‘I really don’t believe you at times. How on earth do you manage to get into these scrapes?’ She sighed. Rose was never going to change. The unfortunate part was that when she tried to help people she only succeeded in getting into trouble. ‘Look, you can’t be alone. Why don’t we go to my place and I’ll cook us something. Trevor’s at sea so you won’t have to worry about him.’
‘Oh, God, I forgot, I’ve got my class tonight.’
‘No way are you taking it. Give me the numbers and I’ll ring around.’
‘They’re in the file in the drawer in the kitchen.’ Rose was relieved, the last thing she felt like doing was teaching.
Laura made the necessary calls, explaining that Rose was ill, then she rang for a taxi. ‘It’s all settled. Get your coat, the cab’ll be here in five minutes.’
Once she had eaten some colour returned to Rose’s face and Laura was satisfied she would recover. However, she insisted that she stayed the night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A tired surgeon had told the police that Sally Jones would live, although she would be badly scarred, but it would be a day or so until she was fit to be questioned. Despite the hospital’s reassurance that she would be nursed on a one to one basis because of the suicide attempt, Jack had insisted that an officer remained at her bedside the whole time. It was Friday afternoon before the consultant agreed that the police could now speak to his patient.
Rose knew that the quickest way to get over what she had witnessed was to return to her normal routine as quickly as possible. She spent the rest of the week quietly, working when she felt like it and relaxing in between. On Sunday she and Arthur had driven over to Falmouth then gone on to have lunch in a pub on the Helford Passage. By the following Wednesday she felt almost back to normal, although she had done very little preparation for it. Tonight, she decided, she would give her pupils a bit of fun. She would take along all sorts of things with which to paint; twigs, a dish mop and anything else she could think of. She had known an artist who could produce interesting abstracts by such methods. By the end of the morning she was fully prepared.
The grass was still damp but the driveway had dried overnight. Rose decided that the weather was being kind to her. Once more the sky was a perfect arc of blue and the surface of the sea was ruffled by only tiny waves. She checked her tide table. Conditions were ideal. She would start a painting she had planned in her mind for quite a long time. It was the colours that were important as much as the scene; the golden sands of Hayle, the sea and the golf course in the distance. She filled her flask and set off.
The surface of the sand was dry but underneath it would be damp. Rose spread her waterproof sheet, sat down and got to work. The evenings were pulling in further so only a couple of hours of work were possible. She packed up and went back to the car.
As she drove past Doreen’s house she saw her in the small front garden oiling the hinges on the gate. Doreen had recognised the car and waved to her to stop. ‘Can you come in for a minute?’
‘Yes, but not for long, I’ve got my class tonight.’ Rose parked the car and got out.
‘It’s just that Katy’s here. Sue asked me to look after her while she’s at the hospital.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
Doreen smiled as they walked around to the kitchen entrance. ‘She’s pregnant, she’s gone to have a scan.’
Katy Overton sat at the kitchen table with a biscuit in her hand and a glass of orange juice in front of her. Her face was solemn. ‘This is my friend, Rose,’ Doreen said.
‘Hello, Katy.’ Rose sat down. She knew she would not be able to leave until she had drunk a mug of Doreen’s strongly brewed tea. Cyril was nowhere in sight. ‘Hello,’ the girl replied shyly.
‘Did you have a good day in school?’ The question brought a frown to her face.
‘I don’t like school.’
‘Oh?’ Rose had seen the look of surprise on Doreen’s face. ‘Why not?’
‘I’m not allowed to say.’
‘Has a teacher told you that?’
She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. ‘A girl.’ Katy began crying in earnest.
Rose put an arm around her shoulders and held her close. ‘Katy, I think you should say. If you tell us we won’t tell anyone else unless we think we ought to.’
‘What she said was true. She said she’d kill my mum if I told. And now she’s at the hospital.’
Rose was confused. ‘Doesn’t she know?’ she mouthed at Doreen, who shook her head.
‘They were going to tell her tonight once they knew the scan was okay.’
‘Can you tell me what the problem is, Katy?’
‘It’s Sarah. She makes me give her my sweets and money. She’s seven and bigger than me. She hits me if I don’t and she said that about Mum.’
So that’s it, Rose thought with relief. Bullying was not pleasant but it could be stopped and it was certainly not as bad as child abuse.
