by Dawn Harris
Flushing bright red, I retorted, ‘It is not by choice that I suffer this condition.’
He inclined his head, studying me thoughtfully. ‘Faine, could we not forget that I am a Norman and you are Saxon?’ he pleaded huskily. ‘I think we could bring each other much happiness.’
His words left me shaken and breathless. And I turned away lest my eyes betrayed me. For my heart, which I had determined to fill with hate for him, yearned only to yield to his words. He called after me in gentle, insistent tones, ‘Have you no kind word to offer a man who may be going to his death?’
‘No!’ The mention of battle reminded me too painfully of my father and brothers. ‘You Normans have taken all that I hold dear. I can never forgive you.’
‘You still have your home,’ he pointed out harshly. And he rode off to join his waiting knights, leaving my feelings in a state of turmoil.
Wulfric, who had gone to join up with other rebels, returned some months after Robert went away. He was furious to find Robert lived. ‘William is still King,’ he said darkly. ‘But there are many rebellions. I command a large band of Saxons now, and we have killed many Normans, ambushing them in the forests. This Robert will be as easy to deal with as the rest.’
‘No!’ I cried, falling on my knees and clutching at his hand. ‘I beg you....’
‘Fear not,’ he said reassuringly, mistaking my meaning. ‘I shall be quite safe. And once the deed is done, we shall be married, as our fathers wished.’ And before I could stop him, he left.
I could no longer deny what was in my heart. It was Robert I loved. Robert was kind and tender and loving. Wulfric reminded me of the wild beasts in the forest. And, through my own foolishness, I had condemned Robert to his death. Wulfric had to be stopped.
Though my time was near, I ran as fast as I could to the men Robert had left behind to supervise the building of a castle. When I told them of the danger awaiting Robert, they laughed. ‘There’s not a Saxon alive who could outwit him.’
‘You must warn him,’ I demanded authoritatively, but as I spoke I felt the birth pains begin. My ordeal was long and hard, and I was still recovering my strength when Robert’s knights burst into the great hall. Most were spattered in blood, and my heart lurched in alarm.
‘Where is my husband?’
‘We were attacked in the forest by a band of Saxons...’
‘Wulfric,’ I groaned. And the room began to spin. He had kept his promise. Robert was lost to me for ever.
Anger saved me. It sent the blood coursing through my body again. I stamped my foot and, biting back the tears, cursed them. ‘Why did you not protect your lord?’ I accused in despair. ‘Is that not your duty? Better that you all perish than he.....’ And unable to contain my tears any longer, I turned my back on them.
‘So, my wife has not lost her spiteful tongue,’ croaked a familiar, but hoarse, voice from the doorway.
‘Robert!’ And I screamed. For he stood supported by two men, blood running freely down his face from an ugly wound in his head.
When I hurried to clasp his hands in mine, the light in his eyes set my heart fluttering wildly. ‘A narrow escape from a Saxon axe in the forest,’ he explained ruefully. ‘Just as you hoped.’ And he fainted.
Thankfully, once the wound was bathed, I saw that it was not as bad as it had appeared. I had healed worse. Indeed, when he had eaten, Robert was well enough to ask shakily, ‘The child?’
So I took him by the hand, for he walked unsteadily, and showed him his dark-haired Norman son. And a second child, with the blue eyes and flaxen hair of a Saxon. He smiled with delight and squeezed my hand. ‘It is an omen, I believe, that Normans and Saxons will grow together as brothers.’
That night, as I slipped into bed beside him, the moon bathing the room in light, he reached for my hands and mocked, ‘I have grown so used to sharp knives and harsh words, I know not how to deal with a demure wife!’ His voice suddenly grew husky and unsteady with passion, ‘But I am most eager to learn.’
HOT WATER BEACH
I arrived at Hot Water Beach one scorching Tuesday morning, on a long-promised visit to my friend, Zoe. I’d just resigned from the police force, and a nice relaxing holiday in New Zealand was exactly what I needed. But it didn’t work out like that; in fact my life was about to become very frightening indeed.
Picking up my hire car in Auckland, it took me two hours to drive to Hot Water Beach, on the east coast of the beautiful Coromandel peninsula, where spectacular mountain ranges gave way to a coastline of coves, inlets and golden beaches.
