Tears stood on my eyes, threatening to spill once more. It was such a huge shame that Glenn couldn’t have children.
He took Roza’s phone, tapping on its screen and his own a few times. After a minute he showed her both, and she nodded vigorously and took hers back. What on earth were they doing?
They chatted on for a little longer, and I was half-amazed that her parents hadn’t come back out again. Then I realised Glenn and Roza were being watched from the window, a shadow behind the net curtain giving the game away. Glenn clearly realised, too, because as he walked away, he turned and waved cheerily towards the house.
He strode briskly, gazing down at his phone as he approached me, beaming. Excitement positively thrummed from him.
‘Glenn,’ I hissed, pulling my sleeve over my hand to dab my face dry. ‘Glenn!’
He looked up. His expression was ugly with anger, little eyes cold and glaring. I flinched. Next second the look had disappeared, replaced with his boyish smile.
‘Christ, you made me jump!’ he laughed. Then he clocked my expression. ‘What? Is something wrong?’
‘No, no, it’s nothing. I’ll tell you about it later.’ I couldn’t face talking about the morning’s events at that moment. Glenn didn’t look convinced.
‘Okay… if you’re sure. Well, I’ve got some news that might make you smile.’
I doubted that, Beth. But I forced one anyway. ‘Great. Tell all.’
‘I was just chatting to Roza – don’t know if you saw me. She told me something very interesting. I was telling her about my daughter, and asking her advice on some books I might buy for her. I thought it might get her to open up a bit. And it worked! She was soon boasting to me about how Aleksy always reads her a bedtime story now – you remember?’
The reference to his fabricated daughter made me cringe. I should pull him up on it, but curiosity got the better of me. I nodded, wondering where this tale was leading.
‘He’s had to read her stories ever since she started blackmailing him!’ Glenn said with a triumphant flourish.
‘Blackmail?’
‘Yep! She overheard him talking to a friend about going to a secret party. Once she heard the bit about how their parents could never know or they’d string him up, Roza starting demanding bedtime stories in exchange for her silence.’
‘Right…’ I still wasn’t sure where this was going.
‘So I asked her if she knew where it had taken place. Melanie, it was somewhere on the marsh. On the night Beth was attacked.’
‘The old lookout tower,’ I breathed.
But a party was a noisy affair. The tower might possibly be far enough away from everyone for the noise not to travel, but it was a risk in this flat country. Sound tended to travel far, especially if blown along on the wind. Unless…
‘It was a silent rave!’ I grabbed Glenn’s arm in excitement.
‘What the bloody hell is a “silent rave”?’
‘I’ve never been to one but I’ve heard of them. Instead of the music blaring out, everyone is given headphones. They get the same experience as at a normal rave, but it means venues don’t get complaints about noise. They’ve been around for years; they’re really popular. Some even have different channels, so you can choose the music you listen to – a load of people all dancing to different songs. Beth and me once watched a feature on them on The One Show on the BBC.’
Glenn shook his head in a ‘kids today’ way. I’d always thought they sounded a laugh, Beth.
‘Think about it,’ I urged him. ‘Those wireless headphones we found, and the blackout curtains? I reckon someone held a silent dance at the RAF tower, and used blackout curtains to eliminate any lights. With no noise and no light, no one would suspect a thing out there – it’s not like anyone is going to pass by and spot the revellers. They could shout at the tops of their voices, too, as it’s too far for that sound to travel to the village. It’s perfect.’
‘If we’re right, then that means Jill Young knew about this.’
I nodded eagerly. ‘She’s definitely lying. I knew it! And it means there must have been someone who witnessed what happened to Beth. Surely!’
‘Why wouldn’t they come forward?’
‘It’s an illegal rave, Glenn. No one is going to admit to breaking the law. And I bet half the people attending were underage, like Beth, and the other half were doing drugs. Not the sort of thing you’d want to tell the police about. That’s why Beth was so dressed up – she was there too.’
