The Island

by Mary Grand

  Mira stood, frozen, staring over. ‘It’s not right,’ she signed, ‘they have him now, my husband, it’s like he belongs to them, not me. I should be looking after him. He’s nothing to them.’

  ‘But they have to find out what’s happened,’ signed Juliet. ‘You need to know, don’t you?’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘Of course, even if it doesn’t feel like it matters now, it will do in time. They have to find who did this.’

  ‘But the person could be miles away on the mainland by now… carrying on as if nothing has happened.’

  ‘The police will be looking everywhere to find them.’

  Mira just shrugged, looking broken and blank.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and find your things,’ said Juliet.

  They carried on and Juliet was aware of Mira looking back over her shoulder.

  Finally, they arrived at the vicarage.

  Mira looked up at the house. Modern, soulless, one of a few new builds in the village. She had vague memories of the original vicarage; an old rambling building, dark wood furniture, a wild, overgrown garden. But it had been in desperate need of repair and the church had decided to sell it and purchase this new house. Despite being far more practical, easy to maintain and heat, Mira would have preferred the old house, but she knew that went with a very dated picture of church life. Everything had changed.

  The job of the vicar now was all-consuming, and Mira understood why many partners found separate work. Maybe she should have done that, done some maths tutoring online or something. However, that, she knew, would only have been pushing the main problems aside.

  Mira looked at the house. She may have been allowed to choose the paint for the walls, but the building belonged to the church, the parish. Their pictures hung on the walls, the cheap sofa and supermarket mugs belonged to them, but it had never felt like their home.

  On the driveway stood two cars, both second-hand, tidy, sensible cars. She’d have to sort Rhys’s soon, sell it or something. There was so much ‘business’ when someone died, so many times you had to keep telling different people someone was dead. She remembered the advice Rhys would often give: get a few copies of the death certificate – no one prepares you for how often you must prove your spouse has died.

  Over the doorway hung a sign – ‘God, the silent visitor in every home’ – Rhys had put it there. He loved it but she always felt it was creepy. As she opened the door, she brushed against one of Rhys’s coats hanging in the hallway and she turned and buried her nose in it, in the smell of Rhys. She let Lola off her lead, and she ran excitedly around the house, on into the kitchen, and Mira could see her slurping stale water from her bowl. Coming here was too normal; it really was as if nothing had happened.

  Mira stared at the silent phone, especially adapted for her with a screen to show messages. She saw there were four. Reading them she found, ‘I’m so sorry, Mira, anything we can do. We are all praying for you.’ She stopped reading after that.

  She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. ‘I ought to clear this,’ she signed to Juliet, but she looked back, frightened to touch the contents. It seemed too soon, too final to throw away Rhys’s cheese, his chocolate mousse, and yet…

  ‘Leave it,’ signed Juliet, ‘you or I can do it another day. Let’s just get some clothes and go.’

  Mira shook her head. ‘No, please, you do the fridge, I’ll go upstairs. Put the rubbish in a black bag, we can put it out.’

  Mira ran upstairs into her bedroom and closed the door. Part of her would like to stay here, be alone. Back at her mother’s house she felt on show, another woman who has lost her husband. She wasn’t sure what people expected to see, was she meant to cry all the time? She felt numb, lost; maybe they had the right idea in the past when she would have worn black for months. That would have been easier than people always looking at your face.

  Still, that wasn’t an option. To distract her from her racing thoughts, she reached up to the top of the wardrobe, and took a down tatty case, which she lay on the bed. She started to pack clothes. The good thing about having so few possessions meant it was very easy to pack. She packed some books, including her books on research into prime numbers. She didn’t know when she last seriously sat down and read any of them, but she carried them round like a talisman, a sign she had not given up that part of her life. From the top drawer of her bedside table, she took her box of hearing aid bits and pieces. Spare batteries, ear mould cleaners and the like. Finally, she took a draw key out of a pot on the windowsill and opened the next drawer down – her drawer. The only place in the whole house she felt was truly hers, and hers alone.

