by CE Rose
I nodded. It made sense of Mum’s failure to put on her seatbelt. She didn’t like confrontations; she would have been flustered when she climbed back into her car.
I read on: Though she was turned away, she was gesticulating. I think the other person was still in his car and I don’t know what make it was, but it was a lot wider than the Mini and it was silver in colour…
Fumbling, I turned the page. Another youth from Damon’s car: The lady looked really shocked. As though her car had been shunted from behind.
Dizziness hit and I reeled as I pictured the dent in the bonnet of the Rolls-Royce, the damage to its front bumper. And yes, when I’d walked past just now, the garage door was undamaged. I’d just made that assumption when I came here at night. That’s what had been bugging me, the thing that had jarred – Nancy’s comment about the ‘repair’ and Tom making Joan walk. He was very proud of his immaculate car. If he’d got nothing to hide, he’d have got it fixed straight away, not secrete it here until the danger period had passed.
My hands trembling, I covered my face. No wonder Tom had been so keen to be my ‘liaison officer’. With his huge car, he’d shunted the small Mini into the path of a speeding vehicle before Mum had the chance to belt up. He’d been covering up his own crime. His murder. But why—
‘Alice.’
The sound of Tom’s rasping voice made me jump from my skin.
He lifted his palm and edged closer. ‘Now Alice…’ He glanced at the file. ‘You’ve seen it, then. I’d forgotten it was here. As soon as I remembered, I came rushing.’
Putting a hand to his chest, he gasped to catch his breath. ‘It was wrong of me, completely wrong, I know that but… Like before, it was too late.’
My heart thudded. ‘What was too late?’
‘I had no idea Eve had, that she’d—’
‘She had what? What could my mum possibly have done wrong to deserve—’
‘Nothing. She’d done nothing. Just trying to help, like you were, I suppose. She must have been worried Joan was ill, so she went upstairs and, well, saw what you did.’
I turned to the Bronte novel and pulled out Mum’s note: What do the pictures mean? The trinkets too? They must have been stolen. And the lock on the door?
The final piece of the puzzle was nearly in my grasp. This was what Mum had wanted to talk to me about. She must have been concerned about Joan’s clear obsession with me, seen the bolts and worked out the old lady wasn’t what she seemed. Worried about my safety, she’d decided to come clean; perhaps even warn me against coming here.
I clenched my jaw. ‘Mum saw Joan’s room. Her prison. She was perturbed the… the shrine wasn’t normal. She might somehow have put two and two together. So that meant you had to chase her in your car and what? Silence her—’
‘Oh Lord, that wasn’t me, Alice.’ Stumbling to a chair, Tom shook his head. ‘I couldn’t keep her under lock and key day in, day out, could I? She had to use the bathroom and eat, go out with Nancy, to bingo and the like. She was a heavy sleeper, so then I could… well, keep her in. But she was stronger and quicker than she looked, and sometimes she caught me out when I was napping. She’d take the car when she fancied it.’
Joan. Oh my God, Joan. ‘You told me she didn’t drive it.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. I—’
‘You what? You covered up a crime. Again?’
‘Yes.’ Tears shedded from his eyes. ‘But like before, it was all too late. There was nothing I could do except think on my feet and… Maybe I made the wrong call, but your beautiful mum had already passed and Joan convinced me it was an accident, her foot slipping and the Rolls lurching into the back of the Mini. Like she said, she couldn’t have known a car was coming on the main road at that moment. She was as upset as anyone, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.’
He gazed pleadingly. ‘I had no idea she was anywhere near the scene. I knew she’d been out in the Rolls and parked it back in the garage, but I had no inkling. Even when we heard the dreadful news, I didn’t twig. Not until the penny dropped that she knew a lot about the accident, your mum’s injuries and—’
‘The collar. The lads drinking beer.’ Nausea spreading, I lowered my head. Good God, Joan must have parked up in the shadows and watched the whole drama unfold.
‘So then I went to look at the car and she told me about what had happened. Accidentally pressing the accelerator instead of the—’
‘No Tom. You knew about the argument, the road rage.’ I opened the police file and prodded the page. ‘You knew there was more to it.’
‘That statement came later. And by then I’d already… intervened.’ He blew his nose. ‘I didn’t even realise your mum had been up to Joan’s room until I saw the written note.’ He glanced at the novel. ‘I wondered why Joan had taken it that morning, so when we got back here, I had a look.’
