by D. S. Butler
Mum looked at me doubtfully. “I wish you would have told me what you were planning before you went to see him.”
“That’s what Luke said,” I muttered.
“I always knew that boy had a good head on his shoulders,” Mum said approvingly.
I shot up from my chair. “The milk!”
The pan had started to bubble over. Mum swore under her breath and quickly removed the milk from the heat.
When we’d cleared up the mess on the stove, we sat down opposite each other each with mugs of hot chocolate, and Mum asked, “You will let me know if you have any more of these…theories, won’t you, Beth?”
I nodded, wishing I hadn’t mentioned it. “I will. But it’s not a big deal, honestly. I’m sure Phil understood.”
I didn’t actually believe any such thing. I thought Philip was hurt and furious, and quite rightly, too.
Mum blew over the top of her mug to cool the chocolate and shook her head. “Was there anything else that made you think he was involved in Jenna’s disappearance?”
I shook my head, feeling foolish. A normal person wouldn’t act on the basis of a dream. Then again, I’d known for quite some time that I wasn’t normal by most people’s standards.
Chapter Thirty
The following morning, we had our coffee in the kitchen as usual. We had settled into a routine, drinking two pots between us every morning.
“Maybe you should make an appointment with Doctor Fitzgerald and ask for some of the same sleeping tablets he prescribed me. They have been helping. I slept okay last night,” I said to Mum, noticing she looked even more tired this morning.
She nodded absently. “Yes, I might do that.”
She poured fresh coffee into our mugs and set them on the table before turning back to the kitchen counter.
“Any plans for today?” Mum asked as she unwrapped a loaf of bread and stuck two slices into the bright red toaster.
She glanced at the clock, and I guessed she was counting down the minutes to 9 o’clock when the police were due to ring with an update. I tried to prepare myself for disappointment. There would probably be no news as usual, but I couldn’t help hoping there would be some fresh developments in Jenna’s case.
How could we have reached a dead-end? In this technologically advanced time, surely there was some way to trace the person who had sent the photograph of Jenna.
“I haven’t made any plans,” I said. “Maybe I could help you in the garden?”
“That would be nice. It’s the Woodstock Women’s Group’s annual luncheon today. Would you like to come?”
I could think of better ways to spend my time. I shrugged. “It doesn’t really sound like my sort of thing.”
Mum peered closely at the toaster, and when she was satisfied the toast wasn’t yet ready, she sat down opposite me at the table. “I would like you to come with me, Beth. It will do us good to keep busy. It won’t be as bad as you think, and it’s being held at the Bear Hotel this year, so the food will be decent.”
“Will there be space for me? They must have catered for a set number of people.”
Mum smiled and had a glint in her eye, which I was pretty sure meant: you’re not getting out of it that easily. “It won’t be a problem. Betty Booth-Ingleton had to cancel because she sprained her wrist, so there’s a spare place.”
How convenient. I was pretty sure Mum wanted me to go to lunch so she could keep an eye on me, and after my behaviour yesterday, it was probably no more than I deserved.
“Okay, I’ll go.”
“Good,” Mum said.
She got up from the table as the slices of toast popped out of the toaster. I got up to and went to the fridge to get the butter. At the back of the top shelf, something caught my eye. It was a jar of home-made blackcurrant jam.
I smiled. Kate and I used to love that jam. I remember the first batch my mother made. She gave it to us on thickly-sliced wholemeal bread with a generous helping of butter. Kate and I had eaten it until we felt quite sick, our mouths and fingers sticky from the sugary jam.
I reached out and pulled the glass jar from the fridge. “I didn’t know you kept jam in the fridge these days.”
Mum glanced over to see what I was holding and then nodded. “Well, I’m sure it would be fine in the cupboard considering the amount of sugar that is in it, but the health and safety police advise everything to be stored in the fridge these days. Everyone has cut down on preservatives, but of course, that means everything goes out of date quickly.”
“But this is home-made. You know exactly what goes into it, and there are no preservatives.”
Mum began to butter the toast. “Yes, but it’s only me here now, and I don’t get through a jar very quickly, so I tend to keep it in the fridge to stop it going off. It was different when Jenna was here. It was her favourite, and she would have some everyday if she was allowed…” She trailed off, and I saw the effort it took for her to swallow back her tears.
I filled the sad silence by saying, “Yes, she loved it, and so did Kate and I when we were kids.”
Mum nodded, still too choked up to reply.
I added a little dollop of blackcurrant jam to my toast for old times’ sake, and it tasted so good, I managed to eat two slices, but Mum only nibbled at her single slice of toast.
“I hope you eat more at lunch,” I said gently.
She pushed her plate away. “I’ve got a lump in my throat, I can’t seem to swallow properly.”
I knew exactly how she felt.
Detective Inspector Sharp called at nine AM, and as I had expected, he didn’t have anything new for us. He did tell us they were following a new development in the Robin Vaughan case, but he couldn’t elaborate because it didn’t directly relate to Jenna. Of course, that didn’t stop my mind working overtime, wondering if this new development would bring us closer to the truth.
