The Mistake

by K. L. Slater

  ‘That’s exactly my dilemma, Ronnie.’ I hesitate and then, realising that the seriousness of the situation overrides the risk of upsetting him, I continue. ‘Only the person who harmed Billy could have his blanket, do you see? It’s the only possibility.’

  Ronnie frowns and nods. He narrows his eyes and looks upwards. ‘But that still doesn’t explain how it got in here,’ he muses.

  I’ve spelled it out as clearly as I can without outright accusing him of having something to do with my brother’s murder and that hasn’t worked.

  I take a breath.

  ‘The thing is, Ronnie, when I go to the police, they’re going to want to know—’

  ‘The police?’ He’s already pale but any remaining colour drains from his face.

  ‘Yes. The blanket is a crucial piece of evidence. I can’t just pretend this hasn’t happened.’

  ‘No, but—’ he raises a shaking hand to his mouth ‘ —they might think I’ve had something to do with Billy’s death… What will my Eric say?’ His eyes well up and he brings his hand to his forehead. His breathing is sporadic.

  I stand up and rush to him.

  ‘Breathe, Ronnie. Breathe.’ I press the glass of water Claudia has left on the side to his lips and he takes a tiny sip. ‘It’s OK. Don’t get stressed out, I just had to ask. You understand that, don’t you, Ronnie?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says in a small voice.

  ‘Let’s leave it there for now; you can’t get this stressed when you’re trying to recover.’ I hear myself say the words and part of me screams in frustration. But a bigger part just cannot reconcile this frail old man with hurting my brother. ‘There’s just one thing I have to ask you again, Ronnie. You specifically told me not to come upstairs when they took you into hospital. Even if you can’t remember saying it, can you think why that might be? That you wouldn’t want me to come up here?’

  He shuffles against his pillow and closes his eyes. When he opens them briefly, his mouth trembles.

  ‘It’s the stuff in the ottoman.’ His voice shakes as he reaches for my hand and I let him touch me. ‘I’m so ashamed, Rose. It’s been a burden over the years. I’ve wanted to tell someone for so long but—’

  I jump up and dash to the bottom of the bed, flinging open the top of the heavy carved wooden lid of the ottoman.

  ‘Rose, please—’

  I hear the hum of his words but I can’t make any sense of them. I did search in here but…

  I pull out the sheets, cast them aside. Nothing…I keep going. Blankets, pillowcases. I look up at him in frustration.

  ‘Inside a folded sheet, there’s an envelope—’

  I pick up the neatly folded bedding again, shake out the sheets one by one and then – the faint crackle of paper and my fingers close around a large envelope. I lift it out and sit with it in my lap.

  Ronnie is still speaking, rattling on and on about family and loss and… I zone his voice out and, with quivering fingers, I remove the top from the box.

  It’s just paperwork. I swallow down the lump that’s rapidly rising in my throat and take a breath. I unfold the first document; a birth certificate with a name I don’t recognise.

  ‘He was born George but Sheila was hell-bent on changing that, you see.’

  The next three folded papers are death certificates. The scrawled writing of the registrar swims before my eyes.

  ‘Our first little Eric only lasted a week but the second, he was a stronger chap and we were blessed with him until he was five months old.’ I look at Ronnie, aghast. I don’t fully understand what he’s telling me but it’s too late to stop him now.

  He is smiling, looking towards the light, and I realise he isn’t here anymore. In his head he has time-travelled to the past. I say nothing and suddenly his head jerks back to me.

  I unfold the next yellowed sheet and hold it to the light. A horror clouds Ronnie’s face when he sees the adoption certificate.

  ‘He doesn’t know, Rose! Eric doesn’t know he’s adopted.’ Fat tears roll down his pinched, wrinkled face. ‘I know it was wrong, not to tell him, but… it would’ve broken Sheila’s heart. She had to believe it was true, you see. That he was really ours.’

