‘June went to Exeter University in 2000, is that correct?’
‘Yes, to study business management and accounting. Came top in her class. We were very proud.’
‘And it was during that time that she was dating Grant Huxley?’
A short pause and exhale of breath, like a huff. ‘Well, yes. Her final year, I think. But as I told you at your office, that is old news. Water under the bridge…’
‘Mrs Lane, I need to ask you something quite personal I’m afraid. Please understand I am only trying to connect all the important facts in Eloise’s case.’
‘Of course, though I don’t know what June has to do with it.’
‘Mrs Lane, to the best of your knowledge, do you know if was June pregnant at the end of her university course?’
Silence. Shuffling. The sound of a door closing. Then, hissed down the line, ’Not here. Can you meet me in Salcombe? At the carpark by the pier. At say 12 noon?’
‘Today?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll see you there, Mrs Lane.’
So now she drove through the mid morning sunshine as it shone its pale light on the grey roads. Harriet blinked her eyes rapidly to refocus on the grey road that twisted ahead, carrying her to Salcombe. Soon she turned off the highway and onto the narrow paths of South Devon, weaving between hedgerows and stone walls, tiny towns and large farm acreages. The sun breaking through the clouds meant more cars were now on the narrow roads. Harriet had to stop in the eves to let multiple cars and one truck pass as she travelled, but the delay was minimal and soon enough she came to the hilly coastal town of Salcombe. After finding a carpark she strolled to the pier and waited, eyes turned to the sea. The tide was out, leaving the fishing boats resting on their bulbous bellies, anchor chains overgrown with barnacles exposed to the late morning air. A cool sea breeze caught the smell of seaweed sweating in the sun and brought it to Harriet’s nose. She could understand why people lived here. Large town, money and opportunity, but too far from the rest of the world for Harriet’s taste. Still, it was a beautiful place. The setting for an idyllic childhood, she mused. Ellesmere Port it was not.
‘Ms Bell?’
Harriet turned and smiled at Dorothy. Dressed in jeans and pumps with a neat woollen jumper wrapped about her to bar the wind from her pale skin, Dorothy looked both smaller and younger than when they met in Harriet’s office over three months ago.
‘There is a lovely cafe just across the street, the Sea Breeze. Lovely scones. Would that suit?’
‘Sounds delicious.’
Harriet followed Dorothy to the Sea Breeze. They ordered scones with Devonshire cream and jam made from the owner’s own raspberries. ‘I just can’t abide store bought stuff,’ Dorothy confided. Harriet smiled. Around them fellow patrons read newspapers and sipped tea. It was not yet the season for the Devon coast, but the locals were out in force enjoying the arrival of the warmer weather after the closeted days of winter proper.
Dorothy arranged her hands before her, neatly folded and began,’I’m sorry to drag you down here, Ms Bell.’
‘Harriet, please.’
‘Harriet,’ she paused, ‘Mr Lane knows nothing of this particular, trouble. Nor does Eloise. And I hope you can agree it’s best it stays that way. Given recent, events.’
She looked down, eyes shadowed. The youth the warm sunlight had revealed on the pier crumpled down into the worries of a much older woman. The mother of a murderer.
Harriet’s heart went out to her. ‘I am sorry to intrude on such personal matters, Mrs Lane. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.’
Please don’t ask why it is important, she willed silently.
‘The workings of the law are not something I understand, Harriet,’ Dorothy replied. ‘Paul and I are guided by you in all things. We want what is best for Eloise. You must believe that.’ She fixed Harriet with wide, tired eyes, full of pain.
‘Of course I do,’ Harriet rejoined.
Dorothy breathed out a heavy breath of sorrow and resettled herself on the wicker chair.
‘In 2000, Junie came home to study for her final exams. It was the first time in four years of study that she did. I didn’t think much of it at first. Final year is a greater stress after all. It seemed a natural choice.’
She paused, fingers twisting her gold wedding band and enormous ruby engagement stone.
‘It was about a week after she came home that I heard her vomiting. I thought nothing of it, she often went out drinking with friends. While I disapproved of such behaviour so close to her exams, I’d learnt long ago not to try and offer counsel to my June.
