‘Matt! I was only thinking about you yesterday,’ Betty says from the top of a stepladder. She’s sorting out some magazines and flaps one at him. ‘Have you been away?’
Matt looks round the shop and sees they are alone apart from an elderly lady bundled into a padded green jacket and wearing a faded red headscarf. She’s thumbing through a book, her glasses perched on the end of her nose as if engrossed. Something about the angle of her head makes Matt think she’s not at all interested in the book, but flapping her ears for gossip. Well, good. She might know Morvoren and pass on a few tasty morsels to her. He goes nearer to the woman, pulls his hood back, pretends to look at some pens. ‘I went to London for a couple of days to see my parents and grandparents. It was ages since I’d seen them, and I wanted to tell them all about this awful situation some evildoer has made for me here in the village.’
‘I bet they were really upset, bless them,’ Betty says, coming down the ladder and putting a pile of magazines on the counter.
Matt notices the woman give him the swift once-over then go back to her book. ‘Yes. Gran especially. She used to live here as a girl, you know. Think I told you?’
‘You did, yes. My mum remembers her. Elowen, wasn’t it?’
The old woman nearly drops the book but side-steps a bit closer to himself and Betty.
‘Yes, that’s right. My granddad’s from here too – Terry Trevelyar. They were both shocked and disappointed that one of their own is being hounded in this way.’
Betty tips her head at the old woman and widens her eyes at Matt. Then she lowers her voice slightly, but not too much. ‘I’m not surprised. It’s an awful business. I’ve been spreading the word to anyone who comes in the shop that you’re innocent. Been telling them you’re from Cornish stock too. A few are on your side now. Let’s hope we can get a few more,’ Betty says, and smiles at the old woman who has sidled up again. ‘You okay there, Annie?’
Annie pretends not to have heard and affects a deep sigh while squinting at a page.
Betty moves closer. ‘Do you need help choosing a book, Annie, my love?’
‘Hmm?’ Annie says, looking up at Betty while tucking a stray grey curl under the headscarf. ‘Talking to me, Betty? I’m miles away.’
Matt thinks she’s never been to drama school.
‘You okay with that book?’
Annie looks at the book and across at Matt. ‘No. I won’t bother with it. It’s a load of old tosh. Never could be doing with romance – not up my street.’
Matt smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ve had your share of it in the past. A handsome woman such as yourself.’
Annie’s cheeks turn crimson and she laughs and fans herself with the book before putting it back on the shelf. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, young man.’
Matt laughs too and says, ‘My grandma came from here. Her name’s Elowen. Did you know her?’
Annie puts a hand to her mouth, wide-eyed. ‘You’re Elowen and Terry’s grandson? Well I never!’
Betty, standing behind Annie, rolls her eyes at Matt in a meaningful way and goes behind the counter. Both of them know she’d overheard their conversation just now. ‘Yes, we were just saying, Annie, how upset they both are. Poor Matt has been wrongly treated – he’s had to leave the school. I’m sure you’ve heard all about it.’
Annie bobs her head and offers a sympathetic expression. ‘If you’re that schoolteacher who was found in the altogether and drunk in his car, then I must admit, I have. But it’s terrible if you weren’t to blame and that. Who might have done such a thing?’
Matt twists his mouth to the side. ‘I don’t know for sure, but I have a strong suspicion Morvoren has something to do with it and perhaps her granddaughter too.’
Annie’s small brown eyes light up with excitement. ‘Well I never!’
‘But I’m not going to be driven out of the village. I like the house I’m in and feel close to my roots here. I want to try and persuade the villagers I had nothing to do with what happened to me.’
Betty nods. ‘I know you’re a friend of Morvoren, Annie. Do you know anything?’
Matt hides a smile. Great – he’s hit the jackpot. He gives Annie a questioning look and sighs.
‘I… I… me?’ Annie jabs a finger at her chest, and raises her eyebrows so much they disappear into her headscarf. ‘No. No, I don’t know anything.’ The crimson cheeks are back and glowing like embers. ‘But she’s an old woman like me. She wouldn’t harm nobody.’ Annie coughs, looks at the floor and makes her way to the exit. ‘Be seeing you both.’ She waves over her shoulder and leaves.
