by Rebecca Tope
‘But if he’d seen it happen, why didn’t he go straight to the police when he realised they were in the woods investigating something terribly serious?’ Thea knew she was meant to keep quiet, but the questions exploded out of her, beyond her control. ‘And you came to Thistledown late that same afternoon. What was that all about?’
Jenny made an awkward shrug. ‘Smokescreen. I wanted us both to seem ordinary and innocent. Of course, he’d realised by then that it was Melissa, and he was trying to behave normally with me, as well. He was already in meltdown, though. He’d seen me more or less where it happened, and something gave him the idea that I might have found out about him and the girl. I don’t know what that could have been.’ She swallowed painfully, putting a hand to her stomach, turning her face into a cushion for a few moments, before turning back again.
‘When we were coming back here from that visit to you, he told me. He said, “It must have been you. I saw you,” and then he ran off somewhere. I never saw him again.’
Fresh sobs racked her, and for the first time Thea remembered that she was probably pregnant. If she lost the baby as well, that would be a horrifying threefold loss for a woman who had acted out of the most classic and predictable emotion of them all.
‘You have to say it,’ Gladwin pressed her. ‘Get it over with.’
Jenny looked up, her face completely ravaged. ‘All right! I strangled that girl in the woods, and left her there, for Reuben to find. I wanted him to find her. They used to meet there, in that hide. He would have gone there to look for her. Except he didn’t. I still don’t know why.’
‘Perhaps he came back here to watch for her from the window? Didn’t you think of that?’
‘He was supposed to be at the pub. And Priscilla was going to vouch for me. I was only out for about fifteen minutes. I left Blodwen here …’ The sobs escalated, making her words barely audible. ‘Poor darling Blodwen. Priscilla says she died instantly, but I can’t bear it. She was so sweet. She was my only true friend.’
Thea began to feel sick with pity. It swirled inside her like porridge, heavy and thick. ‘She did die quickly,’ she said. ‘She was shocked, but not in any pain.’
Jenny tried to focus her blurred eyes on Thea’s face. ‘How do you know?’
‘I was there. She died in my lap.’
Jenny sniffed and said nothing, but she gave Thea a despairing look.
‘All right,’ said Gladwin. ‘I think that’s enough. Mrs Hardy, will you please come with me? I have a car waiting … or I will have in a few moments. Mr Padgett, you’re free to go for the time being, but I’ll need you again, so don’t go missing, will you? Thea, you’ll almost certainly be needed as a witness at some point.’
‘But she’s confessed, hasn’t she? There won’t be much of a trial.’
‘Let’s hope not. Even so … you might be needed.’
‘She’s pregnant, you know,’ Thea said in a whisper. ‘Apparently.’
Gladwin wiped her brow in a masculine gesture. ‘Oh, God! How do you know that?’
‘Her friend Priscilla told me. I suppose it might not be true.’
Jenny remained on the settee, looking drained of all emotion. ‘It went completely wrong, you see,’ she muttered, almost to herself. ‘I thought Reuben would come back to me, and we’d have the dog and the baby, and perhaps move away, closer to his work, and it would all be fine, without that Melissa seducing him away. It was easy enough to kill her.’ She looked up and gave a ghastly smile. ‘I used the strap of her bag to do it. It was already on her shoulder. All I had to do was loop it over and pull it tight. When you hate someone as much as I did – it was really very easy.’
‘Mrs Hardy … Jenny … you’ll need to see a doctor,’ said Gladwin.
‘Oh Christ,’ said Jason, who had retreated to the edge of the room. ‘She’s bleeding, look.’
Jenny’s pale blue trousers were tight around her groin, which was visible as she half lay on the settee. A purple stain was spreading as they watched. Thea realised that Gladwin had already seen it. ‘Oh, no!’ she cried. ‘We have to call an ambulance.’
‘I don’t care,’ Jenny moaned. ‘Why would I want it now? They wouldn’t let me keep it anyway, would they? Not in prison.’