I’d managed to push the idea of Phil Bowman being involved in Jenna’s disappearance to the back of my mind. I’d embarrassed myself yesterday and hurt Luke in the process. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again, even if the roof window at Phil’s place niggled away at me. So, there was one room I hadn’t explored. There was nothing sinister about it. He had been out at work all day. Did I really think he would leave a five-year-old child alone in an attic all day while he was at work?
No, I needed to focus my attention elsewhere.
After breakfast, I sent a text message to Luke, apologising once again and asking if he wanted to meet up tomorrow. When he didn’t reply immediately, I assumed he was still very angry.
I turned my phone over and over in my hands, thinking about how to convince Luke my apology was sincere. As I restlessly paced the kitchen, I realised how ridiculously I was behaving. I’d apologised to Luke yesterday, and he had accepted my apology. Just because he hadn’t replied to my message immediately, didn’t mean he was ignoring me. He was at work and probably very busy.
Daniel had been right. I was selfishly acting as though I were the centre of the universe, and that wasn’t a very attractive trait.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Bear Hotel in Woodstock used to be a thirteenth century coaching inn. It was said that Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton had stayed there on numerous occasions in the seventies. The decor had been sympathetically updated and hadn’t lost any of its character. The dark wood beams were still in place and some of the rooms were unusual shapes with low ceilings.
The Woodstock Women’s luncheon was to be held in one of the small private dining rooms.
Many of the women were already milling about and chatting when Mum and I arrived. For some reason, nerves hit me as I stepped into the room. A dozen pair of eyes turned to look at us, and I froze.
Within a few seconds, the conversation level was back to normal. I had to remind myself that nobody else knew about the photograph. From the way some of the women turned to look curiously at me, it made me wonder if any of them knew more than they were letting on.
Most of the women had gathered at the end of the room beside the large window. A table had been set up in front of the window and was laden with glasses of wine and fruit juice. When Mum went over to talk to her friends, I took a moment to study the main dining table and find out who I would be sitting next to at lunch.
I tried to hide a grimace when I saw I was going to be wedged between Mrs Parsons, Dawn’s mother, and Elizabeth, Pippa’s mother.
Mrs Parsons wasn’t really a problem, but she might give me a hard time because I hadn’t given Dawn the pep talk she wanted me to. Well, I’d tried, and it hadn’t gone well. Not only had her daughter ignored me, she had also bolted out of the room and hidden upstairs when I knocked on the door. I took that as a definite sign she didn’t want to talk to me. I would have to find some way to let Mrs Parsons down gently.
Pippa’s mother, Elizabeth, was worse than Marjorie Parsons. She was well known in Woodstock for being a snob. Still, I supposed I could put up with it for an hour or two. It wasn’t as though I had anything better to do.
I walked over to the table beside the window and picked up a glass of white wine. I took a long sip. It wasn’t as cold as I would have liked, but it tasted pretty good.
As soon as I’d swallowed my first mouthful of wine, Marjorie Parsons made a beeline for me. “Beth, how lovely to see you. I didn’t know you were coming today otherwise I would have persuaded Dawn to come along, too.”
I made a sound that was a cross between a disbelieving snort and a laugh before feeling guilty over how rudely I was behaving.
“I’m not sure Dawn really wants to speak to me, Mrs Parsons.”
Mrs Parsons’s brow furrowed in a frown. “Oh, I’m sure she does. She always looked up to you and Kate.”
I couldn’t make up my mind. Should I tell her how Dawn had reacted when I called around? If I didn’t, she would think I couldn’t be bothered.
I took a deep breath and blurted out the truth. “I did call on Dawn. She saw me from the downstairs window, but she didn’t answer when I rang the doorbell.”
The smile slipped from Marjorie Parsons’s face. “Oh, I find that very hard to believe.”
I bristled at the insinuation. Did she realise she was implying I was lying?
“Well, I rang the doorbell then I knocked on the door, but she still didn’t open it.” I shrugged and then took a large gulp of my white wine.
“Maybe she had some music on or perhaps she didn’t hear you over the television.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Dawn had seen me all right. She had looked straight at me and then scurried out of the room, but I didn’t want to press the point with Marjorie. She was only concerned about her daughter and that was natural. It wasn’t her fault that her daughter was so odd.
A short lady I didn’t recognise tapped the edge of her glass with a spoon and informed us it was time to sit down. I followed Marjorie to the table.
“Oh, we’re sitting together,” she said, smiling. “How lovely. You can tell me all about Dubai!”
I plastered on a smile as I slid into my seat. I kept the smile stretched over my lips as Pippa’s mother sat down on my left hand side.
“Hello, Beth,” she said in a bored tone. “How are you?”
But she didn’t wait for me to reply before turning her back on me and talking to the person on her left.
I wasn’t really surprised. I had no social connections and as such I wasn’t worth Pippa’s mother’s time. It was surprising Pippa had turned out as well as she had with a mother like Elizabeth.
She didn’t bother to turn around again until we were halfway through the main course. She looked at me through narrowed eyes and said, “I hear the Far East has done you a world of good. I’m glad to hear you have put all that breakdown business behind you now.”
My cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t only because I was on my third glass of wine. “Actually, I’ve been in the Middle East, not the Far East.”
