by Anita Waller
‘No, silly. Roads have flower names, don’t they? Acacia Avenue, my friend Sarah lives on that one, Daffodil Crescent where my other friend Colette lives – there’s lots of roads with flower names. It’s called the flower estate.’
‘And it’s that newly built estate outside Woodbridge.’ Suddenly Rosie came to life. ‘Look at the third Post-it note, Doris. I’m starting to think I’m not daft.’
The blue gloves made Doris’s hands clumsy, but she eventually got to the correct page. There were only two addresses. ‘Which one has raised your hackles?’
‘The Enid Hill one. Enid Hill taught both of us at our secondary school. She’s retired now, of course, and not far off her ninetieth birthday. We see her around the place, always have a chat with her, and she knows what we do with the journals. She asked to see one, and so we went to her home in Woodbridge. She ordered one for her granddaughter, and that was the one Shirley insisted on delivering to her. This address,’ Rosie pointed to the entry in the diary, ‘isn’t her address.’
‘Would Mark know it wasn’t her address?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘No, I can’t imagine for a minute he would know her at all. Mark went to Springbrook, the one the boys are at now.’
‘So this address is an aide-memoire meant for Shirley only. Woodbridge is a connection, and I think we have to seriously consider that fuchsia may be a road. Rosie, it’s good you’ve made copies of the diary and you need to get it back to Shirley’s home as soon as possible.’ Doris pushed the diary across the table and removed her gloves before lifting her laptop onto the table.
Once more with full coffee cups, the laptop gave them information not discoverable from the diary. The address attributed to Enid Hill was in a small hamlet called Rothery. It proved to be about ten miles away from Hucknall, and after using Google Earth, it was shown as an end-of-terrace property. It had been painted cream, and whoever owned it had made it cottagey in appearance. Roses had been trained to climb the walls, and it had a small garden that went around three sides of the small house. Doris expertly zoomed around the screen, then pulled away. That was when she spotted the for sale sign in the garden.
‘Bingo!’ she said, sitting back. ‘That’s solved another mystery. Look.’ The others moved around her back and Megan saw it.
‘ME,’ she squealed. ‘It’s a house-selling thing.’
‘Estate agents,’ Doris said with a smile. ‘Do we think Shirley could be buying this little house for her and her boys? Maybe she’s already bought it and is hiding out there until the boys finish on Friday for the school holiday.’
Megan peered closely at the screen. ‘What’s that sign say by the front door?’
Again, Doris zoomed in, then laughed. ‘Well spotted, Megan. It says Fuchsia Cottage. Rosie, what do you want to do?’
‘I want to go and check it out. Will you come with me?’
‘Of course we will. I’ll drive if you want. Where’s Mark?’
‘He’s with Patrick. Staying overnight.’
‘Then maybe you should take the diary back, minus its Post-it notes, while you have the chance. We can do that before we go to Rothery.’
Quarter of an hour later Doris’s car pulled up outside Mark and Shirley’s home. Doris watched Rosie walk up the garden path and knock on the front door twice. She then inserted the key, and slipped inside.
Two minutes later, Rosie was fastening her seat belt. ‘Mission accomplished. I thought I’d better knock to be on the safe side, but it’s empty. I put it back in the bedside drawer, then legged it out again.’
Doris had already entered the postcode into the satnav and they set off.
It was a twenty-minute drive through pretty countryside; Wendy’s head swivelled back and forth as she tried to stamp the views into her memory. Sheffield City Centre had never looked like this.
Rothery was tiny. Doris guessed that it held maybe thirty houses at the most, and wondered if, in a past life, it had been a mining village. If it had been, the houses had certainly been upgraded since then. She parked the car around the corner from Fuchsia Cottage, then swung round in her seat.
‘What do you want to do, Rosie?’
‘What I want to do is go in and batter her for scaring me like this, but I won’t do that, I promise. Do you think I should go in on my own?’
‘No,’ Megan protested. ‘That’s not fair. We’ve all done our bit in tracking Aunty Shirley down; we should all go.’