‘Along with Aleksy.’
That made sense – that would be why he’d got so freaked out about me pushing him when he’d mentioned dancing.
‘And Alison Daughtrey-Drew,’ I realised, pieces falling into place. ‘That must have been where she was when she saw Beth. And I bet James Harvey was there, and that’s how he and Alison hooked up. So he’s back in the picture. Maybe she really was selling drugs, and that’s why she has lied for him.’ I chewed my lip, thinking. ‘But how would word be spread about this do without parents finding out about it?’
Glenn pondered. He clicked his fingers. ‘Did Beth use Snapchat?’
‘Umm, yeah, name rings a bell. I don’t understand what it is, though.’
‘It’s images that can be sent between users, and they only last for ten seconds. Could be the perfect way to communicate a secret.’
‘Bloody hell!’
This was it; this was the reason why everyone was lying. Now we knew what the connection was, it was only a matter of time before we discovered who had hurt you. All thanks to Glenn’s detective work. I could have kissed him.
‘So how come Roza told you all this, anyway?’
‘Kids love me. Besides, I can be very persuasive. I told her I’d get her a sparkly cover for her phone, in exchange for her showing me how to download a ringtone from it. After that it was easy enough to chat to her. Mind you, working out how to Bluetooth the ringtone was a nightmare; it took ages to figure out how to do it. I’m such a technophobe!’
He played his new ringtone, which sounded like echoing, villainous laughter. ‘Cool, eh?’
‘Hang on, how come you know about Snapchat, but don’t understand Bluetooth?’
‘Looks like we’re getting somewhere,’ Glenn said, rubbing his hands together and ignoring my dig. ‘The question now is whether we tell the police what we’ve discovered. Or do some more investigating ourselves?’
‘After the run-in I had earlier with the police, I’m not inclined to go to them until I have something solid. Otherwise they’ll have another go at me and probably accuse me of being a hysterical mother.’
‘So our next move is… ?’
‘Fancy anything from the shop?’ I asked, giving him a smile made of iron.
Sixty-Seven
The Picky Person’s Pop In was empty. That seemed to be the norm lately, for which I thanked my lucky stars. Jill stood behind the counter, hands on hips hidden behind a blindingly white apron. I looked at her, then slowly, deliberately, locked the door and turned the sign hanging on it to ‘closed’. Glenn stood in front of it like a bouncer, his arms folded.
‘Hey, lady,’ she blustered.
But I cut across her.
‘I think we need to have a little chat about the lookout tower. And the rave that was held there.’
She slumped forward, holding onto the counter. Jill had always seemed like the puppetmaster, in control of everything. Now she looked like a marionette with her strings cut. You wouldn’t have recognised her.
‘That’s why Beth was on the marsh that night,’ I whispered, my voice full of malice. ‘So I want you to tell me everything. Right now.’
She nodded. Stumbled back and pulled a stool over to rest on, then looked at me sadly.
‘I’m so, so sorry.’
Then she sat up straighter, seemed to pull herself together. ‘You want to know everything? I’ll do my best, but it’s hard to know where to start…
‘I bought the old RAF lookout tower ba
ck in 2005. It had taken a long time for the property bubble to reach these parts, but finally it had. Prices had been going up and up and up. So when the RAF decided to stop using the marsh for bombing practice, and sell the tower, I snapped it up. I thought I couldn’t go wrong. I’d wait a couple of months, give it a lick of paint, then sell it on to a property developer for a tidy sum.
‘Just weeks later, the credit crunch hit. World recession, banks teetering on the edge. The value of the property plummeted overnight. The bank changed the terms of the mortgage on me, and I wasn’t in a position to argue, was I? Everyone was panicking.’
Jill stared down at the counter as if she could see it all playing out there. I barely breathed, impatient to get to the relevant part of the story, but not wanting to urge her on for fear of breaking the flow. This was, after all, the most I had ever heard the normally laconic Jill say in one go.
