by Sherri Bryan
Olivia frowned. “Well, if you put it like that, it sounds more likely that it was random, I suppose.” She touched the lump on her head gently and winced. “If it is kids, and they did this for a bit of fun, it needs to be taken seriously. They need to be thrown in the cells for a couple of days, not just let off with a talking-to and a slapped wrist.” She pushed herself up on the bed and swayed gently from side to side. “Right, where’s my jacket? I need to get home to bed.”
“Just a minute,” said Charlotte. “Let me go and check if it’s okay for you to leave. I know the doctor said you could, but let me go and check first. And then you’re coming home with me.” She put up a hand as Olivia opened her mouth to protest. “No arguments, please. At least I can keep an eye on you for a day or two if you’re in our spare room. Now, wait here while I go and find a nurse.”
And call Nathan to tell him the news.
____________
“Are you sure Nathan doesn’t mind me staying at your place?” Olivia said as Charlotte pulled up outside her old fisherman’s cottage, having first stopped at Olivia’s so she could pick up some things.
“Of course he doesn’t,” said Charlotte. It was usually only Molly she told white lies to about tooth fairies, but there was no way she was telling Olivia what Nathan’s initial response had been to the news that she was going to be a guest in the Costello home for a couple of days, even though his sense of decency had eventually prevailed.
“Come on, you can put your stuff in the spare room and get settled. You’ll have to get used to the dogs; they’re family, so they’re used to having the run of the house. If you don’t want them in your room, though, just tell them they’re not to come in and they won’t. Right, here we are. We should have most things you’ll need but just shout if you can’t find something.
“I have to go and pick Molly up from computer class but I won’t be long. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge or cupboards if you’re hungry. And get some rest. Watch TV, listen to music, have a bath, get some sleep—whatever you need to do. Okay? Oh, and what I said about the dogs—that applies to Molly, too.” She grinned. “See you in a while.”
____________
Realising she had more time than she thought, Charlotte took the long route to Molly’s school. She didn’t want to get there too early and get into conversations with the other mums because she didn’t want to leave Olivia on her own for too long. If she took the long way, she reckoned on arriving just a minute or two before Molly came out.
She switched on the radio and a country singer’s lilting voice warbled from the speakers. As she sung along, it dawned on her that the traffic was slowing down, the brake lights of the cars ahead like a red snake heading into town.
“Oh damn! Just what I don’t need.”
The cars in front slowed to a crawl, and she craned her neck to try to see the reason for the delay. She lowered her window and called out to a dog-walker coming from the direction of the hold-up. “What’s going on, do you know?”
“A lorry’s shed its load all over the road, but it’s being cleared now; should only take a couple of minutes.”
The cars began to move again, and as she reached the lorry, she saw its driver and a tall man clearing the road of a number of large breeze blocks. The driver was using a trolley to move the heavy blocks of masonry, but the man helping him was lifting them as though they were made of polystyrene before loading them back onto the truck.
As she drove past, the man turned and she caught a glimpse of his face. It was Roy Tanner.
It’s a pity he’s not staying, she thought. Some of that muscle would come in very useful when they get around to fixing the library roof.
____________
“But why is Oliver staying at our house?”
“Because she had a bump on the head and it’s best if she’s not on her own for a couple of days.”
“Hasn’t she got a mummy and daddy to look after her?”
“Yes, but she doesn’t want to worry them, and we live closer.”
“How did she get the bump on her head?”
“Someone threw something at her.”
Molly frowned. “Why did they do that?”
“I don’t know, but I hope it was an accident.”
“You hope it was an accident? What does that mean?”
“It means I hope it was an accident because it wouldn’t be very nice if someone had done it on purpose.”
Molly nodded. “Oh, I see. It must have really hurt.”
Charlotte sighed. “I expect so, but you can ask Olivia yourself in a minute. Come on, let’s get inside quickly,” she said, as she pulled onto the drive. “It’s got cold all of a sudden.” She opened the front door and the delicious smell of food cooking wafted past her nostrils. She followed it into the kitchen to find Olivia standing over the hob, stirring a sauce.
“Don’t get excited, it’s nothing fancy, just homemade meatballs in tomato sauce with green beans and mashed potatoes. I hope it was okay to get started on dinner? Hi, Molly.”
“Okay? It’s fabulous—thank you! It’s not every day I come home to find a world-class chef in my kitchen. Can I do anything to help?”
“No, I think everything’s under control.”
“Shouldn’t you be lying down, or something?”
“I’m only cooking dinner, Charlotte, not lifting weights.”
“Wow!” said Molly, her wide eyes fixed on the egg-sized lump on Olivia’s forehead. “That’s so cool! Did it hurt?”
“Well, I don’t remember it happening, but it hurts now. The doctor said bumps on your head often look worse than they are, though.”
“Can I feel it?”
“No, Molly, you can’t,” said Charlotte. “The last thing Olivia needs is you poking at her. You wouldn’t want to hurt her, would you?”
Molly shook her head and stepped in for a closer look. “Poor Oliver,” she said, before flinging her arms around Olivia’s waist and patting her reassuringly on the back. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you till you’re better, won’t we, Mummy?”
