Killed in Cornwall

by Janie Bolitho

  ‘Yes. I need fuel and we both need coffee.’ He did not add that another fifteen minutes or so would make no difference. Laura had rung Arthur to say they were on their way.

  Rose had not wanted to speak to him. ‘Face to face, not on the phone,’ was all she had said when Laura tried to hand her Jack’s mobile from which she had made the call.

  And then they were pulling up outside the Cotswold cottage alongside the low, stone wall which sheltered the beautiful garden her parents had created. Arthur staggered out through the front door and reached for his daughter. ‘I had a feeling, all along I had a feeling,’ he said as he held Rose in his arms and stroked her hair. Only then did she cry. Sobs tore from her as she bent double as if she was in pain, loud noisy sobs which she couldn’t contain. Both men watched her. There was nothing they could do, nothing they could say. Arthur’s eyes were full of tears but he brushed them away with the back of his hand. Jack turned away and bit his lip as he, too, suddenly realised he would never see Evelyn Forbes again.

  Finally they went into the house. June Potter was red-eyed but greeted them warmly. ‘I’ll go now,’ she said. ‘Just tell me when you want me to come back.’

  ‘Thank you. I appreciate what you’ve done for us.’ Arthur got out a bottle of Glenmorangie and filled three tumblers. ‘To Evelyn,’ he said as he raised his own. ‘To the best wife a man ever had.’ He faced them each in turn. ‘You’ve hurt yourself, Rose.’

  ‘I fell,’ she said, and left it at that.

  Later that night when Arthur and Rose had gone to their rooms although probably not to sleep, Jack rang a sergeant on duty and discovered that Nathan Brown had made a full confession and that he had been charged with the murder of Nichola Rolland. Rose had suspected him, he realised that now, but she hadn’t the sense to tell him so. How he wished she would confide in him more, how he wished he could live with her and take her pain away. But wishing for the impossible was a waste of time. Instead he would concentrate on the practicalities and try to get them through the days until the funeral. There would be no inquest, no post mortem, none of the added unpleasantness Nichola Rolland’s parents had had to go through because Evelyn had been receiving current medical treatment, but that wouldn’t make it any easier. He took the glasses out to the kitchen and washed and dried them. Tomorrow he would ensure they all ate but the Glenmorangie had been a good idea. Alcohol, in certain circumstances, was not a bad thing. It had loosened their tongues and allowed them to speak of Evelyn and remember things from the past.

  He checked the fridge and cupboards. June Potter had obviously shopped; there was enough to keep them going for several days. No one had told him where he could sleep, so he lay on the comfortable chintz settee and closed his eyes. He thought about Rose and hoped that what she was feeling now would cancel out the earlier events of the day.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The summer was almost over. The sweltering heat of July and August when tarmac melted in the roads and stuck to the soles of shoes and ice-creams dripped over the back of hands unless they were eaten quickly had been replaced by a balmy September. Then, as often happened, the decent weather returned once the schools had gone back and most of the tourists had disappeared up the motorways. In the last week of September an Indian summer arrived with skies so blue they seemed unreal.

  Rose sat next to her father on her garden bench. The yellowed grass was dry and scratchy beneath their feet and gave off a hay-like scent. They sat quietly, enjoying the view. Closer now than they had ever been, there was no need for words.

  Evelyn’s funeral had taken place the week after she died. Rose had been surprised at the number of mourners. Tony Boyd had been there but seeing the proprietorial way in which Jack Pearce treated Rose and Arthur he understood the relationship. ‘I meant to phone,’ he told Rose in a quiet moment after the service, ‘but I had a London exhibition and then, well, to be honest, when Evelyn died I had no idea what I’d say to you.’

  Rose realised then that there wouldn’t be a phone call but that the two of them would remain friends. She was grateful to Tony for that.

  She had stayed on for a further fortnight, assuring Jack they would be all right. He had returned to work.

  ‘What will you do, Dad?’ Rose had asked the day before she was due to drive back to Newlyn. She could not bear to think of him alone in that house.

  ‘Take some time to decide. I don’t want to rush things and make a terrible mistake.’

  ‘I’ll ring you every day. If you need me, you know where I am.’

  But even now he had not come to a decision. He could stay where he was, sell up and buy somewhere new or, as Rose kept trying to persuade him, he could come and live with her. He had come down for an extended stay but deep down they both sensed that this would never become a permanent arrangement. Arthur had already visited several local estate agents and studied the details they had given him of houses in the area.

  ‘What happened the day your mother died? You never did tell me and I couldn’t get a word out of Jack. You didn’t fall, did you?’

  Rose, amazed that he had taken in her injuries, let alone remembered them, started at the beginning and relayed all of the events of those few weeks.

  ‘Rape and murder. My God.’ He did not comment on the danger Rose had been in because he had guessed it was the reason he had been left in the dark. ‘And friends of yours involved, too.’

  ‘It’s all settled down now. Dave and Eva are about to move into their barn conversion although it isn’t really fit to live in yet and Daphne and Rod are making a go of it. No one seems to have found out about his past after all.’