‘I almost lost everything; it’s taken all I’ve got to keep my head above water. I tried to auction the tower off, rid myself of the millstone around my neck, but no one would touch it. Only one offer was made, and it was so far below what I’d paid for it that I’d have been in negative equity. So I had no choice but to hang onto it and hope…’
Her head snapped up, desperate eyes meeting mine. ‘Look at this place. It’s so quiet, with everyone getting their shopping from the supermarkets. Even the café is taking trade now they’re selling cards. Things have got better since I started selling some farmer’s market produce: local cheeses, vegetables, meat. But the money isn’t coming in fast enough, and property prices are still nowhere near where they use to be. I went to the bank to ask for a loan, showing them how the shop’s books have improved – I wanted to use the money to do the tower up as best I could myself, then sell it. But the bank turned me down. I’ve too much debt, thanks to the tower’s mortgage.
‘In desperation I went, cap in hand, to the Daughtrey-Drews. I had a stupid idea that the old ways might survive, that they’d feel it their duty to help a villager out, the way their ancestors would have. Of course, they didn’t.’
The bitterness in her voice was evident. Her shoulders rounded again, and Jill’s eyes slid away to the counter once more as she continued.
‘As I left the house, their kid, Alison, came after me. Said she had a business idea that could help both of us. She’d organise a disco at the tower, promised me it would make a fortune and that no one would ever find out. Reckoned kids these days liked to dance with headphones on. She offered to organise the whole thing for a fifty-fifty split in profits. So I agreed. What was the harm? She had big ideas about holding a few of them, then going to London with the money and staging legitimate ones there, launching merchandising. It all sounded a bit pie in the sky, but I thought, why not let her have a go?’
‘I’ve spent my whole life scrimping and saving, Melanie. You know what my background is. I grew up in squalor, doing homework to the sound of Mum and a punter in the next room. What little money she made prostituting herself went on booze – you know she was an alcoholic.’
A statement rather than a question, but I nodded.
‘I vowed I’d work hard and never, ever have to live a life of poverty. And I’ve done it. Then to come so close to losing it all…’ That desperate look again. ‘I need to leave an inheritance for my boys. Even my own kids don’t know about all this, Melanie. I had to protect them from how desperate things are financially. As a mum, you understand that, surely?’
That was too much, and from the way her face paled, she knew it. I stepped forward, trembling with fury.
‘You knew why my daughter was out on that marsh – to be at the rave. To help pay off your debts. And you created a conspiracy of silence, stopping possible eyewitnesses from coming forward,’ I spat.
She shook her head vehemently.
‘No, no, I asked around. Got Martin to, as well. No one saw anything, I promise you – if they had, I’d have come forward with the information. But what’s the point of you going to the police with this, and me being arrested? I’ve done nothing wrong, not really. I’m certainly not responsible for what happened to Beth. Think of my family…’
‘What about mine?’ I roared the words. My chest was going to explode from the beating of my heart. ‘Alison and James got you to lie to the police about seeing them together, didn’t they?’
The nod she gave was tiny.
I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and dialled Detective Sergeant Devonport. My eyes never left Jill’s.
The police were quick to arrive. Glenn made himself scarce as soon as they did. After DS Devonport had read Jill her rights, she took me to one side while a uniformed officer handcuffed the woman. I almost felt sorry for her.
The detective sergeant scrutinised me from beneath her heavy fringe, hands in the pockets of her expensive black coat.
‘Mrs Oak, I really do need to ask you to leave your detective work to the experts.’ One hand appeared, briefly, to run through her hair. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I’d just given her a criminal – two, in fact – on a plate.
She sighed. ‘This must be exceptionally difficult for you, but there are things going on right now that you’re unaware of. We’re close to a breakthrough in your daughter’s case, and you don’t want to blunder into the middle of things and blow them apart.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I can’t say right now, but’ – she held up a placatory hand as I opened my mouth – ‘but please, be patient for a few more hours. We’re on the same side, Mrs Oak. I’ll be able to tell you everything very soon.’