The unorthodox interview was plainly concluded. Gladwin called Jeremy to go and fetch the car and summon an ambulance. ‘Threatened miscarriage,’ she said. ‘Just to complicate everything.’
Thea had only a few more questions, and she knew they would have to wait, perhaps for ever. She could phone Gladwin in a few days, when the paperwork had been done and all the statements taken. For the time being, she left them to it, dragging herself miserably back to Thistledown the long way. She didn’t think she could face going through Oliver’s woods again. Winchcombe’s main street was quiet, a knot of people clustered outside the big Methodist chapel the only sign of activity. Nobody took any notice of her, as she passed the Plaisterers Arms and turned down Vineyard Street. She would leave soon – perhaps the next day. Oliver would be coming back, his own private anguish lanced, or so she hoped. The death of his young sister was a fresh sorrow, of course. He would miss her visits and the sense of being of use to her. But in some complex way, it might give him some comfort, or at least a validation of his solitary life. See what happens when you get involved, he might think.
But Thea could not rid herself of the memory of that girl, so blithe and sure of herself. A girl who drove a white van, moving from town to town in it, helping people with their disasters, listening to their tales of fire and flood and loss. A girl who was never supposed to have been born, but who had earned her brief place in the world, and had not deserved to leave it so soon.
Epilogue
Four people gathered at Richard Johnstone’s grave, the following Saturday. ‘Funny place to meet, I know,’ said Thea. ‘But oddly appropriate, I suppose. Mum, Fraser, this is Drew. He’s my friend.’
Fraser reached out and shook Drew’s hand, with a melancholy smile. Maureen gave him a little pat on the arm. ‘So pleased to meet you,’ she said.
‘So I missed the whole Winchcombe story,’ said Drew. ‘I still don’t quite understand what happened.’
‘It’s simple enough,’ Thea said. ‘Jealous wife kills husband’s girlfriend. But husband happens to see her on the way to doing it, and can’t take the consequences, so kills himself.’
‘But there’s a lot I still don’t understand,’ complained her mother. ‘How could they possibly have seemed so normal on Sunday evening, knowing what they knew? She’d done a murder, and he’d found out about it. Nobody could behave as they did, after that.’
‘They were doing it for each other,’ Thea explained. ‘She had no idea that he’d been watching from the window. And he didn’t know that she knew about his affair with Melissa. So they were both fighting to keep everything as usual, hoping to keep each other in the dark, and they were sort of practising on us. And they wanted to check up, probably, on how much the police had discovered. They thought we might tell them.’
‘So how did he work it out?’
‘Must have been something she said or did. Or he couldn’t deceive himself any longer. After all, he knew she was out somewhere, leaving him alone in the flat. Any fool could have worked it out eventually.’
‘So what was on that memory stick?’ Drew asked. ‘That seemed like the biggest clue of them all to me. I’ve been desperately trying to guess what it could have been.’
Thea laughed. ‘Nothing. There was nothing on it. It was new, never been used. She must have simply wanted it for work or something. She lied to me about it, anyway. I can’t think why. They found it in her bag, which Jenny had thrown into a big clump of brambles.’
‘Oh,’ said Drew, rather crestfallen.
‘It’s Jason I feel sorry for,’ said Fraser.
‘He was an idiot,’ said Thea heartlessly. ‘What did he think he was doing?’
‘Playing at being an undertaker, maybe,’ said Dre
w.
‘What?’ Thea and her mother said simultaneously.
‘It’s a sort of repressed instinct, I think, to make a body look tidy. And with him, it was maybe a sort of penance. He’d let the chap die at his feet, and was too selfish and scared to do the right thing and call the authorities. So he did what he could. I think it shows he had a basic decency.’
‘Oh, he has that all right,’ confirmed Fraser. ‘Jason has always been very kind to me.’ His eyes lost focus, and he smiled faintly. ‘But that’s another story.’
‘You must tell me all about it,’ said Maureen, squeezing his arm. Then she turned to her daughter. ‘Have you any work coming up? Any more house-sitting in the diary?’
‘Actually, yes. Somebody emailed me yesterday. The week before Christmas, in a village called Stanton. It isn’t far from here, but I’ve never seen it. I gather it’s amazingly beautiful.’
