She was wearing a dress the colour of strawberry icing today, but even that bold shade couldn’t brighten her. She was fading before his eyes and he knew that her divorce was far tougher on her than his was on him. She had no controlling rein on Stephen like the one he had on Charlotte.
Bonnie wasn’t going to the dentist but had an appointment with the doctor. She had fought against the stress long enough now and needed some medical help. She wasn’t sleeping, her appetite had dwindled, she was on the verge of tears all the time.
The doctor prescribed her anti-depressants but, he warned, they would take six weeks to start working. In six weeks when they made an impact on her system, her life would have changed for ever. If the CPS prosecuted or didn’t, Lew would know what she had been accused of because Stephen would make damned sure he did. Tablets wouldn’t even make a dent in the resulting depression she’d have then.
*
Mrs Twist lived in a ground-floor maisonette just out of the town centre. The small estate was inhabited totally by pensioners who were engaged in an unspoken competition to have the best front garden. Mrs Twist’s pansied borders were crammed with stone fairies, sitting on toadstools or reposing amongst the flowers.
Bonnie rang the doorbell and a rasping buzz sounded in the depths of the house. She knew that it would be answered because she’d seen two figures sitting on a sofa through the large picture window when she walked down the path. Sure enough, the door soon opened to a chain-length and Mrs Twist’s face appeared. She surveyed the dark-haired lady wearing the bright pink dress suspiciously.
‘Hello. What is it?’
‘Mrs Twist . . .’
‘If you’re J’ovah’s Witness, I’m Church of England. And I don’t buy owt on my doorstep.’ The door closed to a slit.
‘Mrs Twist, I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Bonnie and I used to work at Grimshaw’s antiques centre,’ said Bonnie, when she could get a word in. ‘I was working there the day you brought in a box of things. The white Gulvase and other stuff and—’
‘Yes, I do remember,’ said Mrs Twist, cautiously. ‘What about it?’
‘There was a Chinese cup and saucer in the box. It was painted and held together with staples. You took it to the Pot of Gold and Mr Harley the owner bought it from you.’
‘I’m not giving him his money back, if that’s what you want. I sold it fair and—’
‘Please don’t worry, Mrs Twist, it’s nothing like that. I appreciate this might seem odd, but I have some news about those two Chinese pieces.’ She took a small step back from the door because she didn’t want to frighten the old lady. ‘I work there now, in Spring Hill Square, you see. That cup and the saucer turned out to be very valuable.’
Now she had Mrs Twist’s full attention and the door opened again as far as the chain would let it.
‘Oh aye?’
‘Mr Harley would like you to accept this. It’s a cheque for seven thousand pounds.’
Bonnie held the cheque up for Mrs Twist to see and the old lady squinted and stared at it, but didn’t extend her hand.
‘Just a minute.’ Mrs Twist momentarily disappeared whilst she relayed the information to the other person in the house with her. Bonnie heard a woman’s loud ‘Never!’ and stifled a chuckle.
Mrs Twist returned with her glasses on.
‘Oh yes, I recognise you now. What’s your name again?’
‘Bonnie. Bonnie Brookland,’ she replied, momentarily forgetting that she’d given her married name. Bonnie poked the cheque through the aperture. ‘You just put that in your bank. Mr Harley didn’t think it was fair not to let you have something from the sale.’
Mrs Twist took the cheque and her whole demeanour changed. ‘Ooh, well that’s lovely that. Very nice of him. Thank you. Thank you very much.’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Twist. Buy yourself something nice. Enjoy it.’
Bonnie turned and the door closed and Mrs Twist walked into her lounge with the cheque. ‘Look at this, Kitty,’ she said and handed it to her sister, who picked up her glasses in order to scrutinise it thoroughly.
‘What did she say she was called?’ asked her sister.
‘Bonnie Brookland, she said. If she hadn’t told me to go somewhere else I wouldn’t have my spending money for our Italian caper. I thought I’d got a good deal with that hundred and fifty. And I felt rotten afterwards, Kitty, because I think I dropped her in it with my big gob. I told that Grimshaw fella that she’d said to go try another shop. I’ve felt bad about that ever since.’