  ‘Ronnie, I—’

  ‘She would never talk about it. I tried once or twice but it made her ill. Eric has a right to know but... I’ve been so weak, so ashamed of the secret. I’ve just left everything as Sheila wanted it so I could try and forget, but these past few years it’s loomed much larger in my mind.’

  I think about the untouched memories and items in Ronnie’s house. Cupboards and boxes full of stuff that he can’t bear to part with, or so I thought.

  Turns out he’s been afraid to face the secrets of the past.

  I let him ramble on as, with a certain shame, I refold the highly personal papers in front of me. Not all of what Ronnie says makes sense – but he explains how Sheila feigned pregnancy and they adopted a three-month-old boy called George Holland, an orphan who became Eric Turner, their son.

  ‘After Sheila died I became terrified that it would somehow get out that Eric was adopted and that he’d hear about it through village gossip. He might never speak to me again and I couldn’t bear that, I…’ Ronnie swallows hard and turns his wizened hands over and studies them. ‘I thought about destroying the paperwork, of course, but that wouldn’t make the truth disappear, would it, Rose?’

  I shake my head slowly and think how hiding Billy’s blanket didn’t make the awful truth of what happened to him disappear.

  ‘I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I already felt such an ogre for lying to Eric all these years, I suppose I just accepted that when I’m gone, he would find the truth.’

  ‘That’s why you told me not to go upstairs?’

  Ronnie nodded. ‘Stupid, I know. I never go out because I’m guarding Eric’s secret, you see. When they carried me off to hospital I thought that was it, I was a-goner. I wanted Eric to find the truth when he cleared the house.’

  Ronnie closes his eyes and I adjust the pillows behind him a little so he can rest his head back comfortably.

  He appears to be falling asleep but then his eyes flick open.

  ‘I’m so sorry you found Billy’s blanket here, Rose. I swear, I don’t know how it got there.’ His long, cool fingers grip my own, vicelike. ‘You have to believe me, Rose. I didn’t know.’

  I press my lips together, as close to a reassuring smile as I can manage, and I extract my fingers from his.

  As Ronnie dozes, I put Billy’s blanket back in my handbag and leave the room a little shell-shocked but with a new sense of resolve.

  Ronnie has unburdened himself with a secret he’s kept for the best part of fifty years. He must be very good at keeping secrets. Is he protecting himself or someone else by denying the knowledge of Billy’s blanket or is he telling me the truth?

  What’s clear is that there is only one path of action available to me now.

  I have to speak to someone who could answer all my questions and get to the truth far quicker than the police ever could.

  Despite my promise to Dad, I know now that I have no choice but to contact Gareth Farnham.

  53

  SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER

  Things moved fast after that, although Rose wasn’t aware of much of it.

  The fever took her mid-morning and she slept through everything in a soupy daze, permeated only by light and the occasional noise.

  She opened her eyes briefly when her father entered Gareth Farnham’s bedroom and took his daughter into his arms.

  ‘She wanted to be here, with me,’ Gareth Farnham shouted at his back as Ray carried his daughter out to the car. ‘She’s an adult, you can’t tell her what to do.’

  Back at the house, Dr Nadin came round and checked her over. With Ray’s permission, he took a blood test.

  ‘I think she may have been drugged,’ he said before leaving.

  Stella had never seen Ray so angry.

  ‘Calm down,’ s
he said. ‘You have to calm down, Ray.’

  ‘There are witnesses to him forcing Rose into his car, Stella,’ he yelled, his eyes shining. ‘Look at her. Look what he did to her.’

  An ex-miner on Cassie’s street had seen everything but had been caring for his grandson and hadn’t walked round to tell Ray until the next morning.

  ‘I thought it was just a lover’s tiff,’ he shrugged when Ray asked why he hadn’t called the police.

  Ray called to see Carolyn then, to ask if she’d seen Rose, and Jed had told him about his daughter’s relationship with Gareth Farnham.

  ‘She’s ditched Cassie, and when you think she’s out with her college mates, she’s round at his flat,’ Jed told him almost with relief. ‘It’s been going on for ages behind your back, Ray.’

