Plotted in Cornwall

by Janie Bolitho

  ‘My God, what on earth’s been going on in our absence? I think I need a drink.’ He turned to where the bottles were kept and poured a stiff whisky. Without asking Petra he poured her one, too. Then he lit a cigar which filled the room with its not unpleasant odour. ‘I think you’d better start at the beginning, son. I want to know everything that’s happened since we’ve been away.’ He stood in front of the fire which Joel had thoughtfully lit knowing that his parents would feel the difference in temperature. It crackled cheerfully in the grate.

  It took Joel almost twenty minutes to explain and even then there were no hard facts to impart, only supposition.

  ‘Louisa killed Frank? That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘I know, but that’s what we all thought at first. Then it seemed more likely that Wendy might have done.’

  ‘The “we” includes Rose Trevelyan, no doubt.’ Roger’s smile was wry. He had summed up Rose as quickly as she had done him. Asking her to keep her ear to the ground, he had noticed the expression on her face and he realised she was the sort of woman who would go to further lengths than that.

  ‘Yes. But now there’s a new development.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Miranda told me there are some letters. She saw them in a drawer, she’s certain they were from her father. From Spain.’ Joel blushed. Inspector Pearce had told Miranda to keep this information to herself but they had always shared things. He hoped he hadn’t got her into trouble.

  ‘So that’s where he’s hiding.’ Roger turned to flick ash into the fireplace.

  ‘But Roger, don’t you see what this means? Louisa’s known all along where he was but Miranda didn’t. How could she do that to the girl. All right, Miranda and Frank weren’t close but he was still her father.’

  ‘It’s beyond me, Petra, but if the police are finally doing something about it perhaps we’ll eventually find out what the bloody family are playing at. And perhaps I’ll get my money back. It’s Frank’s debt, not Louisa’s, whatever she might have done I couldn’t ask her for it.’ He reached for his glass which he had placed on the mantelpiece and went to refill it. ‘I think I’ll give Rose Trevelyan a ring. I’d like to find out what she knows before we speak to the police.’

  But Rose was either out or not answering the telephone. He left a message for her to ring back then uncharacteristically offered to help his wife to unpack.

  Rose leaned against the sink in Laura’s neat but cramped kitchen. She and Trevor had lived there all of their married life and had no intention of moving. They had brought up three sons there and, to them, the place now seemed spacious. Rose was amazed how they coped when their now extended family came to stay, although neighbours always helped out with the use of a spare room. That was the beauty of such a small community, people were always willing to help.

  ‘So,’ Laura said, tossing back her hair as steam rose as she added something to the pan on the stove. ‘What sort of trouble are you in this time?’

  ‘I’m not in trouble, Laura, just helping some new friends. They’re young and confused and, I think, just a bit frightened.’

  Laura snorted and looked over her thin shoulder. ‘You’ve only known them for a few weeks. I don’t know how you do it.’ She grinned. ‘Our glasses are empty, it’s unlike you to be so dilatory. Hurry up, it’s ready.’

  They sat at the table to eat beef in red wine, accompanied by fresh vegetables. Like Rose, Laura believed in eating well, and local fresh food was better quality than any that could be purchased in a supermarket.

  ‘There’s some scam going on,’ Rose said, unable to think of anything but Frank Jordan. ‘But I just can’t make out what it is. It seems he’s alive and living in Spain, if what Miranda tells me is right, and I did see one of those letters myself. And there’s all the paintings and antiques.’

  ‘What paintings?’ Laura speared some broccoli.

  ‘Louisa’s house is full of them. They’ve got to be worth a fortune.’

  ‘But you said they live without electricity and everything.’

  ‘I know. Still, given the choice, I’d rather have the paintings.’

  ‘That’s because you’re an artist. I know what I’d prefer. Can’t you talk about anything else?’ She leaned forward. ‘Anyway, I want to know how it went with Jack on Saturday.’

  Rose blushed. ‘I’m not sure. He refuses to talk about Anna.’

  ‘Hmm. I wonder if she exists.’