Her sister rushed over to the window and knocked hard on it. Bonnie, about to get back into her car, turned around.
‘What’s up, Kitty?’ asked Pauline Twist.
‘I want to talk to her.’
Katherine Ellison, or Kitty as her younger sister had always called her, hurried to the door and trotted down the path towards Bonnie, who recognised her instantly.
‘Hey, I want a word with you,’ called Katherine.
Bonnie prepared herself for an onslaught. She felt tension prickling her skull.
‘You remember me, don’t you?’ said Katherine.
‘Yes, yes, I do,’ said Bonnie.
‘Come here, I want to talk to you.’ She beckoned Bonnie forwards. Bonnie kept a safe distance because she half-expected the older woman to try and slap her.
‘I’ve had the police round, you know.’
‘Yes, I expected that,’ replied Bonnie.
‘Did you help her?’ Bonnie noticed that Katherine was wearing the locket which used to be Alma’s. Her voice had a tremble in it, an appeal. ‘Please, Bonita, will you tell me honestly what happened to Alma? I know she’d bought something to end her suffering.’
Bonnie’s heart jumped in her chest. ‘You knew?’ She couldn’t think straight or what that might mean for her.
‘Yes I knew. It was something that would make it look as if she had died in her sleep so that no one would know what she’d done. She told me.’
Bonnie’s mind started spinning; her stomach felt heavy, flooded with a sick feeling.
‘I told the police I knew,’ said Mrs Ellison.
Bonnie hiccuped a huge sob that came from the deepest part of her, as if it had been pressed down like a jack-in-a-box and suddenly released. It was the first glint of hope she had seen in her dark sky. It meant everything to her.
‘Please tell me you were with her at the end, that she wasn’t alone?’ Katherine Ellison’s voice was full of a desperate need to be told what she wanted to hear, truth or not and she repeated the word. ‘Please.’
‘I was with her,’ said Bonnie. ‘She drank the drug and I held her and she fell to sleep, just drifted off, I promise you. It was so gentle that I don’t know when she took her last breath. And I sat with her afterwards until Stephen came back.’
‘Poor Alma. My poor darling friend.’ Katherine Ellison shook her head, holding back a huge weight of emotion. So it was true then, Stephen had failed his mother when she needed him. It would have broken her heart.
‘Mrs Ellison, I know she didn’t like me very much for many years and I won’t lie, I wasn’t fond of her either, but I swear to you that I did everything, everything I could to make her comfortable and we made our peace in the end. I was very sad when she went.’
‘Thank you,’ Mrs Ellison replied. ‘I would have liked to have been at her funeral.’
Bonnie frowned in puzzlement. ‘Stephen said that he had rung you and told you about the arrangements but you’d decided not to come.’
Mrs Ellison’s top lip tightened but it was not worth airing what she thought of him again. There was no end to his callousness.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Bonnie. She knew from the expression on the older lady’s face that yet another of Stephen’s lies had just come to light.
Katherine sighed. ‘It can’t be helped now. I went to her grave and paid my respects when I came home. I didn’t want her thinking I didn’t care enough to show up.’
‘I don’t think she’d have thought anything negative about you, Mrs Ellison, from the way she spoke about you.’
Katherine Ellison’s eyes lit up. ‘Really?’ she said, interest sparked.
‘When she could speak she told me all about you and her as girls,’ said Bonnie. ‘About ice skating when Tinker’s Lake froze and about you both trying to get pink hair by dyeing it with your mother’s food colouring. All sorts of stories: when you went dancing, her wedding when she dropped her bouquet just before the car came and you mended it with pins for her. She loved you very much.’
Katherine groped for Bonnie’s hand, sudden tears half-blinding her. For Alma to have shared things like that with Bonnie proved beyond measure how much she had come to mean to her. Alma didn’t give herself away easily.
