Fallen Hero - A Polvellan Cornish Mystery

by Rachel Ennis

  Jess hid a smile. ‘That’s fine.’

  On her return from town, Jess phoned Mor at home. After telling her about Trish she said, ‘So I hope to meet Angie this Saturday. Anyway, how are you?’

  ‘Ben stopped by. He brought me a lovely china bowl of hyacinths. They’re just starting to come out.’

  ‘He obviously thinks a lot of you, Mor.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  Morwenna’s wistfulness and need for reassurance touched Jess. ‘I do. A bunch of flowers would have been a nice gesture. But those hyacinths will last far longer. And when they die back you can plant the bulbs in your garden and they’ll come up again next year.’

  ‘I never – Oh, the dear of him.’ Her voice thickened and she cleared her throat. ‘I told him what I’ve asked you to do and he said he’d talk to his father, see if he remembers anything more. Anyhow, I’d better go. Fred will be here in a minute to take me over the hospital.’

  Jess made herself a ham omelette with grilled mushrooms and tomatoes. After washing up she took a cup of tea to the table and went back to Tom’s accounts.

  Chapter Four

  Up at seven next morning and expecting to be dribbled on, Jess put on soft jeans and an old sweatshirt. Just after nine she saw her daughter-in-law’s car draw up and hurried down the path to help unload it. The cloud blanket was breaking up, revealing glimpses of blue sky. The air was cool and smelled of woodsmoke, wet earth, and the sweet fragrance of daffodils.

  ‘Hello, Fiona.’

  ‘Hi, Jess.’ With a quick smile Fiona reached in to unbuckle Helen from the baby seat. Lifting her out she handed her over. ‘I’ll bring the rest.’

  ‘Hello, sweetheart.’ Jess held Helen up and the baby beamed an open-mouthed smile.

  ‘Look at this. You’ve got another tooth. Who’s a clever girl?’ She turned to Fiona, who had opened the hatchback. ‘How’s she been? Rob used to be feverish for a day or two each time a tooth came through. But with Sam I only knew he’d got another one when I counted them.’

  ‘She’s a bit scratchy in the evenings. I’ve got some gel to rub on her gum. That usually settles her so she sleeps right through. I put the tube in the bag just in case.’ She lifted out the folded buggy, shaking it open with a practised flick and locking the frame.

  Jess took the handle. ‘I’ve got it.’ Baby cradled in one arm, pushing the buggy with the other, Jess went back up the path, talking to Helen who gurgled in delight and waved tiny hands.

  Fiona followed with two bulging holdalls.

  ‘You’ve certainly come prepared.’ Jess nodded at the bags. Anxious Fiona shouldn’t take the remark as mockery or criticism, she added, ‘It’s a relief to know I’ll have anything Helen might need.’

  Alex’s parents had sapped her confidence, making her doubt her instincts as a mother. Now, with hindsight, Jess realised their advice had been intended not as criticism, but as the benefit of their experience. But she hadn’t forgotten the feeling, and had vowed never to undermine her sons or their partners. So she avoided questions that might be interpreted as criticism or prying. They would tell her anything they wanted her to know.

  ‘It’s just being organised.’ Fiona flashed another smile.

  Leaving the buggy outside, Jess carried the baby indoors.

  ‘You’re so good with her,’ Fiona said, hesitating as she saw the cardboard box, ring binders, and closed laptop at one end of the table. She dropped the two holdalls on the sofa.

  Jess smiled at her. ‘It’s a bit like riding a bike. You may get out of practice but you never forget. So, what have you planned for your day off?’

  ‘First the gym, then to have my hair done.’ Fiona ran a hand through her blonde bob. ‘I like yours. Where do you go?’

  ‘Right here.’ Jess grinned. ‘Tina left the salon to go mobile. Having her come here is so much more convenient.’

  ‘It suits you short. You’re lucky it’s naturally curly. A quick shampoo in the shower and you’re done. After the salon I’m going shopping. Now I’ve got my figure back Rob said I should treat myself to a couple of new outfits. He’s very thoughtful.’

