by Sarah Till
'Well, Julia Scholes is adamant that you took the purse. And as I said, it was on your person. Could you have taken it by accident?'
I shake my head again.
'No. I was with Alice all the time. Alice was there. She'll tell you. I left my trolley near the counter so Julia could have put it in there. It wasn't on my person, it was in my trolley. In the bags in my trolley. It could easily have been put there.'
The room is off white with grey floor tiles and grey furniture. Very stark. It's easier, in a place like this, to see why they don't believe me. I stare at my shoe, held together by insulating tape wound round and round. I'm wearing two skirts because I'm cold, and a pair of ripped leggings underneath. American Tan stockings finish the look, crinkled around my swollen ankles. Over this I wear a tabard under a mac with only one button, bunched under my huge breasts. My hair is in a rough pony tail and my skin is dirty and pale from stress. My fingernails are ragged and ingrained with dirt and sand, and my hands perpetually wrinkled and darker than the rest of my body. The skin on my forehead is sore from frowning and my lips tight, an expression that warps my face. I picture Julia's neat blonde curls and her tidy demeanour and realise that I don't really stand a chance. I suddenly need the loo.
'Can I use the toilet, please?'
Cheryl stands up and opens the door.
'Just at the end of the corridor. I'll wait outside.'
I walk slowly up the corridor and open the door. The bathroom smells lovely and it's very warm. I pull up my clothes and sit on the toilet and pee for a long time. The toilet paper is soft and I'm tempted to take some for later, when I have to use a hole in the garden, but I remember that I'm in a police station. I stand up and flush and wash my hands in warm water. Occasionally I go to the toilet in the library, and I run hot water in the sink, as hot as I can stand, and keep my hands in it for a long time. I used to do this as a child, and it gave me comfort. Now, I run the water and rest my hands on the warm porcelain sink. I look up and see my face in the mirror. At least I think it's me. Same eyes and same shaped nose, but apart from that, I look very old. The skin on my cheeks is stretched, and broken veins contour the side of my nose into deep lines. I rub at my face with my damp fingers and my skin crinkles like tissue paper. My once full lips are still big, but bulbous now, with no evenness. I bare my teeth and recoil at the brown pegs where my own pearls used to be.
The worst of it is my hair. Even though I knew it made me look wild, I was secretly proud of my hair. Wavy and full, I would wear it down and brush it full when I felt good about myself. I knew it was both my best and worst assets, depending on who was judging me. Now it was long and dull, the colour almost worn away into grey. Where it was once a crown, it sprouted in patches from my hairline, and was thick with grease that thinned the strands until they were lank. I hear Cheryl outside.
'Lizzie? Come on, love, we have to get on.'
I dry my hands and open the door. If I was hopeless when I went into the toilet, I was desolate now. What had I become? Who the hell was I? We go back into the interview room and Cheryl goes over the details again for the benefit of the duty solicitor. There's a knock on the door and Alice appears.
'There you are Lizzie. You know, she shouldn't be interviewed without someone here. She needs someone here.'
Cheryl smiles.
'She's doing fine so far. Can you go back outside please, I'll be with you directly.'
Alice sits down anyway.
'I was there. Lizzie didn't take anything she wasn't supposed to. I was there supervising it all.'
Cheryl puts her pen down.
'Oh. Are you Lizzie's carer?'
I sigh.
'I don't need a carer. Thanks all the same.'
Alice ignores me.
'Unofficially. Dr Davies and I have decided that we want to help Lizzie. She needs someone on her side.'
Great. Just what I need. A self-appointed busy body. I liked Alice before when she defended me from a distance, but I'm starting to be bothered by her persistence to interfere. Cheryl looks at us all.
'OK. The situation is that Ms Scholes has made an accusation and our officers found evidence on the person of Lizzie Nelson. Lizzie Nelson, I'm arresting you on suspicion of theft. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence, if you do not mention when questioned, something which you will later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand the caution? Do you have anything to say?'
