Caught Out in Cornwall

by Janie Bolitho

  Rose knew that the questions had been rhetorical. This was a trait Norma shared with Doreen Clarke. It was merely the voicing of thoughts to try to make some sense of them.

  Spoken aloud, what Norma had suggested sounded ridiculous, but the idea had passed through Rose’s mind, too. And, reminiscent of the Bradley twins, there seemed to be no love lost between the sisters.

  ‘This’ll do me. Pull in anywhere it’s safe to park,’ Norma said when they reached the tiny square in Marazion. ‘I’ll walk from here to the churchyard. I don’t know about you, but I need a bit of fresh air now. Thanks for the lift, dear. And like I said before, you’re always welcome.’

  Rose smiled, wondering if Norma was a little lonely now that she had no family left at home. She could do with some fresh air herself and the car would be all right where it was. She got out and locked it then walked down the short alleyway between two buildings, which led to the beach. This was where it happened, she thought. The scene was once more vivid in her mind. There was no question that the child had gone willingly; she could almost see her smile. But something about the scene she was visualising didn’t quite fit. She sat on the fine sand where it was dry because the tide did not come in that far and tried to work out what was puzzling her. Was it something someone had said?

  She found it difficult to concentrate because her artist’s eye kept observing the people who were walking past. The beach was a popular place for walkers and those exercising their dogs, especially on a weekend morning when the clarity of the air was unbelievably startling. There were a few small puffs of white cloud in an otherwise blue sky and the shades of the sea were varied. On the horizon it was a translucent green where the rays of the sun shone down. Where rocks were concealed beneath its surface it was tinged with purple and closer to the shore it was aquamarine edged with white spume.

  The tide was still going out. At the edge of the water were flocks of gulls; mainly the ubiquitous herring gulls but also the smaller blockheaded gulls with their red legs and beaks and the small dark smudge behind each eye; their winter plumage. In the summer they would sport a chocolate hood. In the distance were a few of the far larger, solitary blackbacked variety.

  Although the wind no longer blew from the east it was still too chilly to sit still for long. Rose stood up, brushed the sand from her skirt and strode along the beach.

  Around the curve of the coastline, along which the Penzance to Paddington railway line ran, she could see the walls of Penzance harbour and the tower of the church of St Mary the Virgin which was a familiar landmark to locals and could be seen from many viewpoints around the bay. Beyond that lay Newlyn with its steep tiers of granite properties, and the road to Mousehole where her house stood. She could just make it out.

  Fifteen minutes later she had reached one of the wide streams which dissected the beach, running from the hills through tunnels over which the road had been built. Her shoes would be ruined if she tried to cross it. On a warmer day she would have taken them off and waded to the other side. Now, she retraced her steps, warm from the exercise. Her shoes left deeper imprints in the more gravely texture of the sand closer to the shore. By the time she got back to the car her calves were beginning to ache. Walking in sand was much harder than on grass or a pavement. But her mind was no clearer. Don’t think about it and whatever it was will come back to you, she told herself as she began the short drive home.

  Just over an hour later, Jack arrived in Marazion. With plenty of time to spare he had stopped for a few bits of shopping and bought the local paper, the Sunday Independent, which covered the three West Country counties. As he was early he would have a chance to read it.

  The Godolphin Arms was a large pub with a separate dining room, a children’s play area and panoramic views over the bay. Sunday lunches were already being served. Jack ordered coffee and chose a seat at a table in the window.

  He recalled one other occasion when he had been there with Rose. They had watched a constant stream of visitors returning from the Mount, most of them unaware of the vagaries of the tide. The majority had made it back but a few stragglers remained on the causeway not realising that the sea would swirl in ahead of them. There was slimy seaweed on parts of the causeway and the stones were uneven so it was far too dangerous to run. They had simply had to wade, shoes and jeans becoming soaked. One strong young man had hefted his girlfriend onto his shoulders and piggybacked her to dry land.