Rosie thought about it for a moment, then nodded. ‘Megan’s right. Come on, let’s go and have a cup of tea with my runaway sister.’
The garden gate squeaked, and Megan giggled. ‘I’m scared,’ she whispered. ‘What if it’s a mad axeman who lives here, and not Aunty Shirley?’
‘We’ll find out who’s the fastest runner, won’t we,’ Doris said. ‘You stay behind me, and I’ll deliver a targeted kick.’
‘At his balls?’ Megan’s eyes were wide.
Rosie glanced back at her daughter. ‘Megan! Don’t say that!’
‘Sorry, Mum. Testicles.’
They followed one another, Indian style, around the cottage. There had been no response to their first tentative knock on the front door, so a back door was being sought. Another knock and again there was no response.
Peering through the windows didn’t help either. Not only was the cottage seemingly devoid of humans, it also held precious little furniture: a stool and three wheelie bins that clearly belonged outside.
‘She’s not here,’ Megan said, disappointment evident in her voice. ‘Did we get it wrong?’
‘Let’s go back to the car,’ Doris said. ‘I have a plan B.’
Doris handed out the sheets she and Wendy had used for contacting the hotels, guest houses and bed and breakfast places within a five-mile radius of Springbrook School.
‘We contacted all of these, and there are thirty-nine in total. Thanks to Wendy’s lying skills everybody was really helpful, except one. We told them some cock and bull story about a dog that had to be put to sleep and we needed to contact Shirley, its owner, before we could agree. We’d got it down to a fine art, almost had some receptionists in tears, but until we got to the next to last, nothing worked. Nobody knew her or had seen her. And then we got a negative response. It was a bed and breakfast place, about half a mile from the school. She couldn’t get me off the phone quick enough, didn’t buy the dying dog act at all, despite me turning on the waterworks to try to convince her I was serious. She put the phone down on me. That woman was the only one who didn’t fall apart at this sad dog being put to death. I wonder why. Is Shirley there, and has she told the woman she doesn’t want to be found? Perhaps told her some story about domestic violence?’
There was a moment of silence in the car as they digested those few words. Doris started the car. ‘Let’s go visit this Oleander House, see what the lie of the land is. It’s all about flowers today, isn’t it?’
Quarter of an hour later they pulled up a short distance before Oleander House, and Doris glanced up and down the street for signs of Shirley’s car. There was nothing visible, but it was obvious Oleander House had a gravel drive, with large iron gates, currently open.
‘We need to go through those gates, and possibly round the back of the house. Keep your eyes peeled for any sign of that Ka. If there’s a garage we need to look in it. If we’re spotted, we tell the truth. And don’t forget the dying dog.’ Doris put the car into drive, and edged forward. She indicated to turn into the driveway.
The Ka was on its way out, and the two cars faced each other off, as if lead characters in High Noon.
Rosie jumped out and strode towards her sister. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Shirley?’
19
Trudy Dawson, owner of the bed and breakfast business, carried a tray of drinks through to the five people sitting in her guests’ lounge, and turned to go out of the door.
‘No, Trudy, please stay, unless you have something you need to be doing.’ Shirl
ey sounded panicked at the thought of Trudy leaving the room. This woman had protected her and kept her safe since her arrival.
‘Only preparing you a meal,’ Trudy said, smiling at her guest.
‘Then go and get another cup, and join us.’
‘Shirley, tell us what’s going on. You’ve heard about Melanie?’
‘I have. It was on the news. How’s Patrick?’
‘We don’t really know. Believe it or not, we’ve had other things on our minds, like finding you. That’s been my priority, anyway.’ Rosie’s tone hadn’t softened at all. The anger towards her sister had been evident in her face when she had jumped out of the car, and it was still there.
‘Stop shouting at me, Rosie. You would have known I was okay come next Friday or Saturday anyway, because I’m going to collect my boys from that awful school and they’re never going back. I’m moving into a little house in Rothery…’
‘Fuchsia Cottage,’ Megan said.
Shirley’s eyes turned towards her niece. ‘How the hell did you know that?’
