“I’ve been thinking about it all, Hugh. The house has to be sold at some time, but there’s no rush. Stay here for a while and we’ll talk again in, say, six months.”
“I appreciate the offer, Ryan, but this house is not a home without Caroline in it. As soon as I have found somewhere, I’m going to move out. Put the place up for sale straight away.”
“I need to go through all of her stuff at some point, so there’s no rush to put it on the market. I appreciate that you are finding it hard to stay here. To be honest, sorting everything out is something I’m dreading. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but if you could give me a hand that would be great. There might be things that you want to keep as well.”
“Sure. Let me know when and we’ll get on with it.”
Tim found a flat to rent, and moved there with his belongings and a few things that had been Caroline’s. Getting up and going to work, coming home and watching television: the days passed and everything was meaningless. A large sum of money was coming his way from Caroline’s estate and he didn’t care.
Six months after the funeral, Tim was still only going through the motions. He would talk to Ryan occasionally, but he knew that they would lose contact eventually. Grief had given way to numbness and he was waiting to see what would come next. Realising that he had to push forward and live again, he looked for a purpose.
Beth. Tim would start his search online for his daughter. He had money now, and were something to happen to him, he wanted it to go to her. As he opened his laptop, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he would find photographs. It would be good to know what she looked like.
The process of the search was helping him think about something other than Caroline. Finding Beth would be a bonus. For now, knowing that he was engaged in something other than wallowing in self-pity was getting him through each day. The weekends, when he didn’t have work to distract him, had been long and empty. Now, there was purpose.
Chapter 47
Hugh Miller now had a number of social media accounts. There was, of course, no profile picture. There would never be any posts on these accounts. Tim had set them up to get him access to the sites where he could search for his daughter. And he had just had his first success.
Tim was looking at a photograph of a smiling Beth Travers. He had been staring at it for the last twenty minutes. It seemed miraculous that he was seeing his – now grown up – daughter. The image was downloaded and then enlarged. He wanted to see more clearly what she had become.
The information said that Beth Travers was studying journalism at college. There was nothing noted in the relationship status. No address – he hadn’t expected one – but the town mentioned was the same one that he had left ten years before. Beth was twenty years old. A young woman.
Studying her face, Tim decided that she took after him more than her mother. The thick, wavy hair, now highlighted, definitely came from him. She was not skinny like her mother and grandmother had been. The plain child had grown into an attractive woman, and he found himself pleased about that. The fact that she looked so happy made him extraordinarily pleased.
Having seen one image, he was hungry for more. Looking back over two years of posts, Tim could see how Beth had changed. Self-conscious in the first few pictures, he had seen her gradually relax. A friend named Lucy was in a lot of the photos. It was good that she had a best friend. No shots of family, though. Not foster parents or Heather.
The thought of his mother-in-law made him wonder if she was still around. Is that why she never featured in pictures or comments? Had Beth ended up living with her? He did a search and found out that she had died three years ago. Reading the news, Tim leant back in his chair and ran his fingers through his still thick, but slightly greying, hair. He did not know quite what to think about it.
That woman had practically tortured Alison. Nothing his wife had done was ever good enough for her mother. Not thin enough, not dressed well enough. Had she inflicted the same strict regime on Beth? If she had, Beth was now free of her. That was probably why she looked so happy.
Heather had been a pain in his backside. Many of Alison’s neuroses stemmed from her. It appeared that she had died at a relatively young age, and Tim couldn’t help but think that her bitterness had contributed to her early demise. After deciding that he was not bothered about her death, he began to think about other things, like what had happened to her house.
His mother-in-law had taken a lot of money, and a house, off her ex-husband. Tim hoped that her assets had passed to Beth. If they had, his daughter would be comfortably off. He was smiling. That had not happened for a long time. Seeing Beth, knowing that she was alright and probably financially secure, had cheered him up.
“Alright, Hugh. How’s it going?” Brad had seen his boss looking a lot brighter than usual.
“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s taken awhile, but I am coming out of the dark tunnel,” Tim acknowledged.
“Come for a drink tonight. We haven’t done that for ages.”
“You know what, Brad? I think I will.”
It was still a struggle to socialise, but he had to start somewhere. Tim had a couple of drinks in the pub, chatted and even laughed with his colleagues. Home by 8.30, but it was a first step. Simply doing something ordinary had been incredibly helpful. He would never go back to the way he had been before Caroline. That was a good thing. But there was a life out there for him and he needed to make the effort.
Further searches on social media did not reveal any other profiles for Beth. Tim was content to have found one. He could take an occasional peek at his daughter and see what she was doing. A glimpse of her smiling face would put him in a good mood. His colleagues, who had tiptoed around him, now returned to the normal banter. Beth didn’t know it, but she had helped her father no end.