  ‘I like Daphne, she’s what they call a good sort. And she seems happy enough working for Barry.’ Arthur had been introduced to her in the shop.

  Rose smiled. ‘Yes. Barry.’

  ‘Well, he’s certainly made some improvements to that flat of his. It’s like a different place. So light and airy and no doubt thanks to you.’

  ‘No. It was his decision, he chose everything, I just went with him to buy the furniture. And you’ll never guess.’

  ‘No, not if you’re involved, I won’t. Tell me.’

  ‘Back in July he went to some sort of do at Daphne’s place and he met some new people. And …’

  Arthur turned to her with surprise. ‘You’re not going to tell me he’s got himself involved with a woman?’

  ‘Got it in one. Well, not involved, exactly, but he takes her out every so often. She’s divorced with one grown up daughter and I think they just enjoy one another’s company.’

  ‘Good heavens.’ Arthur lit one of the cigars he had taken to smoking. ‘They keep the midges away,’ he had told Rose when she first commented on it. ‘What about all the other people?’

  ‘Samantha Jago’s back at school and has stopped giving her mother a hard time. Joyce, by the way, is becoming a better and better artist. I hope she comes back when the term starts again.

  ‘According to Laura, Lucy Chandler’s changed. She’s much quieter than she used to be and she’s thinking of moving away when she’s finished her hairdressing apprenticeship. I’m afraid she’ll bear the scars for ever. Her mother also told Laura that she’s lost interest in boys. She goes out with friends but gets a taxi home by herself. It hasn’t made any difference that they caught Nathan.’

  ‘From what Jack told me it seems you caught him single-handed.’

  ‘It looks that way now, but I was going to tell Jack that very day.’ Rose paused. It was a day and date she would never forget. ‘And poor Doreen, she still feels partly responsible.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Because she tried to be a friend to Nathan and entertained him at the bungalow. On one occasion Nichola Rolland was passing and Doreen spoke to her. You know how Doreen likes to gossip, well she told Nathan that the girl was a loner and that she took herself off for long walks in the dunes to avoid the daily visits of an aunt who her mother had asked to keep an eye on her. Nathan took t
his in and followed her.’

  ‘What about the other two?’

  ‘Chance meetings, so Jack says. He was walking up to the garage when he saw Helen Trehearne turn off the road with her dog. She was otherwise alone so he simply took the opportunity. Lucy Chandler was a different matter. She was out with Jason and they’d had a row. It still isn’t certain whether she was asked to act as a look-out for him and that’s why they argued, but no one will ever know now. Anyway, Nathan had been over to Madron delivering some of his mother’s things to one of her friends. He stayed for supper and was driving home when he saw her. He parked the car and went after her.’

  ‘But why? I mean why now?’

  Rose shrugged. ‘Probably his mother’s death released something in him. She stifled him, wouldn’t allow him to mix with women. He was frustrated and he was known to be a mother’s boy, he stood little chance with anyone local.’ Rose felt the colour rise in her face as she recalled him saying she was too old. ‘I think he couldn’t cope with people his own age and he probably wanted to dominate as he’d been dominated. Home-spun psychology, but that’s my theory.’ She did not add that her suspicions had been aroused by reading a novel, a novel in which a domineering mother had finally driven her son too far and he’d killed her. Nathan had not killed his mother but with her death something inside him had snapped and he had had no idea how to handle his newfound freedom. Before he had had time to adjust to his new situation all his repressed desires had risen to the surface. Nor did she mention that she had guessed the acquisition of the video had been to enable him to watch pornographic material. Several tapes had been found in his possession when the police searched the house.

  ‘Now, don’t you think it’s time we got ready?’ Rose got up to take in their coffee mugs. It was still warm but the sun moved around lower in the sky now. Another few weeks and they would gain an hour on the clock but darkness would come earlier and earlier.

  ‘You carry on, love, it won’t take me long. I’ll just sit here and enjoy the warmth and the view for a few more moments.’

  Rose kissed the top of his head where his hair was thinning. He looks older, she realised and he’s lost weight. But otherwise he looked reasonably well.

  Upstairs she showered and washed her hair then, in her underclothes, put on her make-up as she decided what to wear. It would be colder later on. The tan skirt with a silk vest top a shade lighter would be ideal as there was a long cardigan jacket to match the skirt. She sprayed perfume into the air and walked into the vapour as Laura had recently told her this was the correct thing to do. Ready to go, she went downstairs and waited for her father to emerge from the spare room and the taxi to arrive to take them to the Mount’s Bay Inn where they were meeting Jack. He was treating them to a meal and had suggested that Laura and Trevor came too, or Barry if Arthur preferred.

  ‘Thanks, Jack, but I’m not up to facing more than one or two people at a time yet. Another time, maybe.’

  So it was to be just the three of them.

  The taxi arrived on time and dropped them outside the pub on the seafront. Jack was at the bar looking very handsome in well cut trousers, and a shirt and jacket. He smiled, genuinely pleased to see them and gave Rose an appreciative wink.

