The Open House
Page 30
‘Daddy!’ I hear excited shouts from Finley and Leo.
Nick’s here.
‘Well? How did it go?’ Barb is first to ask once the boys have released their dad from their hugs and rushed off to play again.
‘Okay.’ He smiles.
I sense the relief exude from everyone.
‘Here’s a beer.’ Richard hands his brother a bottle.
‘Cheers, I really need this.’ Nick tilts the bottle and guzzles the liquid.
‘Is it over, Nick?’ Barb asks.
‘I think so,’ he says.
We all fall quiet.
‘All the evidence produced pointed to Chloe being dead by the hand of a suspect not known to the police.’
‘So, nothing comes back to Bern?’ I ask. ‘Even though you thought all of it linked together and that’s why you assumed whoever took Chloe had taken Tim?’
‘Only, that wasn’t the case, was it. Tim wasn’t abducted – I’d seen links where there weren’t any. I wanted the evidence to fit, was desperate for it, so that’s how I interpreted what I had.’
‘But I don’t get it. Dad was the one who did it; we know that. He had her bracelet. The other trophies … I sent you the bracelet, Nick. It must’ve had Dad’s fingerprints or something, surely?’ Richard looks confused.
‘No. No fingerprints were found on the bracelet – and that was the only piece of physical evidence I had. And all we had in the first place was a box of jewellery. Without that, or our testimonies saying where they were found, it’s just another piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit.’
‘Okay, well it’s strange, but I suppose you’re right. If they’re not in possession of all the facts, then …’ I allow my sentence to trail off. It still doesn’t make complete sense to me – I think Nick is leaving something out. But no one, including me, wants to push him on it. We’re all just happy it’s over.
‘Exactly. And now I move on to another cold case.’ He sighs.
‘But, well done, Nick,’ I say to try to lighten the mood. ‘At least the family have an element of closure, eh? And maybe the rest will follow.’ His gaze doesn’t meet mine. He gives a curt nod and moves away, walking to the barbecue. Richard follows and they both begin serving the food.
‘You okay, Amber?’ Davina leans close and whispers in my ear.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I’m not altogether satisfied Nick is telling us the truth.’ I watch as Nick and Richard huddle together near the end of the garden.
Davina sighs. She doesn’t know exactly what happened the night we all came back here. She wasn’t privy to what we all did the night after – I’ve only told her part of it. Oddly for her, she hasn’t asked any further questions.
‘Best to let sleeping dogs lie?’ she says.
‘Yeah, probably,’ I say as I gulp down the rest of my Pimm’s.
I slip away from Davina and Barb and join the men.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘What are you two concocting now?’ I say it in as jokey a manner as I can muster.
Both faces turn to me. Both look as guilty as kids who’ve been caught smoking behind the bike sheds.
‘Oh, God, what? It’s not over, is it? You were just telling us that so we wouldn’t panic.’ I can barely breathe; I’m about to have an anxiety attack.
‘Calm down,’ Richard says, enveloping me in his arms. I allow this intimacy. Despite not even being close to where we were prior to the revelations, I’m beginning to come around to the possibility Richard really does love me. I’m unsure we have a future together, but I am more willing to consider it than I was. Nick looks away, though. I don’t think he’s ready to forgive yet. I know he’s working on it – we’ve discussed it all at length over the past difficult months. His avoidance now may be because he can’t bear to see me in an embrace with his brother, or it could be because he’s about to tell me something he knows I won’t like.
‘Don’t tell me to calm down,’ I say, pulling away.
‘It’s fine, Amber,’ Nick says. ‘It’s nothing like that.’
‘Then what is it like? What’s wrong?’
‘Look, if I tell you, you can’t ever tell Mum. I mean, like ever. She can’t know …’
My heart pumps so hard I swear I can see it beating out my chest.
‘Of course. I promise.’
‘Nick says it wasn’t Dad.’ Tears trickle down Richard’s face.
I turn to Nick. ‘What? I don’t understand.’
‘It’s true, Amber. The evidence doesn’t link to Dad the way we thought it did. It’s circumstantial at best. The only thing tying him to it is a bracelet and the recollection of a man who was seventeen at the time he found it.’
‘Yes, and that was enough before,’ I say, glaring at Richard.
‘I know. But we’ve realised too late who it really was.’
And then it dawns on me, too. We’d been blindsided.
Bern Miller hadn’t been the one who did it – he’d been the one covering it up. The one protecting his brother.
‘Patrick?’ I say through clenched teeth.
‘Yep. Looks that way,’ Richard says. ‘I didn’t give Dad chance to really explain, neither did Mum. We were too angry; hurt at finding out what we thought were his secrets. I found the trophy box and because of his lies – the fact he did have addictions and was often out late at night – we automatically presumed he was the guilty one. His anger at my accusations seemed to prove he was guilty.’
