Staverton (21 page)

I started to walk uphill dragging my case behind me. I had only brought one change of clothes, and the case had wheels, but it felt like someone had stuffed the case full of rocks when I hadn’t been looking. I made slow progress, and the wheels kept getting stuck in potholes in the road.

When I reached the cottage, I saw Freddie had left the front door open. I burst through the door, cheeks red with exertion, and my hair sticking to the back of my neck. The look of welcome I got from Uncle Freddie made it all worthwhile.

He took my case and enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug.

“Good grief, Lucy, you look shattered. Come and sit down.”

I followed him through to the kitchen and sat down at the small wooden table. “I swear that hill gets steeper.”

“Why didn’t you call from the station?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Freddie filled the kettle with water, then he switched on the oven. “I was getting dinner ready, so your timing is perfect.”

I saw a large pie sitting on the counter, ready to go in the oven. It was almost as if he’d known I was coming.

He set down two mugs of tea on the table, then took the seat opposite me. “Right then, out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“Whatever is bothering you.”

I smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

He grinned and took a sip of his tea, then said, “Only to me.”

I set down my mug and went to my case. “I got a letter.” I reached inside the small zipped pocket at the front of the case and pulled out Malcolm’s letter. “It is from Malcolm Rutherford, Gwen’s husband.”

“Gwen, the lady who was murdered?”

I nodded. “Yes. I’m not really sure what to do. He wants me to go and see him.”

“But I thought he was still in prison.”

“He is.” I slid the letter across the table to Freddie. “Read it.”

Freddie took the letter. He reached into his shirt pocket for his glasses and perched them on the end of his nose.

I watched Freddie’s face as he read. He frowned a little, but other than that he didn’t give anything away. When he looked up he said, “I’m not sure about this.”

“You don’t think I should go and see him?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to dig up the past. He had a trial, and he was convicted. I don’t see why he wants you to go and see him.”

“What if he is telling the truth, and he didn’t kill her?”

Freddie put the letter flat on the table between us. “The police must have had a good case.”

“Yes.”

“Best to put it behind you.”

“Yes, only...”

“Only what?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it means anything. And even if it does, it probably adds to the case against Malcolm,” I said and leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table. I picked up the letter and skim read it again. “When I was staying at Staverton, I walked in on Gwen and Caroline’s brother, Jake, together.”

“Together?”

“Um, you know, intimately...”

“Oh.” Freddie took off his reading glasses and put them on the table. “The police knew about this?”

I looked down at the table. “They may have done, but I didn’t tell them.”

“Lucy, why not?”

I shook my head, let out a long breath. “It was really confusing at the time. And –”

“And you kept something like that from the police?”

“I know it sounds bad now, but it wasn’t that straightforward. I saw them during the night when I was sleepwalking. I woke up in the hall at Staverton, staring into the study at Gwen and Jake. There was one hell of a commotion, then Caroline’s parents came downstairs and said there was no sign of Gwen and Jake. The study was empty. They told me it must all have been a dream.”

“Was it?”

“No. At least, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.” I rubbed my eyes again. “And I can’t help thinking that might be what Malcolm wants to ask me about.”

Freddie folded his arms and nodded. “Okay, but wouldn’t that make him look more guilty. Jealous husband and all that? Unless you think Jake killed her?”

“Oh, no. I’m sure Jake couldn’t have.”

“Well then.” Freddie stood and stretched. “I better check on the pie.”

I noticed a bottle of red wine on the opposite side of the kitchen. I walked over and picked it up, examining the label. “I didn’t know you were into wine, Freddie.”

“Oh.” Freddie shut the oven door and straightened, his cheeks flushed. “About that –”

There was a knock at the door.

“Only me,” Bess called out and let herself in the front door.

Things clicked into place. The large pie for dinner, the wine, Bess. My hands shot up to my mouth. “I’m such an idiot, why didn’t you tell me to clear off, Freddie. I shouldn’t have turned up expecting you not to have plans. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Bess came around to see you,” Freddie said, setting the table with place mats.