Charlotte nodded. “Of course we will. Now go and get out of your school clothes and get your homework done. Just because Olivia’s here, doesn’t mean you get a night off.”
As Molly raced off with the dogs at her heels, Charlotte left Olivia in peace for a while. She’d noticed her eyes tearing up, even if Molly hadn’t. She couldn’t imagine what Olivia’s life must be like, with hardly anyone to call on.
Charlotte thanked her lucky stars every day to be part of such a close group of friends. Despite the difference in ages, she, Jess, Betty, Ava, Harriett, and her godmother, Laura, had always shared in each other’s good times, and bad. They had only to call on any one of the others and, depending on the occasion, they’d be there with hugs, a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, or party poppers and a bottle of Champagne.
She hoped, in time, Olivia would come to realise that she had friends she could call on, too.
At least one, anyway.
____________
“That was absolutely delicious,” said Charlotte, putting her knife and fork together on her empty plate. “It was like eating at the rooftop restaurant at The President.”
“Yeah, they were the best meatballs ever. They were even better than the ones out of a tin,” said Molly, wiping her finger through the sauce on her plate. “Can you give Mummy the recipe, please?”
Olivia blushed. “It was only meatballs, not haute cuisine, but I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I’ll wash up,” said Charlotte.
“No, you won’t. I will.” Olivia pointed in the direction of the living room. “Why don’t you go and do whatever it is you do at this time of the evening, and I’ll bring dessert through in a bit.”
“Dessert!” said Charlotte and Molly together. “We don’t usually have dessert during the week.”
Olivia grinned. “It’s just apple and blackberry crumble and custard.”
M
olly grabbed Charlotte’s hand as Olivia shooed them out. “I don’t know about you, Mummy,” she whispered, “but I could get used to this.”
____________
When Nathan got home at half-past eleven, Olivia had long gone to bed.
“How’s the invalid?”
“Okay. When the painkillers wear off, she doesn’t feel too good, but she said she’s feeling better than she did earlier.”
“That’s good. Look, I didn’t mean to sound cross when you called to say you’d invited Olivia to stay. I don’t have anything against her—I hope you know that. It’s just that the timing’s not brilliant.”
Charlotte nodded. “I know, but if you’d seen her the way I have the past few days, you’d know there was no way she had anything to do with Roman’s death. Without her job to be brilliant at, she’s so vulnerable. I’ve never seen her like this before—I never even thought she could be like this.”
“Well, we’re following a couple of new leads,” said Nathan, “so if all goes well, she could be back at work very soon. Funnily enough, Simon Clancy called me earlier and asked if I could give him some idea if Olivia was going to be charged with anything. Between you and me, it doesn’t sound as if the hotel restaurants are doing too well without her. She’s got such a unique style, the customers are noticing the difference.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him if he wanted to ask her to go back to work, that was his decision to make, not mine. She’s not the only suspect, after all.”
Charlotte nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Are you hungry? There’s some of the dinner Olivia cooked in the fridge.”
“She cooked dinner?”
“The best meatballs and apple and blackberry crumble you’ve ever tasted.”
“Meatballs and apple and blackberry crumble?” Nathan repeated. “Actually, now you come to mention it, I am a bit hungry.”
Charlotte grinned and kissed him. “Thought you might be.”
“I assume Olivia doesn’t remember seeing anything before the rock hit her?” said Nathan.
“She didn’t see anyone, but she remembers thinking there was someone there, because the trees were moving. That’s what made her look round in the first place,” said Charlotte, as she put a plate of food into the microwave to heat. “Is anyone looking into it? Do you think it was a random attack?”
“Probably, but that doesn’t make it any less serious, regardless of whether it was kids or adults. Although why anyone would think that throwing rocks at passers-by is an acceptable way to get their kicks is beyond me. And, to answer your question, yes, it’s being investigated and someone will need to speak to her.”
Charlotte hauled herself onto a stool. “Incidentally, Olivia told me earlier that she thinks she’s being deliberately targeted. There have been two occasions now where she could have been killed, but wasn’t, due to sheer luck. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until she mentioned it, but it makes sense, don’t you think?”
Nathan mulled it over. “Does she have any idea who it could be?”
“No, I don’t think so, although if you asked her, she could probably write you a list as long as your leg of people who’d like to get their own back on her for things she’s done in the past.”
“Interesting,” said Nathan. “All this time, we’ve been looking at her as a suspect when she could have been a target.”
Chapter 18
“There’s something strange about Monique Hathaway.” Fiona tossed her pen onto the desk.
“Like what?” said Ben.
“Well, it’s as though she didn’t exist from when she lived with her parents, and left school at sixteen, to when she started working for Roman. It’s as though she just fell off the radar. There’s no trace of her living or working anywhere in between. I don’t get it.”
Ben shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe her social security number was keyed in wrong somewhere along the line? It happens.”
“Yeah, but I can’t even find anything under her name.” Fiona grabbed her bag and keys. “And I’m so hungry, I can’t think straight. I’m going for some breakfast. You want anything?”