‘My goodness, that was easily solved, maid,’ Doreen said in admiration. ‘I’ll let your mummy know when she gets back and she can talk to your teacher. Sarah won’t hurt you again, Katy.’
Even Rose was astonished that the child had confided in her so readily but if she didn’t know the reason for Sue’s hospital visit she must have believed the worst, that her mother was dying, and had been terrified enough to have to tell someone.
‘Sue and Simon will be so pleased,’ Doreen said as she showed her out. ‘That poor chiel’s been worried for far too long. Oh, my.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Did you mention this to Jack?’
‘Yes. He sent a PC to the school but I don’t know what else he might’ve done.’
‘Then you’d best tell him, maid. We don’t want any more upsets. Thank goodness it isn’t as bad as I feared. Sue will sort it out now.’
Rose left. She was as astonished as Doreen at the simple outcome to the problem. She went home and changed out of jeans as she usually made an effort to dress more smartly for her pupils.
The class went well; everyone was pleased to be back after the enforced fortnight’s holiday, firstly because the roof was being repaired then because of Rose’s ‘illness’. There were some surprisingly good efforts and a lot of imagination displayed that evening.
The next two days were quiet and the weather held. Rose had finished the mine scene and been back to Hayle to do a bit more work on that oil – and she had finally made the Christmas cake. She was deciding how to spend Friday evening when Jack arrived unexpectedly. He grinned as he kissed her. He’s so very handsome, she thought as she took in his tall, lean body, black hair and blue eyes.
‘I’ve come to buy you a celebratory drink. Where shall it be? I don’t have the car, though.’
They decided to walk along to the Mount’s Bay Inn which was halfway along the Promenade. The stove had been lit and gave off welcome heat. Jack bought their drinks and they sat at a table rather than at their usual places at the bar because he didn’t want the conversation to be overheard. ‘She’s made a full confession,’ he said. ‘We’ve also discovered she’s had psychiatric treatment several times in the past. She’s always been insanely jealous of Carol but she did genuinely love Beth.’
‘But she killed her.’
‘Yes. And how she regrets it.’
‘How did she find out about Michael being Beth’s father?’
‘She thought there was a vague resemblance but put it down to imagination. However, the day before she killed Beth, Carol mentioned the antique chest their mother had been storing. She recalled that Michael had delivered it and worked out that it was about that time that Carol became pregnant. She rang her mother and demanded to know the truth. Alice Jones, imagining events were far enough in the past for them not to matter, told her. It was the final slap in the face. As we thought, she wanted to hurt them both but she took her hatred out on Beth.’
‘Where did the sleeping tablets come from?’
‘From a friend. She a
sked for a few just to tide her over. She won’t name the friend, but that’s hardly relevant. She claims Beth was unconscious when she smothered her and that ties in with the pathologist’s report. We can be thankful for that, at least. Sally is now undergoing psychiatric assessment. Anyway, here’s to the end of the case.’
Rose raised her glass in response. ‘There’s something else you need to know.’ She explained what had been troubling Katy. ‘And Norma rang to say how wrong she had been about the two sisters.’
Jack was silent for several minutes. He was thinking about Poole and how he had been sure he was lying. It transpired that he wasn’t although he had come close to guessing the truth about Beth’s parentage when he witnessed the argument. It was that which he had been withholding. ‘It’s good news about Katy,’ he said. ‘And now for some more good news. Tomorrow night we’re having a proper celebration. Dinner for seven at the Queen’s Hotel.’
‘Seven?’
‘Yes. Us, Laura and Trevor, if they haven’t had a row, Barry and Jenny and Arthur.’
Rose leant over and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said. It was typical of Jack to think of including Arthur.
‘And dinner tonight?’
‘I haven’t thought about it yet.’
‘Then why don’t I walk you home? We can pick up a Chinese in Newlyn and eat it at your place.’
Rose smiled. She hoped she knew what that would lead to.
ALSO BY JANIE BOLITHO
‘Trevelyan is clearly set to be the new Miss Marple.’
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About the Author
JANIE BOLITHO was born in Falmouth, Cornwall. She enjoyed a variety of careers – psychiatric nurse, debt collector, working for a tour operator, a book-maker’s clerk – before becoming a full-time writer. She passed away in 2002.
By Janie Bolitho
Buried in Cornwall
Killed in Cornwall
Caught Out in Cornwall
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2003.
This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2012.
Copyright © 2003 by JANIE BOLITHO
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1310–3
Caught Out in Cornwall Page 20