‘We said our goodbyes before I went to Spain but she rang me there, you know. She told me how kind you were to her and how she’d misjudged you. I told the police about that phone call too.’ Katherine Ellison’s cheeks were damp but she was smiling. ‘Thank you for being with my friend at her end. Thank you for telling me the truth. I wish you well, Bonnie. I hope I’ve helped you.’
And with that, Katherine Ellison turned and walked back into the house.
Chapter 74
Stephen had plenty of time to spy now that he was on extended sick leave for stress. He’d confided in his HR officer at work that he had discovered his mother might have been murdered by his wife and hoped that she’d spread it around because she was a renowned gossip. Ironically, she’d felt sorry for him and respected his privacy.
He had seen Bonnie leave and he knew that there were only two customers in the shop, accompanied by a guide dog. He walked in, setting the doorbell tinkling. Lewis Harley had just finished wrapping something up for them and was saying that he would see them again soon he hoped. Stephen pretended to browse and only when the couple left did he turn to face Lew and saw that he was instantly recognised.
‘Mr Harley,’ he said with a sly grin, under the impression that he was talking to the enlightened. ‘I can’t believe you’re still employing my wife.’
‘I would like you to leave,’ said Lew. He would remove him forcibly if he had to.
‘Have you no shame?’ Stephen’s smile dropped.
‘I won’t tell you again.’ Lew stepped forward and Stephen scuttled backwards towards the door.
‘After what she did you’ll still . . .? I’m going, I’m going,’ he cowered as Lew strode right up to him.
Lew reached behind Stephen and pulled open the door. ‘Get out please,’ he wanted to shout, though he kept his voice level.
‘A fine way to conduct business,’ Stephen huffed. ‘Well, I did try to warn you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ growled Lew, losing the last vestiges of his patience.
‘My letter to you explained everything,’ said Stephen.
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ returned Lew and Stephen knew from his reaction that he really didn’t. He’d posted that letter through the door of the Pot of Gold himself. If Lewis Harley hadn’t seen it, Bonita must have intercepted it.
‘Ask Bonita what she did,’ he said, with a salacious twist to his mouth. Then, grenade dropped, he turned from an irate but puzzled Lewis Harley and walked back to his car with a self-satisfied swagger in his step.
Lew didn’t know whether to tell Bonnie about his visitor that lunchtime, spitting out his cryptic clues: After what she did. Ask Bonita what she did. What did he mean? Nothing, probably; he was stirring. And what letter? Something was bobbing around in his brain about a missing brown envelope that never turned up but it flittered away when he tried to pin it down.
He weighed it up in his mind and by the time Bonnie returned, he decided he should mention it to her: forewarned was forearmed. He asked her first about Mrs Twist but there was no easy bending of the conversation around to Brookland. He might as well just come out with it.
‘Bonnie, Stephen was here today. I think he was looking for you. I threw him out. Not quite as dramatically as you can throw people out but I told him not to come back.’ He smiled, hoping to put her at ease but she was blanching before his eyes.
‘Did he say anything?’ she asked.
‘Not a lot. That he’d explained it all in a letter. And that I had to ask you what you’d done.’ He gave her a puzzled look.‘I have no idea what he means, nor am I going to give it headspace. And neither should you.’ But he saw worry cross her face like clouds cross the sun and he knew that there was something she wasn’t telling him. That bloody man, he thought. ‘Look, forget I said anything. Put the kettle on, Bonnie,’ he said extra cheerfully, ‘and break out the biscuits.’
Bonnie went into the back room to take off her coat and once she was out of his sight she bit her hand hard in an effort to stop the sob escaping her. The time had finally come. She had to leave the Pot of Gold before she too was thrown out.