I've read a lot of crime books and watched television dramas about crime, but I never thought I would have a chance to say it.
'It wasn't me. I didn't do it.'
The duty solicitor blinks into life.
'My client is entering a plea of not guilty. May I request that my client is bailed to appear at a time appointed by the court?'
Cheryl slams shut the file she has been writing in.
'OK, Lizzie. You're free to go. We'll make sure that Julia Scholes gets her purse back then this will be sorted out at the Magistrates Court. Your solicitor will enter a not guilty plea and, depending on what happens and what the judge decides, it might go to crown court, with a jury. I think Mrs Scholes is after adding a charge of fraud, she claims her credit card was used by Mrs Nelson, that's being investigated. And three more specimen charges of theft from her shop. Oh, and she reported three assaults. If these are accepted it’s much more serious. It might even go to Crown. Do you understand? Lizzie?' I nod. 'Good. Someone will write to you at your current address. It's very important that you attend court. OK?'
'Yes. Where will it be?'
Alice fusses in her handbag. She writes everything down on a little notepad.
'Don't worry Lizzie, I'll take care of it. No need to worry. Come on, I'll give you lift home.'
She whisks me out of the police station and into her car, spreading a plastic bin liner on the front seat before I get in. When we are down the road, away from the police station, she stops the car.
'You didn't do it, did you? Not even for buggerment? I know Julia can be a nightmare, but you didn't, did you?'
I shake my head. She starts the car again.
'Good. I'll help you then. You have to co-operate, but me and Dr Davies will set you back on the straight and narrow.'
She puts the radio on so she doesn't have to speak to me any more. She drives me back a different way and I stare out at the surfers and holiday makers heading for the beach. It's late afternoon now and I feel a little odd, tired. I can see my dull reflection in the windscreen and it makes me think about the mirror in the toilets, and the stranger who looked out at me. I look at the road then, in a split second, I turn my head and see a small child holding a blonde woman's hand.
'Tommy. Stop the car. It's Tommy!'
Alice screeches to a halt and my head makes contact with the dashboard. I try to get out of the car but I can't work out how to work the lock. I tug at the handle and suddenly Alice grabs my wrist.
'Stop it. Lizzie. Stop. You're breaking the door.'
I look down and the handle is torn away from the plastic fixings. I stare at Alice, who backs away from me. She began to drive again, in silence now and faster than before.
'Look, I'm sorry. I thought I saw my grandson.'
I could see that she was near to tears. She didn’t seem the panicky type, but maybe I’d got Alice all wrong.
'Oh. You have a family. But why...?'
'Why do I live like this? It's a long story Alice. A very long story, that goes back a very long time. I'm sorry I scared you. And I didn't take Julia's purse.'
We arrive at Coombes Cottage and she gets out and opens the broken door for me.
'Here we are. Do you want me to come in or anything?'
I stare at the door.
'No thanks. I'll be fine. What will happen now?'
'Well, like they said, you'll get a letter and you'll have to attend court. Have you got any other convictions?'
I shake my head.
'Nothin
g. I've led a good life.' I turn to her. 'Those murders weren’t my fault.'
She snorts.
'Yeah. Well then, you will probably get off with it, a fine or something. Depends on the magistrate or the jury, I 'spect. They'll either feel sorry for you or think you're mad. To be honest, Lizzie, I don't know why you have to live like this, having this big house and all. What's the need? I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I just don't understand. I was trying to help you, you know.'
I look at her. She's quite young and clearly has no idea what the world is really like. Not my world, anyway.
'I never asked you to. I could ask you the same question. Why?'
'Well, I just thought you needed help. With Julia. That's all.'
'But you never asked me. I'm grateful and all that, but you just assumed. For all you know I might be deliriously happy. All you needed to do was ask me.'