A smile flashed across Rosie’s face for the first time. ‘Because we’re Team Doris. Nobody is safe from her. But leaving that side alone for a minute, can you start from the beginning? Why did you take off without letting me know? When they said they’d found a body in the woods, I thought…’ And finally her anger morphed into grief, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
Wendy pulled a pack of tissues from her bag and handed them to the distraught woman. Finally, Rosie calmed down. ‘You took nothing with you, Shirley.’
‘That’s because I didn’t know I wasn’t going back. My head was all over the place. I missed the boys so much, and Mark – I felt sure he was having an affair. Little things started to point to it – you know how it is when a man is playing away. Then I found something in his suit pocket that convinced me. He’d been gone about an hour last Wednesday, and I was sick of thinking things through, feeling shut off from the world I had known before I married Mark. I decided to take myself out, put some petrol in Katherine and drive around, give myself some thinking time. I came up with a sort of battle plan. I would go home, lock the doors and windows so he couldn’t get back in, and we could fight it out in court over who kept the house. I felt pretty sure I would win because the boys would be with me. Trust me, I was sure of that, the boys don’t really like him much. My plans changed ten minutes later when I drove past Enid Hill’s place and she was standing by the garden gate, no coat on and it was after eight, dark and cold. I stopped and went to her.’
Shirley paused for a moment. ‘She’d gone over on her ankle putting out the wheelie bin. That woman is a marvel, you’d think she was twenty years younger than she is. She was trying to work out how to get back inside without crawling on her hands and knees. I helped her in, got her ankle raised and made her a drink. The conversation turned to what I was doing. That’s when she offered me Fuchsia Cottage for the third time. It’s been on my mind for weeks to simply move out, and I’d told Enid about my problems. She immediately offered me the cottage, but it was still only a thought in my head.
‘It’s where she used to live before her husband died, but then she inherited the bungalow she’s in now, so they moved into it and put a tenant in Fuchsia Cottage. She decided to sell it when the tenant moved on, but last Wednesday night, when Enid saw the state I was in, she offered me the cottage again, and I said yes. It’s perfect. I’m renting it until I get some money from the sale of our present house, or until Mark buys me out, then I will buy Fuchsia Cottage. I actually went to an estate agent a couple of months ago to go on their books for a house to rent. Even then I knew I had to leave, but they didn’t have anything in my budget at that time.’
‘You think Mark will sit back and let this happen?’
‘He’s no choice.’
Rosie recognised a little of the old Shirley starting to come through. ‘But you didn’t go back home?’
Shirley gave a small laugh. ‘No, when I was talking to Enid it suddenly seemed very… liberating. There was a way forward, I have some money as you know, Rosie, and it’s enough to get me and the boys away from a poisonous family life. They deserve so much more than they’ve had. To go back to Enid, I rang her daughter who came around to see to her mum, then I left. Enid is a friend of Trudy, and told me if I ever needed a bed temporarily, Trudy would give me one. They spoke while I was there, and she made sure Trudy knew my name.’
Shirley smiled at Trudy. ‘Instead of driving home, I drove here. I sent Mark a nasty text designed to put him on edge, saying he wouldn’t ever get back in the house, and that wasn’t for any reason other than to be horrible to him, and Trudy and I talked long into the night. Luckily she had no other guests here, and she’s been really good about me not paying, but when you arrived I was on my way to Nottingham to get some money. I was happy to resurface if I was caught on CCTV, but I didn’t want anybody knowing where I was staying. So that’s really it. I didn’t intend leaving Mark that night; I only took my bag with my purse and phone in. Trudy lent me a nightie, and went shopping for knickerless me. I owe her a fair amount by now. I simply intended driving around and thinking.’
‘You could have rung.’ Rosie was clearly still hurting.
‘You’re right, I could, but I think Trudy will confirm this when I say I was in a bit of a state when I arrived here late last Wednesday night, and since then has been a healing time, and a planning time. There have been three or four guests and I’ve helped with that stuff, making beds and suchlike, and it has been a good time. I tried calling the boys on their iPads on that first night, but it didn’t connect so I haven’t tried since. I want to be able to go and get them Friday or Saturday, take them to Fuchsia Cottage and spend the school holiday setting up our new home.’