Once the door closes behind her, Matt and Betty burst out laughing. ‘The old mare will be in Morvoren’s house spilling it all before you can say gossip,’ Betty says.
‘And that’s exactly what I wanted. If Morvoren thinks she’s driven me out, she’s got another thing coming.’ Matt picks up a newspaper and digs into his pocket for change.
* * *
On his way back home, his feet take him across the road and towards Lavender’s shop. On the way into the village, he’d deliberately taken the long route to avoid her, but once again, despite everything, he feels drawn to her. His head justifies it by saying if she sees him, she’ll pass it back to Morvoren and then he can be doubly sure the old crone knows he’s back in town. He takes a glance through the window. Lavender’s there behind the counter, elbows resting on the desk, propping her chin up on interlinked knuckles. She’s a faraway look in her eyes and a face so full of melancholy it stops Matt in his tracks. He pretends to look at a painting, but he’s quickly aware he’s been spotted. To his surprise, she looks relieved and runs to open the door.
‘Matt! You’re back.’
He eyes her smile and obvious delight at seeing him with a good degree of confusion. ‘Yes, I’m back,’ he says in a flat tone, shrugs and stays on the threshold.
‘Please come in and have a cuppa. I’ve been worried about you…’ She steps to one side and ushers him through. Her smile falters as he steps inside, and her colour comes up. ‘There’s also some apologising to do.’
Matt raises an eyebrow at her and stands in the shop, uncertain of what to do next. This is not what he was expecting at all.
Lavender turns the shop sign to closed and leads the way into an offshoot kitchen. She offers tea and he accepts. Then he keeps a very close eye on her as she makes it – he doesn’t want to end up naked and drugged in his car again. ‘I don’t know where to start, to be honest,’ she says in a quiet voice as she hands him a mug and sits down.
Matt sits on an old stool at an even older table. Giving her a direct look, he says, ‘Being honest might be the way forward.’
Lavender takes a sip of tea then sets it on the table. She squares her shoulders as if preparing for something unpleasant and takes a big breath. ‘Yes. I will be. Firstly, will you please accept my deepest and sincerest apology for believing the hideous lies I was told about you? I believed almost without question.’ She shakes her head. ‘Never again.’
‘Let me guess,’ Matt says, shifting in his seat and trying to keep his cool. ‘The lovely Morvoren told you these lies?’
She just nods, bites her bottom lip, looks at the table.
‘What lies, exactly?’
Lavender lifts her head, her eyes flitting to his and away. ‘She said you’d beat your wife and she’d killed herself because she couldn’t take any more… and that you abused children at your last school.’
Anger grows in the pit of his stomach and explodes in his chest. ‘She said what?!’ Matt bangs his cup down and rakes his fingers through his hair. He could hardly believe his ears. No wonder she couldn’t care less when he’d told her about his wife the evening he’d been with her for dinner. And was this girl stupid? How the fuck did she think he got a teaching job if he’d abused kids? ‘You think that schools normally employ paedophiles, then?’
‘No… but I wasn’t thinking. She said you’d talked you way out of it. Dismissed i
t as rumour. Gran’s always had this hold on me and she knew which buttons to press.’ Lavender looks at him briefly and he can see her eyes are brimming with tears. She wipes them away and clears her throat. ‘You see, I was abused when I was ten by a teacher at Penhallow School. He asked me to stay behind for a moment at the end of the day and he put his hands on me, made me do things to him…’ Her voice falters and her eyes fill again.
Matt’s anger abates as what Jessica told him about Lavender is put into perspective. No wonder she won’t let men near her. He puts his hands up. ‘Hey, that’s terrible. You don’t have to tell me what–’
‘I do!’ Lavender jumps up, dashes angry tears away with the back of her sleeve and then folds her arms tight across her chest. ‘I do, because only then can you forgive me. I’m so furious with myself…’
Here is where she tells me she’s involved. Matt sighs. ‘Why are you so furious with yourself? What did you do?’
At this, Lavender puts her fists into her eyes and rubs them, shakes her head. ‘I wish I could do something to clear your name,’ she sobs.
