by Cathy Ace
Betty
‘Evan, wake up. I think there’s someone moving around downstairs.’ Betty checked the time on her phone. ‘Evan, it’s not quite half past four. Do you think there’s an intruder?’ Her mind leaped to Bob, and Helen’s safety. She shoved her husband in the ribs. ‘Wake up, Evan.’
Sitting upright, Evan looked puzzled.
‘You look like you’ve been shot. Out of a cannon,’ said Betty quietly.
He scratched his head. ‘I feel like I have been. Dear God, this bed’s a mass of lumps. What’s the mattress filled with? Horsehair? What’s wrong, anyway?’
‘Listen,’ hissed Betty. They did. ‘There, did you hear that scraping sound?’
‘I can hear many sounds that are utterly unfamiliar to me, love. We’re in a strange bed, in a strange place; everything’s either too quiet, or a weird noise.’
‘I’m having a terrible night, Evan. Awful dreams when I can catch a nap, but mainly just lying here listening, thinking. I can’t stop thinking.’
Evan sat more upright. ‘Come on, love, you need your rest. Look, we’ve taken on this task of looking after Helen for tonight, but this can’t go on. It’s got to be resolved within her family.’
Betty sighed. She knew he was right. That was why her mind was racing. ‘That scraping noise isn’t downstairs, it’s outside,’ she said quietly. She felt more than a little annoyed with herself.
‘Probably. But tell me, what’s the plan for the morning? Are we staying? Going?’
Betty tried to plump up the ancient pillow she’d been wrestling with for hours. ‘Don’t you think we should stay at least until Liz gets here? I know we can’t be involved in the interview, but we can be here for the fall out.’
Evan sighed his acceptance. ‘Cool as the proverbial cucumber Sadie was when she got back here tonight, wasn’t she? Amazing. As if nothing had happened. Seemed to be surprised her mother was in plaster. And so dismissive of us two running around the village trying to track her down, when she’d been swanning around God only knows where.’
Betty smiled. ‘I know we’ve sometimes wondered if we’ve been unfortunate to not have kids – well after a few hours with that one I can tell you it was most definitely a blessing. I’d be locked up for murder or madness by now if I’d had to put up with that for years.’
‘The word “madness”? From you? That’s not a word you professionals use, is it?’ mugged Evan.
‘Turn of phrase, cariad.’
Evan whispered, ‘Maybe she took a chance before going to bed to apologize to her mother, in private. You know, saving face in front of outsiders. We’re not family, and we’re also not People of the Dragon.’
‘And you can stop all that malarkey, too. Dragon’s this, and Devil’s that? This is the twenty-first century, Evan. Move on.’
He grunted. ‘What about Bob possibly coming here for lunch? Is that something we should stay for, do you think? Even if Sadie’s taken in for questioning, maybe Helen won’t be up to going with her, and he might still show up.’ Evan sounded a little testy.
‘Unless there’s a way to stop him coming, then, yes, it might not be a bad idea. It’s so frustrating that your lot can’t do anything until a stalker crosses a line. It must be a living hell for the victims.’
Evan sounded tired. ‘I love you, and I respect what you’re saying, but we’ve been through all this before. However, I will talk to Liz about it in the morning. Since the last time all that stuff happened to Helen things have changed; there are new charges that can be brought. The victim still has to play an active role in gathering evidence and presenting it to the police but, yes, there are now actions that can be taken that couldn’t even be considered back then. And before you say anything – no, there still isn’t enough done about it, and yes, there are thousands of victims we still can’t help, and no, I don’t think the money will ever be there for the police to be as effective as they could be, and no, I don’t think that there’s adequate protection for victims when a culprit is released. I get it, love, I do. But . . .’
‘I know all about the changes, Evan, and I’d like to say “too little, too late” for many women, but I understand that something is better than nothing, and that at least now the law has some teeth.’
Betty knew her husband understood, and was as frustrated as she was.
She added, ‘Removing a stalker from society can allow them to get the professional help they need to be able to come to terms with the fact that what they are doing is abnormal, as well as giving the victim a chance to get their life back.’