As I drew up outside Zoe’s house, she rushed out to hug me, whispering shakily, ‘Jinny, I’m so glad you’re here.’ As she’d always been pretty emotional, I wasn’t surprised to see tears in her eyes. I didn’t know then that they weren’t tears of joy.
We’d first met at Pangbourne Road infants, nearly forty years ago, and she’d remained my greatest friend ever since, even after marriage took her to New Zealand. Widowed now, she’d lived with Richard for the past six months. He stood waiting to greet me, his T-shirt and shorts showing off his tanned, muscular body to perfection. And I could see he knew it. He wasn’t my type, but Zoe loved him, and I acted accordingly.
‘Hmmm,’ I murmured appreciatively, as we stood shaking hands in the blistering sunshine. ‘Drop-dead gorgeous, just as Zoe said.’
‘Hands off,’ she said, smiling. ‘I saw him first.’
But the smile was forced, and I wondered if they’d had a row or something. Not wanting to pry, I kept it light-hearted. ‘Any food going? I’m famished.’
‘So what’s new?’ Zoe said, laughing at my legendary appetite. ‘Though where you put it all I’ll never know. You’re nothing but skin and bone.’
She was obviously trying to be cheerful, but I could hear fear in her voice, and that worried me. We went into the house, once her husband’s family home, now hers alone. A house she loved, and where she spent every spare moment. During the week, she shared Richard’s ground floor flat in Auckland, near the exclusive jewellers where they both worked.
Standing by the open patio doors, I admired Zoe’s colourful garden, and Richard informed me, ‘Zoe designed and constructed it entirely by herself.’ Teasing with practised charm, he added, ‘I’m not allowed to touch it.’
Laughing, Zoe protested, ‘Take no notice. Richard hates gardening.’
She showed me into an airy bedroom overlooking Hot Water Beach, with a view that took my breath away. A dazzlingly clear blue sea, glorious golden sands stretching way into the distance, with green hills running down to the beach. But there was far more to this beach than sheer beauty; it had an unusual feature I couldn’t wait to experience for myself. Its own hot springs.
Right now, however, I was more concerned about Zoe. When I’d spoken to her just before leaving for Heathrow, no-one could have sounded more carefree. Something had clearly happened while I was flying half way round the world. When I asked what was wrong, Zoe blinked back the tears again. ‘Jinny, I’m so scared. You will help me, won’t you?’
Greatly alarmed, I hugged her. ‘You know I will. Just tell me what’s happened.’ Before she could answer, Richard’s tall, handsome figure appeared in the open doorway.
‘Zoe, I’m taking the picnic down to the beach now.’
She smiled at him gratefully. ‘Would you, darling?’
He turned to me, oozing charm. ‘We’ll tell you the whole story there, Jinny, where it’s cooler.’ And he left, merely calling over his shoulder. ‘Don’t be long.’
I took a quick shower, changed into my best bikini and joined Zoe outside, where she was searching for the garden spade. ‘We’ll need it later, if we’re to enjoy the hot springs,’ she said. Suddenly her frown disappeared. ‘Of course, it’ll still be in Richard’s car.’ The spade was wrapped in a rug in the boot, near two sad looking shrubs. Handing me the spade, she shook the rug, which was covered in sand. ‘Richard was going to plant the shrubs at our flat in Auckland yesterday, b
ut, of course, he couldn’t----‘ And her bottom lip began to tremble again.
We sat down to a delicious cold lunch at a quiet spot on the beach and, as Richard poured the wine, he told me, ‘When I opened up the shop yesterday morning, a large number of rings were missing.’ The figure he said they were worth left me gasping. ‘And there was no sign of a break-in.’
I blinked. ‘You mean, it was an inside job?’
Richard nodded and went on, ‘Apart from myself and Zoe, there’s only one assistant. Sylvia. She did it, of course....’
Zoe blurted out, ‘But the police found one of the stolen rings here. Upstairs, in the secret drawer of my jewellery box.’ I stared at her, dumbfounded, as her voice rose hysterically, ‘I didn’t steal the rings.’