‘Perhaps you can?’ He feels desperately sorry for what she went through as a child and being under the influence of Morvoren to this extent, but at the same time he wants his life back. What kind of a grandmother would do that to a grandchild? ‘Was Morvoren the one who forced you into it? Did you drug me that night, strip me naked? Or did she do it with help from elsewhere?’ He takes her silence as indecision. He watches her struggling to answer, her face a mask of anguish. ‘Lavender, did you drug me? I asked you on the phone the day it happened, and you said something along the lines of “Why would I?” And that I was delusional. You never actually said no. So that wasn’t a straight answer, was it?’
She lowers her hands from her face and walks to the door. ‘I’m sorry, Matt. I can’t say more… I need to open the shop again. People will wonder why I’ve closed at this time.’
Shit. She was so close to spilling something then. Matt follows her through the shop, wondering if she might come clean another time. He would make it his business to try and get a confession soon. Halfway through the door, he turns to her and says, ‘I’m so sorry for what that sick bastard teacher put you through as a child. I’m also sorry for the way you’ve been manipulated by such a cruel relative… but I’m glad that you know the truth about me too. Perhaps you’ll do the right thing soon and help me clear my name?’
Lavender won’t meet his eyes. She looks out of the window and says to the other side of the street, ‘I’ll do all I can to make sure everyone knows what a lovely man you are and that you’ve been set up… Goodbye, Matt. And I’m so sorry once again.’
As he walks away down the cobbled pavement, his mind is in turmoil. Lavender’s obviously in this up to her eyes, but she won’t admit it because she’d be in serious trouble – maybe even get a jail sentence. And she’d have to involve Morvoren too. He kicks a stone at a hedge lining the narrow lane leading to his cottage, and a few startled sparrows take flight. The best thing to do is keep on trying to tease a confession out of her. He thinks it’s possible, because she’d been so close just now. If he fails, he’ll go to the police with what she’s just told him about Morvoren. At least that’s something. Lavender might deny it in front of the authorities, but hopefully, if she’s as sorry as she says she is, he might be lucky.
Chapter 20
Matt’s wandering through town again the next day, just to have some fresh air and to get out of the cottage. Without gainful employment he’s going a bit stir-crazy already. He’s been online to look at possible surveillance equipment, and can’t decide what to get. There’s so much to choose from. Inside, he could have spy cameras hidden in air fresheners, radios, light switches, smoke alarms, all sorts. They can be linked to Wi-Fi and can be accessed by smartphone too. Outside, the cameras are very discreet nowadays – unlike the big obvious ones his parents had back in the day. They can include motion detectors and work on infrared at night. Matt’s not bad at technological stuff, but it might be best to let the experts fit them.
Outside the baker’s he comes to a halt, the smell of fresh Cornish pasties wafting into his nostrils acting as an invisible lasso. About to go inside, he recalls that the last time he walked by here, he was attacked by those nasty yobs… but after a quick glance around and a peep inside, he decides the coast is clear. Behind the counter there’s a middle-aged, thick-set man with a sour expression. He’s wiping down the counter and eyes Matt from under salt-and-pepper bushy brows. ‘Afternoon,’ the man says, chucking the cloth down and folding his hairy arms over his considerable paunch. ‘What can I do for you?’
Matt thinks he sounds as if he wants to do nothing at all, judging by his offhand tone and stance. ‘I’d like a pasty please.’ He tries a polite smile.
The man shakes his head and sighs. ‘What kind? We got so many types, can’t just say you want a pasty.’ He sweeps his meaty hand at the rows of pasties inside the heated glass container.
Matt dips his head and reads the labels. ‘A steak one please.’
The man rolls his eyes. ‘Large, medium, what?’
‘Large.’ Matt decides not to add ‘please’. Why’s the man being so rude? He must believe the gossip about him.
The man gets some metal tongs and tosses a pasty into a white paper bag. ‘Four pounds fifty.’ He sets the bag on the countertop and holds out his hand.
Matt gives him five pounds and waits for change. The man tosses fifty pence on the countertop and turns his back. This is to be expected, and though it’s going to be hard, Matt needs to be prepared for it and meet this kind of behaviour head-on. It’s why he’s come back after all. ‘You know, the rumours you might have heard about me aren’t true,’ he says, picking up the bag and change.
