Caught Out in Cornwall

by Janie Bolitho

  ‘I see. I just thought … well, Sally said.’ He stopped, unable to form a complete sentence because the reality of the situation hit him. The police believed, as he had come to do, that Beth would not be found alive.

  ‘Mr Poole, may I ask you what made you decide to come down here?’

  ‘Goddamit, man, what do you think? You asked me to stay put, but would you have done?’

  No, Jack thought, I wouldn’t. ‘I’d very much like to speak to you in person. Would sometime today be convenient?’ The man’s anger had sounded genuine, the outburst of an innocent person, but over the telephone it could have been faked and they could not afford to take anything for granted. It was an unpalatable fact, but parents did harm their children then give tearful media interviews begging for their safe return when they knew that would never be possible. Although what Poole’s motive could be was not clear. Beth didn’t live with him, in fact, he hadn’t seen her since she was a toddler so it wasn’t a case of her continual whining or crying getting on his nerves. But there had been the custody application; it might be a case of if he couldn’t have her neither could Sally. But the case had not made it to the courts. Everyone had agreed that Sally was a fit mother and that Poole would have had great difficulty in bringing up the child himself. And that had been almost two years ago, why would he wait until now to act? Jack sighed. Perhaps the answer was obvious; immediate action would have drawn attention to himself.

  ‘Inspector Pearce, I can meet you sometime this afternoon if that’s convenient. Only I promised I’d go and see Sally this morning.’

  This afternoon it was then. He did not want to be accused of making things hard for the father of a missing child. ‘What time would suit you?’

  ‘Two o’clock?’

  ‘That’s fine. Where can I find you?’

  Michael had expected to be asked to come to the station for some sort of formal interview. He did not want to take the Inspector to his hotel bedroom, it did not seem fitting for the occasion and they might be overheard in the guests’ lounge. ‘How about the Godolphin Arms?’

  That was fine by Jack, although he’d have to stick to coffee. If Poole had a couple of drinks under his belt he might be more inclined to let something slip. It would be interesting to meet him, to sum up the father of Sally’s child in person.

  He walked over to the window and stared out, hardly noticing the few passing cars, their occupants no doubt on their way to relatives for Sunday lunch or to visit one of the supermarkets. Even in Cornwall Sunday was beginning to lose its different feel from the rest of the week. It had once been a day off for everyone, apart from pub landlords, hoteliers and the women who had stayed in the kitchen to cook the traditional roast. Now the big stores remained open as did many of the smaller shops once the season had started.

  Knowing that there was little more he could do until his arranged meeting with Poole, Jack decided to ring Rose. There was no reply. ‘Give me a call when you’ve got the time,’ he said after her voice had told him to leave a message. He had not meant to sound abrupt but life seemed to be frustrating him in all directions.

  As she woke on Sunday morning Rose heard the familiar whine of the wind in the chimneybreast of the blocked off fireplace in her bedroom. At least it wasn’t raining. She tried to keep Sundays as a rest day but in the winter, if the weather allowed, she would work out of doors because there was so little opportunity to do so with the shortened days.

  Still in her dressing gown, she made coffee and watched the waves rolling in and breaking against the concave Promenade wall. It was a magnificent sight. Spray was sent high in the air, threaded with rainbow colours as the sun backlit it. Further out the bright red salvage tug swung on its anchor. The sky might be clear and blue but she could see by the way the flags on the Queen’s Hotel were blowing that the wind was from the east. It would be too cold to work outside for long. However, the whole day lay in front of her and she had no idea what to do with it. She smiled at her indecision. It was typical. How often had she wished for such a day when she could lie in the bath, have a face pack, maybe, then laze around reading. This was what she always wished for but she had too much energy, too much zest for life to do so.

  Jack would still be fully occupied, her friends had all made arrangements and even her father had told her he was driving over to Redruth to meet a man with whom he had become acquainted on one of his previous visits to Cornwall. As she wandered back to the kitchen Sally Jones’s face came into her mind. Surely no one could look more grief-stricken. I must speak to her again, I must see if there’s anything I can do no matter how trivial or useless it might seem.