  Once again Jess detected something not being said. ‘You deserve it. There’s nothing like having your hair done and a little retail therapy to lift the spirits.’

  Fiona started towards the door then turned back. ‘The thing is, Jess, Rob and I have been talking about me going back to work.’

  So soon? ‘Is it what you want, Fiona?’ Helen squirmed so Jess laid her gently on the table and unzipped her pink all-in-one suit. ‘I think someone needs changing. No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.’

  Fiona quickly unzipped a holdall. ‘Where –’

  ‘On the rug.’ Jess lifted Helen off the table and knelt to open the poppers on the baby’s all-in-one suit. Beneath it Helen wore a white babygro with a soft white cotton vest. Jess reached for wipes, talc, and cream. ‘They’re babies for such a short time.’

  ‘I know.’

  Jess dropped the folded soiled nappy into the open polythene bag, keeping her concerns to herself As Fiona disposed of the nappy then washed her hands, Jess wiped, dried, creamed, and sprinkled baby talc. ‘All clean again,’ she said to Helen, who kicked and chuckled.

  Fiona stood by the table. ‘Jess, I’ve worked hard to get to where I am. I’ve enjoyed my maternity leave and I nursed Helen for four months to give her the best possible start. But babies are not stimulating company. I tried going to a couple of mother-and-baby groups.’ She pulled a face. ‘Sitting around drinking coffee and comparing horror stories of childbirth or sleep deprivation is not my idea of entertainment.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be mine either,’ Jess said over her shoulder. She lifted Helen and stood up.

  ‘To be perfectly honest,’ Fiona continued, pushing used wipes into another small bag and putting it in the pedal bin, ‘I’m bored to tears. I adore Helen, but I love my job as well. The Grange is one of Cornwall’s top-rated country house hotels. Being head receptionist means every day is a challenge. There’s always so much to organise and I’m really good at that. Rob’s a hundred per cent behind me.’

  Jess carried Helen over to the worktop and switched on the kettle. This time she had to ask. ‘But with Rob working shifts at the hospital how will you manage for childcare?’

  ‘That’s our main worry. Did you see the report in last week’s paper?’ She didn’t wait for Jess’s reply. ‘Inspectors doing an undercover check at a crèche saw babies being ignored and left to cry themselves to sleep.’

  ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ Why have a child if you don’t want to look after it? Jess knew better than to ask. She had been fortunate. After the twins were born she had wanted to look after them herself. Alex’s salary had been sufficient to support them all, and Granny had been her rock, supportive without interfering. But she knew many people didn’t have the luxury of choice. Yet surely as a senior house officer Rob was earning a good salary?

  ‘The money would be useful too,’ Fiona added, answering the question Jess had hesitated to ask. ‘I love our new house, and we needed to move. Where we are is so much more convenient. Rob can walk or cycle to the hospital.’

  So why do you need two cars? Jess bit her tongue.

  ‘We’re close to the best prep school in the city. They have a pre-nursery class. Children can start there at three.’

  ‘Three?’ It slipped out before Jess could stop it.

  Fiona nodded. ‘Research has proved that children develop better social skills if they have company of their own age.’

  As Helen gripped Jess’s hair and pulled, Jess reached into the holdall for her favourite toy, a rabbit made of blue fleece with floppy ears. It was spotlessly clean and smelled of fabric conditioner. She held it where Helen could see and immediately her hair was released as the baby reached for it.

  ‘So, the thing is,’ replacing cream and talc in the holdall, Fiona pulled out two moist tissues from the tub and carefully wiped the mat before propping
it against the sofa to air-dry. Only then did she look at Jess. ‘Rob and I were wondering if you would look after Helen for us. She’s so happy with you. It would be a huge weight off our minds to know she was safe with someone we trust who loves her.’

  Jess gently rubbed Helen’s back as she sucked one of the rabbit’s ears. ‘I love her to bits, Fiona. But what you’re asking –’

  ‘It would only be for a couple of years and would solve all our problems. We’d be so grateful.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Lord, is that the time? I have to go or I’ll be late. Bye, sweetheart.’ She touched Helen’s chubby cheek. ‘Bye, Jess.’

