by Agatha Frost
“Poppy, isn’t it?” Julia asked softly as she sat next to the redhead. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“I’m just going over my lines,” she said, squinting at Julia, clearly not much older than Jessie. “Can I help you?”
“You can,” Julia said with a nod, glancing down at the script, which was full of Ross’ scribbles. “Why were you crying at the dress rehearsal, and then again during the opening night?”
“Oh,” Poppy said, clearly shocked by Julia’s bluntness. “I – I was just nervous.”
“But you were only working backstage, weren’t you?”
“I – I don’t know,” she said quickly, looking down at her script but clearly not reading it. “I don’t remember.”
Julia rested her hand on Poppy’s, which shuddered under her touch. Julia smiled at her, hoping the young girl would trust her enough to be honest.
“I saw you in Marcus’ dressing room before the performance,” Julia whispered, glancing around the village hall to make sure they were not being overheard. “You don’t have to keep a dead man’s secret.”
Poppy stared at Julia as though she had just heard the most terrifying thing in her life. When Jayesh walked over, Poppy immediately jumped up, dropping the wig and the script on the floor.
“Everything okay?” Jayesh asked. “Hello, Julia.”
“Everything is fine,” Julia said with a smile at the post office owner’s eldest son. “Say hello to your mother for me when you go home.”
Jayesh nodded that he would as he looked from Julia to Poppy.
“It was nothing,” Poppy whispered to Julia. “I was just nervous.”
Jayesh stared down at Julia for a moment before leading Poppy off, his hand on the small of her back, giving Julia the impression they were an item. She turned her attention to Catherine, who was reading over her script at the kitchen table on the set, her fingers drumming on her packet of cigarettes.
“Let’s reset and start from the beginning of Act Two!” Ross called out, clapping his hands together as he resumed his seat at the front of the stage. “Places, people! Places!”
Realising she was not going to get anything else out of these people as long as they were rehearsing, Julia gave in and headed for the front door. She did not need to turn around to know Carlton was following her with a mop.
7
Julia woke early the next morning before sunrise, Evelyn’s moonstone clutched in her palm. She quickly baked some cakes for the café, wolfed down some toast, dropped Jessie off in the village, and set off for her visit with Dot.
Julia had never visited a prison, nor had she ever expected to, so her expectations were widely based on what she had seen on television and in films. Her drive to Eastwood Park Women’s Prison took her to Wotton-under-Edge, a quaint picturesque town only half an hour away from Peridale. As she drove through the narrow streets lined with shops and cafés, she checked the sat-nav more than once to make sure it was taking her the right way.
“Take the next right down Church Lane,” the robotic voice announced. “Your destination is on the right.”
Julia passed a beautiful church, not unlike St. Peter’s Church in the heart of Peridale. She followed the winding tree-lined road as the navigator had directed, her eyes peeled for a sudden looming concrete structure. What she got was something entirely different. As Julia pulled into the small visitor’s car park across the road, she looked at the collection of buildings through her rear-view mirror, which without the high green fence, could have been a community centre or a school. If Julia had driven past on a quiet Sunday, she would not have thought she was passing a prison.
Julia jumped out of her car at the same time as another woman across the car park did. They shared a brief smile, a smile Julia quickly came to realise was one only two women about to visit relatives in a prison could share. Julia’s nerves set in all of a sudden, giving her the urge to jump back into her car so she could drive back to Peridale and pretend none of this was happening.
“First time?” the woman called from across the car park as Julia found that she was pinning herself against the back of her aqua blue Ford Anglia. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Oh,” Julia mumbled with a nod. “I’m visiting my gran.”
“My sister,” the woman announced. “Killed her husband by whacking him around the head with an iron. He’d been abusing her for twenty years, but that’s the justice system for you. Come with me. I’ll show you the ropes.”
Julia joined the woman, who she quickly learned was called Brenda, grateful she did not have to face this alone. They walked up to the visitor entrance, where they flashed their IDs and visitor cards, the latter of which Julia did not have. The guard in the small box looked at her suspiciously before finding her name on a separate list on the computer system. When he was satisfied Julia was who she said she was, he buzzed them into a slender metal outdoor corridor, which he instructed them to follow to the door at the end.
Julia tried to soak in every inch of the prison as Brenda told her how she had been visiting her sister every week for six years. Side by side with a chattering Brenda, all Julia could think of as they walked towards the door was how much smaller and less threatening the place looked than she had imagined.
“It doesn’t look like a prison,” Julia whispered to Brenda when they reached the door. “Are they all like this?”
“Your gran got lucky,” she whispered back as she opened the door. “This is one of the good ones.”
They walked into a small pale-pink reception area, which looked like it could have been a doctor’s waiting room, complete with similar posters warning about anti-social behaviour towards staff, and, more obviously prison-orientated ones, warning about the dangers of attempting to smuggle in contraband.
After signing in at the desk, they were instructed to sit and wait. Julia and Brenda chatted about Christmas and the weather, as though visiting prison was just a normal part of their day. It put Julia at ease. She wondered how different the experience would have been if she had arrived five minutes earlier or later and had to do it alone.