  Just over an hour later she was on her way to Marazion. It was still relatively early for a Sunday morning but she doubted Sally would still be in bed, if she had slept at all.

  Traffic was light and the supermarkets didn’t open until ten so she made good time.

  Having parked she walked through the quiet Sunday streets. Curtains were still drawn at some of the windows of the small terraced cottages. The high tide was beginning to recede but it would be some time before the causeway leading to St Michael’s Mount was walkable. The occasional car or van used it, too, at low tide. Rose had often wondered what it must be like to live there. Unlike an island where you knew you were totally cut off, twice in every twenty-four hours access by foot was possible, otherwise you could only reach the mainland by way of one of the small boats that ferried people backwards and forwards. But if you wanted a late night out and there was a full tide, how did you get back home? Rose realised that you probably didn’t, that you made arrangements to stay with someone.

  She was about to ring the bell with the name Jones above it when the front door of the house opened. Norma Penhalligon was as surprised as Rose when they came face to face so suddenly. ‘I was just going out. You startled me, dear, but it’s nice to see you again. Have you come to see Sally?’

  ‘Yes. How is she? I mean, do you think she’s up to receiving visitors?’

  ‘It would seem so, there’s two with her now, as well as her mum.’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘The sister, and the ex-boyfriend.’

  Rose had guessed he would not have been able to stay away for long no matter what his relationship with Sally was now like. ‘Perhaps I’d better leave it then.’ But before she could decide either way they both looked up as they heard raised voices from the floor above.

  ‘You’ve always wanted what was mine. Always. Sometimes I think you must actually hate me.’

  Norma looked at Rose and raised her eyebrows. It was hard to tell whose voice it was. ‘I don’t think a visit’s a good idea after all. Still, it’s hardly surprising, the tension must be getting to them all.’ Norma sighed and picked at a thread hanging from a buttonhole on her coat. ‘It seems far longer than five days since I saw Beth leaving here with her mother. She looked so cute, too, in her new jacket. You know, one of those brightly coloured padded ones all the little ones wear these days. They’re warm, but practical. You can put them in the washing machine, not like when my ones were small. Winter coats had to be dry-cleaned in them days.’ She stopped as footsteps sounded on the landing and a man made his way down the stairs. ‘Hello, it’s Mrs Penhalligon, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. They had met briefly yesterday. ‘And this is Rose Trevelyan. Rose, this is Michael Poole, Beth’s father.’ They shook hands. ‘It was Rose who saw the man who took Beth.’

  ‘You did? The police told me they had a witness. I never expected to meet her. I didn’t know you actually knew Sally.’

  ‘I didn’t. I didn’t meet her until after it happened. I just called in to see if there was anything I could do.’ Rose studied the good-looking man. He had short, fair hair and was smartly, but casually dressed. But the lines in his face and his drawn expression showed how he felt.

  ‘I think it would be better not to disturb her right now. She and Carol have had a row and they’re both upset. Perhaps you could come back so
me other time.’ He looked down at the black and white tiles of the entrance hall which Norma kept spotlessly clean. ‘If Sally hadn’t left me this wouldn’t have happened. I’m not blaming her for it, far from it. It’s my fault, I should have been more persuasive, talked her into staying, and if that failed I should at least have insisted upon proper access. But she really convinced me it was better the way she wanted it. What a fool I was.’

  Norma and Rose had no idea what to say to the man. Nothing would make any difference now. In any case there would be tremendous guilt on all sides. And blame. And that could tear families apart.

  ‘I’m going back to the guesthouse. They know where I am if they need me. And I’m meeting Inspector Pearce later on. I want to know exactly what they’re doing.’

  Poor Jack. Rose knew she would see little of him until the case was over, but she felt guilty for not having telephoned just to see how he was. ‘Goodbye,’ she said. It was hardly appropriate to add something along the lines of it being nice meeting him.