  The first thing she saw was the cracked photograph, taken seven years ago. It was one of the few professional photos she had of their wedding day. They’d only paid someone for the most basic package. The dress she’d bought second-hand from a charity shop, the flowers had been given to her by a member of the congregation. She’d not minded any of that and seeing herself smiling out at the camera she knew she’d been happy that day. How had it gone so wrong?

  At that moment, she saw Juliet standing in the doorway. She’d seen the photo.

  ‘I dropped it,’ Mira said quickly and tucked it under a top in her case. Aware of Juliet standing there still, she slipped out a washbag. She could feel the box in there and stuffed it to the bottom of her case, which she started to zip up. ‘Okay, ready to go.’

  They left the room and as they passed, Juliet glancing in the spare bedroom. It had clearly been used recently; on the bedside table, a bible and a clock, some pyjamas lay on top of the duvet, a dressing gown hung on the door. Mira noticed Juliet looking in and explained. ‘When he got back late or something, Rhys would sleep in there.’

  They went downstairs and Mira bustled them straight out of the front door. She noticed a neighbour, who looked over at her nervously, but hurried back into the house. It hurt, but it told her news had spread. Everyone knew – the vicar was dead.

  They walked back down the hill, back past the church, back home. Relieved to be away from prying eyes, Mira went straight in, but Juliet carried on down across the road to the car park.

  There were less cars today, the tide was well in, and most of the campervans seemed to have moved on.

  Juliet went to where she had met Gabriel. She searched all over the car park, but she could not find the set of keys and then went into the field to look around her car. But as she entered the field, she stopped short, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  14

  Juliet stared at the empty spot where her car had been. That’s madness, she thought. Where was it?

  She knew she had to tell the DC her car was missing and so she ran home and rang him. He was formal, polite and took the details.

  Juliet then went into the kitchen and told her mother what had happened.

  ‘That’s awful,’ said her mother. ‘We’ve never had trouble down there before this year. The police should be coming out on the weekends, moving people on.’

  ‘I still haven’t found my set of car keys. I wonder if I could have dropped them down there, it would have made it a lot easier to steal my car.’

  ‘But you seemed pretty sure they were in your handbag; I should think they are in the house somewhere. These youngsters don’t need keys to get into a car.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Juliet paused. ‘You don’t think my car was the one used in Rhys’s death do you, Mum?’ She was pleading for reassurance.

  ‘Of course not. There have been some rough crowds down there. Someone has probably been off joyriding, or whatever they call it. It will turn up somewhere on the island. You’ve done your bit, told this liaison officer, that is all you can do. Now, how was Mira at the vicarage?’

  ‘She picked up a few things. I don’t think any of it has sunk in yet.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it has. It’s hard to believe much of what we’ve been through lately.’ Her mother put her head to one side. ‘I was wonderin
g, do you think Mira would like to share your room again?’

  ‘I’d not thought about it. You think I should ask her?’

  ‘I do. You two were always close; I think she might appreciate it.’

  And so Juliet went and asked Mira. It turned out her mother was right, and that night Mira and Juliet went up to their room together.

  It was strange to be in the same room. Juliet turned on the night light, which to her amazement still worked. They turned away from each other as they changed into their night things, but Juliet turned just as Mira was pulling on her dressing gown. It was then that Juliet saw Mira’s arm and gasped.

  ‘My God,’ she said, ‘what have you done?’

  Juliet looked more closely. Mira had deep red and purple bruising covering much of the top half of her arm.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said Mira, quickly tying her dressing gown tightly. ‘I fell on Friday evening when I took Lola to the beach.’

  The way her sister stumbled over the words, the panic in her eyes, sent a shiver through Juliet. ‘How did you fall? Were you with someone?’

  ‘No, of course not, just forget it. It doesn’t matter any more.’

