by Lorna Cook
But as she started to turn, Bertie’s hands flew to her hair, clasping at a great chunk of it. He pulled it tightly as if he intended to rip it out. Her head flew back and she had no choice but to look up into the darkening, cloudy sky. Her eyes watered at the pain in her scalp.
‘I have put up with this behaviour for far too long,’ he said.
‘My behaviour?’ she shouted. ‘My behaviour?’
He pulled her hair tighter. There was nothing for it. She readied herself to scream, to fight, but he suddenly let go of her and stepped back. She stumbled, just managing to right herself and turn to him as she rubbed her head. A sickening smile had formed on his face.
Veronica’s eyes darted wildly. If she ran, he would grab her, but if she could scream loud enough and long enough, she might just be able to raise Freddie’s attention, even from the other side of the house. She opened her mouth to scream, but he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. She cried out in pain and thrashed at him.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Bertie began.
She didn’t grace him with an answer.
‘I know what you’re doing,’ he shouted over her thrashing.
They were only twenty or so feet from the corner of the house. If she could just loosen his grip.
‘And what you’ve been planning, all this time. Tomorrow is it?’ he asked.
Veronica took in a sharp breath of air and slumped helplessly into him.
He knew she was leaving. She was no match for him and Bertie held her arms down tightly with one arm and casually lit a cigarette with his free hand, flicking his silver lighter closed with a snap. ‘The day you think you’re leaving me.’
‘Oh God,’ Veronica breathed the words and then instantly regretted it.
‘Oh, you thought I didn’t know? Did you think I hadn’t overheard you and silly little Anna?’ Bertie carried on without waiting for an answer. ‘Why do you think all of your belongings suddenly disappeared? I didn’t think you had it in you, to be honest. Finding out you were getting ready to disappear into the mist was by far the most exciting thing I’ve ever learned about you, Veronica. It opened my eyes. I could almost respect you for it.’ He inhaled on his cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nostrils. ‘Almost. But not quite. If only you hadn’t done that, you whore. All of this might have ended quite differently.’
He spun Veronica around to face him. She tried to stare him down, but she felt her courage die.
‘So now we come to the question of what happens next.’ Bertie breathed smoke into her face, only inches from his.
Veronica waited. It didn’t matter what came next. ‘I’m leaving.’ She struggled against him. She was leaving. There was nothing he could say or do that would change that. She would never stay. Never.
‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that,’ Bertie said, flicking the end of his cigarette on to the gravel. ‘Listen carefully, Veronica, because what follows is what is actually going to happen. To you and me and to my darling little brother.’
At his mention of Freddie, defiance flooded Veronica’s senses. She gritted her teeth.
‘We are going to walk back to the house together. You are going to be the picture of the calm and dutiful little wife that I always thought you were until you started spurning me. And you are going to end it with Freddie. You’re going to send him away and tell him you’re never going to see him again. I don’t care how you do it. But you will do it, Veronica. You will send him away. Today. Now.’
An involuntary laugh escaped her lips. ‘You’re mad, Bertie. You’re stark raving mad.’
But her laughter was cut off as he pushed her back and then placed his fingers around her neck. She only just managed to stay upright as she gasped for breath. He let go. Veronica coughed and rubbed at where he’d choked her.
Bertie waited silently for her to collect herself and lit another cigarette in the interim.
Blinking the tears of pain away, she cried, ‘And why would I do something like that?’
‘Because if you don’t send Freddie away,’ Bertie said, ‘I will walk inside the house and I will kill him.’
CHAPTER 23
Dorset, July 2018
The curtains were partially open and the bright sunshine woke Melissa the next morning. Blinking into the light, she sat up and reached for the complimentary bottle of mineral water on the bedside table. She drank every drop of it and then wished she hadn’t as she realised she should have saved some for the paracetamol she was going to have to knock back. Her head was thumping after the amount of wine she’d drunk with Guy at dinner last night.
Throwing her face under the cold tap at the sink, she guzzled water with the headache pills and looked at herself in the mirror. What a state. How much had she had? It wasn’t that much. She’d been trying to counteract the damage from the custard creams, so perhaps salad for dinner had been the problem. Actually, perhaps the wine had been the problem.
