“Memories sweetheart, that’s all. Now then, I asked you first.”
Eve took a deep breath. “It all got the better of me Daphne. That’s all.”
Eve chose not to tell her she’d tried to kill herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, she just didn’t have the energy to talk about it. She was bored of her life being one trauma after another and she was slightly ashamed that the last one had been self inflicted. It was like a perpetual nightmare.
Daphne reached out to Eve and grasped her hand.
“I know sweetheart, I know. You feel like your whole world’s collapsed, like someone’s catapulted you off it and there’s no point going on.” She patted her hand.
Eve stared at her, sensing she was going to say more.
Daphne picked up the fresh roses Eve had cut from the garden and buried her face in their fragrance.
“They’re beautiful. Your garden?”
“Of course. I didn’t steal them!” Eve laughed.
“Well you never know dear, I thought you might have taken a fancy to old Mrs. Newark’s prize flowers on the way!”
They laughed together. For a moment the atmosphere lifted but was soon smothered by the dense emotion that had been there moments before.
“My daughter, Verity was murdered. Seven years old she was. I didn’t want to go on, after they found her, didn’t see the point really.” Daphne sat back in her chair and gazed out of the window. She was mentally travelling back in time, back to an era she’d locked away since it’d happened.
“I had no idea…I mean I remember Grace saying you lost a baby before Tim was born but…”
“I’ve never talked about it, that’s why you didn’t know. It became too unbearable. The longer I left it, the harder it was, so in the end I locked it away.”
Eve stared at her. Shocked she’d become so close to this woman and had never known she’d experienced the same awful trauma. Something began to shift inside Eve. She knew of the other people in the area who had lost their children in the same way but they had seemed distant because she didn’t know them well enough. It had made her feel terribly lonely. And here she was sat in front of someone who was carrying the same battle scars as her. A kind of relief flooded her, causing her to blush with embarrassment. It wasn’t something she’d wish on anyone but she was glad of the company in her lonely, cold world.
“Did they catch who did it?”
“Oh yes. He was caught a few months afterwards, hanged for it.”
Eve frowned.
“It was 1950. The death penalty was still punishment for murder.”
“How did that feel? Knowing who it was and seeing them hang for what they’d done.”
Daphne turned away from the window to look Eve in the eye.
“Empty. It made me feel empty. At first there was a strong urge to see him get what he deserved. I wanted him to feel the fear he’d put Verity through. I wanted to kill him with my own hands. But then it was all over and there was nothing. I knew it was for the best, that he wouldn’t be able to harm anyone else. But he was free of it all and we were the ones left with the whole nightmare he’d caused.”
Eve nodded, understanding totally what she was saying. She’d run through the scenario in her head many times after Alice went missing. Not that she had ever voiced it out loud, that would have meant admitting Alice had been murdered. Death was the easy option in her eyes, which was why she’d tried to end it all only a few days earlier.
“I know there’s no excuse for what he did, but was there any explanation?”
Daphne sighed, her eyes watery with tears.
“She smelt nice, he said; took her school shirt as a souvenir. He mutilated my beautiful little angel all because she smelt nice. All I could think about afterwards was that we were halfway through ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’. It’s strange what goes through your mind when you’re in shock.”
“I’m so sorry…”
Daphne flinched at the words she hadn’t heard for so long, hadn’t wanted to hear, especially not from Eve. She put her hand up to stop her saying anything else.
“But I am Daphne, you’ve listened to me endlessly talking about Alice, which must have been excruciating for you, and you never said a word.”
“It wasn’t the right time to tell you and I wasn’t sure if I was right.”
Eve frowned at this last sentence, wondering if she had missed part of the conversation and they were now talking about something else.
“Eve, I’ve got something to tell you and I need you to listen carefully. Don’t interrupt me. I can tell you, now he’s dead.”
“Who’s dead? Daphne, what are you talking about?”
“Tim, who do you think?”
“Tim’s dead? Dead? Don’t be daft, Daphne!” She stared at her, for the first time seeing her as a fragile old woman. She wondered for a few moments if she was going senile.
“Yes Eve. It was all over the news. Lost at sea on one of his fishing trips, you must know, Grace called me. Where ever have you been?”
*
After the dramatic events of the last few days, Chrissie had felt much more settled in her new home. She couldn’t quite believe Tim was actually dead and she wasn’t totally sure how she felt about it all. Everything that had happened since she’d lived in the house was hitting her like pelting hailstones. She’d been so bombarded, she could have been told that the village was being wiped out by a plague and she would probably have shrugged it off.
In the last couple of days she’d had time to digest it all. She felt relieved and fairly calm but there was still a slight uneasiness surrounding her. The activity in the house had almost stopped but there were still a few strange things occurring. The radio continued to have a mind of its own and things kept going missing. She’d spoken to Sarah about it over the phone, which had resulted in her inviting herself over for a few days, firstly to support Chrissie, and also to take the opportunity to do some house hunting.