I stand and stare at her and eventually she gets in the car and drives of. I could have opened the door and showed her the derelict house, to match my derelict soul. But I didn't because then she would tell everyone and they would probably make me move somewhere else. Into a home or something. I couldn't do that, I had to stick to my routine. One way or another, they'd make me leave. Then Andrew wouldn't know where I was.
So I open the door and grab Macy. There's another bloody note, a sparrow split in two with its innards hanging out and its little eyes bulging, the red liquid half-baked in the sun, the remnants of intestines crushed onto the paper. I pick it up and put it in a bin liner without even reading it. I know what it says by now. Hand over what I want and I'll stop threatening you. I get the gist. I take Macy through to the garden and by the shed. The fresh food from Julia's shop would do for tonight; the lettuce had wilted and looked sad. I stacked the tins in the coal hole and thought about Stan again. He'd be pleased that I had bought them. I switch on the radio just in time for the news. I could hear the presenter’s voice waver as he began to read.
'Residents of Tintagel are warned to be extra vigilant as the hunt for a double killer goes on. Susan Blake and Jenny Booth, both local women, were found dead this week at beauty spots. Officers are investigating the death of a third woman, Deidre Thomas, who was found unconscious on Tintagel Sound and later died in hospital. DC Connelly, who is leading the investigation has this for us: 'We are treating the deaths of all three women as suspicious. We are waiting for the results of a post mortem to establish the cause of death of Miss Thomas. In the meantime I would urge everyone in the area to be careful and to not venture out alone to isolated places. We are doing all we can to further the investigation but at the moment we do not have a firm motive for these crimes. If anyone has any information, however insignificant it may seem, it could be very important in helping us to find out what happened.'
A small tear rolls down my cheek. Deidre Thomas. The librarian who had always been so kind to me. The presenter continues.
'Reports from Tintagel Community trust tell us that rather than put people off from visiting the area, there has been a surge of tourists interested in the local legends, and several incidents of clashes at Tintagel Castle as tourists insist that the murders are some way connected to the heritage site. Police were called to the site as several visitors gathered to perform an exorcism on the site.'
I shake my head. It had happened before, around the time I had moved here, news of an archaeological find on the beach had brought hordes of people with metal detectors. They'd stayed all summer, invested in the myths and legends just enough to think they could benefit in some way. It's amazing how those who scoff at the waves of stories lapping around their senses will sit up and listen if it directly involves them. Now, with everyone's safety at stake and a huge backdrop of evil-doing centuries before, Tintagel is drawing the crowds again. And the last thing I want is hundreds of people with metal detectors around my Top Secret.
Things are changing fast and Alice's question rang in my ears; why? I've more or less managed to keep my life to myself but now it was all blowing up in my face. Travelling back from the police station I'd notice some news vans with their huge satellite aerials parked in the village. Tintagel was about to be broadcast to the world and I me with it. Then everyone would know what had happened to me.
It had been so long now that I didn't really know how to answer Alice's question. It wasn't a choice any more; I was a bag lady no matter what. I sat for a while and drunk some water, then in a jolt of electricity I suddenly realised the seriousness of today. Now I was a criminal. Well almost. I needed to sort my life out. No one at the police station would come within a foot of me, and I'd had a wakeup call on the way home when I upset Alice. I knew that this was all part of Julia's plan to get the police to focus on me, and it was working. It was only a matter of time before Mia Connelly started to press me for more information on the notes, searched Coombes Cottage and contacted my family and realised that there was more to my situation than meets the eyes. I could only hold her off for so long with my offers of help. I like to think I’m a good detective, and only look at Mia and around her car told me a lot about her life. Wedding ring, expensive engagement ring, fertility bracelet and necklace, pregnancy test. Mia Connelly was, in my opinion, in no fit state to solve this case on her own. I had no option but to help her. This couldn't go on, but I couldn't face it on my own. I needed help, and who better to help me than Andrew? Surely he would help me now, with my life in danger?