It was a Sunday afternoon. Sipping a coffee and watching an old movie, Tim fired up his laptop and sought out his daughter’s account. An indicator on the screen showed that he had been sent a message. Opening it, for one mad moment he wondered if it was from Beth. But it couldn’t be, because she didn’t know who Hugh Miller was. He read the words on the screen.
“Are you Hugh Miller from Basildon? Your date of birth is the same as the man I’m looking for. Please let me know, Kathy Elsdon.”
Chapter 48
Beth was working at a local newspaper for two weeks as part of her course. The reporter who she was working with was proving to be most helpful. Researching stories, ensuring accuracy and knowing what information to put in and what could be left out were all important skills.
Tomorrow they were going to interview the owner of a restaurant that had won an award. This wasn’t the sort of investigative journalism she had hoped for, but she was realistic. In most professions one had to start at the bottom and work your way up. Human interest stories and local news was where she was at right now, and that was fine.
Since her brief relationship with Martin, Beth had been out with a few more boys. Lucy had advised her to forget all the preconceived ideas about men and get to know someone rather than judge them on appearance. Beth had done as she was told and had been on dates with a variety of people.
Every one of her suitors had something lacking or a flaw. Too mean, unreliable, opinionated, or even too nice.
“Do you ever think that it’s you not them that has the problem?” Lucy asked after the latest one had been cast aside.
“Now, there’s a question. You’re going to say that my traumatic past might have something to do with it. I don’t think we should panic yet. I’m only twenty, plenty of time to find someone.”
“Plenty of time to get your head right. Did you have any therapy or anything after the murder?”
“I went to my Nana’s and there were a couple of welfare visits, but that was it. The policewoman I told you about, Anna, she was the one who helped me most.”
“She wasn’t a psychiatrist though, was she.”
“No, but she gave me good advi
ce and help when I needed it. After my Nana died, she guided me through all the legal stuff, helped me open a bank account, taught me to cook, kept an eye on me. She was fantastic.”
“I know she was a help, but she wasn’t a professional. You probably have unresolved issues after everything you’ve been through.”
“I probably do, but I don’t want to have someone picking through my head. I want to sort things out for myself. I’ve been on some dates and none of them have been good. That’s not a reason to run and get therapy. If we’re still having this argument in ten years, maybe I’ll do something then.”
Beth enjoyed the company after living alone for a while after her grandmother died. The initial sense of freedom had been replaced by loneliness and when she had made the suggestion, Lucy had been delighted.
Lying awake that night, Beth’s mind was full of her conversation with her housemate about whether she needed therapy. It was not the first time this had been suggested, Anna had talked about it too. Was this something that she should consider? Would she be doing it to help herself, or please other people?
It might seem odd to everyone else, but Beth had relied on her hero, Retribution, to get her through the bad times in her life. Truth, justice and facing the consequences of one’s actions were the main lessons from the programme. Many times, the question she had asked herself was: “What would Retribution do?”
The morals and codes Retribution lived by had been hers as well. The detective was dogged and calm. He was fair and clever. He was sensitive, when he needed to be, and strong when that was required. Her absent, warring parents had taught her very little. Her Nana had not contributed much either. The fictional Retribution had led her down the right path. Anna, a real police officer, had pushed her further.
The spectre of her father, who had so far got away with murder, would always be with her. There was no fear attached to her memories of him, only anger. Talking to a therapist wouldn’t change her opinion or feelings about Timothy Travers. The need for retribution would stay with her because she wanted it to. When he had been found, dead or alive, she would let it go.
Thinking back to when her Nana had died, Beth knew that she was a different person. An immature girl had turned into a mostly self-sufficient person in just under three years. It had been a crash course in adulting. Suddenly responsible for running a household and all that entailed, she had coped with it all.
Arriving at the restaurant, the owner greeted them and offered them food. What a great start to the interview. The Greek taverna, in a nearby town, was very stylish. A hint of Greece, but that was mixed with soft colours and modern furniture. The selection of food they were given was all delicious.
Stuffing another forkful of moussaka into her mouth, Beth looked up as someone else entered the restaurant. The owner, George, introduced the young man.
“This is my son, Alex.”
Beth fervently hoped that she had no food smeared around her mouth as she recognised the boy from the comic con.
Chapter 49
It had been nearly two years since Beth had met Alex. The brief romance with Martin flashed through her head, and she felt slightly embarrassed. Alex must have known what a know-it-all Martin was, and he’d surely wondered what on earth Beth was thinking. She hoped he knew that, after only four dates, she had split up with him.
After a shudder thinking about Martin, Beth then thought of a worse scenario. Alex didn’t even remember her. Carefully wiping her mouth, she stood up and moved in to shake Alex’s hand as her colleague had done. His eyes, when he turned to her, confirmed that he knew exactly who she was.
“Hello, Beth.” Alex smiled and gripped her hand.
“Hello, Alex. Lovely food, and now bumping into you. This is turning into a good day.”
“When was that comic con?”
“About two years ago, I think.”