She went down to breakfast and Melissa’s heart lurched when she saw Guy sitting at the table. He was wearing tortoiseshell glasses and he looked completely different, like some kind of sexy academic. His hair flopped over his face where he hadn’t bothered to fix it in place. If anything he looked even better this morning, unlike her.
‘I didn’t think it was you for a second,’ she said, sitting down.
‘I normally wear contacts, but I’m too bleary-eyed this morning.’ He pushed his hair up out of his face.
‘I think I might have drunk a bit much last night,’ she confessed.
‘Me too,’ he said. ‘But with some strong coffee and a few paracetamols, we should survive.’
He poured Melissa a steaming cup of coffee, which started working almost the instant she sipped it.
The waitress brought toast and they both descended on the white bread, ignoring the healthier granary option. They perused the menu and both went for a full English.
When the waitress left, Guy leaned forward. ‘This idea I had last night might not be the best thing now. In hindsight, it’s actually probably a terrible idea.’
‘What is it?’
‘I mentioned my boat yesterday. I keep it here. I wondered if you wanted to go out on it?’
Melissa’s alcohol-ridden stomach churned at the thought of bobbing up and down on the high seas. ‘Eurgh, really? Now?’
‘Perhaps not.’ Guy lifted his glasses up, rubbed his eyes, and laughed. ‘How about this afternoon? I need to go and see Gran this morning. You don’t have to come with me. You chill here in the sun or sleep off your hangover.’ He gave her a sideways smile as he put his glasses back on. ‘And I can catch you later if you like? Bring a swimming costume.’
‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘But I’d like to come with you to see your gran. If you’d like the company?’
‘I would like that.’ He smiled broadly.
‘I don’t want to be in the way. I don’t want to upset her. She seemed a bit … off before.’
‘She was just a bit tired and I think she’s in pain, although she’s so stoic she won’t actually say. I think she’d appreciate some female company. My mum’s been coming and going since she arrived in Dorset, fussing as usual, but Gran and Mum don’t really get on. Mum’s staying with a friend while she’s down here. Mum’s the dreaded daughter-in-law. Come with me, I’m sure she’d like it.’
After drinking about a litre of coffee each and polishing off everything on their breakfast plates, Guy and Melissa felt ready to face the day. They arrived at the hospital and went into the geriatric ward, where Anna had been moved.
‘Oh, it’s you two! Lovely! Have you seen where they’ve put me?’ Anna was incensed as Guy walked in, accompanied by Melissa.
‘It’s quieter in this ward,’ Melissa said.
‘Of course it is, dear, it’s the geriatric unit. God’s waiting room.’ Anna kissed Guy on the cheek and gave Melissa a smile. ‘I am pleased to see you, darling Guy,’ she said. ‘Your mother is a fusspot. I’ve sent her o
ff to get a magazine for me. That should keep her busy for a few minutes. But I see you’re back.’ She indicated Melissa. ‘So … you two. You must tell me what’s going on between you. Quick, before your mother returns and starts fussing again. Are you …?’
Melissa felt her face flame and Guy fidgeted beside her in one of the plastic visitors’ chairs.
‘No, Gran. She’s just, um, we’re just friends.’
‘Oh well. She’s a very pretty friend. Do you have a boyfriend, dear?’ Anna turned back to Melissa.
‘Er … No.’ Melissa sat up straight under the rapid questioning. ‘I did. A few days ago. But now I don’t.’ Melissa cringed and then wondered why she’d said it quite like that.
Anna looked enquiringly for more information, but Melissa kept her mouth shut.
‘Interesting,’ Anna said.
Guy’s mother returned. ‘Oh, darling, you’re here. How wonderful. And you’ve brought a friend. How lovely to meet you.’
Melissa extended her hand to Guy’s mother. ‘Hi, I’m Melissa.’
‘I’ve heard all about you from Anna,’ Guy’s mother said, holding her hand tightly after having shaken it. ‘I’m Catherine.’