‘Are you sure, though? Could you be wrong?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Nick says. ‘And now I’ve looked at everything together, and looked into Patrick, it’s the only conclusion I can reach.’
I look to Richard. He’s deathly white.
‘It’s not your fault, Richard. You left – you didn’t hurt your dad. If Barb hadn’t been so angry, had waited …’
I don’t finish the sentence.
We all know how it ends.
‘What’s done is done,’ I say, turning back to the look at the others. Finley and Leo are hugging Barb.
She looks happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. Possibly ever.
She has her family back.
Nothing can be gained by telling her the truth now.
As Davina said – best to let sleeping dogs lie.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my wonderful agent, Anne Williams, for your unwavering support and editorial insight – I’m very lucky to have you. Thanks to my editor, Katie Loughnane, for helping make this novel the best it could be and whose dedication, enthusiasm and professionalism never fails to impress me. The idea for this book began while we enjoyed a fabulous afternoon tea together (a G&T or two may have been consumed). I think this is the best way to discuss all future ideas. Thank you to Sabah Khan, for your PR support and for all the hard work you put in to helping raise my author profile. My book launches have been such a lot of fun with you and Katie making the journey down to my neck of the woods! Huge thanks for your ongoing support and friendship. My thanks to the whole of the Avon team who work tirelessly to champion books and get them into the hands of as many readers as possible. Thank you to my local Waterstones (Newton Abbot) and manager, Lee Auburn, for supporting my books and launches.
Huge thanks to my family: Doug, Nathaniel, Danika, Josh and Isaac, Louis and Emily – you keep me going and I’m grateful for your continued support, and to my wider family and friends who are lovely enough to buy my books and offer encouragement.
The Open House was great fun to write and I must thank my friend, Tara, for inadvertently giving me the inspiration for it during a coffee at her house. If you’re friends with an author, you can expect this kind of result! It wouldn’t be the book it is today had it not been for my friends J and San, who were happy for me to take my flipchart board over to theirs and set up in the conservatory, where over a bottle of fizz we brainstormed plot points. J – you’re pretty good at it, maybe you should write a book …
Thank you to Jo and
Keeley – you’re both finally in one of my books. Hope you enjoy it! While this is a work of fiction, of course some elements are inspired by real life and real friendships. Stay gold, Jo. Thank you to my lifelong best friend, Trace. Without you everything would be that much harder. We’ve shared so many of life’s ups and downs but through everything we’ve always managed to laugh. But please, no more lying about going on “short walks”.
At the time of writing this, the UK is still in lockdown due to the coronavirus – although we have seen some easing of the restrictions. When it was first introduced, I was attempting to do structural edits on The Open House, and I, like many, struggled to focus. In fact, I lost all ability to concentrate on anything bar the daily briefings for a few weeks. Not being able to see my family was unbearable, but most of all I missed seeing my grandson, who up until the lockdown, I’d been looking after a few times a week while my daughter worked. It’s been a terribly challenging time for everyone, and for some, there have been devastating consequences. I’m praying we’re coming out the other side now. The one thing to keep me sane has been books – so, I’d like to thank authors for enabling me to escape for a few hours a day into their fabulous novels. A big thank you to my readers, many of whom have been kind enough to contact me to let me know that one of my books has helped them get through this time, too. I’ve never been so thankful for books!
I’m also thankful for Zoom and the other ways that have enabled me to remain in contact with family and friends. I wonder if there’s anyone who hasn’t taken part in a Zoom quiz during lockdown …
Thank you to the Fab Four who have kept in contact via online chats – Carolyn, Libby and Caroline, I can’t wait to finally be able to get together in person. I’ve greatly missed seeing author and blogger friends at the literary festivals this year, I very much hope we can make up for it next year.
So many people were involved in the process of getting this book into your hands, I thank each and every one, even if they’re not named here (the acknowledgements would be as long as the novel if I did!)
I hope readers old and new enjoy The Open House. As always, I love to hear from those who’ve enjoyed my books – you can contact me through my website at samcarringtonauthor.com.
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About the Author
Sam Carrington lives in Devon with her husband, two border terriers and a cat. She has three adult children and a new grandson! She worked for the NHS for fifteen years, during which time she qualified as a nurse. Following the completion of a psychology degree she went to work for the prison service as an Offending Behaviour Programme Facilitator. Her experiences within this field inspired her writing. She left the service to spend time with her family and to follow her dream of being a novelist.
Readers can find out more at samcarringtonauthor.com and can follow Sam on Twitter @sam_carrington1
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