‘I know that,’ I assured her. ‘You’re the most honest person I know.’ Clearly Sylvia had tried to stitch her up. Well, no-one was going to put Zoe in jail, not while I was around. Fishing out the notepad and pen that I always carried in my bag, I urged, ‘Tell me about Sylvia.’ Police work had taught me the importance of keeping notes. Tiny details, easily forgotten, sometimes solved the toughest of crimes.
Richard answered, ‘Sylvia’s always short of money. She’s a single mother with four kids. She must have taken the rings on Saturday when we closed, and planted one in Zoe’s jewellery box on Sunday when we were at a friend’s birthday party.’
Zoe jumped in eagerly. ‘Sylvia knew about the party because she helped me buy the present.’
‘How did she get into your house?’ I asked.
‘I’ve let her use it a couple of times,’ Zoe said. ‘She could easily have had another key cut.’
Richard sipped his wine and told me, ‘The jewellery box is a line we sell in the shop, so Sylvia knows how the secret drawer works.’
‘The police questioned me for two hours yesterday, Jinny.’ Zoe’s voice wobbled alarmingly. ‘They think I did it.’ A stolen ring, hidden in a secret drawer, would make them think that. Exactly as it was meant to do.
Richard put his arm round Zoe. ‘Don’t upset yourself, darling. Jinny will find out how Sylvia did it.’ He looked at me for support and I gave it unhesitatingly. He smiled his thanks, and his expression was one of loving concern, but when I looked into his eyes, I suffered a severe shock. Over the years I’d become adept at recognising what criminals couldn’t keep out of their eyes, and what I saw in Richard’s wasn’t gratitude at all. It was smug satisfaction. And the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise.
Only two people could have framed Zoe. Sylvia. Or Richard. And innocent people had no reason to be smug. I tried another line of questioning. ‘If Sylvia came here on Sunday, the neighbours may have------‘
‘No-one saw anything,’ Richard cut in. ‘The police checked.’
Zoe’s lip quivered. ‘I’ll end up in jail. I know it,’ she whispered in a scared voice.
I pointed out that the police had their doubts or she’d be under arrest by now. When I asked where Sylvia lived, Richard gave me the address, plus a map of Auckland, and I promised to start investigating Sylvia first thing in the morning. Again Richard’s eyes registered smug satisfaction at my acceptance of Sylvia’s guilt, and my heart sank. I knew then I hadn’t been mistaken, and that Zoe was going to get badly hurt. But better that than being convicted of a crime she hadn’t committed.
Having finished his lunch, Richard picked up the garden spade and headed for the natural thermal springs that had given Hot Water Beach its name. Springs that were covered by the sea, except for an hour or two around low tide. And it was low tide now. Richard started digging near the water’s edge, and Zoe, who seemed much happier now I was taking a hand, teased, ‘You might as well finish that last piece of pavlova, Jinny.’
Eyeing it thoughtfully, I mused, ‘Well, why not?’
‘Hurry up then,’ she said, her grin still a little wobbly. ‘It’s the perfect time to enjoy Hot Water Beach.’
By the time we joined Richard, he’d dug a hole big enough for me to sit in, and he swept me a low bow. ‘Your very own spa bath awaits, Madam.’ He took my hand, squeezing it as I stepped in. He was smooth, all right. Great looks, undoubted charm, hard as nails underneath.
Zoe stood smiling. ‘All you have to do, Jinny, is wait for the water to bubble up to the surface. Only be careful, it can be really hot at first.’
Within fifteen minutes, I was lazing in naturally heated water; a blissful and unforgettable experience. I watched a wave ripple up the sand towards us and back again, my mind on the robbery. Of the property stolen, only the ring in Zoe’s jewellery box had been recovered. So where had Richard hidden the other rings? He and Zoe had left the shop together on Saturday and hadn’t been apart until he left for Auckland early Monday morning, Zoe staying behind because of my visit. The police had found nothing. But there was no such thing as the perfect crime. Richard would slip up somewhere. All I had to do was recognise it when it happened.
I left for Auckland early the following morning, with Richard’s instructions for finding Sylvia. Ignoring them, I went straight to the police. Over coffee and a plate of chocolate digestives, Detective Senior Sergeant Donald told me, in confidence, that he had no new evidence, and was still checking alibis.