As Catherine smiled warmly, Melissa could identify elements of Guy in his mother’s face. They both shared the same warm expression when they spoke and the same shade of brown hair.
Turning to Anna, Catherine said, ‘I bought you a People’s Friend and Good Housekeeping. I couldn’t decide between them, so I bought both. Can I get you anything else? Can I sort your pillows a bit better for you? What about a cup of tea from the coffee shop? I can go back downstairs. It’s no problem.’
‘No, thank you, dear,’ Anna said to her daughter-in-law in a strained voice, clearly annoyed by the fussing.
Melissa jumped up. ‘I could do with coffee, so I’ll go and grab some. What does everyone want?’ She was desperate to leave after the embarrassment of the boyfriend question. She took orders and made herself scarce.
‘She’s very pretty,’ Anna said to Guy. ‘Do you like her?’ There was no mistaking the hopefulness in his grandmother’s tone.
Guy nodded. ‘Yes, I do. She’s lovely.’ He moved quickly on. ‘We’ve kind of got a bit involved in investigating …’ he was going to say Veronica Standish but changed his mind and said, ‘the history of Tyneham.’
‘Go on,’ Anna said. ‘I can see you’re itching to ask me something.’
Guy’s mother looked curiously between them.
‘On the last day,’ Guy said, ‘who else was there? Who else was there that usually might not have been?’
‘No one was there, darling. Just us.’
‘Oh … I heard that Veronica might not have been a hundred per cent faithful to her husband and we suspect it wasn’t one of the villagers, so I wondered if …’
‘Who told you that?’ Anna snapped.
Guy’s eyes widened in surprise at his grandmother’s tone. ‘It’s a long story, but …’
‘There’s no story at all, I’m afraid. You’ve been led up the garden path,’ she said in an annoyed tone.
‘I know it was a long time ago, Gran, but could you think back to that last day,’ he ploughed on bravely. ‘Was there anyone there who shouldn’t have been there? Who wasn’t normally there? Did you hear a rumour that Veronica was with someone, in the family’s beach hut, down in the cove, or anything like that?’
‘What you are suggesting is utterly unsavoury, Guy,’ Anna baulked. ‘I’m surprised at you, a logical man who prides himself on facts and figures. What kind of gossip have you been listening to?’
‘I’m sorry, Gran,’ Guy said, disappointed at having been thoroughly chastised. He felt like a child again, having been told off for eating too many sweets before his Sunday lunch. ‘I’m like a dog with a bone,’ he said. ‘I’ll drop it now. There is one more thing though. I found this.’
He pulled his laptop out of his bag and waited for the screen to come to life. He spun it around and showed her. She leaned forward and looked at it. Slowly she smiled as she saw the photograph and read the caption. Sir Albert and Lady Veronica Standish enjoy a pleasant evening at Lady Newland’s New Year’s Eve Ball.
‘It’s from a newspaper from January 1944,’ Guy said. ‘I thought you might like to see it.’
Anna’s eyes widened. ‘Well I never,’ she said and then offered no further comment.
‘Have you seen it before?’ Guy asked.
Anna shook her head. ‘No. No I hadn’t.’
Guy was confused at his grandmother’s reaction. ‘She looks fine, doesn’t she?’ Guy asked.
‘Yes, dear, she looks just fine to me.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Guy said and snapped the laptop shut.
He described his grandmother’s reaction when he and Melissa were back in the car.
‘Do you think we might be barking up the wrong tree?’ he questioned.
‘Yes, all the time,’ she replied. ‘I’ll admit I thought he’d done something horrific to her. But obviously not now. He’s just dragged her to some New Year’s Eve ball, quit parliament, and then … well, I don’t know what happened next, but your grandmother said Veronica wrote to her and was fine. So … I feel like we’re being led on the trail of something, but I don’t know what.’
‘I feel the same. Something’s amiss. But I think whatever it is that we find out, we’re not going to like it.’ He glanced at her from the driver’s seat. She was looking down, chewing her lip. ‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, no, maybe.’
‘Do you want to stop?’ he asked.