‘But then I heard her again the next morning, and then later that afternoon and my mind got to putting things together.
‘I confronted her over tea and scones,’ Dorothy blushed shyly. ‘It seems to be my go to in times of challenge.’
As if on queue their waitress, Annabelle, arrived with their order. Despite her avid curiosity Harriet could not help the instant salivation of her mouth and grumble of her stomach as the scent of fresh scones and sweet jam hit her nose. She cut into her scone and lathered on the jam, topped it with lashings of rich golden cream.
Dorothy smiled knowingly. ‘Nothing like Devonshire cream,’ she said.
Harriet, mouth full of scone and cream, nodded and wiped her lips with a napkin.
‘So,’ Dorothy continued, ‘I asked, and unexpectedly, June didn’t resist me.’ She paused, eyes far away in the thrall of the recollection of old pain.
Harriet pushed down a stab of guilt. Making her talk of this moment from so long ago, when right now her young daughter faced an even worse fate, it wasn’t fair. But then again, nor was life.
‘She burst into tears and told me the truth. She was pregnant; Grant didn’t want it.’ She breathed deeply, ‘I held her, told her all the usual platitudes: it’s ok, you will get through it, we will work something out, etc etc… we decided to keep it to ourselves until after exams and then we would work out the best way forward, to care for the child.’
‘But she never had the baby? Did she?’
‘No,’ Dorothy said shortly, reaching for a second scone and taking her time over its preparation. Harriet waited, she was experienced enough to let people take their time over their confessions.
‘She returned to Exeter for her exams and then stayed there for the summer. We heard little from her. I began to worry. From what I could tell she would have been close to five months along and I wanted her home where I could be a support. Just when I was on the verge of telling Paul everything and demanding we drive to Exeter and collect her, she arrived home.’
Dorothy sipped her tea, watching Harriet over her cup.
Harriet realised, shocked, ‘She wasn’t pregnant anymore, was she?’
Dorothy shook her head.
‘What happened? Did she lose it? I hear miscarriage is much more common than people think… Or did she…?’
‘I don’t know. I tried to talk to her, but she was back to my old Junie; holding everything close, not sharing. The only thing I know is that she and Grant had broken up.’
‘Do you know why?’
‘He left her for one of her friends.’
Harriet couldn’t help the hiss that escaped her lips. She looked up at Dorothy, shame faced.
‘I quite agree,’ Dorothy said, her eyes glittering angrily.
‘Where was Eloise during all of this?’
Dorothy exhaled a heavy sigh, looking down at her scone she replied, ‘Hollydale. Her delusions had increased significantly the Christmas before. June brought Grant down for the holiday. It triggered something in Eloise. She said June threatened to kill her if she went near her boyfriend, which was just preposterous! She starting having dreams of blood, visions of June standing over her while she slept. It was out of control. We had to do something…’
She looked up at Harriet, eyes wide in an open plea for understanding. The shame of having committed her youngest child sti
ll fresh all these years later. Harriet tried for a reassuring smile, though she felt quite sure it didn’t reach her eyes. Eloise had suffered at Hollydale, and as a result had avoided getting help after Jacob’s birth caused a resurgence in her symptoms. Had she really needed to be committed? Or just understood?
Dorothy shrugged, ‘But, as I said, that was all in the past. Eloise knew nothing about June’s pregnancy. And I really don’t think Grant rushing off with Helene is anything to do with…’
‘Helene?’
Dorothy paused, ‘Yes,’ she relented, ‘Helene was the friend Grant left June for.’
‘Not Helene Swift?’
‘Well yes, or at least she was Swift then. I don’t know about now. How do you know Helene?’
’June borrowed her car on the night of the murder.’
‘Oh, I didn’t realise they were still in contact.’
Harriet’s mind was whirring, ‘Dorothy, would you know where Helene lives?’
‘You’d have to ask June. Somewhere in Salcombe is all I know. But she works at the Salcombe Health Club. I see her there when I do my Wednesday Pilates. But we don’t talk.’
