by D. S. Butler
Dr Fitzgerald had to be close to retirement age. His fair hair was streaked with white, and his face had more wrinkles than I remembered. He had kindly, soft, blue eyes, and he looked up at me with a smile as I walked in.
“Take a seat,” he said. “I won’t keep you a moment.”
I guessed he was looking at my records. He scrolled through some text on his computer with a serious expression on his face.
A few seconds later, he turned to face me, rested his forearms on the desk and interlinked his fingers. “How can I help you, today, Beth?”
“Well, I’m not ill,” I said, thinking I’d get that in straightaway. “I’m sure you remember when my niece went missing two years ago?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, and it’s been worse since I flew back to the UK. I’m sure it’s stress, exacerbated by the jet-lag. It will probably sort itself out, but my mother suggested I come and see you today.”
“And your mother is a very wise woman,” Dr Fitzgerald said with a gentle smile. “Now, tell me how the insomnia is affecting you.”
“I struggle to fall asleep, and then when I do, it’s only for an hour or so at a time,” I admitted. “The following day, I’m tired and irritable and find it hard to focus.”
Dr Fitzgerald nodded. “A lack of sleep can have a cumulative effect, Beth. I’d be happy to prescribe you something on a short-term basis.”
I shook my head rapidly. “I don’t want to take anything that’s going to knock me out.”
“Long-term, sleeping pills aren’t a good idea, but we’ve come a long way from the old-fashioned tablets. Sometimes, people just need a little help getting back into a routine. Coming back home has been a shock to your system. You’ve been reminded of a traumatic event, and on top of that, you are suffering from a little jet lag, too, I suspect.”
I wondered how much Mum had told him over the phone about our situation. The idea of an unbroken night’s sleep was very appealing, but what if we had news of Jenna in the middle of the night?
“What if I needed to wake up urgently?”
He didn’t ask me why I might need to wake up urgently. I suspected Mum may have dropped a hint about the development in Jenna’s case.
“You’ll feel a little groggy, Beth, but you will be able to function.”
I nodded, considering his words.
As though he sensed me coming round to his point of view, he added, “But you’ll feel far more groggy if you’re trying to function on hardly any sleep.”
That was a good point. I was already feeling the effects, and it had only been really bad for a couple of days. What would I be like after a week of this? A month? I had no idea how long our search for Jenna would take. Would our lives be in limbo for weeks or months? Or would this whole thing come to nothing, and somehow, we’d have to get back into the daily routine of our lives without Jenna?
“Okay, I said. “I’ll take the tablets.”
Dr Fitzgerald smiled. “Good. I’m going to give you a prescription for fourteen days, and if you have any unusual reactions to the tablets, or if there is anything else you want to talk about, make another appointment to see me.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Before you go, Beth, I’d like to suggest referring you to a therapist. I do try to keep up with the latest developments in medicine. Therapy can be very helpful, especially after the tough time you and your family have been through.”
I nodded. “I did see a therapist for a while, a year or so ago.”
Dr Fitzgerald referred back to his computer screen and then nodded. “I can get you a referral to the same therapist if you would like?”
I didn’t really, but I couldn’t think of a good excuse to put him off. “Thank you.”
I left the doctor’s surgery and walked straight to the chemist on the High Street. It was an independent shop crammed with toiletries. A rack of sunglasses was by the door, next to a featured display of “touch of silver” shampoo.
There were two other customers already in the shop when I entered, both women in their mid-fifties. They were having a conversation about the Woodstock Museum. I wasn’t close enough, or interested enough, to overhear every word.
I handed my prescription to the pharmacist, answered her questions, and then turned to browse the shelves stacked with perfumed soaps while I waited for the prescription to be filled.
I’d just picked up a small lemon-fragranced soap when I overheard part of the conversation between the two other customers in the shop. I’d heard them say a name I recognised – Robin Vaughan. Pausing with the soap gripped in my hand, I stayed perfectly still, straining to hear what they were saying.
“He wants stringing up,” the first woman declared, and I turned around slowly so I could see them.
Noticing them properly for the first time, I realised that they were perhaps a little older than I’d first thought. Both were well dressed in expensive, casual clothes. The woman on the left wore tight-fitting jeans, which suited her slim figure, a pale blue, cotton shirt was tucked into her jeans and topped with a large, navy-blue, padded gilet. The other woman was taller and wore a cashmere twinset and a pair of chinos.
The cashmere-wearing woman tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and nodded in agreement with her friend. “And what about that little girl who went missing. It makes you wonder if he was involved, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” her friend agreed. “You don’t expect something like that to happen in Woodstock.”
I couldn’t listen anymore. I shoved the soap back on the shelf and walked past the two women before yanking open the shop door and stepping out onto the street.
I’d needed to get out of there before the place suffocated me. The shop was too warm, and the smell of the soap and other toiletries was cloying. The women were only saying what everybody was thinking. As the saying went, there was no smoke without fire.
The police told us they had no reason to believe that Robin Vaughan was involved in Jenna’s disappearance, but did I really believe that? He’d been there, at the fête, the day Jenna went missing, and his recent arrest was incriminating.… How could they be certain he wasn’t involved?