‘No!’ Melissa looked up quickly. ‘No, not at all. It’s just …’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Guy about her mother’s unhappiness in her marriage, the non-stop fighting between her parents, the perpetual unhappiness. She wanted to tell him why she felt so invested in Veronica, in this woman she’d never met, in finding out she was okay. In another life, it could have been her mother, it could have been Melissa herself.
But she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. She didn’t know him well enough. She couldn’t put that on him.
‘Don’t worry. I’m just being silly. Come on. Let’s go and do something fun. Let’s go book shopping.’
Oswell’s Bookshop was a secret haven. Situated in a side street in Lyme Regis, Melissa felt as if she had stepped back in time. Rows upon rows of books jostled for space, all stacked haphazardly on shelves that had been put up too close to one another.
She looked at Guy. He looked as if all his Christmases had come at once.
‘How did you find this place?’ she asked.
‘I used to come here years ago. The owner’s a friend of Gran’s. She used to bring me here every now and again for a new book, and then we’d go and get ice cream and sit on the beach.’
Melissa looked at Guy’s wistful face. He’d clearly disappeared back to his youth. ‘How old were you?’
‘I think I was about ten the last time Gran and I did that. It was before we moved away when Dad got a job overseas in banking. I was packed off to boarding school and we hardly ever came back here again. Not until I was an adult really and I came back of my own volition. I love it here. I always have. There’s something about Dorset. It’s got the best of everything: beautiful coast, stunning countryside. Anyway,’ he said, ‘the local history section’s over here,’ he finished quickly as Melissa eyed him smilingly.
An elderly gentleman appeared from behind a beaded curtain at the back of the shop. ‘Well hello,’ he said when he spotted Guy. ‘What a treat to see you again.’
Guy greeted the owner and they shook hands, exchanging pleasantries about Guy’s return after years away and Anna’s health.
‘And who is this lovely young lady?’ the owner asked.
‘Melissa, this is Mr Oswell. Mr Oswell, this is my friend Melissa.’
They shook hands. ‘You have a wonderful shop,’ she said.
‘Thank you. I love it. Although I’ll confe
ss it’s getting a bit much for me now in my old age.’ He turned to Guy conspiratorially, ‘I’m considering closing up and retiring.’
Melissa listened as Guy remonstrated about what would be the loss of an excellent bookshop.
‘I feel like I’ve been running this place since the dawn of time,’ Mr Oswell finished. He switched on an electric desk fan and then turned back round. ‘Now, what can I do for you both?’
‘We’re after books on Tyneham village, if you have any?’ Melissa said.
‘I think I have one or two, over there.’ Mr Oswell indicated a low shelf, and as Melissa bent to look, Guy took himself off around the shop.
Melissa turned and he gave her an embarrassed but happy look as he spotted a few of his own books on the shelves. Mr Oswell gave Guy a pen and encouraged him to sign them.
A delivery arrived and Guy offered to help lug the books in, rolling up his sleeves and going outside to lift the large boxes into the shop and up onto the counter.
While Guy worked, Melissa produced the only three books on the shelf about Tyneham and placed them on the counter next to the delivery.
‘Which one do you want?’ Mr Oswell asked.
‘I’m taking the lot please.’ If there was information to be found, she wasn’t taking any chances by leaving behind a book that might contain what she needed.
‘Lovely. Thanks very much,’ he said.
‘All of them?’ Guy queried as he hauled another box in.
Melissa shrugged. ‘Yep.’
She paid, but they stayed to help Mr Oswell open the delivery boxes, unpack all the books and then crush up the packaging. Guy kicked it into a small shape for easy storage and carried it out the back.
They said their goodbyes to Mr Oswell and Guy promised not to leave it so long next time.
Melissa looked up at him as they walked through the streets.
‘What?’ He unrolled his sleeves and looked down at her.
‘You’re one of the good ones, do you know that?’
‘Yes I do,’ he said sheepishly. ‘My mother tells me daily.’
Melissa laughed. A woman approached him and Melissa was shocked how close the lady stopped, right in Guy’s personal space.