  She paused in the doorway. ‘Don’t decide now. Think it over. Please?’ Flashing another smile Fiona closed the door.

  After heating a bottle and feeding Helen, Jess propped her in a corner of the sofa with a rattle while she sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Fiona’s request and everything it entailed buzzed in Jess’s brain like an angry wasp.

  She needed exercise. She hadn’t walked down to the marina since the last time she’d looked after Helen. Fresh air would be good for both of them.

  Easing the droopy-eyed baby back into her warm suit, Jess laid her in the buggy with rabbit alongside, and covered them with the soft blanket, then added two more logs to the embers and half-closed the vent so they would burn slowly. She slipped her feet into ankle boots, pulled on a pink fleece hat and scarf, and zipped up her jacket.

  Clipping on the buggy’s waterproof cover Jess slid her umbrella into the shopping tray beneath. Her brisk pace meant they were soon over the bridge and walking along the road that followed the river. Jess looked into the buggy at Helen’s small rosy face. She was sound asleep, her fair lashes curled like fans on her cheeks.

  Jess felt a rush of love for her grandchild. She looked forward to seeing her every couple of weeks. It was a novelty for both of them and Jess was happy to put everything else aside for those hours and devote them entirely to Helen.

  But seven or eight hours a day, five days a week, was a very different proposition. Her bookkeeping business was growing through word-of-mouth recommendations. If she agreed to Fiona’s request her work would have to come second to Helen’s needs, but if she didn’t complete jobs as promised, her burgeoning reputation would suffer.

  That was another thing. She had started bookkeeping to earn some money. Genealogy, begun as a hobby, had become an absorbing passion and she wanted to do more. But it demanded time and concentration, neither of which she would have if she became Helen’s full-time childminder.

  Guilt and family loyalty tugged at her. Helen was her granddaughter. Rob and Fiona needed her. Then she caught herself. What they needed was someone reliable and totally trustworthy to look after Helen. It didn’t have to be her. They would prefer her to take it on because that would be more comfortable for them.

  Fiona hadn’t mentioned money. Perhaps she had been embarrassed to bring it up. But if they employed someone they would have to pay, and high-quality childcare was expensive.

  Were they hoping – assuming – that if she agreed she would do it for love? Her grandparents had brought her up to be careful with money, to save for whatever she wanted and never buy on credit. The decorating was complete and her household bills were paid up to date. But her only income was her widow’s pension and whatever she could earn.

  With Alex so often away, she had been the only constant presence in the twins’ lives. It had been difficult, often lonely, yet fun and hugely rewarding. But did she really want to do it again? Even for her beloved granddaughter?

  Rounding the bend in the road she saw the marina ahead on her left. The tide was low. Within the shelter of a granite quay wooden pontoons were fringed with motorboats, dinghies, and launches. A wooden gangway from the end of the quay led to more pontoons.

  Jess was glad of her hat and scarf. The wind had a sharp edge. But the sun had come out and the restless water sparkled like polished silver.

  Beneath fast-moving clouds the sea constantly changed from sapphire to jade, turquoise, and indigo. She drew air deep into her lungs. It was clean and fresh with just a hint of seaweed, fish, and engine oil. She rolled her shoulders trying to release tension caused by her inner battle.

  With Helen still sound asleep Jess strolled along the tarmac and looked up at the café that would re-open on Easter Saturday. The ground floor – accessed from the rear – was storage. The café itself – reached by a wide flight of steps – was ten feet above road level, and was protected from winter storms by a broad terrace surrounded by a low sandstone-topped granite wall that offered patrons somewhere to sit when all the tables were occupied.

  She walked on past the wide mouth of the valley that was now a vast sheet of tarmac complete with offices and workshops. The sun disappeared behind a cloud and Jess shivered.

  It was time to head home.