  To their astonishment they had seen one couple attempt to make it out to the Mount but they soon had to turn back. Today no one was on the causeway; it was hardly visible. There was another hour and a half before low water.

  Jack opened the paper. As he had expected there was coverage of Beth’s disappearance but the article only reiterated what had been reported in the daily press, along with the number to ring if anyone had any relevant information.

  There had been callers, there always were, and each one had to be taken seriously even though there were claims that the person could predict where Beth was or could swear that she had been abducted by aliens. There was always the chance of a double bluff, that the person at the end of the line really did have information but was tying to prove they were more clever than the police. ‘Inspector Pearce?’

  Jack looked up. He had given Poole a description of himself but he would have been recognised anyway as at the moment he was the only single male in the room. The man standing beside him was as tall as Jack but that was the only similarity. Michael Poole possessed typical Anglo-Saxon looks; blond hair and blue eyes and skin which looked as if it would burn rather than tan. Jack recognised that he would normally be considered good-looking by women, but that day he looked exhausted.

  Jack stood and shook his hand. This was an informal chat, not an interview. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  Michael hesitated, unsure if this was some sort of test. He had the car, after all. ‘Thank you. A pint of bitter, please.’

  Jack went to the bar to buy it then returned to the table. There were more customers now; he wondered just how private their talk would be. However, the couples and family groups all seemed engrossed in their own conversations.

  ‘Thank you.’ Michael took a sip of his beer then placed the glass on the table in a way which suggested he hadn’t really wanted a drink. No doubt he was nervous. ‘I know there’s no further news,’ he began. ‘I was at Sally’s place this morning and an officer rang to say so.’ He looked at Jack, hoping that he was wrong, hoping that in the time since he had left her something may have happened. But Jack’s grim expression gave him the answer.

  ‘You do realise that everything that can be done is being done.’ Banal, meaningless words but they needed to be spoken.

  Michael frowned as he nodded, wondering what exactly it was that they were doing.

  ‘Why did you and Sally decide to part?’

  ‘It was not my decision. I loved her, I still love her, but she didn’t want to stay with me.’

  ‘Was this before or after Beth was born?’

  ‘Before. She can’t have been more than a couple of months pregnant when she left. At the time I thought she might have been using me, that a baby was all she wanted.’ He shrugged in resignation. ‘If so, she certainly fooled me.’

  ‘This is going to sound impertinent, but I need to ask you about your maintenance arrangements.’

  ‘What?’ Michael had picked up his glass. He replaced it on the table without drinking from it. His hand, Jack noticed, was shaking.

  ‘We happen to know that you have continued to make them, despite the situation. Some men wouldn’t have. You see, you told us that you didn’t know where she was living and we happen to know that she doesn’t have a bank account.’ In Cornwall, not having one was not as unusual as it would have been anywhere else.

  He hesitated as he thought about his method of doing so. ‘You’re right. Sally didn’t want me to know where she was living. I saw Beth a couple of times when she brought her up to Looe when she was a ba
by. At first I was angry because I didn’t get to see her more often, but I respected Sally’s wishes. I even insisted on a blood test to prove the baby was mine. Anyway, Sally continued to refuse to give me her address. Alice wouldn’t either, although I knew she wanted to. We came to an arrangement, I was to give the money to Alice on a monthly basis and she would forward it on.’

  ‘Have you ever seen Beth’s birth certificate.’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered if you were named on it as the father. Look, the payments you made, was the amount fixed by the court or any other legal body?’

  ‘No. We worked out a sum that seemed fair and I’ve stuck to it. My own living expenses aren’t great. I intend on increasing the amount when Beth …’ Gets older, he had been about to say. But there was no guarantee she would ever do so.

  Jack’s coffee was cold and had been for some time. He asked a passing waiter if he could bring him some more.

  ‘Not for me,’ Michael said when Jack indicated his glass. He had hardly touched the beer.