I hadn’t had a breakdown, not really. I had found coping after Kate’s death incredibly hard, which was understandable. I hated being gossiped about, and I knew anything I said to Elizabeth now would soon be spread amongst her little network.
“Well, I knew you’d gone abroad somewhere to recover,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “This chicken is rather tough.” She poked it with a fork. “Your mother said you’re practically back to normal now. That is good news.”
I gave her a tight smile hoping she would change the subject. Unfortunately, Elizabeth didn’t take the hint.
“It was such a tragedy, and I think your Mum took it very hard. Not only did she lose her granddaughter and daughter, she also had your problems to deal with. I hope you realise how lucky you are to have a mother like that.”
I stared at the woman in disbelief. I was getting very close to telling her exactly what I thought about her comments. I especially resented the fact she was talking to me as though I didn’t realise how difficult my mother had found the last couple of years, and implying that was my fault. I mean, I knew I had to take some of the blame. But it wasn’t as though I’d intended to make things worse for her.
People like Pippa’s mother thought they could say anything they damn well pleased from their perch of superiority.
I gestured for the waitress to top up my wine glass.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough. It’s only lunchtime,” she said mildly. “It’s a bad habit to get into. In a year or two, you’ll soon find wine at lunchtime puts a few pounds on the waistline.”
“I don’t drink like this every day,” I snapped.
“I should hope not.”
Marjorie Parsons, who had more sensitivity than Elizabeth, could see I was feeling stressed and put a hand on my arm. “It is ever such a nice wine,” she said. “Fruity and not too dry.”
Pippa’s mother barely glanced at her. “It’s not dry enough for me.”
Childishly, just to make my point, after the waitress had topped up my glass, I gulped down half of it in one go.
That earned me a disapproving look from Pippa’s mother.
“Dear me, Beth. That really isn’t very ladylike.”
I snapped and I resorted to the one thing I knew that would put Elizabeth in her place. It was wrong of me, but I was furious with the stuck up cow.
“I’m not interested in being ladylike. I’m all about equality now. Society has moved on.” I turned to her and gave her my coldest smile. “Oh, I meant to say congratulations.”
Elizabeth blinked at me. “What for?”
“Daniel and Pippa getting married, of course.” I gave her a very unladylike wink and then downed the rest of my wine.
Of course, I regretted it almost immediately. The momentary satisfaction of seeing Elizabeth’s face pale and her hurried attempts to pretend she knew all about it was satisfying, but only briefly.
Pippa had told me she expected Daniel to propose, and I’d betrayed her confidence just to get one up on her horrible mother. What was the matter with me? I didn’t even know myself any more. The old me would never have dreamt of betraying a confidence like that.
When the lunch was over, Mum scurried over to my side and asked me, “What was that all about? It looked as though there was some disagreement between you and Pippa’s mother.”
I didn’t want to get into it so I just said, “You know what Elizabeth is like. She just made a few cutting comments. Nothing to worry about, though.”
Mum watched me carefully for a moment, weighing up whether to believe me or not, but in the end, she smiled.
“Shall we head home?” She adjusted the strap of her handbag.
“Actually, I need to pop into the bank, and then I thought I might have a bit of a stroll around town.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll see you at home then.”
I smiled brightly. “Yes, I won’t be long.”
I went to the ladies’ room, reapplied some lipstick and waited for the other women to leave. I didn’
t really need to go to the bank. I did need another drink, though, and didn’t want to put up with any disapproving comments or glances. Wasn’t that the first sign you had a problem? Hiding your drinking? Or was it drinking alone? I was intending to do both.
I washed my hands with the rose scented soap and took my time drying them. When I finally left the ladies’ room and went back into the main part of the hotel, the Woodstock Women’s group had left.
With a sigh of relief, I walked into the main bar and ordered a gin and tonic.
I took my glass over to a table by the window. There were a couple of people in the main bar, tourists I guessed from the look of them, but I didn’t pay them any attention.
I gazed out of the multi-panelled window down towards the small green hollow that lead to the steps. I couldn’t see Robin Vaughan’s house from my seat, but I could picture it in my mind, those tall sandstone walls with the grey slate roof peeking out just above. The roof was the only thing you could see as you walked past those walls. I shivered, realising those walls had hidden his dirty secrets in the middle of town. I’d always considered Woodstock a safe haven before Jenna had been taken.
I gulped down my gin and tonic, barely tasting it. What had the police learned about Robin Vaughan so far? Had he ever done more than look at vile images online?
There had been talk around town of him employing a fancy lawyer to help him get off the charges. It made me feel sick.
I went to take another sip of my gin and tonic, and to my surprise, I realised my glass was empty.
I went back up to the bar, ordered another double and then returned to sit moodily at my table. I fished my mobile phone out of my bag and saw that Luke still hadn’t replied to my text message. He had his own life to live, and his own family problems to deal with. Who could blame him for not wanting to get dragged into mine?
I stared angrily towards the stone steps. They were like a siren’s call. I needed to go down there. If I looked him in the eye, would I be able to tell whether he knew anything about Jenna’s disappearance? Would he let me in if I rang the bell?