After fifteen minutes, both of their names were called. They were directed to an airport style scanner, where they were instructed to empty all pockets, remove any loose items of clothing and shoes, and asked to check the list of items they were not allowed to take into the prison. Julia’s phone, handbag, and car keys were put in a small zip-lock bag, and her scarf and coat were taken into a storeroom to be held. After being scanned, and patted down by the woman guard who did not look like she had smiled a single day in her life, she was given a tray with her shoes and the moonstone after they had been checked. Before she grabbed the moonstone, the guard picked it up and inspected it after spotting it rattling around the tray.
“What’s this?” the guard asked, staring suspiciously down at the pearlescent ball. “Are you trying to sneak something through?”
“It’s a moonstone,” she explained.
“What does it do?” the guard asked as she rolled it around between her fingers up to the light. “What’s in it?”
“It doesn’t do anything,” Julia said. “Not really. It’s for good luck. A friend asked me to pass it onto my gran. It’s just a stone.”
“Sorry,” the guard said as she dropped it into a plastic zip-lock bag. “You can have it back before you leave.”
Julia did not argue, especially when she caught Brenda giving her a little head shake. She knew her gran did not believe in Evelyn’s mystic ways, but Julia was sure she had slept a little easier the night before holding the stone in her hand.
After putting on her shoes, Julia re-joined Brenda before walking through another series of doors, followed by the visitors who had arrived after them. They waited in a small holding room, which looked out onto the visiting room, which was also painted pale pink. Small tables with chairs were dotted around the room, looking more like an informal café than somewhere to sit with criminals. There were even vendi
ng machines lining one of the walls.
“Here,” Brenda said, placing a small yellow token in Julia’s hand. “It’s for the vending machine. They don’t give you these until they learn your face, but I don’t always use them, so I’ve got some spare ones.”
Julia accepted it with a grateful smile, sure a cup of tea was just what she needed. Before she could ask any more questions, a loud buzzer echoed around the room, and the door in front of them clicked.
“Here we go,” Brenda said. “Good luck, and savour it. We don’t get nearly long enough.”
Before either Brenda or Julia could move, a much younger woman rushed forward and burst through the crowd. On the other side of the room, another door opened, and a group of women of diverse ages in similar grey jumpers and jogging bottoms walked in. When the young girl spotted the woman she was looking for, they hugged for as long as they could before a voice announced over the speaker that hugs should last five seconds and no longer.
Julia walked in cautiously, spotting her gran amongst the faces. Julia could not help but run up to her, just like the young woman before her. She grabbed her gran in the tightest hug she had ever given her, forgetting all about the five-second rule. She only pulled away when one of the wardens tapped her on the shoulder with a baton.
“Oh, Julia,” Dot said as they sat at one of the tables. “I’d almost forgotten your face. How long has it been?”
“Four days, Gran.”
“Are you sure?” Dot replied, frowning across the table, her eyes distant. “I’ve lost all track of time. I can barely remember what Peridale looks like.”
Julia chuckled, glad her gran had not lost her sense of drama and overreaction. They cupped hands across the table, until another warden reminded them not to touch each other. Julia’s mind was full of questions, but she could feel an invisible clock ticking away as she stared at her gran’s face, which looked so different in the grey jumper. Without her stiff collar and brooch, she looked like a different woman entirely.
“How is it in here?” Julia asked, unsure if she even wanted to know the answer. “It’s a lot nicer than I expected.”
“Honestly?” Dot replied, locking eyes with Julia. “It’s bloody marvellous!”
“It is?”
“Oh, yes,” Dot said as she pushed up her curls at the back. “Everyone is so lovely. Apparently, they go easier on us older girls. I have three hot meals a day, a comfortable bed, and there’s even a TV room. I feel like I’m going to get caught up on all my shows in here. Oh, and there’s a library, and classes. I did yoga this morning.”
“Yoga?
“Oh, it’s all the rage in here,” Dot said with a nod. “Some of these girls can get their legs into some peculiar positions! I feel ten years younger.”
“You don’t sound like you’re in any rush to get out,” Julia said, her voice faltering. “I miss you.”
“And I miss you too, dear,” Dot said, reaching across and running her finger across Julia’s cheek, quickly retreating before they were told off again. “I could be in here for a while, so I might as well make the most of it. My perm curls will start dropping in a month, so I’ll see how I feel then. But, I’ve got to face the facts. I did shoot a man.”
“But not on purpose,” Julia said, unsure if she was making a statement or asking a question. “Why didn’t you tell me about your connection with Marcus?”
“Because I didn’t hold a grudge,” Dot said with a wave of her hand as though it was nothing. “I suppose you’ve been filled in on everything that happened. I can’t tell you how many times I visualised killing him in the early days. I was so embarrassed that I’d allowed myself to be taken for a fool. When he came out of prison, I made a point of letting go. Hating someone is like eating a poisonous apple and expecting them to die. I didn’t want to be that person, so I simply let it go.”
Dot trickled her fingers up to the ceiling as though she was talking about forgiving someone for taking the last slice of cake at her birthday party.
“We don’t have long,” Julia said, Brenda’s words ringing out in her ears. “I need to know about the gun.”
