by Simon Brett
As a result the treatment required did not really call on Jude’s healing skills. It was just a basic back massage. And once it was completed, Sara felt instantly better.
Jude made them both a cup of green tea. Then she said, ‘Incidentally, I had some corroboration for what you saw on the third of October.’ Sara looked confused. ‘Amos Green. He was seen, still very much alive, in Polly’s that afternoon.’
‘Oh. Was he?’
‘So, while not exactly being proof that you saw his dead body, it does at least link him to the site where you found it.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Binnie saw him in the café. She served him an Americano.’ Jude had no inhibition about naming her source to Sara.
‘Oh, did she?’ There wasn’t a lot of interest in the words. ‘I have, incidentally, decided that I did definitely see the body. It wasn’t a hallucination.’
‘And what made you decide that? More proof?’
‘No, nothing like that. I’m just mentally in so much better a place that I can tell reality from hallucination. And what I saw in that store room was real.’
‘Good. I’m glad your confidence has come back.’ There was a silence. ‘Does this mean that you’re thinking of going to the police about what you saw?’ A firm shake of the head. ‘Why not?’
‘For the reason I just told you. I’m mentally in so much better a place that I don’t want to threaten my new-found mental equilibrium by getting involved in police interviews.’
Carole might not have approved, but it was a good enough answer for Jude. ‘And have you still got your one piece of solid proof? The handkerchief with Amos Green’s blood on it?’
‘Yes. I’ve kept thinking of throwing it away, but every time something stops me.’
Jude didn’t comment on this but was secretly pleased. She had a feeling that that piece of evidence might at some stage prove vital to the investigation. The thought prompted another: that what she and Carole were doing hardly qualified for the title of an ‘investigation’. Though they had assembled a number of tantalizing details, their enquiries were lacking a sense of forward momentum. She wondered if it was just because Christmas had put everything on hold, but she was rather afraid that wasn’t the reason. The case was just slipping away from them.
She grinned at Sara. ‘Anyway, I’m glad to hear that everything’s going well with Kent. And that you’ve come through the baptism of fire.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Meeting his ex-wife and children.’
‘Ah. Yes. Well, you’re right. It was quite stressful.’
‘So your back told me.’
Sara chuckled. ‘I have a very articulate back.’
‘You certainly do. So … with Kent in place … there are no clouds on your horizon?’
‘Fewer clouds, anyway.’
‘How do you mean?’
Sara grimaced. ‘Well, the fact is … yes, with Kent things’re going fine. Better than I ever imagined things going with a man. Certainly better than they were with the last one.’
‘Not difficult, from what you’ve said about him.’
‘No, you’re right. Now it seems incongruous that I stayed with him so long; that I actually wanted to have children with him. It’s amazing how volatile we are, how we can totally convince ourselves of the rightness of something that is so obviously wrong. I do find human nature confusing.’
‘I think we all do.’
‘Hm. Anyway, so as regards my love life, no clouds on my horizon.’ Thinking perhaps this was too bold an assertion, she backtracked a little. ‘Well, no clouds at the moment. Probably some will come floating by soon.’
‘No reason why they should. Some things in life just work.’
‘Sadly that hasn’t been my experience too often.’
‘But your life is changing.’
‘Hope so.’ The grin that accompanied these words twisted itself into a grimace. ‘It’s my work life that’s not so good, though. Well, nonexistent. And that does frustrate me. I’ve been working for myself ever since I left school. And not having a project of my own to concentrate on is really getting me down.’
‘I see that Binnie and Hammo are working out their notice at Polly’s.’
‘Yes. And you’re wondering why I’m not doing the same …?’
‘Had crossed my mind, yes.’
‘I’ll tell you why. Because Phoebe Braithwaite is the rudest woman I have ever met!’
‘Ah.’
‘She made no secret of the fact that she thought I ought to forgo my earnings during my month’s notice. She said, “It’s different for Binnie and Hammo – they’re ordinary working people. But you’re a different class from them. You should be taking part in this Community Project, not leaching away funds from it. If you are still keen to work here, then I can put you on my Volunteer Rota.” “Unpaid?” I asked. “Of course unpaid,” she replied. “That’s what ‘volunteer’ means. Don’t you have any sense of community?” And I’m afraid that was when I really lost my rag.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘I told her I had always earned my own living, and my hands-on experience in the catering business meant that I was extremely highly qualified. And nobody was going to get the advantage of my skills for free. Then she had the nerve to say, “I don’t know why you’re getting so het up about it. Now you’re shacked up with Kent Warboys, it’s not as if you need to work.” Well, that did it. I stormed out – and will probably never go into Polly’s Cake Shop again!’
‘I can understand that,’ said Jude.
‘But at the same time,’ said Sara, quickly calming down, ‘I’m quite sorry about that.’
‘Oh?’
‘I really enjoyed working at Polly’s. Even under Josie. She wasn’t the most friendly of employers, but she recognized what I could do. She kept giving me more responsibility. I think I could have ended up managing the place … if this bloody Community Project hadn’t come along.’