She had walked back into the Pot of Gold after speaking to Katherine Ellison with hope in her heart that someone was on her side; that, at last, there was weight to the testament of her honesty; and it brought a pinprick of light to the end of the very dark tunnel in which she was crawling. But really, it meant nothing. Whether or not a jury believed what Mrs Ellison had to say above Stephen’s spurious account, she, Bonnie Sherman, had committed a criminal act in assisting a suicide and she had no intention of not admitting to it. And Lew Harley did not associate with people like that; he was a highly regarded businessman, respected, honourable. She would not put him in the uncomfortable position of having to let her go once Stephen had exposed her, because she knew he was a good person and it would not be a duty he would relish.
She turned the sign in the door from open to closed as normal, sadly aware that she would not be back tomorrow. This would be the last time she closed the blinds, washed up their coffee mugs in the sink, shut down the PC, did a final circuit around the shop to check that all the lights were off. She would not see Lew Harley again. It was for the best. She was in love with him and it could go nowhere, they were from different worlds. She said goodnight to him, savouring the smile in his lovely deep blue eyes, knowing that she could not bear to risk another day and find those eyes unable to meet with hers; she would crumble from the pain and the shame. Once she reached home she wrote him a note, sealed it and drove straight back to the Pot of Gold to push it through the letter box for Lew to find in the morning. She noticed the black car tailing her and knew from the registration plate that it was Stephen. It didn’t matter. It was over. He had won.
Chapter 75
Lew walked in the next morning humming. His ridiculous offer on Daffodil House had been accepted and the Krugers wanted to move into Woodlea as soon as possible because they were presently renting a barn conversion out in Ingbirchworth which was costing them a small fortune. The sun was shining; he felt excited by the changes in his life but also that he was securely anchored to the lovely Pot of Gold. And The Rainbow Lady. He had decided that today he would throw caution to the wind and ask Bonnie if she would like to go out for dinner. He didn’t have to make a big thing about it, just an informal ‘works outing’ he’d call it, to celebrate receiving the Christie’s cheque. He wanted to know if there was the faintest chance that she might like him as more than just as a boss.
He picked up the blue envelope resting on the doormat. It had ‘Lew’ on the front. He slit it open using his finger and pulled out the folded sheet inside. He read it and then read it again because it didn’t sink in properly the first time.
Dear Lew
I am so sorry to have to tell you this way but I have found another job. I didn’t want to let you know like this but they want me to start straightaway and I really do need a totally new beginning.
I have loved working for you. The Pot of Gold is the nicest place on earth and you are the best boss. I hope your divorce goes smoothly and that you are very happy in Daffodil House as you deserve to be. I hope you find a lady who makes you s
mile and likes all the same things that you do and gives you everything you want in life.
Be happy – and thank you.
My very best wishes
Bonnie
He didn’t buy it one bit that she had another job. She wouldn’t have let him down like this, he knew that much of her. Then again, Stephen coming to the shop yesterday had totally freaked her and he understood completely why she might need to get away. He would give her space and time. She’d been putting on a brave face, a glass one and Stephen had smashed it. He crossed to the desk and wrote her a letter of his own.
Dear Bonnie
I understand totally your need for a fresh start. The strain of your divorce must be terrible.
Enclosed are your wages to date, plus a bonus. The Pot of Gold will be a poorer place for your not being in it.
Your job is here waiting for you. No one else fits.
Lew x
He would post it on the way home. Even if her car was there, he wouldn’t put her under any pressure to open her front door, but just shove it through her letter box and leave. And he would hope that she’d read the words and believe him because they were true.
Chapter 76
It was the oddest sensation sitting opposite a woman to whom he had been married for fourteen years, been intimate with, trusted, loved, honoured his vows for . . . and yet be looking into the eyes of someone he had no feelings about at all. They hadn’t even cheek-kissed when she arrived at the table. Lew had directed that one. In retrospect he thought maybe he should have, out of courtesy, but the moment had passed.
Adriana de Lacey had thought that it would be a good idea now the divorce was in full swing for Lew to meet with his wife and converse civilly, if that were possible. The more a couple argued over the nitty-gritty, the richer it made her, but she was of the school that believed that the more a couple sorted things out between themselves, the easier it made her job – and life for all concerned.
The Queen of Wishful Thinking Page 34