‘Aren’t they all,’ sighed Maureen, with a visible mix of emotions.
Thea changed the subject. ‘I like the headstone, Mum.’ She examined her father’s name and dates, with a sense of detachment. So many other deaths had overlaid that of Richard Johnstone, in the intervening year. Her mother was here in some muddled sort of quest for permission to begin a new partnership with Fraser. Fraser Meadows, who was going to need solicitude and reassurance as he caught up with the facts of his family’s past, and their ongoing implications.
And it was, in a way, a sort of prelude to a similar scenario in the next generation. One day, she and Drew would have to stand over Karen’s grave, and seek a similar sanction on whatever new relationship they might construct together. Whether as colleagues, lovers, friends or mere acquaintances still remained to be seen.
If you enjoyed Shadows in the Cotswolds, read on to find out about more books by Rebecca Tope…
THE WINDERMERE WITNESS
Following a personal tragedy, florist Persimmon ‘Simmy’ Brown has moved to the beautiful region of the Lake District to be nearer her charismatic parents. Things are going well, but the peace she has found is shattered when, at the wedding of a millionaire’s daughter, the bride’s brother is found brutally murdered in the lake.
As one of the last people to talk to Mark Baxter alive, Simmy gradually becomes involved with the grief-ridden and angry relatives. All seem to have their fair share of secrets and scandals. When events take another sinister turn, Simmy becomes a prime witness and finds herself at the heart of a murder investigation. The chief suspects are the groom and his closely knit band of bachelor friends. They are all intimidating, volatile and secretive – but which one is a killer?
COMING AUGUST 2013: THE AMBLESIDE ALIBI
A DIRTY DEATH
THE FIRST WEST COUNTRY MYSTERY
When irascible farmer Guy Beardon meets a very dirty death in his own farmyard, at first it seems like an accident – despite the fact that he was widely disliked. Only his daughter Lilah is prepared to defend his memory. And when, slowly, she begins to suspect foul play, no one is eager to help her investigate. Suspicion becomes certainty when two more deaths occur – both of them are unmistakably murder.
The difficulty lies in discovering who, among Guy’s many enemies, hated him enough to want him dead – and who went on killing to conceal the truth. There is certainly no shortage of suspects and it falls to local policeman Den Cooper to investigate the mysterious deaths …
MORE COSY CRIME AT ALLISON & BUSBY
KILLED IN CORNWALL
JANIE BOLITHO
DI Jack Pearce is investigating a series of burglaries and brutal attacks on young women which have broken out in Cornwall. Once again his on-off girlfriend Rose Trevelyan finds herself at the heart of the investigation.
With her intimate knowledge of the private lives of those connected to the case, Rose must work hard not to jump to conclusions about the innocence of those she knows. As the crimes become more serious, both newcomers to the area and familiar faces become suspects. But who should Rose – and Jack – believe?
BURIED IN CORNWALL
JANIE BOLITHO
Rose Trevelyan lives peacefully in Cornwall after the death of her husband, working as an artist and photographer. But when she hears terrified screams as she paints the rugged Cornish countryside, and a local woman is reported missing, Rose finds herself suddenly caught at the centre of a police investigation.
With so many people who trust her, Rose is – reluctantly, at times – privy to the secrets of many. When the things she is told in confidence appear connected to the investigation, Rose must decide how far the bonds of friendship reach.
CAUGHT OUT IN CORNWALL
JANIE BOLITHO
When Rose Trevelyan sees a young girl being carried away by someone who appears to be her father, she thinks nothing of it. Until, that is, the appearance of a frantic mother who cannot find her child. Beth Jones is only four years old, and her mother is adamant that the man Rose saw taking her away must be a stranger.
Wracked with guilt for not intervening, Rose once again finds herself entangled in a criminal investigation. As time passes, it becomes clear that the chances of getting Beth back unharmed are very bleak indeed …
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2013.
This ebook edition published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2013.
Copyright © 2013 by REBECCA TOPE
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1321–9
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