The man turns round. ‘Yeah, so my mother-in-law says. You were tellin’ her all about it in the newsagents yesterday.’ There’s mockery in the man’s eyes, and a touch of menace too.
Matt opts for the polite response. ‘Oh, Annie’s your mum-in-law? Lovely lady, and I can assure you–’
‘I don’t want you to assure me of nothin’ cos you’re a liar. Annie’s been friends with Morvoren since they were kids. She’d never do nothin’ like that.’ The man leans on the counter and sneers at Matt. ‘And Lavender’s my lad Jamie’s intended – so you’d better watch your mouth accusing her of stuff, Mr Trevelyar.’
Intended? What the hell? He’s about to ask the lout what exactly he means by that, but he can see there’s no point. The man’s face is set into a grimace, his eyes shadowed under the eyebrows. He’s fierce and ready to do battle.
‘I can see there’s no point continuing the conversation, Mr…?’
‘Bob Penhale’s the name. Not sure you’ve a need to know it, cos I don’t want you back in my shop in future.’ Bob picks up the cloth and continues with his cleaning, so Matt turns and walks out.
From a bench he stares down the road towards Lavender’s shop and chews things over, both metaphorically and physically. The pasty is one of the best he’s tasted, which is annoying, given the baker. Is Lavender actually going to marry Jamie Penhale? Because ‘intended’ usually meant intended to marry – or at least it used to in the olden days. Lavender was decidedly disinterested in Jamie in the pub that evening though… Perhaps that was just for show to trick Matt into thinking he had a chance with her. If he’d thought there was anything between the two of them, he wouldn’t have gone round to hers for dinner, would he? And why does he care? His main priority is getting her to admit what she’d done – if indeed she had. But would she help? There’s only one way to find out. Matt finishes the pasty and sets off to Lavender’s shop.
It’s a dull afternoon and as he gets nearer, he sees there’s no light on. Once outside, he sees a sign on the door.
Sorry, gone painting. Back tomorrow! If you need me desperately, email me at [email protected].
Matt needs her desperately to help clear his name, but he can hardly s
ay that in an email, can he? Perhaps she’s gone to the coastal path with her easel. She’d mentioned to him she often does that, so should he go looking for her? Matt looks down the street towards the sea and a cold wind whips through his hair. No. She could be anywhere. Seems futile. He looks back at the sign on the door and sighs. What now? An image of a good book, a glass of wine and a roaring fire’s presented by the comfort side of his mind, and he decides to pop in the bookshop, buy a book and head for home.
As he’s stepping out of the bookshop, he hears his name on the wind. A woman’s calling him, but she’s some way off. The voice is familiar, but he can’t place it. He quickly takes a look over his shoulder, just as the voice registers. Shit, it’s Jessica! There she is hurrying up the street towards him, a parcel under her arm, black coat flapping like the wings of a huge carrion crow. No! He cannot stand to be in her company right now. Can. Not. Matt pulls his hood up, ducks down a side alley and then he runs for his life.
* * *
Matt wakes in his armchair, in darkness apart from the glowing red embers of the fire – his book is on his lap, his wine glass empty. Leaning across to the side table, he flicks on the lamp and looks at the clock. It’s nearly seven. He’s been asleep over an hour… ’bout time he made some food. The fridge presents an uninspiring bunch of onions, cheese, a handful of tomatoes, one large potato and half a dozen eggs. An omelette frittata type thing? Again. A ‘big shop’ needs to be organised for tomorrow, much as he hates it. He’s just about to chop a tomato when he hears the doorbell ring. Immediately his hackles are up. There’s nobody round here who would want to just drop by for a friendly chat… What if Bob and Jamie have brought a few mates over for a game of football? If they have, he’ll be the ball.
Tiptoeing down the hall, he wishes he’d fitted the fucking spy cams – then he’d know who is outside just by looking at his phone. He’s been thinking of doing it for too long. Wondering and prevarication never solved anything, did they? Action is needed now. Ordering them and getting someone to fit them was his number one priority tomorrow.
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