  Mira got into bed and took her hearing aids off, sending a clear signal she would not be speaking to Juliet again that night.

  Juliet got into bed and remembered how Mira had been when they’d arrived at the meal, how she’d pulled away from Rhys, how she’d looked so pale and tired. She thought of the broken photograph, the separate bedrooms. Had Rhys been abusing her sister? A picture pushed its way uninvited into her head. Mira leaning over Rhys’s body asking for forgiveness.

  Juliet turned over, pushing the thought aside. There was the business with her set of car keys, where were they? She’d sworn they had been in her bag. Her mind flew quickly back to Anwen. She had had that row with Rhys, maybe she’d sneaked back out without Cassie knowing. But was she really prepared to suspect Anwen or even Mira of murder? If only her father and Rhys hadn’t spoken of danger, hadn’t seemed to almost expect something terrible to happen, then she could have accepted this as a random accident. Dear God, please let it be that.

  Juliet woke the next morning, her head thumping. It had been one of those nights when sleep had been more exhausting than being awake.

  To Juliet’s surprise, Mira had already got up and she assumed she must be out with Lola. Juliet checked her phone, saw a text from Gabriel.

  I am so sorry to hear about Rhys, please give my condolences to your family. If there is anything I can do, please let me know. If you want to chat anytime, I am here xxx

  How odd it was to think this time yesterday she’d been having breakfast at the vineyard. How could she have been so completely unaware of the tragedy that had occurred the night before, that Rhys’s body lay cold by the church?

  Juliet went downstairs, where she found Rosalind still in her dressing gown, sitting stirring her cereal with her spoon, but not actually eating anything.

  ‘Morning, Rosalind. Was work busy?’ Juliet asked her.

  Rosalind gave her the blank look she’d given her mother yesterday. ‘What?’

  ‘How was work?’

  ‘Oh that, it went okay. I’ve taken the week off now though, cancelled my appointments. I need a break.’

  ‘Of course, it’s been a terrible time, losing Dad and then Rhys. We all need some time to come to terms with it all.’

  ‘Nothing makes sense, does it?’

  Juliet noticed it was the phrase she’d used the day before.

  ‘No,’ said Juliet, ‘none of it does, but we have to look after Mum and Mira now.’ She went and put her arms around her little sister. ‘They need us to be strong.’

  When Mira returned with Lola, Juliet made her breakfast and stayed close to her for the morning.

  As promised, the family liaison officer, DC Adam Smith, returned. He was with a different officer this time, who introduced herself as Detective Inspector Ann Rolf.

  The new officer was short and had a cuddly appearance until she spoke in sharp, clipped sentences, giving an impression she viewed everyone with suspicion.

  ‘I would like to speak to you all together,’ she said on the doorstep, and then, without waiting to be invited in, she led the way into the house. Glancing into the living room, she announced, ‘We’ll use this room, please gather everyone together.’

  Juliet was annoyed, but a flicker of a smile indicating a silent apology from Adam helped calm her down.

  They all assembled: the four sisters, their mother and Anwen.

  ‘I wanted to come and meet you,’ said the detective. ‘I am the officer in charge of this case, but Adam will still be your point of contact. Now, we have some significant updates for you.’ The detective spoke directly to Mira and for the first time Juliet was impressed with her professionalism. ‘I understand you are Deaf, so you must tell me at any point if you need me to clarify what I am saying. Are you happy at this point to use your family to support you?’

  Mira nodded.

  ‘Good, but if that should change, just let me know. Now, you have been told we suspected your husband had been hit by a car that had been parked in the church car park. We are sure about that now. Based on your information and the preliminary examinations of the body, we estimate the incident occurred not long after one o’clock on the morning of Sunday, 21 August.’ She paused, checked that Mira was understanding, and then continued. ‘Rhys was hit by the car from behind. We can tell from tyre prints that the driver stopped afterwards. We think they walked back to Rhys and moved the body, rolled it over, then returned to the car and drove away from the scene. We have not found anything as helpful as footprints, but we do have a scraping of paint from the car.’