Sarah had felt that the ongoing activity could be caused by Chrissie’s anxiousness or maybe an unsettled spirit not willing to move on. She’d promised her some therapy sessions during her stay to help her to come to terms with it all. Chrissie was having a problem going into the garden, especially down the bottom near the shed.
The trouble was, it didn’t matter how many times Sarah told her it was all ok, something still wasn’t sitting right with her. She couldn’t shake off the overwhelming feeling that someone was trying to get through to her. She brushed the thought away as if she was swatting an insect from her arm; she just needed to let go of it all.
She busied herself preparing supper for Sarah’s arrival, trying to concentrate on the task in hand. A movement outside caught her eye and she put down her vegetable peeler and strained her eyes to see through the window.
It was hard to see, the rain was thrashing down and the clouds had shed a premature darkness over everything. Thinking it was probably the wind blowing the trees, she continued peeling her potatoes, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
There was a creaking noise from the far end of the house which caused her to drop her peeler again. She went to the kitchen door to see if it was Sarah; she was beginning to feel uneasy. She strained her eyes to look through the window of the stable door. She was hoping to see car lights coming from the drive at the end of the house, so that she could explain it all away, but there was nothing. Telling herself she was being silly, Chrissie locked the door. Better to be on the safe side. Glancing up at the garden as she turned the key, she caught sight of someone sitting on the swing. She quickly glanced back but there was no one there. The swing was moving violently backwards and forwards as if it was possessed by the wind. Chrissie could have sworn she saw a child sitting on it. She shivered and rubbed her arms, taking a few moments to scan the garden. A shadow passed the small door window and it wasn’t coming from the outside. The screeching of a wooden chair across the tiled kitchen floor startled her. Chrissie turned slowly.
“Hello Christine.”
There sat a very soaking, dripping, dirty Tim.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dennis and Grace held each other tightly for what seemed like forever.
“Do you know what my first thought was when the police knocked on the door?”
Dennis kissed her forehead. “No, what?”
“That you were dead or missing too. I was more worried about that than I was about Tim.”
Dennis got up to get them both a drink.
“You know they’ll find him don’t you? Alive I mean.”
“No, the police called round yesterday and said it was unlikely now.”
“Grace, listen to me. I’m telling you, he’ll be found alive.”
Grace was digesting this news; she wasn’t thinking about why or how but the fact she’d felt quite elated by the thought that he was dead. Grace sat down on Dennis’s sofa, her head in her hands. The heavy feeling she had carried for so many years began to descend over her body like a black cloud. After quite some time she took a deep breath that seemed to started at the very bottom of her stomach.
“What happened on the boat trip, Dennis? I mean really? I thought you said you were going to deal with it – not that I wanted you to.”
“And I have dealt with it. I let him think he was going to die; gave him a taste of his own medicine.” Dennis saw Grace’s look of dismay, “The one thing I’ve learnt from being in the police force is that death is the easiest way out for someone like Tim.”
“But we agreed.”
Dennis laughed and sat down next to her on the sofa.
“I didn’t agree anything. I just said I didn’t want you to worry about it and to leave it to me.”
“But I didn’t want you dealing with it. I could have made it look like a simple accident and it would have been better for everyone concerned. He’s my stupid alcoholic husband.” Grace knew she was being childish which wasn’t becoming for a woman of her age but she couldn’t help herself, the disappointment was so great.
“I’m really sorry, Grace, but he still is.” Dennis laughed.
“I’m glad you find this all so amusing!” Grace started to cry.
“Listen to me. He’s had the most horrible experience of his life; one he’ll never forget. Very soon he’s going to wake up on someone else’s boat, which is moored in the harbour about a mile from here, further along the coast, with an empty rum bottle in his hand, totally unscathed, apart from being a bit smelly and dirty.”
“But why, if you were going to make him suffer, why didn’t you just finish him off?”
“Because my darling, death is too kind for him and in the next few days the police will find evidence to convict him of all the murders he committed. I for one want to see him in court. He’s going to prison for a very long time, which is where, I suspect, he’ll end his days. This way we can all live with a clear conscience.”
Dennis searched Grace’s face to see if she understood what he was saying. He needed her to think about it all rationally; otherwise the consequences could be horrific.
“I nearly did do it you know? I came so close to pushing the box I’d put him in over the side of the boat.”
“You put him in a box?” Grace sipped the brandy Dennis had poured her.
“Sure did. Frightened the living daylights out of him; he actually wet himself.”
A smile crept across Grace’s mouth, nudging her eyes to follow suit. They sat in silence for a while.
“I told him about Nadine.”
Grace stayed very still, unable to look at him.
“He tried to deny he’d killed her but when he realised I was going to throw him overboard, he just gave in.”
Grace felt as if the room and everything in it, including her insides, was rushing away from her.
“Can you repeat that?” It came out more as a whisper and Grace felt for a moment that the words had come from someone else. “What did you just say?”