  More footsteps were heard as Michael shut the door behind him. These were lighter, those of a woman. Carol Harte came slowly down the stairs, her hand resting on the polished wood of the banister. She looked older and more defeated than when Rose had last seen her. ‘Oh.’ She jumped. She had not realised that she was not alone.

  ‘Are you all right, maid?’ Norma asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. No, I’m not at all all right.’ Tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away impatiently with her fingertips. ‘I just feel so bloody alone at the moment.’

  Geoff Carter had sensed this but Rose wondered if it was an act. After all, she had a husband and children, a sister and mother and a lover.

  ‘Do you want to come in for a coffee?’

  ‘It’s very kind of you, Norma, but I need to get away from here for a while.’ She only hesitated for a second before adding, ‘Why don’t you come out to my place for one? I could do with some sane company. Why don’t you both come? I can drop you back, Norma.’

  Rose could not resist this invitation. This was a chance to get to know Carol better, a chance, maybe, to put her theory to the test. She accepted the offer.

  Laura had mentioned the Bradley twins and their jealousies, which she had found odd. Rose had imagined that all twins were especially close, almost telepathic at times, but it was possible that as they had grown older they had needed to find their own identity and the bond had been broken. Thinking about them had led her to question the relationship between Carol and Sally, even more so since she had overheard part of their quarrel. She hoped Carol would tell them what it was about.

  Norma went in Carol’s car. This caused Rose some frustration. Carol may confide in the older woman before they reached their destination. But the journey was not long enough for much of a conversation to have taken place.

  She pulled up behind Carol’s car on the neatly raked gravel. The bungalow was built on high ground and the wind tugged at their hair and clothing. For once Rose was wearing a skirt. The tan corduroy swung to one side revealing the tops of her boots. The last of the autumn leaves were sent scurrying across the lawn. Carol’s flowerbeds were empty; the soil dug and turned over. No doubt there would be daffodil bulbs beneath its surface and bedding plants to follow later, but Rose preferred some greenery and coloured heathers all the year round.

  ‘It’s so damn cold,’ Carol said as she unlocked the front door. It was not that cold now that wind had veered to the south, but Carol was in a state of shock, it was emotional distress taking its toll.

  They were shown into the lounge with its view over the rolling countryside. It was so very green after all the rain, so very English.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked as she gestured for her guests to sit down. She stood in the doorway, her dark hair framing a face as white as the carpet beneath their feet. The dark smudges beneath her eyes made her look ill. She seemed to be almost at breaking point.

  ‘Let me do it,’ Norma said as she took off her coat in a businesslike manner. ‘You look worn out. Sit down, dear. I’m sure I’ll be able to find everything.’

  Carol nodded and sank into an armchair. Rose had chosen the settee. ‘Are you feeling any better?’ she asked to break the silence, but not expecting the answer she received.

  ‘No. Worse, if anything. I had a row with Sally. I mean, now, of all times. I don’t know how I let it happen. I should have held my tongue. And so should she. Even now, with Beth missing, she can’t let go.’

  ‘Let go of what?’ Rose spoke softly. She was on the verge of learning something and she didn’t want to scare Carol off the subject.

  She sighed. ‘It’s been the same all our lives. I know she’s a bit younger than me and probably resented my being born first – that happens in lots of families – but anything I’ve ever had or wanted, she’s either taken, or tried to take away from me. What makes it worse is that is exactly what she accused me of doing this morning.’

  So it had been Sally’s voice they had heard. However, Carol’s self-pity seemed a little excessive considering what her sister had actually lost. And then Carol spoke again. Rose leant forward, her hands resting on the pile of her skirt. Her hair hid one side of her face from Carol.

  ‘The trouble is I’ve never really tried to stop her. When I was small it seemed natural for her to have the things I wanted. It became a habit. Oh, Rose, I’ve made some terrible mistakes, but one of them was worse than anyone else could possibly have made.’