  Helen had woken and was beginning to grizzle as Jess switched on the kettle and quickly took off her hat, scarf, and coat. Wiping Helen’s face and hands clean of pureed chicken and vegetables, Jess removed her bib then settled on the sofa with the baby sucking contentedly on her bottle. After she was finished, Jess laid Helen on the rug, where she could easily see the colourful mobile clamped to the edge of the table, and went to make a sandwich. She had just filled the kettle when the phone rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s Richard Banham, Mrs Trevanion.’ At the sound of her solicitor’s voice Jess felt her stomach tighten. ‘I have news.’ He was quiet, and Jess guessed he was trying to find words to soften the impact of what he was about to say.

  ‘Just tell me, Mr Banham.’ She listened, her fingers unconsciously twisting the phone cable. ‘You’re saying an internet stockbroker loaned him money to invest in shares?’

  ‘Exactly. Unfortunately share prices dropped like a stone. So your husband borrowed additional money to buy more shares, obviously hoping to sell them at a profit and recoup his losses.’

  ‘I don’t understand why he would get involved in something so risky.’ Jess rubbed the knot of tension in her forehead. ‘Alex never took chances. And after the investment failed, why would the bank lend him even more money?’

  This was just one more blow in a series that had begun with Alex’s sudden death at the age of fifty. It had happened while he was abroad, this time in Croatia on another three-week trip inspecting potential sites for marina development. He had cut his hand on a piece of broken pipe during an on-site meeting with the contractor. By evening his hand was red and swollen and he was running a fever. He had taken a taxi to the nearest hospital where they diagnosed septicaemia and immediately put him on intravenous antibiotics. But the infection was overwhelming and he had died at five the next morning. Alex’s boss had insisted on taking care of all the arrangements to bring his body back. She had been through grief, denial, anger. Then had come a smothering grey blanket of depression …

  ‘Mrs Trevanion?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry. It’s a lot to take in.’ She made an effort to concentrate.

  ‘This investment program was intended for professionals. It should never have been accessible to DIY investors. There have been scores of complaints and the FSA has launched an enquiry. I can only surmise that your husband saw it as a means of making a lot of money quickly.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why. He earned a good salary with generous perks because he was abroad so often. And before you ask, whatever he needed money for it wasn’t me. When we first married he set up an automatic transfer into my account each month for housekeeping and personal expenses. We reviewed it two or three times a year. I never needed more.’

  Brought up by grandparents made even more frugal by wartime shortages and rationing, living within her means was second nature to Jess. She had assumed, trusted, that Alex was doing the same. His death had been a shock. Discovering he had left her with no insurance, a re-mortgaged house, and a load of debts had floored her.

  It had taken months but she had settled the d
ebts using jewellery inherited from Alex’s mother, her share from the sale of his father’s house, premium bonds she had bought after selling her grandparents’ cottage and dividing the proceeds equally between herself and her two sons – plus a payout from the company’s insurance.

  After the bank reclaimed the house she had lived in all her married life, she had come home to the village with just enough money to buy and renovate her little cottage. Neglected for forty years, there had been a lot to do.

  ‘I’ll be in touch when I have more to tell you.’

  Jess thanked him politely. He had warned her it would take time. But it was nearly two years and Alex’s affairs were still not settled. Each new disclosure revealed her husband was not the man she had believed him to be. The more she learned, the more of a stranger he became.

  What did his secrecy say about their marriage? How could she not have known something was wrong? Had there been clues that she’d missed?

  More than anything she wanted to draw a line under the past and questions that would forever remain unanswered. Replacing the receiver she took a deep breath and switched on the kettle. While Helen napped, Jess spent another hour on Tom’s accounts.

  By five thirty Helen been bathed, changed, and fed again. Jess tidied up then repacked the bags. She heard the car stop on the road outside.

  ‘Here’s your mummy,’ she told the baby and heard the relief in her voice. With Helen in the crook of her arm she went to open the door.

  After admiring her daughter-in-law’s hair and recounting her day with Helen, Jess took a breath. ‘Fi, I’d love to have Helen for one day each week. But that’s as much as I can manage.’

  Fiona’s face fell. ‘Don’t decide now –’

  ‘I have,’ Jess interrupted gently. ‘I’m twenty-seven years older than when my boys were Helen’s age and I’m trying to build my business. I need the income, Fi. As I say, I’d love to have her once a week. You let me know which day suits you best.’