Harriet sipped her tea and let that information filter through her.
A decision cemented itself in her mind.
‘Could you point me in the direction of the health club?’
19: The other woman
Harriet stepped through the automatic doors of the Salcombe Health Club. The warmth of the heating system washed over her like a fake summer breeze as she broke through from the scent of the salty coast and into the brine of sweaty gym mats. A tall muscled man glistening from a workout sauntered past her, making no attempt to hide his open appraisal of her black jeans and open neck shirt.
Harriet looked away and rolled her eyes. No wonder I never stick to my memberships, she thought. Spying the welcome desk (helpfully labelled, WELCOME in large blue lettering) she wandered over to the reception staff. She picked a young girl, no more than 18 in blonde Heidi plats.
‘Hi, I am looking for Helene Swift? I believe she teaches yoga here.’
‘You have an appointment love?’
‘No, but I was hoping she might be free?’
The girl, tapped at the computer before her. ‘She’s actually on break. I’ll just call up and see if she is free. Who shall I say is asking?’
Harriet paused a moment. Fuck it.
‘June, June Lane.’
Five minutes later, a slender bronzed woman strolled into the reception. Eyes scanning. Confusion flashed across her face and she turned to the desk. Harriet sprang into action, intercepting her before she could ask a question and give Harriet away.
‘Helene Swift?’ she asked, proffering her hand to shake. ‘Harriet Bell, I am Eloise Lane-Huxley’s defence attorney. Could we talk?’
Helene’s dark eyes scanned her face, the subterfuge slowly dawning. ‘I have a class at one…’
‘This won’t take long.’
Helene paused, staring at Harriet. For a moment Harriet thought she would simply walk away. She’d only come out to see June… Not Eloise’s defence lawyer.
‘Fine, this way.’
Harriet breathed a sigh of relief.
Helene led Harriet across the reception and into a small side room furnished with a simple IKEA style table and four plastic chairs. Helene took a seat on one side and looked up at Harriet expectedly. No warm PT welcome here, Harriet thought.
She took a seat herself and began, ‘I’m sorry to just turn up…’
‘It’s ok, but like I said, I don’t have long.’
‘Right,’ Harriet paused. ‘You have spoken to the prosecution in Eloise Lane-Huxley’s case?’
‘I have. They asked about a white car. It was the right thing to do.’
‘Of course,’ Harriet hastened on, ‘but I am more interested in before now. Back when you were at Exeter University…’
Realisation dawned on Helene’s face and her eyes narrowed, ‘You mean about Grant and me? It was a long time ago.’
‘Did you know June was pregnant when you got together with Grant?’
Helene glared at Harriet. If looks could kill.
‘No,’ she said shortly, ‘not until later.’
‘Do you know what happened to the child?’
‘There was no child,’ she said. Pausing, she leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest in a strongly defensive gesture. Harriet waited, watching the emotions cycle across Helene’s face: anger, refusal, consideration and finally, resignation. ‘I didn’t know, like I said. But after Grant and I broke up… June came to see me. Told me what went on. He talked her into an abortion. Said they had ‘the rest of our lives’ for children, just not now. So she got rid of it. We started dating the week after.’
Harriet sat still, stunned and hoped that her face remained neutral.
Recovering she asked, ‘That’s quite a history. How did you continue your friendship?’
Helene snorted, ‘Friendship? Hardly.’
‘But you leant her your car?’
Helene sighed, ‘I saw Eloise from time to time, at mutual friends parties. Up in London a time or two. But June, no. Time doesn’t heal everything. I was surprised when she rang. But I wanted to help.’
Harriet nodded, Guilt, she decided, we all do stupid shit for guilt.
‘You chatted a while and then she took the car?’
‘Is that what she said? No, she came in, took the car and left. Couldn’t wait to get away from me.’
Harriet cocked her head in question and waited.
Helene eyed her. ‘She was in a state, ok? Worked up. I don’t know… said, “he’s doing it again, I need to get back”. I didn’t want to give her the car. But after what I did… what could I do?’