  There was no doubt that Carol was obsessive; the clean white carpet covering the floor of a house where two small children lived was further proof of that. But now, looking at her eyes which sparkled too brightly and the face with its two vivid spots of colour, Rose thought she might also be neurotic, possibly even mentally ill; the sort of woman who thought the world was against her. Yes, everyone suffered a touch of paranoia once in a while, but surely not to this extent. Unless, of course, it was simply a case of exaggerated sibling rivalry. It was not a nice thought but there was always the chance that Carol was resenting the amount of attention her sister was receiving at the moment.

  ‘I’m sorry. I hardly know you, I shouldn’t be burdening you like this. I suppose it’s because I feel you’re part of it, having been there on Tuesday. And whatever you may think, believe me, I do know exactly what Sally’s going through. That’s probably the reason why she snapped.’

  ‘Sometimes it’s easier to say things to a stranger.’ Rose wanted to bring up the subject of the boyfriend but could not do so without giving away the fact that Geoff had told her. Carol would know she had been betrayed.

  Norma appeared with a tray. She set it on a small table. She had found pots and made tea and coffee, taking her time because she realised that Rose was the sort of woman Carol might confide in. As for herself, well, she was probably considered as being too old to understand her problem even though she had seen far more of life than Carol. And Norma had a good idea what her problem might be. ‘Who’s for what?’ She poured two coffees and tea for herself. ‘Put some sugar in it, Carol. It’ll do you good. Now, what was all that about earlier? I couldn’t help but overhear the shouting.’

  Rose bit her lip. Now was not the time to smile, either Norma didn’t waste words, or tact was not her strong point.

  ‘You must have heard, too,’ Carol said with a frown as she asked herself what Rose had been doing in the downstairs hallway.

  ‘Not really. I’d only just arrived when you came down the stairs. I bumped into Norma as she was on her way out.’

  ‘God, I’ve caused everyone so much trouble. I’m sorry, Norma, I didn’t realise you were busy.’

  ‘’Tisn’t important. I can go up to the churchyard this afternoon. I tidy my parents’ graves every month or so,’ she added, by way of explanation to Rose. ‘Sunday seems to be the appropriate day to do it somehow.’

  They both turned to Carol who had started to cry quietly. ‘I miss that little girl,’ she said through her
tears. ‘No one knows how much I love her. I should never have done what I did. Never.’ The tears flowed harder. Rose got a tissue from the cellophane packet she kept in her handbag and walked over to where Carol was sitting. ‘Here, use this,’ she said. Then, more gently, ‘What was it you did, Carol?’

  Carol blew her nose and shook her head. ‘Oh, nothing really. I’m so bloody distraught I don’t know what I’m saying. That row, that’s what’s done it, it’s really unnerved me.’

  ‘When are your two kiddies coming home?’ Norma thought Carol required someone or something else to occupy her thoughts rather than her own self-pity. It had been a bad idea, sending them to stay with their grandparents.

  ‘Tonight. I’m picking them up around teatime.’

  ‘Good. I’m sure they’ll have missed you. I think we’ll leave you in peace now. I’m sure Rose won’t mind dropping me back. It’s not out of your way, is it, dear?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m going that way. I’m going back to Newlyn.’

  They were about to get into the car when a third vehicle turned in at the gate. Carol, seeing them off from the door, had one hand to her mouth, the other steadying herself against the lintel.

  The man who got out of the car might have been Carol’s husband but Rose guessed, judging by her reaction, that it was more likely to be the boyfriend. Bugger it, she thought. If we’d stayed just a few more minutes things might have become really interesting. She gave a wave then got into the car and turned the key in the ignition. As they drove away she saw, in her rear view mirror, that Carol and the man had gone inside the bungalow.

  ‘What did you make of all that?’ Norma asked, then carried on before Rose could answer. ‘Like I said before, something’s not right there. I’ve never met him, but I’m certain that man isn’t her husband. And what did she mean about Beth? You don’t think she’s …’ but she couldn’t bring herself to put it into words.