  ‘What’re you talking about? Jack wouldn’t lie to me.’

  ‘Ah, listen to you. You’re suddenly very defensive of him. Well, she didn’t come to your party either, did she?’

  ‘Don’t grin at me like a bloody Cheshire cat.’

  ‘Teasy tonight, aren’t we?’

  Rose laughed. Laura always knew how to put her in her place.

  ‘Come on, we were talking about Jack.’

  ‘All right. We met in the Yacht and had a couple of drinks then we walked back across the Promenade and had a meal in the Newlyn Laundry restaurant. He’d already booked it.’ Rose bit her lip. She hadn’t forgotten it was where Jack had taken Anna; neither had Laura.

  ‘Which meant he knew you’d accept his invitation.’

  ‘Or Anna had let him down.’

  ‘How cynical you’ve become, my dear. Of course Anna didn’t let him down, if anything it would’ve been the other way around. It’s you Jack wants, that’s obvious to everyone except you.’

  Rose shook her head. It had been an enjoyable evening although their old intimacy had been missing. They had talked of general things; not Anna, not the Penhaligons, not the sisters. Rose still didn’t know what footing their relationship was on. And I didn’t have the courage to ask, she admitted. But she had invited him for a meal in a week’s time, an invitation he had accepted very quickly. He hadn’t said he needed to check with Anna, or he’d let her know. Just, ‘I’d love that. Thank you.’ Then he had paid the bill and walked her home.

  Laura raised her eyebrows. ‘And?’ she asked when Rose had finished speaking.

  ‘And nothing. He went home himself then.’ It was time to change the subject.

  They chatted until gone eleven when Trevor returned from a card game and Rose decided it was time to leave.

  There was one message for her but it was too late to return Roger Penhaligon’s call. She would do so first thing in the morning.

  ‘Rose, hello. Did you have a good Christmas? Joel told me what a feast you put on for him and Miranda.’

  So he knows all about it, Rose thought. ‘Yes. And you? Good holiday?’

  ‘One of the best. Now look, Inspector Pearce just called. He’s coming over to see us this morning. Could I ask you a favour? We’d like it if you were here, too.’

  I’ll see Jack again, she thought, wondering why that was more important than what she might learn. ‘Yes. What time?’

  ‘Come as soon as you’re ready. We can have a chat first. Oh, by the way, Miranda will be here, Joel rang her earlier. I thought it was for the best if he sees us all together so we can all put in our twopence worth.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Rose glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll leave here in about half an hour.’ She hung up. Once again work would have to wait, but the sooner this was all over with the sooner she could settle down again. Well, maybe in a few days’ time. It’s New Year’s Eve, she thought. I’d completely forgotten. Tonight she would be at Laura’s again. There were only going to be eight of them. Four couples, not that she and Barry were a couple. And then, hopefully, she could get back into her usual routine. And Jack, how would he be celebrating? It was best not to think about it.

  Within twenty-five minutes she was on her way. The weather was almost springlike. Wisps of cloud floated across the sky occasionally obscuring the pale sun and causing shadows to dance across the countryside which became more barren with each passing mile. There was very little traffic on the St Just road. She turned into the Penhaligons’ gateway and parked.

  Petra opened th
e door to her and smiled. ‘We’re all here, except Inspector Pearce. He’d said he’d come at about ten thirty. Come on in.’

  Rose followed her into the lovely lounge and said hello to those present. Both Miranda and Joel sat on the edge of their seats as if they were guilty of something. Perhaps they were.

  For twenty minutes they discussed all they knew then, when the doorbell rang, Roger went to let Jack in and Petra went to get the coffee.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Rose,’ Jack said when Roger showed him in.

  ‘I was invited,’ she replied defensively. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He smiled to soften the harshness of his tone. He had been unprepared to see her and hoped it wouldn’t affect his professionalism. ‘Firstly,’ he began, once he was seated and had established how much the Penhaligons knew, ‘even if these letters exist, there is no way I can ask to see them.’

  ‘They do exist,’ Miranda stated firmly.