‘I know. But it’s still all about resources, isn’t it?’ said Evan heavily. ‘However, on this occasion, we can be the resource, the support system. I understand why Helen doesn’t want to be in the same room as Bob; he treated her in a truly criminal manner, so we should take our chance to stand up for her. We’ll stay.’
‘I love you, cariad.’
‘Good. Now let’s try to get some sleep.’
Betty snuggled down, as best she could, beneath the skimpy eiderdown – the like of which she hadn’t seen since she was a child, staying with her grandmother.
She was delighted Evan had suggested talking to Liz about the situation between Helen and Bob the next morning.
However, as she tried to ignore the strange sounds which seemed to echo through the house, she realized how terribly isolated the village was, and she even began to understand why the old beliefs, and ways, might linger in a place like Rhosddraig – where the thick stone walls of the picturesque cottages had the potential to trap people inside them, rather than keeping unwanted visitors out.
Evan
Creeping as quietly as possible across ancient floorboards which creaked with irritating and deafening regularity, Evan made it into and out of the bathroom in record time. The sun was up, and it looked as though it would be a lovely morning. He hated the feeling of putting on the clothes he’d worn all the previous day, but had no choice.
He looked down at his wife, fast asleep, and snoring. She looked pale. He touched her cheek. ‘Sorry, love, but it’s time to get up.’
Betty groaned. ‘I’ve only just got off. But alright. I can’t stick this bed for another five minutes in any case.’
Evan watched her do her own version of the tiptoeing he’d just performed, and tidied up the bed as best he could. They met again in the kitchen.
‘The kettle’s on, and the pot’s ready to go. I haven’t poked about trying to find something to eat; I don’t want to disturb Helen or Sadie.’
Betty nodded. ‘We should let them both sleep in. Especially Helen. I have a feeling she’ll emerge when she’s up to it. How about a cuppa, then a walk? It’s lovely out, and we’re unlikely to ever be here so early in the morning again.’
‘Right you are.’ Evan was delighted. He even drank his tea while it was still really too hot for him, just so they could get going.
Sadie appeared as they were about to head off. ‘I’ll take Mam a cup of tea,’ she offered. ‘Is there some in the pot?’ She was dressed, but still sounded half asleep.
Evan tethered his irritation with the girl, and managed, ‘Good idea. And don’t forget DS Stanley will be here by nine to see you.’
The girl grunted and threw him a dismissive look. He fizzed with anger. Couldn’t help himself – Sadie Jones was quite the girl.
A few minutes later, with his wife beside him, he felt immensely uplifted by the freshness of the air. ‘Wouldn’t it be something to be able to walk by the sea every day?’ he mused, delighting in the sight of the lacy necklace of surf on the beach below them.
‘It’s a bit far for us to run down to the bays on a daily basis,’ replied Betty, ‘but maybe we could make an effort to do it a bit more often? My hours are flexible, after all.’
‘A couple of blokes from work have sold up and moved into those flats for the over 55s down on the seafront near the Brangwyn Hall. The photos look nice.’ He wondered how Betty would react.
S
he did no more than glance sideways at him as she said, ‘Well, we’re both old enough for that, now. But they’re quite small, aren’t they, those flats?’
‘Why do we need all the space we’ve got? I know we bought the house imagining we might one day fill at least one of the other bedrooms with offspring, but we don’t need two spare rooms, do we? And how often do we use the middle room downstairs? We live in the kitchen and the front room. We probably don’t need a lot of the stuff we’ve accumulated. We could have a good old clear out, and even buy some new furniture, if we moved.’ He left it at that.
Betty pulled on his hand, and stood still. ‘You’re serious about this, aren’t you? You’ve put some thought into it.’
Evan looked into the face of the only woman he’d ever loved – in a romantic way. ‘I am, and I have. It occurred to me when we cleared out the room we’ve been using for our little “enterprise”. Everything that’s now sitting on that landing could go, and we wouldn’t miss it. We didn’t even know most of it was there. We could spend a bit on doing up the house, make it look tidy enough to sell, and cash out. “Downsize”. It’s all the rage, you know. Get a smaller place, on the seafront. We could walk, enjoy strolls like this every day, if we wanted.’