‘“He’s doing it again.” Meaning Grant?’
‘Who else? The man’s a snake. I don’t think he’s ever kept to one woman for long.’
‘Doing what exactly?’
Helene shrugged.
‘Who was June worried for?’
Helene looked at her incredulously, ‘Eloise! Who else? June has always fought for her sister. I don’t know if they told you, but Eloise was hard to come by. Poor Mrs Dot suffered many miscarriages between the two girls, that’s why there’s so many years between them. Then Eloise was early, sickly. She needed constant care. Care they probably needed to reign in at some point.’
‘Meaning?’
She paused, sighed, ‘They were controlling, I think. June was free to grow and explore, Eloise was kept locked up safe. It was half the reason she married Grant if you ask me. The man may be a shit, but he’ll let you live your own life. And Eloise was so happy in London. I was surprised they convinced her to come back here…’
Harriet paused, frowned. Eloise had implied the exact opposite of Grant’s behaviour towards her, that she had to follow his lead or else… Or else what? She still didn’t know.
‘Did Grant treat you, well?’
Derision, raw and direct smothered Helene’s face. ‘Yes,’ she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice, ‘He was an angel.’
Harriet’s brows drew down.
Helene sighed, ‘He was fine,’ she said. ‘We fucked, that was all. He didn’t owe me anything. Just rang when he was in town and we met up. But no, he was never anything inappropriate with me. Unless you count the fact he was cheating of course.’
‘Eloise speaks fondly of Torcross, and I’ve seen no hint of malice in her over the decision,’ Harriet said, picking up the other part of Helene’s statement that didn’t ring true to what she knew of her client.
Helene rolled her shoulders, leaning forward, ‘Yeah, well, what would I know? Look, there’s nothing else I can tell you about what happened, ok? June called me. She was nervous, worried. She wanted to get back to Eloise, so I lent her my car. That’s it, all right?’
‘All right,’ Harriet agreed quickly.
Helene sat before her, visibly agitated. ‘You say Eloise was happy
down here?’ she said.
‘Such has been my impression, yes.’
Helene frowned. ‘When I heard they’d split and she’d come back south I was happy for her. Getting away from Grant, I mean. I thought… I thought it would be better for her here, even if she didn’t know it,’ she huffed a breath. ‘Just like her parents, hey? Thinking I know what’s best for her.’ She shook her head. ‘Was pretty wrong about that wasn’t I? We all were.’
Harriet stared at Helene in surprise. Then, collecting herself, ‘Thank you for your time. It’s been very helpful.’
Helene eyed her a moment. ‘Look after her,’ she said, ‘Eloise. She was always such a little, quiet thing… what they say she did. Well, anyway, I have to go.’
‘Again, thank you,’ Harriet said and left the club.
The shadows stretched long and dull across the grey expressway, the setting sun cutting through the foliage in uneven bursts, shocking her eyes. Harriet barely noticed. Churning through her mind the words of Dorothy and Helene danced around each other, circling, clashing, converging. A pregnancy, the loss of a child and her partner, such a lot for any woman to go through, let alone one as young as June had been. Grant, it seemed, had never taken commitment seriously. And June was clearly jealous of him. Eloise said herself that June warned her away from him. At 13 what threat could she possibly have been?
It did pose the question - was Eloise’s claim that June threatened her really a delusion? Or was that just a truth their parents couldn’t countenance: that their healthy, ambitious daughter was mistreating their fragile child? It broke the story the Lanes had built around their children. June the brave and strong protector, Eloise the vulnerable child they had to keep close and safe. Had she suffered through the experience of Hollydale for telling the truth?
Helene had observed their over protective treatment of Eloise, called them controlling. Was it more than that? They made no secret of their dislike of Grant and his treatment of Eloise and June. They were also concerned that Eloise would lose the support money if Grant got sole custody of Jacob. Did they somehow arrange for Grant’s death in a misguided attempt to protect their daughter and secure the money? Allow the blame to fall on Eloise and see her locked away, safe and sound, forever?
The Unsound Sister Page 13