  Ray’s legs had almost given way. Carolyn made him strong black coffee.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he kept saying. ‘I know you’ve got your own problems.’

  When his strength returned, Ray drove over to the regeneration site. Farnham was talking to council officials over by the proposed fishing lake.

  Ray covered the rough ground in moments and seized Gareth’s lapels, almost lifting him off his feet.

  ‘What the devil—’ The officials scattered.

  ‘He abducted my daughter, took her against her will and… and… he’s been having sex with my daughter!’ Ray screamed as the other volunteers tried to pull him off Gareth. ‘She’s barely eighteen and he’s almost thirty. I trusted you, Farnham. You bastard!’

  Ray Tinsley’s arm braced and then he let his fist fly, feeling the satisfying crunch of Farnham’s nose as he made contact.

  Rose woke up in her own bed. Her mother sat at her side, weeping.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t think about that now,’ Stella whimpered. ‘You need to get yourself well. There’ll be plenty of time to talk through what happened.’

  Her father nodded and Rose could see his pride was wounded.

  ‘Dad, I – I shouldn’t have lied. Your job, I—’

  ‘We’re looking to the future now, Rose,’ Ray said, inspecting his already-bruising knuckles. ‘Farnham has been suspended and they’ve put a temporary manager in who has asked me to carry on working with the project.’

  Rose breathed. In, out, in out.

  Her dad was going to be fine.

  ‘Nobody’s seen Farnham for days,’ Stella told her gently, at the weekend. ‘We think he’s left the village but – if you’d just press charges for—’

  ‘Mum, please. I just want to forget what’s happened and make a fresh start.’

  ‘Leave it, love, for now.’ Ray placed his hand on Stella’s arm. ‘Rose is an adult now. She has to decide for herself.’

  She couldn’t share with them why. She couldn’t tell them about the photographs Gareth had taken.

  If he shared them around the village as he’d threatened, if her friends and family saw them… she’d never dare show her face again.

  Her face brightened when Billy walked in the room.

  ‘Is it windy out?’ she asked him.

  He nodded, his face beaming. He knew what Rose was getting at. ‘Windy enough for the kite!’ he chuckled.

  ‘Come on then,’ Rose said, standing up. ‘Let’s not waste it: kite flying at the abbey it is.’

  ‘Yesss!’ Billy punched the air in glee and they all laughed at him.

  She’d neglected her brother for far too long, Rose thought, as she pushed her feet into her trainers. She intended to put that right along with a lot of other things. Gareth Farnham had left the village, there was no reason for her to be afraid any longer.

  Her mum had spoken to the college a couple of days ago and they’d agreed she could get back on to the course next week if she felt well enough. Her parents, whom she’d thought so restricting, were helping her start again. She realised now that all they’d ever tried to do was keep her safe and love her.

  The last couple of weeks with Gareth were a nightmare she’d been lucky enough to escape from, thanks to the people around her.

  Cassie still wouldn’t see her but that was a bridge she felt sure she’d cross in time.

  Rose and Billy walked across the village to Newstead Abbey, chatting all the way.

  Weak rays of sunlight broke through the scattered clouds and even the wind felt quite warm. Rose had only needed to wear a cardigan and hardy Billy was ruddy-cheeked, wearing just a T-shirt, despite Stella’s fretting.

  The abbey grounds were dotted with people but not nearly as busy as it was in high summer.

  Rose had bought the kite for Billy’s birthday in March but they hadn’t really seen many windy days like this one. Lots of rain and storms, but kite weather was rare. That’s why she knew they had to seize the day and it was the perfect chance for her to spend some time with her brother. To start to make up for her bringing trauma into his life with her terrible choice of boyfriend.

  The sun felt warm on her face, Billy was full of life and wonder, and Rose felt good. She felt hopeful for the future and grateful for what she had.

  Billy had disappeared into the rhododendron bushes to rescue his kite and hadn’t yet emerged.

  Rose sat on the grass with her legs stretched long and watched from afar. She turned her face towards the sun and tried to keep her thoughts positive.