  Juliet clasped her hands together. ‘You have identified the make of car?’

  ‘Actually, we are pretty sure we have found the car that was used.’

  ‘You’ve found the car?’ said Mira, wide-eyed.

  ‘Yes, the paint and tyre prints match.’

  ‘So, you know who the driver was?’ asked Mira, her lips trembling, tears forming in her eyes once more.

  The inspector paused, looking as if she was choosing her words carefully. ‘As always, it’s more complicated than that. We found the car, abandoned in the woods near the church. Someone had made a good attempt at setting light to it.’ The detective shifted her gaze back to Juliet. ‘I understand you reported your car missing yesterday?’ the detective asked.

  Juliet frowned. ‘Yes, but…’ The detective kept staring at her and slowly the horror of what was being said started to sink in. Oh god, no, Juliet thought, not my car. I can’t bear it, please don’t let it be my car that was used to kill Rhys. She felt hot, the room was spinning, the voice of the detective sounded far away as she continued.

  ‘We believe it was your car that was used and then abandoned. We were able to identify it from the registration number.’

  Juliet clasped her hand over her mouth; she was going to be sick.

  Ann Rolf held out a photograph. Juliet’s hands shook uncontrollably as she stared at the blackened, windowless remains of her car. Most of the damage was to the front part, the driver’s seat completely destroyed.

  Mira pulled Juliet’s arm, shaking her. ‘She’s right. It’s your car!’

  Tears burned Juliet’s eyes as the full horror of what she was looking at sank in. ‘My car was used to kill Rhys?’

  ‘I’m afraid it would appear so.’

  Juliet turned to Mira, her voice shaking. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ She turned back to the police, signed as she spoke. ‘You are sure?’

  ‘Yes. Of course, it needs to go through many tests, but, yes, we are sure. I am sorry, this must be a shock.’

  Juliet nodded, breathed deeply, tried to think straight. She looked again at the photograph. ‘Why set fire to it?’

  ‘The damage from the fire will make it very hard for us to use DNA to identify the driver. However, some things survived which may
be of use.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘There were drugs, other illegal substances, both found in the church car park and in the car – all of which will be analysed. The drugs we found were in pill form, they are a kind of ecstasy we have not seen on the island before, so it will be interesting to see if we can source them.’

  Juliet could feel the heat of the inspector’s eyes on her again, but Mira seemed oblivious. Instead, she said, ‘So you’re saying the people who killed Rhys were stoned, high?’

  Juliet saw the anger and dismay on Mira’s face.

  ‘Well, that’s definitely a possibility.’

  Juliet stared once more at the photograph of her car. It had taken her on so many innocuous trips and yet it had been the weapon used to kill her sister’s husband.

  ‘This must be very upsetting,’ the detective said, ‘but, Juliet, maybe you could fill us in on a few things. To start with, when did you last see your car?’

  ‘Um, I suppose it was when I checked it with Rosalind when I first came home, that was the day after Dad died… 6 August.’

  ‘You hadn’t seen it or used it since then?’

  ‘No, after Dad died, we haven’t been anywhere. I didn’t even think about it until I went to use it yesterday… I wanted to take Mira to the vicarage to get her things, but I couldn’t find my set of car keys. They are always zipped in my bag, but they were not there, so we walked to the vicarage instead. I went to check if I had dropped my keys down at the beach car park, and that’s when I found my car was missing. I came straight home and rang you.’

  ‘So, it is a couple of weeks since you actually saw your car. Why was it down there, not parked here at the house?’

  ‘We are short of parking here. I’ve always parked down there in the field, we had permission.’

  ‘I see. So your car had been sitting there, unattended. And then yesterday you looked for your set of car keys but could not find them?’