‘I don’t like the marina area – too boaty for me,’ said Betty starting to walk again, slowly. Evan could tell by the angle of her head she was giving the matter real consideration. ‘And I’d prefer to be a bit further away from the city center than down near St Helen’s, to be honest. But not this far out. This is way too isolated for me. Mumbles maybe? Up on the hill, not right down on the front. Too much traffic. But that would cost a fortune, and who knows if our place would sell.’
‘A three bedroom semi like ours? On a street with a really good school not too far away? In a heartbeat, for a king’s ransom,’ mugged Evan. ‘Or not. But it’s something to consider, isn’t it? I’m not really one for fancy cruises, love. Nice to do it once, but no need to make a habit of it. Your Auntie Barbara’s money would do us a lot more good if it gave us a chance to get out and about on a daily basis, not just going off on an exotic jaunt once in a blue moon.’
‘Food for thought,’ said Betty enigmatically. ‘Maybe a fresh start is just what we need. We’ve got what I hope is a long future ahead of us yet, Evan. But for now, how about we start back toward the pub? I’ve never been this far out along the back of the dragon, before. It’s a surprisingly long way out to the head, isn’t it? It must take some doing to get out there, and back in, before the tide turns and traps you on the island.’
‘You’re right. And many have fallen foul of that very issue; there’s a sign at the best crossing place, telling people the times of the tides, but some choose to ignore it, either ending up spending twelve hours out there, or – worse still – injuring themselves, or even losing their lives, trying to make a dash through the surf when the tide’s on the turn. I know you say it’s all rubbish, but these sayings about not messing with the dragon all have a seed of truth in them. That’s why they become sayings.’
As they headed back toward the pub and the village, Evan spotted some sort of activity over on the hillside further around the arc of the bay, near the Devil’s Table. ‘Look, some other people are out and about early, like us.’
His wife squinted toward where he was pointing. ‘Is that Sadie? Maybe with Aled? That orange color is just like the get-up she had on in the kitchen earlier on.’
Evan squinted into the morning sun. ‘Might be, I suppose. Though what she’s doing gallivanting over there when she knows Liz is on her way to see her, I don’t know. She’s quite special, that girl. Insouciance personified.’
Betty thumped him playfully. ‘Hark at you. Been eating a dictionary for breakfast?’
‘Listening to Radio 4 too much, I expect.’
Agata had promised to arrive early to make sure all the preparations for the lunches for Easter Monday were made, and Evan could smell she’d been busy as soon as he and Betty entered the pub. The aroma of roasting chickens made him feel immediately, and achingly, hungry. He pulled Betty toward the kitchen. ‘Come on,’ he said.
‘Good morning, Agata. Thanks for getting here so early. Any chance of something to eat? We don’t want to clatter about upstairs and wake Helen.’
A few moments later he was happily chomping into a sandwich made with thickly cut, home-roasted ham. He whispered to Betty, ‘Sandwiches for breakfast? It’s like camping.’ She smiled.
Agata announced, ‘Sadie said she would take her love to her holy place. Does that mean something to you?’ she sounded puzzled.
Evan replied, ‘We think we spotted her over by the Devil’s Table just now, with Aled. Surely she can’t mean that?’ A nerve jangled deep inside him.
Betty asked, ‘What time is Liz due?’
‘I said nine, but I’m already here,’ said Liz, popping her head through the open back door. ‘Any more of those going, by any chance? I’m starving. Didn’t have anything at home remotely suitable for breakfast.’
Taking their sandwiches and mugs of tea, the threesome moved to a table in the sunniest part of the pub, allowing Agata full run of the kitchen, which she needed; she’d decided to only offer chicken for the lunch service, and it seemed to Evan she’d elected to roast an entire flock of the blessed things.
Evan explained to Liz about Sadie having gone AWOL.
She wasn’t impressed, he could tell.
‘How about the mother?’ Liz asked sharply. ‘Do you think she’ll be up to supervising? I’ve got a stand-in acceptable adult on speed dial; I told her I’d come and scout things out before I dragged her away from her family on a Bank Holiday.’