I looked across at Bess. A comic expression of confusion played over her face while she worked out what to say.

“Yes. Of course,” Bess said. “I heard you were visiting, Lucy.”

“Right.” I put my hands on my hips. “Look, if you two are spending time together, you don’t have to hide it from me. I think you’d make a great couple.”

Bess looked at Freddie, who laid the cutlery down heavily. “Lucy, get the glasses.”

Bess gave a high-pitched giggle. “Oh, Lucy. You do have some daft ideas.”

Chapter 30

Despite Freddie’s reservations, I returned to Edinburgh with my mind made up. I would visit Malcolm to hear him out. I replied to his letter, and a week later, I received a visitors pass in the mail.

I had never visited a prison before, and I imagined an imposing, gothic structure, complete with surly wardens jangling big, circular rings of keys on their hips. But of course it was nothing like that. The man who dealt with me at the entrance looked more like an accountant. He was polite and efficient, even if he didn’t smile.

The building was low-rise and had green, open space around it. The visitors room wasn’t as bad as I expected, the walls were plain and a bit dreary, but everything was clean. At one end of the room, a selection of biscuits, tea and coffee were laid out.

I hadn’t expected it to be so hot, though. I’d dressed in a smart, grey trouser suit, and sensible low heels, which was ridiculous. Who was I trying to impress? I’d dressed as if I were going to court, not a prison visitors room. And now I was sweating.

If I took off my jacket, the heat would be bearable, but I could feel the sweat soaking into my shirt. It wouldn’t be pretty. I decided to suffer through and leave it on. The heat wasn’t the only thing making me sweat.

I couldn’t have stood out more if I’d tried. The rest of the visitors were dressed casually, mainly in jeans, but one of the women wore tracksuit bottoms that hung too low on her hips and showed her underwear. Classy.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, I clenched my fists. My whole body tensed as I looked at the door. I could leave now, before he saw me. But I didn’t move.

I recognized Malcolm Rutherford immediately. He was smaller than I remembered, but perhaps that was because he walked with his shoulders hunched over. He had lost weight, too. He still had a little paunch, sticking out over his trousers, but his arms and legs were thin as sticks, and his cheeks were hollow.

He had less hair, and his pink, shiny scalp showed through the strands of hair he combed across his head. For some reason, this part of his appearance upset me more than anything else. I remembered when we had gone sailing, his hat had flown off in a particularly strong breeze, and he kept smoothing his hair, trying to cover his bald patch.

He moved forward to greet me, and he held out his hands and grasped mine. “Thank you, Lucy, for coming. It means a great deal.”

We both sat down, facing each other across a wide table.

“How have you been?” I asked, immediately regretting it. He was hardly doing brilliantly stuck in here.

Malcolm smiled. “Well, I miss my strolls along the beach, my glass of port in the evenings, and I miss Gwen.” He said Gwen’s name in a whisper.

“Yes. It must be hard.”

He nodded, looking down at the desk, then looked up at me and smiled. “But you, you’re doing very well. I read about your gallery’s exhibit in the paper. I bet your parents would be –”

I cut him off. I knew he was going to say proud, but I wasn’t comfortable with that. He had never met my parents. How would he know how they would feel? I knew he might try to manipulate me. He may have seemed nice on the occasions I’d met him, but I had to remember I didn’t know him well, at all.

“Malcolm, we don’t have very long today, and I have travelled down from Edinburgh –”

“Yes, I know and I am very grateful, really I am. Tell me, have you been sailing? Did those sea legs I told you about develop?” He looked past me, staring dreamily into the distance, remembering.

“No, I haven’t been sailing again. But what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

There was an awkward silence as he gazed at me. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just seeing you. It has brought back a lot of memories of that summer.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

“I didn’t kill her, Lucy. I didn’t kill Gwen.”

“I see.”

Malcolm leaned forward and grabbed my hands. “I didn’t kill my wife.” He spoke with such force his jowls wobbled.

One of the wardens shot him a dark look, and Malcolm released my hands.