Ben shook his head. “Nah, I ate the leftover pizza from last night. Jess and I got a takeaway and ate it in bed, watching TV. I finished it off this morning.”
Fiona’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Leftover pizza for breakfast? Yuck, that’s nasty.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” said Ben, belching behind his hand.
Fiona grinned and slung her bag over her shoulder. “You’re such a slob, Dillon. Right, I won’t be long. I’m going to drive to that place with the organic juice bar. I fancy a nice big banana and blueberry smoothie and one of their bacon and tomato wraps. Be back in about twenty minutes.”
____________
Five minutes later, she was sitting on a stool in the window of the café, waiting for her wrap to be made.
“Sorry, you’ll have to wait a while. We’ve got a backlog of takeaway orders to do before yours. I’m on my own till ten—what can I do?” The flustered guy behind the counter gave her an apologetic shrug. “You okay to wait for a bit?”
“Take your time. I’m not in a rush.” Fiona took a local paper from the newspaper rack hanging by the door and flicked through the pages. She glanced out of the window, her eyes fixing on the brunette who’d just walked past the café and disappeared into the train station.
Where was Monique Hathaway going after claiming to be so upset, she wouldn’t even be leaving the hotel, let alone St. Eves?
“Don’t worry about my wrap; there’s been a change of plan.” Fiona slid off her stool and rushed out of the café to the station, just in time to see Monique making her way along the platform towards a huddle of brightly painted wooden seats.
“I need a ticket to wherever that woman with the dark brown hair just bought one for, please.”
The man in the ticket office leaned towards the glass partition and started telling her he wasn’t at liberty to divulge the destinations of other passengers, but was soon passing a ticket under the window after he laid eyes on the warrant card she flashed at him.
London?
“Are you sure this is the right ticket?”
The man raised a bushy eyebrow over the rim of his bifocals. “That’s what she asked for. She said she wanted a ticket for the most direct route to Paddington.” He put a rubber thimble on his finger and began counting a pile of five pound notes. “I’ve been doing this job for thirty-six years—I think I know what I’m doing.”
Fiona cast a glance at Monique, who was now sitting on a seat and reading a magazine. “Sorry, yes, I’m sure you do. Could you tell me when the train leaves, please?”
The man looked up at the old station clock. “In six minutes. It’s a long journey, you know.”
Fiona’s heart sank, the rumble of her stomach reminding her that she still hadn’t eaten any breakfast. “How long is long?”
“Just under six hours, give or take a few minutes. Depends on any delays, see?”
She sighed and nodded as she reached for her phone.
“Hi, Ben. I’m going to be a bit longer than I thought…”
____________
The light was fading when Fiona got off the train at London’s Paddington Station. For the entire journey - including one change of train - she’d been careful to keep Monique in sight, but stay well out of her line of vision.
She exited the station and followed her to a taxi rank outside, hanging back for a few seconds before taking the next taxi in line. “Where to, love?” asked the cheerful driver.
She pointed ahead. “Can you follow that cab, please?”
The taxi driver chatted non-stop throughout the fifteen minute drive. She was about to tell him to put a sock in it when the cab he was following pulled into a lay-by outside a vast cemetery, surrounded by a yellow stone wall topped with high railings. Monique got out, but the cab waited.
“Wha
tcha want me t’do?” asked Fiona’s driver, whose name, he had told her, was Rodney.
“Pull in at the end, please. And can you wait for me?” She followed Monique, keeping a safe distance behind, and doing her best to blend in with the people who were visiting graves, or using the cemetery as a short cut.
When Monique came to a stop, Fiona slowed down and pretended to be busy on her phone, keeping her head down and her collar up. She watched as Monique crouched in front of a white marble headstone, and pulled weeds from the surrounding grass, before leaning a card against the memorial
Fiona bided her time. The cemetery would be closing soon. Surely Monique hadn’t come all the way from St. Eves just to visit a grave?
Ten minutes later, Monique laid a hand on the headstone before making her way back to the cemetery entrance where the taxi was waiting. Fiona walked quickly to the grave and peered at the engraving on the marble.
In loving memory of Naomi Marie Raeburn.
September 17th 1986 – November 12th 2005
Cherished daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, and friend.
Taken from our arms, but never from our hearts.
She made a note of the details and read the words in the card Monique had left.
He’s gone now, so he can never hurt anyone again. At last, you can truly rest in peace, my sweet Naomi.
Fiona took a photo of the headstone and the card on her phone, then quickly made her way back to the waiting car, keeping Monique in her sights all the way.
“You want me to foller it again?” said Rodney, as she climbed into the back of the taxi.
“Please, but keep your distance as much as you can.”
“Right’o,” he said, leaning back and picking up the conversation where he’d left off. “You’re braver than me. I wouldn’t set foot in a cemetery after dark. Did you know there’s one not far from here that’s supposed to be one of the most haunted places in London?” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “No thank you, very much. Now, my wife’s friend’s brother’s father-in-law, well, he claims to have seen a ghost…”
