You two took your time.”

  Louise burst into tears, “We didn’t know where you were.”

  “Some bloke locked me in the loft. I hope he’s gone.”

  “Oh yes, he’s gone,” uttered Louise through her sobs.

  “How can you be sure?” asked Simon.

  “We’re sure,” laughed Joe, “Because he’s in hospital. Your nutty girlfriend frightened him so much that he fell down the stairs. Happy Christmas, Dad!”

  There was no milk in the bungalow, so Louise made three black coffees, while Joe rang Caroline. Simon went out to his car, found his phone, and rang the police.

  “They have agreed to interview us later today in Battle.”

  Simon gave Joe his car keys, and Louise drove Simon back to Battle. By lunchtime they were all sitting round the Christmas dinner table at Joe and Caroline’s. The police phoned during the afternoon to say they would be round in the evening on Christmas Day to interview Simon and Louise. Apparently, Bob was still unconscious, but, as a precaution, the police had put him under arrest with a police guard, pending further investigations. Christmas would delay matters, but they would obtain a search warrant for Bob’s house as soon as possible.

  “Better bake more mince pies, Caroline,” chuckled Joe. “We have extra visitors on the way.”

  By the time Oliver arrived, Simon and Louise were sat by the Christmas tree being interviewed by CID.

  “I knew she was trouble,” remarked Olivier amiably looking towards Louise.

  “From what you have told us,” explained the police, “We do think he might be dangerous. Now there is stalking legislation in place, we have more options to detain him. While he is unconscious, he is no risk, but it also means we can’t interview him. We just want to advise you to take reasonable precautions for your safety. Try to stay together. No more secret excursions to lofts.”

  The police took the spare set of keys to Joan’s bungalow so they could organise a forensic examination of the loft hatch. They also asked Louise if they could interview her at Roberts
bridge, just in case Bob claimed that Louise had pushed him down the stairs.

  “You are not to worry about this, Mrs Watson. The hospital staff have said his injuries indicated a fall, and we already have a lot of evidence against him.”

  Once the police had left, Joe poured everyone a large drink, and Sophie persuaded Louise to play a game of her new giant Jenga. When the blocks crashed to the floor, Simon glanced at Sophie.

  ”You’ve chosen the right game, Sophie, Louise is an expert at sending things tumbling.”

  “Well at least I don’t make holes in people’s ceilings,” retorted Louise.

  “What on earth are you two going to do with yourselves when this is over? Your lives will seem very dull,” added Joe.

  “Suddenly the word ‘dull’ is very appealing, Joe,” observed Louise.

  Once it was after Sophie’s bedtime, Simon and Louise walked back to Simon’s house. A Christmas chill added sparkle to the pavements. They could see a couple sitting together through the window of one of the houses in Simon’s road.

  “Maybe next year that will be us,” said Simon hopefully.

  “I seriously thought I might have frightened you off,” admitted Louise.

  “Oh no, you’ve totally trapped me. I am obliged to stay with you now. You are not safe to be left alone.”

  “How on earth did you stay warm in the loft overnight?”

  “It was bloody freezing, Lou. I kept moving my legs to try and keep my circulation going. It was lucky you’d left the heating on low. That probably saved me from hypothermia. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it in front of Sophie, but I was very scared. I thought Bob might come back, though of course, I didn’t know it was Bob. As soon as the morning light began to appear through the roof tiles. I started to make a hole in the floor. I used one of the roof batons. I’m sorry about the damage, Louise.”

  “As if I care about that. I feel so guilty. If I had been more suspicious of Bob, this might have been avoided.”