‘What do you know about Richard?’ I asked.
‘No debts, no police record, pays his bills on time, been with the firm five years and is well thought of.’
I took another digestive. ‘You don’t mean to arrest Zoe, do you?’
He carefully straightened a paper clip and looked at me from under his brows. ‘I shall arrest whoever leads me to the other rings.’ Words that told me I could trust his judgement. That he knew his business and didn’t jump to obvious conclusions. I could have kissed him.
My visit to the police had been essential, but I was worried sick that, with me in Auckland, Richard would find a way to plant conclusive evidence against Zoe. I drove hotfoot back to Hot Water Beach, wishing I had some idea where to start looking for the other rings. Hoping for inspiration, I decided to read through my notes again. Spotting a sign for the Hot Water Beach summer visitors’ car park, I turned into it. I sat on the beach and went over my notes twice, but it didn’t help.
This part of the beach couldn’t be seen from Zoe’s house, and as I began to absently draw Richard’s face in the sand, I went through everything that had happened since I’d arrived. That’s when it struck me that something didn’t quite add up, but jet lag had finally caught up with me and I couldn’t think straight. Then, as I brushed the grains of sand from my fingers, I realised what it was. An incident so trivial I hadn’t included it in my notes. But it made everything so crystal clear, I rang Detective Senior Sergeant Donald on my mobile. ‘I know how it was done,’ I said. And he listened while I explained in detail.
‘Hmmm,’ he grunted. ‘Theory is all very well. What I need is proof.’
‘And you shall have it,’ I promised.
‘How?’
So I told him how and said, ‘This way you’ll recover the other rings too.’
I drove off then, found a restaurant and enjoyed a substantial meal before returning to the house. Richard wasn’t pleased to see me. ‘Shouldn’t you be watching Sylvia?’
I frowned in apparent frustration. ‘Yes, but the police are coming here first thing tomorrow,’ I said, unzipping a banana. ‘And I thought Zoe might need me.’
Zoe gulped. ‘Am I going to be arrested?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not supposed to say anything really,’ I said quietly, ‘but they intend to dig up your garden. So if you have any plants you’d like to save.......’
‘Dig up my garden?’ Zoe repeated, stricken. The garden she had designed and constructed herself, the garden Richard never touched. ‘You mean ----- they think that’s where the rings are?’
I nodded. I hated upsetting her, but this was the only way of proving her innocence. She exclaimed in obvious distress, ‘But they’ll ruin it.’ And bursting into tears, she ran
from the room. Richard went after her and when he returned some time later, he murmured wearily, ‘I persuaded her to take a sleeping pill.’
‘Good.’ I smiled at him in approval. ‘I hoped you would.’ That wasn’t all I hoped for, and sure enough, around four in the morning, when I was eating a sandwich, and beginning to despair that I’d got it all wrong, I saw Richard slip out of the house. He collected the spade resting against the garage and headed for the beach, as if he couldn’t sleep and fancied a relaxing hot pool. I would have liked one myself, but they could only be dug at low tide, and the sea was well up the beach.
Richard had taken that same garden spade on leaving for work early on Monday, ostensibly to plant shrubs at their flat. He hadn’t planted them because of the robbery. Yet, he’d obviously used the spade, as when Zoe removed it from his car boot the following day, the rug underneath was covered in sand. An incident which, as I’d explained to Sergeant Donald on the phone, I’d remembered when brushing sand from my fingers on the beach.
‘Are you suggesting he buried the rings in the sand?’ he’d demanded.
‘Why not?’ I said. ‘There’s acres of it. I think he stopped at the big summer visitors’ car park on his way back from Auckland, knowing no-one would look twice at a man carrying a spade on Hot Water Beach.’
The only person I could see moving on the beach was Richard. The police were well hidden. Greed sometimes made people do terrible things. Richard was prepared to put the woman he professed to love in jail. And tomorrow’s garden search offered him the chance to plant what would be accepted as conclusive proof of Zoe’s guilt. But first he had to collect that evidence. When he did so, Sergeant Donald would recover all the rings. And I smiled at the thought. Well, I had promised.