  They were silent for several minutes. It was Michael who decided to speak first. ‘I have a good idea why you wanted to see me and, although I can’t expect you to believe me, I love Beth dearly. I would never do anything to harm that little girl.’

  He seemed sincere and Jack felt inclined to believe him. At least he now had an impression of Poole. ‘Is there anything else which has come to mind which might help us in our enquiries? I know you’ve already been questioned but you’ve had time to think now.’

  ‘There is something else; although I’m sure it can’t possibly be relevant.’ He shook his head in denial. ‘I do happen to know that no one else has mentioned it.’

  Jack was fully alert. Something else. And how did Poole know that no one had mentioned it unless he had taken the trouble to ask. And what reason would he have had for asking? This was going to be more important than the man realised. Jack waited, fearing that to push him might make him change his mind.

  ‘I had an affair with Carol, this was before Sally and I lived together. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Carol wasn’t married at that time. We were together for about a year but it didn’t work out. Carol … well, to be honest, she was jealous of every woman I spoke to and she kept trying to change me. Anyway we split up but I still saw Alice, that’s her mother, quite often. We’ve always got on well, she’s a decent woman. That’s when I started to get to know Sally – she was visiting her mother when we met. I thought we were ideally suited. She had all of Carol’s qualities but without the jealous streak. It only went wrong when she became pregnant.

  ‘At the time I didn’t know she was expecting a baby. She moved down here and only told me after Beth was born. It was such an odd thing to do.’

  ‘Perhaps she thought you’d want her to have an abortion or that you’d believe she was trying to trap you.’

  Michael laughed mirthlessly. ‘Trap me? I’d spent ages begging her to marry me. Believe me, Inspector, I wanted to be trapped.’

  ‘And you later applied for custody. Why was that?’

  He flushed. ‘There were two reasons, and I’m not proud of my motives. Firstly I thought it would shock her into coming back to me, which I later realised was no basis upon which to build a relationship.’

  ‘And secondly?’

  ‘Carol had recently been in touch with me. She rang to say that Sally wasn’t looking after Beth properly and, to be frank, she accused her of being an alcoholic.’

  ‘And you believed her?’

  ‘It was a possibility. Sally always did enjoy a drink. I wondered if the stress of being a single mother had tipped her over the edge.’

  ‘Enough to harm Beth?’

  ‘Good God, no. Besides why should she do so now? Surely it’s only when they’re babies that mothers do such things. And Beth would have been starting school soon.’

  Would have been. Poole had previously talked of his daughter in the present tense. Had he come to accept that Beth was dead, or did he know for a fact that she was? But he had a point. Severe postnatal depression could cause a woman to harm her child, as could the continuous high-pitched screams of an infant. ‘What was Carol like when you first knew her?’

  ‘In what way?’ Michael was surprised at the change of tack and couldn’t see where any of the questions were leading. He had come prepared to lay bare his own life, not his ex-girlfriend’s.

  ‘Was she easygoing, for instance?’ Jack was recalling Rose’s words about Carol being obsessive. Obsessive people could also be tipped over the edge.

  ‘Yes, she was. She enjoyed life. As I said, the only problem was her jealousy. Not just over other women, although she had no cause to be, it involved anyone who took my attention away from her.’

  So the seeds were there all those years ago. And then, when Michael moved in with her sister, and her sister subsequently had a child by him, how did she feel then? But it came back to the same thing, why wait for more than four years to do anything about it? ‘I won’t detain you any longer, Mr Poole, unless you can think of anything else.’

  Michael glanced out of the window before meeting Jack’ eyes. ‘No, there’s nothing else,’ he said. It was then that Jack knew he was lying.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Neither Rose nor Norma had met Carol’s husband but they both knew that he was away. It was too late to worry about what they thought of a man visiting her when she was at home alone. Marcus was there, she couldn’t make him disappear. From the way in which he was dressed and the model of his car which was new, they would have guessed that he was not a workman of some sort even if it had not been a Sunday. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said to him ungraciously.