  ‘Yes, they do,’ Rose added

  ‘Okay. But what we can do is to make some inquiries in Spain. The boat for a start, that should be traceable, if it hasn’t already been sold.’

  Roger shook his head. He was in the process of lighting up. He leaned back to put his lighter in his jacket pocket and blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling. ‘He loved that boat, I can’t believe he’d have sold it.’

  ‘If we find the boat, we might find him. Mr Penhaligon, may I ask you a very personal question?’

  ‘Feel free.’

  ‘Did Frank Jordan owe you money?’

  ‘Ah, that. There are no secrets down here, are there, Inspector Pearce? Yes, he did. Is that why he disappeared? He knew there was no rush to pay me back, I made that clear from the start. It was an interest-free loan, too.’

  ‘That was very generous.’

  ‘Don’t sound so cynical. I did it for Louisa, my sister. She’d bailed him out before, I didn’t want to see her suffer any further financial loss. And, without meaning to sound boastful, we can afford it.’

  ‘I see. Miranda, what made you so sure something had happened to your father?’

  ‘I don’t really know.’ Her face was pale and she looked as if she hadn’t had much sleep. ‘He just left, without saying anything, and Mum didn’t seem to care. She loved him, idolised him, almost. Even I could see that. Then all of a sudden she was acting as if he had never existed. She even refused to talk about it. I thought … well, never mind. I just felt I needed to get away.’

  ‘Jack, I don’t know if this is relevant, but it seems only Wendy was aware he was leaving. She was the only one there at the time,’ Rose told him.

  Although Jack already knew that, he asked, ‘Who told you this?’

  ‘Miranda did.’

  ‘And who told you, Miranda?’

  ‘My mother.’

  The same source I heard it from. Then it might not be true, he thought. Mrs Louisa Jordan was conveniently out of the house all morning on the day before they moved. Sorting out final details, she had claimed, yet surely they would have been attended to before then? ‘Right, let’s go over everything once more then I’ll get on to the Spanish authorities.’ Jack was now convinced that Rose was right, that something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. Louisa’s behaviour was hard to fathom.

  An hour later he left. Driving back to Camborne he realised that he understood Miranda a little better. Immaturity had caused her to panic and she had run away from a situation which she didn’t understand, and probably hadn’t wanted to, and which must have frightened her if she believed her mother to be guilty of murder. To a logical mind carrying on as normally as possible would have been the answer but Miranda had been barely eighteen and had had two major upheavals ahead of her: the move and university. My mother would describe her as highly strung, he thought as he pulled into the police station car-park.

  He would do as he had promised and see if Frank Jordan could be located in Spain. If he loved his boat as much as people were saying, they might be able to locate the man through it.

  ‘She’s spending an awful lot of time in Penzance,’ Wendy commented after Miranda had driven away. ‘Why do you think that is?’

  ‘She’s always been fond of Joel, she’s missed him.’

  ‘Something’s wrong, Louisa. First Frank, then Miranda went missing and you scarcely showed the slightest concern. Why didn’t she keep in touch with us? And why all this secrecy now? Is there something you both know that I don’t?’

  Louisa shook her head. ‘The young often have strange ideas. I think she was scared of going to university and didn’t want to admit it. The main thing is she’s grown up and come back to us.’

  They were in the kitchen preparing a few snacks for the evening. There would only be the three of them to see the New Year in. They had severed contact with all their old friends. ‘Wendy, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.’ Louisa continued rolling thin slices of ham around cream cheese. ‘I’ve enjoyed living here, it’s been fun in its way, but I’ve decided to sell the place.’

  ‘What?’ Wendy’s head jerked up. She dropped the gherkin she had been slicing into circles. ‘But we’ve hardly settled in. Are you sure about this?’

  ‘Yes. I might go abroad, somewhere warm. They say it can be very cheap to live in some Mediterranean countries.’

  ‘I see.’ Wendy was rigid with barely controlled anger. ‘And where would that leave me?’

  ‘You’ve got enough money to buy somewhere small, maybe you could go back to Penzance.’