Of course. The day of my ‘date’ with the gardener, Joan had slipped something in her shopper. I frowned. ‘Why on earth did she do it? Mum couldn’t have known anything for sure.’
Tom shook his head. ‘I couldn’t work it out. But…’
‘But what?’
‘That new German dolly arrived by special delivery two or so weeks ago, not long after Joan had popped in to see you with Nancy. “Special delivery, indeed,” she said when the parcel came. “Our little Joe’s arrived.” And then I remembered how agitated she’d been when your Joe was born, desperate to see a photo, speculating when she might meet him, asking when I thought you’d come down after your mum… passed.’
An icy shiver trickled down my spine. ‘What? You think she killed Mum so she could get her hands on Joe?’
‘Lord, I don’t know. In truth, I just thought she was excited. But after you’d arrived, sometimes she’d go missing and when she came back she’d say not to worry, that she’d only nipped to see you at The Lodge. That’s when I started to panic; I didn’t get the impression you’d invited her in.’ He stood and moved to the window. ‘She’d taken your mum from you… Did she want to do the same thing to Joe?’
Oh God. The sense of being watched, the car headlights; the Peeping Tom at the window. Anger swelled. ‘If that’s what you thought, then why didn’t you do something about it, for God’s sake?’
He flinched at my vehemence. ‘I kept her in the house when I could. Made sure Nancy or Denise were at The Lodge when George wasn’t around, so I knew you were safe.’ He scooped up a plush cushion from the couch, held it to his chest and patted it like a baby. ‘Then you came here on the Monday night and I knew that wasn’t enough going forward. You were my Alice; I needed to do more.’ He sighed. ‘You were so upset that evening, love, crying like the end of the world had come. I promised you that nothing bad would ever happen to Joe or you and I meant it.’
Goosebumps spreading, I stared at the cushion. He looked at me intently. ‘All’s well now, love. She’s at peace, asleep.’ He nodded. ‘And she’s six feet beneath the ground.’
I took a shuddery breath to say something – God only knew what – but footfall on the deck broke the moment. Then Oliver appeared down the steps, carrying Joe’s car seat.
‘He’s only just woken up.’ He glanced from my father to me. ‘I expected you both back sooner. Is everything OK?’
Tom tilted his head. ‘Is everything OK now, Alice?’ he asked me.
A breath of warm air seemed to brush my cheek, then the cabin door clicked shut. The men turned and looked at it in surprise, but I nodded in acknowledgement. My nose burned at the thought of a final goodbye, but I sniffed and smiled sadly.
‘Yes Tom,’ I said. ‘Yes, everything is fine.’
Chapter Sixty-Three
Joe stirred on Oliver’s lap and I kissed both their cheeks. The clutch in my belly was still there, a jolt of excitement and wonder when I gazed at my handsome man’s face. I smiled. For a bloke who didn’t sleep, he was doing a lot of it now. But then again, everyone on the flight was napping except me. I was gazing through the windo
w and deliberating what I’d tell Laura. She’d be meeting her brother, so we’d be open about that, but the other discoveries I’d made felt more problematic.
Firstly there was troublesome little Ali; the girl who’d needed to be adored. Part of it she’d know, and in truth I was apprehensive – Laura was five when I joined the family; she’d still remember it and have her own tales to tell. I’d dipped into Mum’s diaries and that taster was bad enough – the exhausting struggle to settle me, persuading me to eat, have a day without tantrums, a night without terrors. But at least the detail eventually lessened to one liners: A first! Three hours solid sleep last night!… A smile, a real smile!… A whole night without screaming… Beautiful singing!… A proper Daddy’s girl!
From the moment that monster had sat on her daddy’s knee, drunk her juice and eaten her food, my big sister had been usurped. How must she have felt when I flaunted the special bond between me and Dad? When I was clingy and needy and demanding attention? When I was praised and applauded, too? Yet Laura had loved me in her own kind of way; she’d looked out for me, cuddled me, let me climb into her bed. Save for the occasional ‘gooseberry bush’ or ‘pixie’ comments, she’d astonishingly kept the secret of my adoption.