‘And is this a source of friction between you and Kent? Because, after all, he’s been a great supporter of running Polly’s as a Community Project.’
‘So far we’ve managed to keep off the subject.’
‘Long may that last.’
‘You betcha. I’m not going to threaten the best relationship I’ve ever had by arguing over Polly’s Cake Shop. No, once everyone has gone back to work after the long Christmas break, I will seriously set about the business of finding myself a job.’
Jude couldn’t let it alone. ‘And you’re still not planning to tell the police about what you saw?’
‘I’ve told you, no. And in fact now I have a much stronger reason to keep what I saw to myself.’
‘Oh?’
‘It wouldn’t just be me who’d get caught up in the police questioning.’
‘Really? Then who?’
‘Kent told me he used to know Amos Green.’
TWENTY
The decision had been taken that Polly’s Community Café would not open during the long Christmas break, and this was generally thought to be a good idea. Though most of Fethering’s residents and a lot of the village’s weekenders would be around over the holiday, most of them would be staying in their homes. It made sense for the café’s Volunteer Rota to enjoy their own Christmases and then reopen in the New Year with refreshed energy.
It was on the morning before New Year’s Eve, the Sunday, that Jude had a panicked call from Carole asking if she could look after Gulliver. She’d just had a call from Fulham. Her new granddaughter Chloe had been rushed into hospital with a respiratory problem. Granny’s services were required to look after Lily.
Jude could hear how terrified her neighbour was and she knew the reason. Memories of her own stillborn second child had made Chloe seem particularly vulnerable to Carole. She still had a terrible fear of history repeating itself.
But of course Carole didn’t mention this on the phone. And Jude was far too sensitive and diplomatic
to raise the subject herself. She just rushed straight round to High Tor to take charge of Gulliver while Carole, uncharacteristically slapdash, threw some clothes into a bag and drove off in the Renault at a pace far beyond the sedate speed limit of Fethering. Jude had made her promise to let her know when there was any news of Chloe.
Gulliver seemed quite content to snuffle around the unfamiliar smells of Woodside Cottage. Carole hadn’t got the message from Fulham until after she and the dog had returned from Fethering Beach, so he wouldn’t need another walk till the late afternoon.
Jude had a couple of clients booked in that morning (more refugees from tense family Christmases) and she didn’t think either of them would object to the dog’s presence during their sessions. She was removing its disguise of throws and cushions and assembling her treatment bed when the phone rang.
It was Kent Warboys. ‘I wondered if we could have a chat, Jude.’
‘Yes, of course. About anything in particular?’
‘About Sara. I’m worried about her.’
The arrangement that they had made was that Jude would go to Kent’s home late afternoon and use the excursion for Gulliver’s second walk of the day. The architect lived on the opposite bank of the Fether estuary from the Fethering Yacht Club. Only a few hundred yards away. But getting to his house involved walking back up the towpath to the last road bridge before the sea and then walking back on the other side. The few hundred yards as the crow flies became a mile, a perfect workout for Gulliver.
Kent Warboys’ house was a conversion from some old fishermen’s huts, which had been about to collapse when he’d bought them, and they provided a very good sales pitch for the kind of sympathetic development on which Warboys Heritage Construction prided itself. Though the building had every state-of-the-art modern amenity, it still retained the outline of its former usage and looked as if it had always stood there at the junction of the Fether and the English Channel.
Just before she rang the doorbell, Jude checked again with her mobile. There was no message from Fulham. Disquiet within her grew.
Kent was very welcoming when he let her and Gulliver in and led them to an upstairs sitting room whose windows, filling one whole wall, commanded stunning views over the sea. The weather outside might have been icy cold, but the interior was very cosy. Jude could see no sign of a fireplace, stove or radiators. No doubt the building was warmed by the latest unseen heating technology.
Kent offered her a drink and asked if he could get some water for Gulliver. ‘Used to have a Lab myself, know how thirsty they can get.’
Jude accepted the offer on the dog’s behalf and said she’d like a glass of white wine. Kent had a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc in the fridge, which was perfect. He poured himself a Becks beer.
‘Thanks so much for coming over,’ he said.
‘No problem. You say you’re worried about Sara …?’
‘Yes. And I know she’s been to see you about some of the … problems she’s had in the past—’
‘She has, but—’
‘I know, I know. She’s one of your clients and I understand that – like anyone involved in medicine – you have a duty of client confidentiality.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘So I wouldn’t dream of asking you to tell me about secrets she might have confided in you in the course of your healing sessions.’
‘Thank you.’ Jude was once again impressed by Kent Warboys’ apparent honesty. He seemed to be genuinely thoughtful and aware of other people’s sensibilities.
‘But, Jude, if I tell you things that Sara has told me, then we can discuss those, can’t we? No confidentiality issue there, is there?’
‘No,’ Jude replied cautiously.
‘And look, I should start by saying that I’m really deeply serious about my relationship with Sara. I’ve been bowled over by her ever since I met her. And I really do want this to be something that continues – ideally forever.’
‘Good. I gather that she’s pretty serious too.’