Slowly and grudgingly, I nodded. She was right: the last thing I wanted to do was to stop the person who had hurt you from facing justice.
The truth would all come tumbling out now. How James Harvey had blackmailed Alison Daughtrey-Drew into providing him with an alibi for the entire night, otherwise he would have reported her to the police for staging the illegal event and selling drugs. He’d got her to get rid of your coat – the evidence that tied him to the crime. Alison had then dragged Jill into the lie; because, if the truth about the rave had come out, they would both have been in trouble.
James must have been at the rave that night and seen you, Beth. He had pounced, like the predator he was. Why couldn’t anyone see it but me? He sickened me. Intense pain made me look at my hands in astonishment. They were curled into such tight fists that my nails had drawn crescents of blood on my palms.
Jill was ready to be taken away for questioning. I threw her one more look of disdain before leaving the shop. On the opposite side of the road was Davy, rushing at the sight of police cars outside his mum’s business. Remembering that Jill had told me her children had no idea of her financial dire straits, and that only Martin had known about the rave, I jogged over to him.
‘Davy, your mum—’ I began.
‘What’s happened?’ he demanded, surging forward.
I tried to hold him back. Went flying. He was far too strong.
‘Son, it’ll be all right,’ Jill called to him.
He stopped, stunned at the sight of an officer putting a hand on her head, fingers splayed around that high, pewter ponytail and guiding her into the back of the squad car. As the vehicle pulled away Jill gave Davy a firm look through the window, her mouth a grim line that echoed the horizon.
He spun round to look at me. ‘Mel, do you know what’s going on?’
‘Your mum has been arrested. She allowed an illegal rave to be held at the lookout. I think that’s where Beth went before she was attacked,’ I sighed.
He stood still, processing the news. Frown deepening. ‘That must have been where Chloe was,’ he murmured.
Where Chloe was?
‘She was upstairs in bed the night Beth was hurt, wasn’t she? While you and her mum were…’ I trailed off, not sure how to phrase what they were doing.
Puzzlement clouded his face further. ‘Eh? Did you talk to Ursula?’
‘Yes. She tol
d me how you waited until Chloe had gone to bed, then sneaked in and the pair of you, well, you know. Isn’t that what happened?’ Realisation dawned on me. And I had thought Davy was slow. ‘Was Chloe out? Was… was she with Beth?’
‘Did you ask Ursula what she did that night, Mel? All night? Did she mention the phone call?’
‘What phone call?’
He plucked at my sleeve like a child. Fretful. ‘Mel, she didn’t tell you the truth.’
I started to go cold. ‘What am I missing, Davy?’
‘Chloe were out when I went over. She were supposed to be staying at yours, with Beth. Then Ursula got a call from her, and told me I had to leave because she had to go out and get her.’
‘Chloe was with Beth?’
‘I don’t know… but I think so. The call came about 2 a.m., and I didn’t hear what were said. But I could hear the tone of it, you know? Chloe sounded hysterical. And I swear I heard Beth’s name shouted.’
‘Davy, you have to tell the police.’
‘I’ve been trying to get Ursula to go. I’ve told her that if Chloe can point the finger at who did this, I’ll protect them. They don’t need to worry about the attacker hurting them. Even if she stays with Steve, I’ll protect them. She won’t listen to me, though.’
Poor, poor Chloe. She was a victim of James Harvey’s, too. I wanted to rush round there and hold her, tell her that everything would be all right. And that she had to inform the authorities what had happened. Clearly the police had managed to get evidence against James, and an arrest was imminent, but it would be even better if I could persuade an eyewitness to come forward.
Sixty-Eight
BETH
THURSDAY 21 JANUARY
Beth sat cross-legged on the bed, skipping through her music, looking for something decent to play. But her mind wasn’t on what she was doing.
‘You really think we’ll get away with it?’
The Darkest Lies: A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 23