Dennis watched the colour drain from her face and then the enormity of what he’d said dawned on him.
“Nadine. Oh Grace, please tell me you knew? I thought when we talked the night you brought Alice’s letters over you knew he’d killed her. I thought it was your main reason for wanting to get rid of him.”
“I was going to do it for Alice, for all the others. He can’t have killed Nadine. It was an accident.” Grace stared at him, waiting for him to tell her he’d made a mistake.
“It was recorded as an accident but there was a strong feeling throughout the station that she may have been murdered. The dog walker who heard her scream also heard some muffled noises and he thought she shouted at someone.”
“Yes, she shouted for help.”
“No Grace, there’s a difference between shouting to someone and shouting at them. The witness couldn’t be sure and we knew it wouldn’t stand up in court. I’m so sorry Grace, I thought you knew. I suppose I assumed Tim told you all the details of the case. Of course he wouldn’t have. How silly of me to even think it.”
“Well, he wasn’t ever going to reveal that little bit of information, was he? He knew I would have pushed for further inquiries; that I might have worked out what he’d done.”
“Are you ok?”
“I don’t know. I just feel numb and...I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Grace fell into Dennis’s arms and cried.
She cried herself to sleep while he stroked her hair. Then he gently moved her onto the sofa and covered her with a blanket, while he made them both some lunch.
He knew she’d go through all sorts of emotions and she’d still want to kill Tim for a time, but he knew he’d done the right thing. He knew from experience that all those families would want to see justice, would want to see the face of the person who killed their child. It helped people through the grieving process; a face and a name, a real life human being. He knew Grace would see this in time and he understood what she was feeling. He also knew strong emotions would fade over time and eventually the guilt would set in regardless of what that person had done. Moral standards always got in the way and there was a lot of truth in the saying that two wrongs don’t make a right. He didn’t feel he had the right to make that decision on behalf of all those parents who may have different views.
Even though he knew it was the correct and clear way forward he was still left with the urge to have pushed Tim over the edge of the boat and the satisfaction that would have brought. But he consoled himself with the fact that coppers were hated in prisons; if Tim had ever thought about killing himself in the past, he’d soon be wishing he’d done it before now.
He just hoped Grace was stable and strong enough to get through the next few weeks of gossip and nosy reporters.
*
Grace placed the handset back in its bed and with a frown contemplated where her sister could have got to. She’d spoken to the hospital and they’d discharged her that morning. It was now mid-afternoon. Grace had been waiting to go and pick her up. She’d been on pins since her conversation with Dennis. She’d more or less sat by the phone, willing it to ring and the person on the other end to tell her they’d found and arrested him. But there had been nothing.
Every avenue she’d followed to try and keep herself busy had led to a dead end. Dennis had told her to act normal, play ignorant and keep herself occupied. Now she was worrying about where Eve had got to. She’d rung round everyone she could think of but no one had seen her. She couldn’t believe the hospital had just let her go without checking if she was with someone. A rather no-nonsense nurse had told her tersely over the phone that you couldn’t watch someone twenty four hours a day and they’d seen this sort of thing before. In other words, thought Grace, if she was going to do it, she’d find a moment. Not exactly what she wanted to hear when the hospital had no information on her whereabouts. But this wasn’t primarily what she was worrying about. She knew that Eve wouldn’t try it again, she’d hit rock bottom and she was slowly on her way back up.
It suddenly dawned on her like light bursting through a crack in the curtain. Daphne. That was it. She’d gone to see Daphne. Grace was aware of how close they had become. She couldn’t understand why, she thought the old woman was vile and always had done.
She jumped up from where she’d been sitting in Eve’s kitchen, grabbed her keys and was out of the door in seconds. She wasn’t quite aware of what she’d do when she got to the retirement home; she just knew she needed to go there. She hadn’t seen her for a long time and felt that after the false news she had delivered her, she owed her a visit.
Daphne had seen all about how Tim had gone missing on the news. Grace had called her with the developments but the phone call had been strained, neither woman having much to say to the other. Grace felt a twang of guilt that Daphne had been told her son was dead, in light of the fact that he actually wasn’t. Although, she hadn’t appeared to be overly distraught but then it wasn’t easy to tell over the phone. Grace thought maybe she hadn’t understood; Tim had said he thought she was losing the plot.
She pushed open the doors of Poppy Field’s as she was buzzed in and ran down the corridor. Just before she got to Daphne’s room she slowed down and walked. There wasn’t any point in causing a panic and she wasn’t quite sure why she was in such a hurry. Something was wrong, she could feel it.
“Daphne?” Grace tapped on her door which was ajar. There was no answer.
“Daphne, it’s Grace can I come in?” At first she thought there was something wrong with her; there were strange noises coming from her chair. Then she wondered if she’d had another stroke. She wandered into the room and leaned over the chair Daphne was sat in.
Memory Scents: A Psychological Thriller Page 19