The bell above the shop door tinkled as the two women left the chemist. I waited until they were some distance away, heading down the High Street, and then went back into the chemist. Luckily, my prescription was ready, and I didn’t have to wait for long in the hot, stuffy shop.
When I got home, I suffered through the third degree from Mum over the sleeping tablets. She wanted to know every detail about my visit with Dr Fitzgerald, and I humoured her because she was desperately worried about me. If only I could think of a way to reassure her, prove she could rely on me and convince her that this time, I was in control.
When she’d finished her quick-fire questions, Mum went back into the garden to attend to her roses. She mentioned something about greenfly and showed me a new spray she’d bought last week to obliterate the bugs. I promised I’d help out in the garden later but needed to go to the bank first.
The bank was only an excuse. I really wanted to go and see if Pippa Clarkson was at home. The argument between Mum and Daniel last night had worried me. Pippa’s name had been mentioned, but I couldn’t find out why. Mum didn’t want to talk about it, and I was damned if I was going to ask Daniel. That only left me with one other person to ask— Pippa.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pippa lived in a narrow, three-storey terraced townhouse opposite the bank. It was at the end of a row of similar houses, all old and expensive. Three stone steps led up to the bright red door, which contrasted with the sandy-coloured Cotswold stone.
I felt guilty for sneaking around behind Mum’s back like this, but she didn’t want to discuss her argument with Daniel, and I didn’t want to upset her. The only way to find out was to ask Pippa.
I rang the doorbell and waited. It took so long for Pippa to come to the door I began to think
she wasn’t at home. Then I recalled she had a small wooden lodge in her garden where she and Kate had prepared the candles. She’d had the doorbell connected to the lodge so she could hear it while she and Kate were working, but maybe it wasn’t working.
The last time I visited this house, I dropped off Kate’s mobile phone and collected Jenna so Kate could work in peace. I pictured Kate walking towards me with a smile, her hand outstretched for the phone, and Jenna flinging herself at me and wrapping her arms around my legs in greeting.
I took a deep breath, turned and walked away from the door, but the door opened behind me.
Pippa looked immaculate as usual. She hesitated before smiling widely, her perfectly pink-glossed lips stretching over bright, whitened teeth. “Beth, what a surprise. Come in.”
I walked back up the steps and crossed the threshold into Pippa’s house. I’d visited the house a few times, usually because I needed to speak to Kate rather than because I wanted to visit Pippa. The house looked very different. It had always been well cared for, but now there was a sleek, modern feel to the house that didn’t quite match the exterior.
The floor of the hallway was dark wood, and in front of me, I saw the old carpeted stairs had been replaced by a new minimalist staircase painted white. French-grey paint coated the walls and contrasted with the white woodwork.
“Have you decorated? It looks different.”
Pippa waved a hand. “Oh, I did this about a year or two ago. I’ve had quite a bit of work done actually. Knocked down a wall or two and combined the kitchen and dining room into one room. The back has been extended, too. Come through and see.”
She gave me a guided tour of the downstairs rooms, and I was impressed. The refurbishment must have cost a packet.
“I’ll have to show you upstairs another time. It’s a bit messy. To be honest, it looks like a bomb hit it. I keep promising myself I’ll hire a cleaner but never get around to it.”
She led the way through a small sitting room, decorated in various shades of beige and cream, into a large kitchen diner. It was light and airy, with double-width French doors that led out onto the garden. Sunlight flooded through the glass and made the room warm. A huge table, in the centre of the room, was covered with various glass jars, ribbons and labels. There was a strong floral scent that was quite overpowering as we moved closer to the stove.
“I was just about to take a break,” Pippa said. “Join me for a coffee?”
“That would be lovely, thanks.”
I walked towards the large French doors and looked out onto the small garden. The large extension had taken up quite a bit of the original outside space. The old wooden lodge was still there, but the curtains were drawn.
“Do you not use the lodge for work anymore?” I asked.
Pippa shrugged as she busied herself with a sleek chrome and black coffee machine. “Sometimes, I usually prefer working in here, though.” She sighed. “Truthfully, I find it hard to work out there on my own. I miss Kate. It’s not the same as when we worked side-by-side.”
I was gazing outside, looking at the lodge, when the noise from the coffee machine juddering into action made me jump. I turned back to Pippa and walked across to the granite-topped island in the middle of the kitchen.
Pippa pulled a plastic container of milk out of the large American-style fridge.
“Milk?” she asked, setting the container down in the centre of the island.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Just like Kate,” Pippa commented cheerfully, and then her facial expression froze. “Sorry.”
I shook my head. “You can talk about her. It’s fine. I don’t take quite as much milk as Kate, though.”
Pippa looked relieved and grinned. “Yes, Kate did like her drinks on the milky side. I used to tease her about that. We spent so much time together when she was working with me. I still find it hard to believe she is gone. She was a good person. I only wish I’d been a better friend.”
“What do you mean?”
Pippa retrieved one cup full of coffee from the machine and slid another beneath the nozzle and pressed the button. The machine juddered to life for the second time.