  ‘I gave up everything to be with you; my home, my friends, everything. I’ve always looked after you. When Frank left, I thought you needed me more than ever. What a fool I must’ve been.’ Her throat burned and tears filled her eyes. It was a long time since Wendy had cried. ‘You’ve always had everything, looks, money, Frank and a child. You’ve never really cared for anyone but yourself, have you? You didn’t even do anything when Miranda left. Only now can I see how very self-centred you are.’

  Louisa whirled around. ‘And you’re just full of self-pity, which is worse. I didn’t ask you to come here and live with me. It was your idea if you recall. And now Miranda’s back it’s obvious you’re jealous of her, too. If you were so concerned why didn’t you do anything at the time?’

  And suddenly it all surfaced: Wendy’s envy of Louisa, Louisa’s feeling of superiority over her sister and her unquestionable love for Frank.

  ‘You always wanted Frank, didn’t you? Did you think I was blind? You couldn’t have him so you tried to poison my feelings for him. He used to laugh at your dismal attempts at flirtation. He loves me, you know. Those other women never mattered to him. And, as for you—’

  ‘How dare you!’ Wendy was rigid with fury. It was the first argument they had ever had. Every niggling resentment was suddenly out in the open.

  ‘I’ve just had the most peculiar telephone call,’ Roger Penhaligon said a little while after Rose had left.

  ‘Who from?’ Petra was in the kitchen making lunchtime sandwiches.

  He explained the content of the conversation briefly. ‘Not that it makes much sense, but I get the feeling we’d better do as she asked.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of it. Why has she rung us after all this time?’

  ‘She refused to give any reason. She tried to disguise it, but she sounds in a hell of a state. Shall I take these in?’ He gestured towards the plateful of sandwiches.

  ‘Please. We’ll have them on our knees. I’ll bring in the coffee.’

  Roger carried the tray into the lounge where Miranda and Joel were talking quietly. He handed around plates and serviettes and told them to help themselves. When they had done so he said, ‘Miranda, why don’t you stay the night? We’d love to have you, it’ll be like old times. We’re having a few friends round, nothing big. What about you, Joel, are you going to that party?’

  ‘I was, but it doesn’t matter.’ He knew he had never really fitted in with
his peer group but it didn’t bother him. Far better to be in Miranda’s company.

  ‘May I?’ Miranda knew her mother and aunt weren’t doing anything, and Wendy certainly wouldn’t miss her.

  She looked both pleased and grateful which added to Roger’s suspicions. Something was going on at the house on Bodmin Moor, something she did not want to return to on New Year’s Eve of all nights.

  ‘Can I ask, have you forgiven me for not keeping in touch? It was terribly selfish.’

  Roger smiled. ‘Of course we have.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s more than I deserve. I’d better let my mother know where I’ll be.’

  ‘There’s no need, I’ll do it. It’s time I spoke to my sister again. Reconciliations all round,’ he added. ‘Will you give me the number?’

  Miranda did so and Roger left the room, ashamed of the lie he had told and the deceit he had been drawn into, even though from the little he had heard it was for Miranda’s sake.

  ‘All settled.’ His smile was forced when he returned after ten minutes, the amount of time he had estimated such a call would have taken. ‘Now we can catch up on all your news. What do you say, Petra?’

  She nodded and continued pouring coffee from the large pot.

  Roger went to the cupboard where he kept the drinks and added a measure of brandy to his coffee, aware of his wife’s eyes on his back. It was early, even by his standards, but he felt in need of some fortification. It had been a shock seeing Miranda even though he had known she was coming, and then the strange telephone call had come as an even bigger shock. There were far too many things he didn’t understand.

  With a feeling of dread he tried to concentrate upon what his niece was telling him about her future.

  It was very late when Jack got home that night and he was exhausted. The awful news he had to impart could wait until the morning – in fact, he had been requested to leave it until then.

  The Spanish police had already come back to them. Jack was still trying to assimilate what they had learned. Rose had almost been right but not in the way in which she had thought. And now Louisa had been arrested.