As I stared at the cotton wool clouds, I knew I’d do the same about Dad. The painful truth about his financial problems, his arrest and suicide would only hurt Laura, so I’d keep them to myself. What about my own story? I wasn’t sure how comfortable I’d feel about delving into my birth mother’s death and the unofficial nature of my adoption, let alone the horrifying Joan revelations. And what about admitting Tom was my father? I chuckled to myself; it seemed only fair to explain his tickling and cuddles. I’d already mentioned I had a surreal story to tell. That’s what I’d start with.
I sighed. My father, Tom Hague. We’d left him at Bureside in the questionable care of Nancy and Denise, but he was already so much stronger. His steadfast look in the saloon came to me from time to time. ‘All’s well now, love. She’s at peace, asleep.’ That was the one thing I hadn’t shared with Oliver. Had Tom smothered his wife when she was in one of her ‘heavy’ sleeps? Who knew, but it was the one secret I’d let pass. She was, after all, ‘six feet beneath the ground.’
* * *
My big sister was waiting for us at arrivals with an attractive bloke, a placard and a grin.
ALI BAKER, THINGY AND MYSTERY FRIEND it read.
After hugging me tightly, she stood back and studied Oliver. Almost jealous at the palpable connection, I watched their identical frowns as they took each other in.
‘Have we met before?’ she asked eventually.
Oliver held out his hand. ‘I’m Oliver Newman,’ he said easily. ‘I’m the son your mother gave up for adoption before you were born. Which makes me your brother.’
‘And you two are…?’ she asked cautiously.
I laughed. ‘Yes, scandalous, isn’t it?’
A letter from C E Rose
Hello lovely reader!
Thank you so much for reading The House on the Water’s Edge. I do hope you’ve enjoyed living on the River Bure, meeting Ali and George, Tom and Joan, and discovering their dark secrets.
If you’d like to read more twisty tales about relatable characters who get caught up in extraordinary situations, dilemmas or crimes, please check out my first CE Rose gothic-tinged psychological thriller, The House of Hidden Secrets, or my Caroline England domestic suspense novels, Beneath the Skin, My Husband’s Lies, Betray Her and Truth Games.
Book reviews are extremely helpful to authors, so if you have the time and inclination, I’d be really grateful if you’d pop a short one on Amazon or Goodreads, or your other preferred forum. If you’d like to chat in person, hear my latest news or see photos of my moggies and other random things, my website and social media details are below.
Thank you again,
Best wishes,
Caroline
Website: www.carolineenglandauthor.co.uk
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CazEngland
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CazEngland1/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cazengland1/
email: [email protected]
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to:
My gorgeous family – Jonathan, Elizabeth, Charlotte and Emily.
Mary and Ron for the genuine love letters.
My parents, sister and brothers, for my own happy childhood memories of Horning.
Early readers Kate Johnson, Hazel James and Catharine Hughes.
Keshini Naidoo and Lindsey Mooney for inviting me to join the fabulous list of Hera authors.
Keshini and Jennie Ayres for the top-notch editorial input and advice.
Last but not least, my brilliant friends and writing buddies, the amazing bloggers and you guys – the fantastic reading public!
Reading group questions for The House on the Water’s Edge
What was your perception of Ali’s parents in their younger days, as seen in their love letters? Do you think Ali takes after her adoptive mum, or her dad?
Were you shocked when Ali still had romantic feelings for George despite knowing they were related?
Did you think Tom was a kindly old man, or were you worried he might have darker motives?
Did you have any sympathy for Miles at all? Do you think he’ll end up with Julia?
Did you identify with Ali’s struggles as a new parent? Do you think the fact that she’d just had a baby impacted on her decisions at all?
Did you like Laura? Did your feelings change when you discovered she’d kept the secret of Ali’s adoption all her life? Out of the two sisters, Ali and Laura, which character did you identify with more?
After finding out the traumatic truth about her real mother, how do you think Ali’s life from now on will be affected?
Would you like to live in a house like The Lodge? Has the book tempted you to visit the Norfolk Broads?
What did you make of Madeleine? How would you feel about having a mother-in-law like her?
Did Joan’s dollies give you the creeps or did you feel sorry for her? Did you think Tom was right to ‘imprison’ her for all those years?
First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Hera
Hera Books
28b Cricketfield Road
London, E5 8NS
United Kingdom
Copyright © CE Rose, 2021
The moral right of CE Rose to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781912973767
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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