  ‘We’ll sit in the window,’ Rose said in deference to her father who had walked quite a long way that day. They had driven around the coastline then walked part of the way along the coastal path, stopping at a small cafe with outside tables where they had sipped China tea and eaten home made scones with butter and strawberry jam and dollops of thick, crusty clotted cream. The fire, to the left of the counter, had been lit in its burner and was throwing out more heat than was necessary this early in the evening which was another reason for moving away from the bar.

  They had one drink before walking down to the Seafarer’s restaurant where Rose was supposed to have gone with Jack back at the end of June. It was just off the Promenade. Downstairs was the bar area, the dining tables were on the first floor. Situated on a corner and with large windows on two sides, there was a view of the bay wherever you sat.

  Elizabet and Romano greeted them warmly as they were shown to their seats. The meal would be lengthy, Romano cooked everything from scratch and choosing from the menu was not an easy task either, not with fish specialities as well as game and goose and pasta and steaks. Elizabet brought them olives and home-made bread and Jack ordered the wine.

  ‘I’ve told Dad about Nathan,’ Rose said in case Jack was worried about mentioning the subject.

  ‘It seems as if my daughter’s been detecting again,’ Arthur said with a smile to show he wasn’t denigrating Jack’s efforts.

  ‘No one seems able to stop her, hard as we try Have you made any plans yet, Arthur?’

  ‘No, but I’m sure my head’ll clear in another couple of weeks.’

  ‘You mean you’ll know if you can stand living in the house of a mad woman by then?’

  ‘Quite.’ Arthur lifted the cloth covering the warm bread and reached for the garlic butter. He had seen the flush in his daughter’s face and knew Jack was on dangerous ground. If only Rose would marry him one decision would definitely be taken out of his hands. He would not dream of moving in if Jack was there on a permanent basis. In fact, he really already knew he would not be moving in. What he wanted was to find a home nearby. That way he could see Rose often but they would both retain their independence. There was no way he could stay where he was, there were far too many memories of Evelyn and the work they had both put into the garden.

  They ate and drank and tasted each other’s food, all of which was exceptionally good, and they talked of Rose and Jack’s friends. It was Evelyn’s name that wasn’t mentioned until almost the end of the evening. ‘I keep trying to think what she’d have wanted me to do, or what she’d have done if the situation was reversed. I know it’s daft, that the short time I have left is my own, but she’s still with me, you see. She always will be.’

  ‘There’s no rush,’ Jack said quickly, noticing Rose’s sad expression. ‘I mean, look at the two of us. Rose goes on all the time about getting married but I like my freedom too much. Give me five years or so and I might consider her offer.’

  Rose was staring at him in amazement. He was poker-faced until a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. ‘Oh, honestly, Jack,’ she said with a laugh as she indicated that her glass was empty.

  ‘You can fill mine up, too then we’ll order another bottle. I’ll foot the drinks bill,’ Arthur said.

  Rose listened as the two men she loved most in the world began a discussion on politics. He can still hold an intellectual conversation, she thought, admiring her father’s continuing interest and his ability to do so so soon after her mother’s death. He’s far better at coping than I was when David died. But maybe age does that to you, maybe you come to accept the idea before it happened. And life did go on. Look at me now, she thought, successful and actually making money from my painting and another local exhibition at Christmas to work towards. But life hadn’t gone on for Nichola Rolland and it had changed completely for Lucy Chandler. Rose knew she was lucky, that she would bear no scars from her encounter with Nathan Brown because of the events which had overtaken it.

  ‘You’re smiling,’ Jack commented.

  ‘Yes. I was thinking of all the things we’ve got planned for the next couple of weeks. We’ll be exhausted.’ Each and every one of her friends had invited her and her father for drinks or a meal or, in Barry’s case, a day out in Falmouth or Truro or Plymouth or anywhere else they wanted to go.

  ‘And she’ll do some work in between,’ Arthur said sternly, ‘or I’ll put her across my knee.’

  ‘You’re a braver man than I am even to suggest it.’

  Arthur met his eyes and smiled, really smiled, for the first time for months. You’ll do, Jack Pearce, he thought, you’ll more than do. It’s just such a bloody shame my stubborn daughter can’t see it.

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  BURIED IN CORNWALL

  Rose Trevelyan lives peacefully in Cornwall after the death of her husband, working as an artist and photographer. But when she hears terrified screams as she paints the rugged Cornish countryside, and a local woman is reported missing, Rose finds herself suddenly caught at the centre of a police investigation.

  With so many people who trust her, Rose is – reluctantly, at times – privy to the secrets of many. When the things she is told in confidence appear connected to the investigation, Rose must decide how far the bonds of friendship reach.

  CAUGHT OUT IN CORNWALL

  When Rose Trevelyan sees a young girl being carried away by someone who appears to be her father, she thinks nothing of it. Until, that is, the appearance of a frantic mother who cannot find her child. Beth Jones is only four years old, and her mother is adamant that the man Rose saw taking her away must be a stranger.

  Wracked with guilt for not intervening, Rose once again finds herself entangled in a criminal investigation. As time passes, it becomes clear that the chances of getting Beth back unharmed are very bleak indeed …

  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.