My hands trembled, and I put them under the table, out of sight, then drew an unsteady breath. “I’m not sure how I can help you.”

He gave a nervous laugh. I could see the beads of sweat along his forehead. “It was Gwen’s sister. She told me...” Malcolm looked down at the table and bit his lip. “She told me Gwen confided she’d been having an affair.” He stumbled over the words, and he blinked back tears from his watery, pale blue eyes.

I stared at him. I’d been expecting this, but once he said those words I felt like running out of the room. I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers. Please don’t let it be Jake, I thought, please let it be someone else.

He spoke in a louder voice, his eyes darting around the room as if he were addressing everyone. “Now they won’t admit to that, will they? The family has closed ranks. They’re not likely to incriminate one of their own. But then I thought of you, Lucy.” He gave a nervous laugh and smiled at me.

“All the time you spent with their daughter, Caroline, that summer. And you were at Staverton when it happened. You must have seen something. Or heard something?”

I pushed myself back from the table. “No. No, I didn’t.”

“Gwen, said you were a lovely girl. We both thought that. Maybe you saw them spending time together? Perhaps at the time it looked innocent?”

My throat was dry. I swallowed and managed to say: “Who do you think she was having an affair with?”

Malcolm looked at me. His eyes narrowed, and he said, “Jake.”

Chapter 31

Caroline didn’t return my first call, or my second. I finally got through to Caroline’s mobile on my fourth attempt.

“Caroline, it’s Lucy.”

“Lucy, I was just thinking about you.” Caroline’s voice sounded distant and echoed down the line. “But it’s not a very good time for me. Can I call you back?”

“Okay. But I really need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“I’m about to board a plane. I’m heading back to the UK. I can call you in about three hours.”

“You’re coming back to the UK?” I asked.

That was better. I could talk to Caroline in person.

“Yes. Just for a couple of days, but it’s better than nothing. Look, I’ll call you back tonight. Maybe we can meet up?”

I thought about it. “Yes, it would be better to talk about this face-to-face. Where will you be staying?”

“Staverton. God, I’ve missed the old place. Why don’t you come down and stay for the weekend? Then you can tell me all about it. You are being very mysterious,” Caroline said. There was a muffled scraping sound, and I heard Caroline talking to someone in the background. “Got to go. I’m being told to turn my phone off. I’ll call you when I land.”

After Caroline hung up, I poured myself a large glass of wine and stood by the large window in my living room. The view was the best thing about this flat, other than the ease of getting to work in the mornings. If I leaned forward against the window ledge, I could see Edinburgh Castle illuminated. At night, it seemed to float above the city.

I gulped down the wine, and then noticed my hands were trembling. Was it because I was planning to visit Staverton again? Or because I might be about to do something that would hurt my childhood friend?

***

The train was a newer model, but the countryside flashing past was the same, and it tugged at my memory. The journey down from Edinburgh had taken eight hours, so far, with luckily, only one change at Totnes station. I was nearly there now. I picked up my phone and sent Caroline a text message.

I had brought a Lesley Pearse novel, and magazines to keep me occupied, but the book lay on the seat next to me, unopened, and the magazines were still in the carrier bag. I’d been unable to concentrate on anything other than what I would say to Caroline once I arrived at Staverton.

I’d forced down a dry sandwich from the buffet car at lunchtime, and followed it with a couple of headache tablets. I considered phoning Freddie, but decided against it as he hadn’t wanted me to go and see Malcolm in the first place. He might try to talk me out of going back to Staverton, and the way I felt at the moment, I could easily be persuaded to catch the next train straight back up to Edinburgh.

The train pulled into the station, and I disembarked with my small case, slamming the train door behind me. I was the only passenger to alight. Staverton-on-Sea Station looked just as it had five years ago, with the same blue and white sign, flanked by flower-filled hanging baskets.

I walked along the platform, towards the exit, wheeling my case behind me and remembering how Jake had been waiting to pick us up in his sports car. I could picture it clearly: Jake’s pride in his car, Caroline’s excitement, the little country roads and then my first sight of Staverton.