She added a dash of milk to the coffee then pushed the cup across the island to me. “I just wished she’d felt she could come and talk to me. I hate to think she was in a desperate place and didn’t have anyone to turn to.”
I nodded stiffly as irritation twisted inside me. Why would Kate have confided in Pippa when she could have spoken to my mother or me? Pippa wasn’t really insinuating that Kate’s family hadn’t been there for her when she needed them, but it felt like a dig all the same.
“I don’t think you should look at it that way, Pippa,” I said, picking up the cup of coffee. “Kate was in pain. She didn’t know how to cope with it, and there wasn’t anything anyone could have said or done to make her feel better.”
I swallowed hard and turned away so she couldn’t see the expression on my face. No matter what I might say to Pippa, I couldn’t help wishing Kate had held on so she could be here now when we had the chance to get Jenna back. Then again, there was nothing to say that we really would get Jenna back. The police seemed to be getting nowhere, and Daniel seemed to be convinced that the photograph had been manipulated somehow and wasn’t really his daughter. I tried to push away those thoughts. Thoughts like that made it impossible to stay positive and focused.
When the machine had finished, Pippa retrieved the second cup of coffee and added milk.
“Shall we sit at the table?” she said, nodding at the table, which was covered with items from her candle-making business. We walked over to the table, and she said, “I’m sorry. Give me a sec, and I’ll clear some space.”
She shuffled some things around and then put a couple of coasters on the table. I took a seat with my back to the wall, and Pippa sat down opposite me.
“So, what brings you here today?” Pippa asked.
“Sorry,” I said. “I should have called first and arranged something. It’s just you said the other day to pop in for a chat anytime.”
Pippa nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely, and I meant it. You’re always welcome. I just wondered if there was a particular reason behind your visit.”
I hesitated for a moment and wondered whether I should just tell Pippa the truth. I was tired of games. I wished more people were direct and to the point. Secrets didn’t do anyone any good. They festered beneath the surface until they grew so large and ugly they caused far-reaching, unpredictable problems.
I wrapped my fingers around the hot cup of coffee and nodded. “There is something I wanted to ask you. I overheard my mother and Daniel talking about you.”
I didn’t mention that they were arguing at the time, and my mother had practically screeched Pippa’s name at Daniel, but I didn’t need to. Pippa’s reaction was enough.
She paled and blinked before looking down at the table.
“Oh, really?” she asked, aiming for nonchalance but not quite carrying it off.
“Yes, I wondered if there was something going on.”
Pippa’s gaze lifted and she fixed me with her light blue eyes. “Why didn’t you ask your mother or Daniel about it?”
I had touched a nerve. She sounded defensive. I shrugged and planned to delay my reply, taking a sip of coffee first.
Pippa sighed and sat back in her chair. “Well, I can guess what it was about. I’m surprised they haven’t told you yet. I told Daniel I’d tell you, but no, he thought he knew best and wanted to do it himself.”
My grip on my cup tightened. “Tell me what?”
Pippa bit down on her lower lip. “I don’t want to upset you, Beth.”
“Just tell me.”
“I’ve been seeing Daniel. I suppose the fact he is moving on must be difficult for your Mum. After Kate, I mean. You’re not upset, are you?”
Pippa’s explanation made things fall into place for me, but I wasn’t upset. Pippa and Daniel were an odd pairing. P
ippa didn’t seem quite as soft and as accepting as Kate had been. I could see her and Daniel having some serious rows when their personalities clashed. But that was none of my business.
“I don’t think Kate would have expected Daniel to remain single forever,” I said carefully.
Pippa beamed and reached out to grab my hand. I had to stop myself pulling away as her hot fingers clutched mine.
“Oh, I am pleased to hear that. Daniel wouldn’t admit it, but I think he was quite concerned about how you might react.”
I bristled. “React?”
A warm blush spread over Pippa’s cheeks. “Oh, I just meant he didn’t want to upset you.”
I knew exactly what he meant. He thought the news might send his crazy sister-in-law over the edge again.
I took a breath and shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m not upset.”
I’d intended to stay for a while and talk to Pippa about Kate. That was one of the main things I’d missed when I was in Dubai. Although it was easier to cope because nobody knew what I’d been through or quite how far down the rabbit hole I’d fallen afterwards, there was nobody there I could talk to about Kate. Nobody knew her. Nobody knew the way her hair curled stubbornly over her forehead, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t style it any other way. Nobody knew that when she got angry, her voice got softer. Nobody knew that when she was nine, she’d broken her Easter egg in half and shared it with me because I fell and scraped my knee.
Immediately after Kate died, I’d spent hours every day trying to remember details of the life we had shared from tiny tots to grown women. I was terrified I’d forget something important. Memories helped to ease the pain.
I folded my arms over my chest as though I were clutching those memories and didn’t want to let them go. Now I was here, though, I didn’t want to share my memories with Pippa. I wanted to leave and take my memories of Kate with me.
I made myself stay and finish my coffee and asked Pippa inane questions about her scented candles and her new range of reed diffusers.
“You’ve done really well for yourself, Pippa, and you deserve it after all the hard work you put into building up the business,” I said before draining the last of my coffee.