  A coach party poured from the car park and headed down towards the abbey, obviously here for the tour of the house and Lord Byron’s ancestral home.

  Rose lay flat and closed her eyes.

  She felt exhausted all the time just lately but her mum had said it was completely normal after what she’d been through. It had only been a matter of days, after all. Sitting here amongst nature, she felt more relaxed than she’d done for weeks and weeks.

  She just wanted everything to feel normal again and that included her friendship with Cassie.

  She could understand Cassie had felt betrayed, felt Rose had chosen her new relationship with Gareth above their lifelong friendship, but, once she had the chance to explain everything, Rose felt sure they could get back on an even keel.

  The police had so far drawn a blank in terms of finding Cassie’s attacker and Stella said the village grapevine reported screaming arguments from their household with Carolyn being worse for wear with drink day and night.

  The faces, voices, events of the past week swirled and merged in her head. She felt warmth on her face and the delicious coolness of the grass beneath her bare arms. She let her mind drift… relaxed into the blur of shapes and colours drifting behind her closed lids…

  The bang of a car exhaust from the parking area caused Rose to shoot up to standing within seconds. Had she fallen asleep? Perhaps just for a few minutes but that was all. The coach party must have all funnelled into the house now as they were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Billy!’

  Rose glanced at her watch. He’d been gone over ten minutes now, she thought with alarm. Then she realised the little scamp was probably hiding from her. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  She used her hand as a visor against the sun and scanned the long, bush-lined road leading to the multi-million pound residential properties located within the abbey grounds.

  Rose bit her lip. The kite had crashed down over there somewhere and Billy had insisted on going to fetch it alone.

  ‘I’m not a baby, Rose,’ he’d complained when she’d begun to walk with him.

  But now, from where she stood, it seemed quite a way away… further than she’d originally thought. She grabbed her cast-off cardigan and began striding towards the area Billy had disappeared into.

  ‘Billy!’ she called. ‘Time to go home now.’

  She looked around her as she walked. There were still a few people around but the visitors seemed to have thinned out all of a sudden.

  ‘Billy?’

  No response, and the further she walked up the road, the quieter it became.

  ‘Billy! Stop me
ssing about. Come out here, right now!’

  What if he’d tripped over a branch or a root and hit his head on a rock or something? Her mother would throttle her.

  Rose remembered that very thing had happened when she’d been on a school trip to Cromford Mill in Derbyshire. The boy had tripped on the stony ground and bashed the side of his head. He’d needed stitches and the trip had to be cut short.

  Rose neared the area she’d last seen Billy before he’d disappeared into the bushes. Another month and the rhododendrons would be in full bloom, but for now it was a sea of thick, shiny, green foliage.

  ‘Billy, come out. Please… you’re scaring me now.’

  It was true. Her heart was banging against her chest wall like a tin drum and her mouth and throat were dry with fear.

  For five full, long minutes she walked up and down the long road, stepping into the bushes wherever there was a gap, searching everywhere for her brother.

  But Billy was nowhere to be found.

  54

  SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER

  Virtually the whole village carried on searching well into that first night.

  Rose thought how the field looked fairy-like in the dark, the horror masked by a sea of torch light that looked like lanterns from where she and her family stood at the window.

  DCI North had been forced to physically restrain Ray from leaving the house to join the search party.

  ‘I need you to stay here, Ray,’ he’d said firmly but kindly. ‘Your family need you here. Leave the search to everyone else, we have more than enough people.’

  Rose and her mother held each other and watched the strong, dependable man they loved crumple into his chair, bow his head and quietly begin to sob.

  DCI Mike North held up his hand as they moved to comfort Ray.

  ‘My advice is to let the emotion come,’ he said softly.

  When she’d run back home from the abbey, breathless and faint with fear, her mother had been in the kitchen, holding an enormous bouquet. ‘They’re for you.’ She smiled as Rose flung open the door. Then her face changed as she registered Rose’s hysteria.