Evan and Betty exchanged a worried look, and explained the detailed background of the situation that had blown up between Helen and Bob. Liz took notes as they spoke – as Evan had known she would – and nodded, or looked horrified, at the appropriate points in the sad tale.
‘When do you think Helen might put in an appearance? I need to know if she’ll be able to accompany Sadie to HQ,’ she asked when they’d finished.
Betty checked her watch. ‘Sadie took tea in to her before half seven, so I’ll go and see if she thinks she’s up to it. Alright?’
Liz didn’t object, so Betty headed off.
Taking his chance to have a quick one-to-one, Evan asked, ‘So, any progress to report on your case?’
Liz wiped crumbs from her blouse. ‘To be honest, Sadie Jones is our main focus, at the moment,’ she said. ‘We need to know why she lied about her movements on the night of the 31st October, when she said she was at home all evening but clearly wasn’t, and why she said she’d never met James Powell, when those photos suggest otherwise. We also need to be sure she hasn’t lied about anything else.’
‘Like what she was doing on the night of November 5th, for example?’ asked Evan.
‘Exactly. It’s the double-alibi angle, isn’t it? I’m really annoyed she’s not here, though I suppose, to be fair to her, I did say nine o’clock. Bloody teenagers.’
Helen
Helen’s first thoughts when there was a knock at her door were, I don’t want to get up and face today. Can’t I just hide here until it’s tomorrow?
‘Come in,’ she said, with as much strength as she could muster.
‘Hello Helen, I was just checking to see how you’re doing. Wondered if I could maybe help you to the bathroom, or something.’
Betty sounded positive, upbeat – Helen had forgotten how that felt.
No, leave me alone! was what she screamed inside her head.
‘Thanks, that would be great,’ was what she said aloud.
Betty was good to her – she gave her just the amount of help she needed, but left her to her own devices once she was sure she was safe. Helen made a bit of an effort to clean herself up – but she felt sweaty and limp even when she’d dressed, with Betty’s assistance, in clean clothes.
‘Where’s Sadie? And what about lunches in the pub? I
can smell chicken – is Agata here?’ She knew she was letting people down.
‘Don’t worry, everything’s under control,’ said Betty.
But, groggy as she was, Helen sensed something wasn’t right. ‘Where’s Sadie?’
‘She’s gone for a walk, that’s all. With Aled, I believe. Now, how about we get you downstairs, then you can see that Agata’s got everything sorted, so you can stop worrying.’
Helen knew that was a good idea, and was able to make her way down to the pub quite easily. She was a bit wobbly, but that was to be expected. Pleased with Agata’s preparations, she finally noticed Evan and Liz Stanley having a chat at one of the tables outside, in the beer garden. ‘Why’s DI Stanley here?’ She couldn’t imagine.
Betty smiled warmly. ‘Well, she needs to talk to Sadie. Some sort of mix-up about her statements. Do you think you’d be up to attending that interview with your daughter? The police need a parent or a person recognized as an acceptable adult to be with a minor. Now don’t worry, if you’re not feeling up to it, Liz has someone she can call on to sit in.’
Helen was confused. ‘Oh course I’ll do it. She’s my daughter. But what’s wrong with her statements? I . . . I don’t understand.’
Betty helped Helen into a chair and said, ‘Hang on, back in a mo,’ and disappeared.
Helen hated the fogginess she was experiencing. Sadie’s statements were a problem? What did that mean, exactly? Nothing good.
As she sat and waited, she watched Betty, Liz, and Evan, all conferring beyond the picture window. A dumb show. Odd.
Her mind wandered to her mother seeing her father through a bedroom window at night, dressing. But Gwen had been at Mair’s house. She wasn’t at home. So why would he have been dressing in someone else’s empty house in the middle of the night?
1999 would have been before Aled was born, so it would have been only Gwen living at Green Cottage at the time . . . no, Jackie, Gwen’s daughter lived at home then, didn’t she? Well, sometimes. When she wasn’t off with her questionable friends in Swansea.