“Oh, it did feel so much heavier!” Dot announced loudly. “I thought it was my nerves, but I should have looked a little closer. The second I pulled the trigger, I knew what I’d done. Marcus is a brilliant actor, but he’s not that good.”
“Did you know you’d be acting across from him?”
“Not until after my audition,” Dot said, her finger tapping on her chin as she thought back. “I told Ross I wasn’t so sure about working with Marcus. It’s one thing to forgive, but you don’t ever forget. Ross was right about it adding to the chemistry though. Our history gave us both something to draw from. We tapped into that resentment and brought it to life on the stage. It’s such a shame the village will never get to see the rest of the play.”
“I think they will,” Julia whispered after a gulp. “They’re continuing with a new cast.”
“What?” Dot cried, sitting up suddenly in her chair. “But they can’t! I am Darcy! Who’ve they replaced me with?”
“Catherine,” Julia said quickly. “And Poppy is playing Catherine’s role.”
“That slime!” Dot cried, screwing up her fist and slamming it down on the small table, catching the attention of the patrolling warden. “How dare she! I wouldn’t be surprised if she set the whole thing up to take my spot.”
“Do you think she’d do that?” Julia asked. “I need to know as much as possible about everyone if I’m going to solve this.”
Dot smiled her appreciation across the table, even if it was laced with sadness. Julia did not need to ask where the sadness came from to understand; as Dot had said, she had killed someone.
“Catherine is an interfering busybody,” Dot said. “She was always trying to give me notes on how to improve my performance. I couldn’t stand the scenes we were in together. I didn’t have to try hard to get across my hatred for Mandy Smith trying to steal my husband. In reality, what would a woman like her, still young enough, pretty and blonde, see in a man like Marcus Miller, with his bald head and gut? Money, that’s what! Classic gold digger. You know they met on holiday? I bet she was waiting by the bar for the first sad, lonely old man to catch her eyes. I bet she took one look at his designer watch and sniffed out his riches.”
“Marcus was rich?”
“Oh, yes!” Dot said with a definite nod. “He gained his fortune legitimately though, so I can’t knock him for that. When you spend that long rehearsing with someone, you get to know them even if you don’t particularly like them. He was always taking business phone calls. He said he owned a whole bunch of houses in London, and you know what house prices are like down there. I think he rented them out, so he was raking in the cash, and I’d bet his property assets were in the millions. He did the Christmas plays because he loved acting so much. Our mutual love of being on the stage was the one thing we could see eye to eye on.”
“So, Catherine would have a lot to gain from Marcus’ death, wouldn’t she?” Julia said, wishing she had been allowed to bring her notepad and pen in. “Did he have any connections to the rest of the cast?”
“Not that I can think of,” Dot said, her finger tapping rhythmically on her chin as the cogs worked in her mind. “He wasn’t particularly popular. He was a bossy perfectionist. He’s been in the club for years, so he knows how things are done. I think that’s why he and Ross worked so well. They both had clear visions of the play and how it should come across. I can’t imagine the rest of the shows are going to be very good with Catherine Miller playing Darcy Monroe! What a mess!”
“What do you know about Poppy?” Julia asked, suddenly remembering what she had seen before the first performance. “Does she have a connection to Marcus?”
“Poppy is studying drama at college, although I think she was more interested in the backstage stuff. She’s far too meek to be up on that stage. I dread to think what the pressure of being Mandy Smith is doing t
o her. She’s frail. Nothing like I was at that age. She needs to get a backbone. Cries an awful lot.”
“I saw something the night of the performance,” Julia whispered, leaning across the table. “I saw Poppy in Marcus’ dressing room. He looked like he was trying to kiss her. She ran off crying, just like she did in the dress rehearsal the day before.”
“Trying to kiss her?” Dot cried. “That dirty old man! She’s so young. She and that post office lady’s son are courting, or so it seems. Poor girl.”
“I’ve tried talking to her, but she insists it was just first night nerves,” Julia said. “I think she’s scared to admit it. Do you think he could have been trying to seduce her?”
Dot thought for a moment, her tapping finger speeding up. She clicked her fingers together suddenly, making Julia jump.
“Now that I think of it, the only time I saw her not a quivering wreck was the day Marcus had a cold and couldn’t come to rehearsals,” Dot said as she slowly nodded. “He would always shout at her every time she missed her cues. I think she was just there because she loved the theatre, like when I was her age, but I didn’t even think there could be something else going on. I feel so awful.”
“Don’t,” Julia said. “Men like that get away with these things because they pick on the girls they know will be too terrified to speak out. If I can just get it out of her –”
“Then she’s got a motive to kill him,” Dot said, her eyes widening. “She could have theoretically switched the guns.”
“Anyone could have,” Julia said. “But yes, it would give her a motive.”
Dot sank into her chair, not seeming thrilled by the idea that a young woman would take her place if the scenario was true. Before either of them could say any more, a buzzer jolted through the room and a voice announced that visitors should say their goodbyes and make their way back to the holding room.
“Don’t worry about me,” Dot whispered as she hugged Julia. “I can handle myself in here.”