Alex delved into the pocket inside his suit jacket and pulled out the tiny Retribution figure he had bought. Beth fished in her handbag and produced hers.
“He comes everywhere with me,” she said.
At the restaurant to do an interview, Beth had to be professional. Grabbing her phone, they quickly swapped numbers and she promised to get in contact with him later. Understanding the situation, Alex excused himself and left her to carry on with her job. The day seemed to drag on forever, and when the clock struck five, snatching up her coat and bag, Beth rushed out of the newspaper office.
Once she was back at home, Beth got her phone out ready to message Alex. What was she going to say? Something witty and friendly. Not over-the-top or mushy. Her fingers were poised ready to type, but her mind had gone blank. Maybe wait until Lucy got home, and consult her.
Waiting was torture. Where on earth was Lucy? Unable to put it off any longer, Beth composed a message.
“Great to see you. We must get together for a proper chat soon.”
She had pressed send. There was no going back now.
Beth was carrying her phone around, staring at the screen, when Lucy got home from college.
“Hi, Beth, how was your day at the newspaper? Earth calling Beth…?” Lucy waited for a reply.
“Oh, sorry. Let’s get a cuppa and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Sat at the kitchen table, clutching their mugs, Lucy begged for details.
“I went to the Greek restaurant – you remember me saying about it? Anyway, the owner introduced us to his son. It was Alex. From the comic con.” Beth clasped her head for emphasis.
“Oh. My. God,” Lucy said.
“I was supposed to be working so we couldn’t really talk. I took his number and said I would contact him.”
“So, he knew who you were then?”
“Yes, straight away.”
“And there was a spark between you?”
“I think so. I was going to wait for you to get home before I sent him a message, but in the end I couldn’t. This is what I sent.”
“That’s good. No reply yet then.”
“No.”
“Don’t worry, you only sent it half an hour ago. He’s probably at work or driving or something. I’m sure that he will get back to you.”
A tense hour passed before Beth’s phone pinged. She and Lucy exchanged a look before the message was read.
“Yes, great to see you. What are you doing Saturday night? Maybe we can meet up.”
“Yahoo,” was Beth’s reaction, as she and Lucy high-fived.
Chapter 50
Tim must have read the message about fifty times. Someone from the real Hugh’s past had found him on social media. The logical, sensible thing to do was to ignore the message, or send a message saying that she had got the wrong person. For some reason, he was fascinated and wanted to find out who Kathy Elsdon was.
The conversations with Hugh, back in the caravan, had often been rambling and incoherent if Hugh was drunk. Tim didn’t really listen to his friend when he was like that. Searching his memory, the name Kathy Elsdon did not ring a bell. There had been talk about families and it had been mentioned that Hugh had no siblings, had never been married, and had lost touch with a cousin. Other relatives lived abroad and he didn’t even know where they were. Could she be one of them?
Contacting her was a chance to learn more about Hugh’s past. That information could prove useful at some point. It was a bit reckless, but Tim wanted to reply in some way. He had been in a torpor for six months after Caroline’s death, and the element of risk made him feel more alive. Some research was needed before he did anything.
The first thing Hugh did was look at this woman’s profile. Kathy appeared to be of a similar age to him. The word that came to his mind when looking at her picture was common. Brittle bleached blond hair, bright pink lipstick, a profusion of black eyeliner, and a plunging neckline.
Who was this woman? An old school friend, a former flame, a relative maybe. Tim read the available details. Kathy was divorced, a couple of years younger than the real Hugh, living about
fifty miles away from where Tim was.
The profile he had created had given the minimum of detail. The name – Hugh Miller – and his date of birth. No former school or note of where he was born. To throw people off the scent, he had said that he lived in a town in Scotland. He didn’t want to give away his real location, just in case.
Tim started to make a plan. There was no intention of actually meeting Kathy, but why not find out a bit about who she was? Hugh had been an alcoholic from a young age. There had been times when he had sobered up for a while, but mostly he had been drinking. Would he have remembered specific details about his past through the haze of booze?
A noncommittal reply was needed to kick-start the conversation, then he would see where it went from there.
“Hi Kathy. I’m sorry, I don’t recall you. Could you give me some more details?”
Would Tim hurt her feelings with his comment that he didn’t know who she was? There was a time when he wouldn’t have cared about a stranger’s feelings, or anyone else’s for that matter, but now it made him feel uncomfortable. The message had asked about her, but had not admitted to being the Hugh she was looking for. Once he had learned a bit more he could back away if necessary. A moment of madness, perhaps, but what harm could it do?
It was frustrating that he had to wait for a response. It was also frustrating that he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Tim could imagine showing the picture to Brad and him commenting on the buxom blonde. That, however, would be a step too far. Having sent the message, he looked at Beth’s page to see if there were any new photos.
It was not until the next day that Tim received a reply.
“You don’t know me, but I knew your mother. She always hoped to see you again, but has now died. I have a few items that she wanted you to have. All I want is to pass on the things that she gave me.”
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