Doris finally spoke. ‘And you think the school will let you take the boys without notifying their father? They do know you’re missing.’
‘Yes, I’ll tell them, and Seth and Adam, that I’ve moved back home, that we’ve talked everything through and we’re back on track. I don’t imagine the boys will be over the moon, but I’ll explain the truth when we’re out of school.’
Doris couldn’t help but feel that Shirley had inherited far more of her father’s genes than Rosie had. Being away from the unhealthy atmosphere at home had given her a somewhat cavalier attitude and she knew that Shirley hadn’t really thought this through properly.
Everything depended on whether Mark had had the foresight to say to the school that they weren’t to release the boys to anyone but himself.
‘Shirley,’ Doris began, ‘I think you should contact the police and let them know you’re safe, merely taking time out. This will free up the people investigating your disappearance, take the pressure off you, and they will notify Mark that you’ve been found. Rosie can tell him, but you need to contact the police. They may want to speak to you in person, because I imagine you’re on the suspect list for the murder of Melanie Brookes, but if you’ve been here since last Wednesday night, and haven’t been out since, I’m sure Trudy will confirm that.’
Shock flashed across Shirley’s face. ‘Suspect? Of course I haven’t killed anybody.’
Rosie shook her head in disbelief. ‘You can’t be this naïve, Shirley. Mel’s dead, and you’ve gone missing. To the police, that probably means you’re either another victim, or the killer. And why didn’t you come to me last Wednesday? You know we have a spare bedroom.’
‘I couldn’t. I knew Mark would arrive the next day looking for me. I’ve reached the end, Rosie, can’t you see? I won’t be bullied any longer, any decisions concerning my life will be made by me. I want a divorce, I want out.’
The briefing room fell silent. Grace moved across to the whiteboard and pointed to the photograph of Melanie Brookes.
‘I believe the murder of Melanie Brookes and the disappearance of Shirley Ledger are connected in some way. Although we have been running them as two separate enquiries, it’s time to merge them. Hence t
his afternoon’s briefing. We have results from the post-mortem I need to share with you.’
Grace flipped through the sheaf of papers in her hand. ‘Melanie Brookes died between nine and eleven last Thursday night. She was manually strangled, and we cannot say whether it was a man or a woman who did it, because Melanie was petite and extremely slim. It could easily have been either sex. The marks on her neck indicate she was attacked from behind, and pressure held until she was dead. We need teams out at every bridge crossing of this river, every ford, I want the bank combed upstream for any signs of a struggle because we’re sure she came downstream from where she entered the water. She only stopped on her journey at that point because of a low-hanging tree with branches in the water.’
Grace lifted her head to look around the room. ‘The pathologist has established the time of death because of her stomach contents. She had a meal shortly before being killed, and she had eaten Chinese food. Prawn balls to be precise. And chips. We believe she went out that Thursday night, despite her having told Patrick Ledger that she was staying in because she had an early start the next day. We don’t know if she went alone or if she had a partner. Patrick Ledger denies having seen her after Thursday lunchtime when they both went to work; says he came home and also had an early night after trying to contact Melanie to wish her good luck for her Friday in York. He confirms her phone was turned off, so he left a voicemail. We don’t have Melanie’s bag, or her phone. These are things to look out for, people, when you get out there to that riverbank.’
Grace pointed to Shirley Ledger’s picture. ‘I want a team to go to Mark Ledger’s home and turn it upside down. Make sure it looks fairly tidy when you leave it,’ she added with a laugh. ‘I need anything; a diary, clothing, photos, laptops and iPads, anything that will need investigating. I want to know how close a friendship she had with Melanie Brookes, and if Mark Ledger had any sort of a relationship with our victim. Find me anything you can. Try not to find a body. Thank you everyone, spend the next half hour organising tomorrow, then get off home. I want you in early, especially the teams doing the riverbank work. If there’s no one at Mark Ledger’s place, he’ll be with his brother. I know he’s been staying there a couple of nights. Get his key, the search warrant will be ready to pick up as you go. Good luck, bring me some results.’