  He followed her to the kitchen where she immediately began washing the tea and coffee things.

  ‘I apologise for just turning up like this but I couldn’t wait until this afternoon. I need to know, Carol, and I need to know now exactly where I stand. You know I’m perfectly willing to take on the children and treat them as my own, if that’s what worrying you. We’ll cope. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to make the three of you happy.’

  Carol stood, her head bowed, her hands in their rubber gloves immersed in the soapy water. Her dark hair had fallen forward and hid her face. She blinked and realised that she was crying, that her tears were hitting the suds and making the bubbles burst. I must have been mad, she thought. I’ve used Marcus to play a stupid, immature game that was never going to work and now its backfired. I just needed to prove I was lovable and now I’m about to hurt him badly. All right, John seemed to have lost whatever appeal he had held for her, but maybe that was because he was away so much; more often than he was at home, in fact, and they didn’t get a chance to settle down together when he was at home. There always seemed so many other things to do rather than work at their relationship. He had taken the job in Saudi only because he wanted to provide well for his family. He was a good man, he didn’t deserve what she had done to him; done to him twice, even though he was not aware of it. It was time she grew up and took responsibility for her life. Had she done so in the first place things would have been so very different.

  She turned to face Marcus. ‘I’ve made up my mind. I can’t see you any more.’ He flinched and his face paled. ‘I’m very sorry, Marcus, truly I am. I’ve enjoyed what we had but it’s over. If you do tell John then it’s no more than I deserve and I’m prepared to take the consequences.’

  ‘I never intended telling him, Carol.’ He saw his mistake. The threat of blackmail was hardly conducive to a love affair, to persuading a woman to leave her husband and come and live with you. ‘I’ll go now. I promise I won’t bother you again. All I can do is to wish you luck.’ He kissed her on the cheek and let himself out. It was some minutes before he was able to drive away.

  Carol sat at the kitchen table, the dishes unheeded now. She was shuddering with sobs: for Marcus, for John, for herself, but most of all for Beth. She had done what she ought to have done some tim
e ago but she felt no real relief. She despised herself for all the bad she had done, the pain she had caused and was now causing herself. One admission is all it would have taken and her whole life would have been different. It was too late now, the damage was done.

  She walked slowly to the bathroom where she washed her face and renewed her makeup. She would collect the children early. All she wanted was to hold their small warm bodies in her arms and smell their familiar scent.

  And I’ll telephone Geoff Carter, too, she decided as she went out to the car. I’ll apologise for dragging him into my mess and thank him for his generosity with his time but I won’t see him again. There would be no more complications.

  Carol felt she had reached a milestone. It was the most optimistic she had felt for some time. If only it wasn’t for Beth. Tears filled her eyes again. She brushed them away hastily because if she started crying in earnest she would not be able to see to drive.

  Rose had finished weeding the garden and had spent the afternoon reading, which was a rare treat. At six thirty she was in the kitchen deciding what to cook for supper. There was a glass of wine at hand. The choice was between red mullet and squid; either would take only a few minutes to cook. The vegetables were already in saucepans. I’ll ring Dad and see how he got on in Redruth and then I’ll decide, she thought as she carried her wine glass into the sitting-room. She almost dropped it when, just as she reached for the receiver, the telephone rang. ‘Rose? Are you okay?’

  For a second she didn’t recognise Laura’s voice, she was normally so bubbly unless she’d had one of her many rows with Trevor. This sounded different. ‘Yes, of course I am. Why?’

  ‘God, you haven’t heard.’

  ‘Heard what?’ In that instant she understood what was meant by the phrase of one’s stomach turning over. She knew what was coming but prayed she was wrong.

  ‘They’ve found her. They’ve found Beth.’ But not alive, Rose knew that from Laura’s tone. Still she had to ask.