‘I hope so. She says so. And I know things were a bit sticky for her over Christmas. My fault. I went too fast. Shouldn’t have brought the kids and the ex-wife into the equation so early. But I think she pulled through okay.’
‘I got that impression, yes.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. But listen, Jude, I know from things Sara has told me that she has recently had a fairly major breakdown.’
‘Yes, she has.’
‘But she’s coming out of it and she’s feeling a lot more positive. And I think a lot of that is down to the sessions you’ve been doing with her.’
Jude shrugged. ‘I hope I’ve helped. Most of it is down to her, though. She’s worked stuff out for herself.’
‘Mm.’ Kent paused for a moment and took a long swig of his beer. Gulliver panted contentedly on the carpet. ‘What I really want to know, Jude, is how strong Sara is …?’
‘Strong for what?’
‘For going back to work.’
‘Well, she’s been working at Polly’s until quite recently.’
‘Yes, but just as a waitress. Way below her skill level. And she was getting very frustrated by it. Sara has run her own restaurant for years, after all. And she wants to get back into some kind of managerial role, which is quite honestly where she belongs. But I’m just wondering whether she is strong enough to be applying for jobs of that kind.’
‘I’d say it was up to her. If Sara thinks she can cope, then I’m sure she can cope.’
‘Hm.’ Kent’s tone didn’t make it sound as if Jude had resolved the problem to his full satisfaction. ‘It’s just … when she describes the kind of state she was in – you know, hallucinating, seeing things that weren’t there …’
‘It’s not an unusual symptom of stress, and she had been suffering from a very high level of stress.’
‘Yes. If I were ever to meet that bastard, her ex-boyfriend, well, I don’t think I’d be responsible for my actions.’ Kent Warboys spoke with a rather frightening cold passion that Jude hadn’t heard from him before.
‘Let’s hope you don’t meet him then.’
‘Right.’ But there was a tinge of regret in his voice. Then he moved on. ‘I’m fortunate. I’ve never had any kind of mental illness. You know, I’ve had my frustrations in my professional life. When you run a company, the bigger the scale of the operation, the more problems you get.’
‘Are you talking about Warboys Heritage Construction?’
‘No, that’s a relatively new company for me, and now I’m a bit cannier about how to run things. There have been so many companies over the years, though, most of which have had to be wound up at some point.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, the usual reasons – cash-flow problems, bankrupt subcontractors, clients who refuse to pay, unreliable partners, criminal partners, you name it. My first company was called Warboys Design and Build, then I was Fit The Build for a while; terrible name – my then partner’s choice, not mine, I hasten to add. Then I was … Anyway, none of this is important. I was talking about how lucky I am never to have been depressed. So yes, there have been frustrations in my professional life, and in my personal life too, come to that – but they’ve just made me bloody angry. Never depressed, never not trusting my own eyes as to whether what I’m seeing is real or not. The way Sara describes it … God, it’s scary.’
‘It is, yes.’
‘Have you ever …?’
Jude shook her head. ‘But I’ve seen enough evidence of the misery it can cause.’
‘I’m sure you have. Still, I think it’s good that people are more open about mental illness these days.’
‘I agree completely.’
‘I mean nowadays you hardly ever read an interview with an actor or singer who hasn’t had some kind of battle with depression.’
‘It’s an essential part of a contemporary showbusiness CV,’ said Jude with some cynicism.
‘Everything’s much more transparent
these days. Get your secrets out in the open: that seems to be the modern mantra, and a very good one too. Imagine, even ten years ago, the idea of same-sex marriage being legal.’
‘Yes, there has been improvement in some areas,’ Jude agreed cautiously.
‘I mean, I’m sure you and Carole must’ve noticed the change.’
Jude was totally confused. ‘Sorry?’
‘Well, nowadays you don’t get any hassle about your relationship, do you?’
Finally she caught on to what he was saying and, with difficulty avoiding giggling, replied, ‘No, we don’t get any hassle at all.’
From previous experience, Jude knew that there was a small element in the Fethering community who, because the two women were seen around so much together, assumed that Carole and Jude were a lesbian couple. Jude always found references to this hysterically funny. Carole was less amused.
The thought of her friend took Jude’s mind to the children’s ward of a hospital in Fulham. She framed a silent, nondenominational prayer for the health of Chloe Seddon.
‘Mental illness is scary, though,’ Kent went on. ‘I mean, have you seen those scars on Sara’s arms?’ Jude nodded. ‘How much do you have to hate yourself to start doing that? And there are other awful symptoms she’s told me about. At her worst Sara claims to have seen whole scenarios that just didn’t exist.’ Another silence, another swig of beer. ‘She told me she’d once seen a dead body.’
‘Oh.’
‘In Polly’s – back in the day when it was still Polly’s Cake Shop, not Polly’s Community Café. She told me she’d seen this body of a man who’d been shot, there in the store room.’
‘Did you believe her?’
‘Well, no. I mean, I believed her when she told me that she’d had the hallucination. But I don’t believe she’d actually seen the body, no.’ He looked at Jude shrewdly. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t be … proper for me to ask if she’d ever mentioned that hallucination to you?’