I take Macy up to the headland and arrive just in time to see Alice and Dr Davies standing by the chapel, deep in conversation. They don't see me because I duck behind the bushes and talk to the kestrels quietly for a while. I watch as they talk, and he casually takes her hand and they begin to walk. It’s quite sweet really, she’s been so lonely lately. It’s what I want for Alice. It will keep her safe. When they have gone, I lie on the warm soil with the earth under my palms and look up at the clouds. I can clearly see an ice cream cone and an elephant. It dawns in me I've better things to be concerned about, but another part of me argues 'why should I care if no one else does'? The problem is, I tell myself, that I've been without an audience for too long, and without someone to give a shit, why should I? I wasn't going to jump through hoops if no one was watching. I didn't want strangers snooping in my business. Alice and Dr Davies meant well, but my heart trembles at the thought of them standing on the spot I lie on. All the meaning in my life that focused here would be destroyed and what would I have left then? That's if I survive long enough to see it.
It's time for a change and I know what I have to do. The dread of going to court, me, Elizabeth Nelson, Stanley Nelson's wife, in court for stealing? It doesn't make sense, and it's even harder to make sense of how I got here. I sit on the edge of the cliff and dangle my legs over the side. The sunset is beautiful and I think about Jer. If only he were here, I'd be able to run my ideas by him and see what he thought was best. Last time I saw him he'd looked a little bit haggard and wouldn't be drawn what was going on in his life. One question – that's the rules. I live in the constant fear that I wouldn't see him again. I could have sworn I saw him last week, turning a corner as I reached the top of the beach road, but my mind plays tricks on me. I used to think I saw Andrew all the time. That's what happens when you miss someone. All the men in my life had this effect on me, my dad, Stan, Andrew and now Jer. I'd intentionally kept parts of myself from him, only because I was so tempted to open up to him more than anyone else. This always led to a fear that I'd be deserted. You would think the strength of this would be relative to how much I invested in the relationship. In Jer's case, I'd invested almost nothing and that was the beauty of it, but I was more scared than ever. I'd thought a lot about his mother and his grandmother. How they had fought for women's rights and how weak I had been by just opting out, running away from the difficulties of the world and hiding in the shed. Even my own mother had been strong and left. I'm sure Jer wouldn't see it like that. He'd always say that it takes courage to grab freedom and really live it. 'Peopl
e like us', he would say, and I knew exactly what he meant. He's been my only friend, the only person I'd been able to trust for years. But he wasn't here. I was alone. Normally, that's just the way I like it, no need for any performance, no need for explanation. But now I'd landed myself in trouble I would have to help myself.
By the time I'm back at the shed I'm quite resigned to the fact that I would definitely have to find Andrew. He the only person within travelling distance who can tell me why Mum's gold is so important to anyone. Not only that, but the thought of my grandchildren growing up without me is too painful to imagine, and surely he would have matured by now? I open one of hundreds of bags that insulated the walls of the shed now, leaving me only a small area to live; the bag that held all my papers and pull out the insurance documents. He had put his name and address on them and I wondered why I hadn't contacted him before? Somewhere inside me I feel the seed of pain sprouting, and the faded memory of something unbearable in the past is rising, but I push it down. It would be different now it was a matter of life or death.
CHAPTER 14
I wake up to the sound of Alice's voice. I open the shed door quietly, and I can hear her knocking hard on the door of the house. Then I hear her push the gate, which, of course, I have bolted. I made sure everything was locked after yesterday. After all, anyone could be after me and who knows what they will try next? I can hear Dr Davison's voice behind the hedge, and I crouch down and listen.
'She must be here. She must be inside. Look, Alice, I'm not sure that this is necessary. She's living here, that's clear, and I've checked that she has and energy supply. I'm not sure what there is to gain by coming up here.'
Alice shouts to me.
'Lizzie? It's me, Alice. Come out, we' just want to see you're OK.' I don't come out and she continues. 'The thing is, John, she was very upset yesterday, she broke my car door handle. She was every agitated. I think she needs help. There's more to this than just Julia's purse. I just want to make sure she's all right.'
