“It was not. Now if you’ve quite finished, I’ve got work to go to.” And with that she slammed the door in my face.
Chapter 42
With bad thoughts rattling through my head, and wondering what else might break loose, I drove straight down the M5 to Worcester, missing gear changes the most notable features of my journey.
Coming up for noon, I hoped to catch Rocco on his lunch break.
My Satnav told me that ContraMed was close to the cathedral. I parked in a nearby multi-storey, bunged three hours on the car, and crossed over the busy dual carriageway to College Road. Historic three storey buildings swept around College Green like wise old owls. Among the solicitors and accountants, the offices of ContraMed.
I stood outside, took out my phone and dialled Rocco’s number. He answered, sounding bright and pleased to hear from me.
“Are you free for lunch?” Stunned by the revelation that Heather Bowen had been leant on, my voice contained a strained, shaky note.
“Erm— not really.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Sorry, Thursday madness. Cock-up after cock-up.”
I glanced skywards, wondering which office he worked in. It was too much to hope that he’d glance out of the window and see me standing there. “Never mind. Another time.” I wanted to sound cool, not brave and disappointed.
“Molly, has something happened?”
“I have to talk to you.”
“Where are you?”
“In the street, outside. Look.”
A head popped up, startled and wide-eyed. “Bloody hell. Be with you in a minute.”
I love surprises. Rocco didn’t. I could tell straightaway that I’d struck a bum note. His jollity was too forced, the smile too stretched. A quick peck on the cheek and then, with one hand crooked under my elbow, he propelled me away from the office and back in the direction of the main road and Edward Elgar’s statue.
“What’s happened then?”
I looked at him, wondering exactly the same. Were we only in tune when we were sharing a bed, talking about the dead? Would it be impossible for us to go on a date, to have dinner, shop together, share friends? The visit to Hereford cathedral seemed an age ago and look how that had ended?
“I’ll tell you the details later. If you’re not too busy.” I loathed the snarky vibe in my tone.
“Sure,” he said, returning to his laid back, ‘no offence taken’ persona.
“At mine.”
“I’m honoured.” He really looked it. His eyes lit up with pleasure.
“I’ll cook.”
“I’ll bring a bottle. Apologies, but I really have to go.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and walked swiftly back. I watched him all the way, right up to the second he bounded up the steps and disappeared from view.
At least he worked where he said he did.
With three hours on the clock, and nothing in the fridge, I walked straight to the nearest food shop in the centre of town. It was so hot outside and so cool inside, I fancied climbing into the nearest freezer.
Unable to get the vision of Childe having a quietly firm word in Heather’s ear, I drifted down the aisles, not really thinking what I was doing or what Rocco would enjoy eating. I scooped prawns into my basket and put them back. I picked up a ready meal and put that back too. Playing it safe, I collected lots of different salads, bread, chicken, expensive butter, and fresh coriander because I liked it. For no reason at all, I added a pot of cream. For every reason in the world, I selected a bottle of white wine and one of red. I didn’t know whether or not Rocco drank wine. I had a bottle of vodka at home and some beer so he could have them if he preferred. It never occurred to me that he would drive home. Tonight, he was mine. I needed him.
Staggering out of the shop, I heard a voice shout my name. I turned in surprise.
“Edie?” I barely recognised Chancer’s wife. Rail thin, big-eyed, the elusive vulnerability that had made her so attractive was now replaced by tragic fragility. At any second, she looked as if she might shatter before my eyes. Dust to dust and ashes to ashes.
“Yes,” she said shyly, grateful almost. “I’m so sorry to hear your terrible news.”
“Thank you.” I touched her bare arm, trying not recoil. She was all pale bone and sinew and I wondered if she were ill. If this was what marriage break-up did to people, I was glad to be unattached. “Where are the children?”
“With Mum and Dad.” She leant in close. There was a sour odour on her breath. “You’ve heard about me and Tris?”
“I have. I’m sad for you.”
“Oh Molly,” she said, big eyes swimming with tears. “I don’t suppose you have time for a coffee.”
“Actually, I do.”
Chapter 43
“So you see, he doesn’t mean to be unkind. I think he gets it from his father.”
The type of man who’d cut your throat over dinner and continue eating, I’d always thought. “Stephen scared the hell out of me, but Tris?” I pulled a face. “A prankster who sometimes takes things too far but—”
Her eyes welled with tears again. “You don’t believe me.”
“Oh, Edie, of course, I believe you. I’m—well, taken aback.”
“It was only the once he hit me.”
We were sitting in an Italian eatery off the Crowngate, where they don’t mind if you take five years to drink a coffee.
I put a hand on either side of my temples. What went on behind closed doors was anyone’s guess, but this was so far from left field, I couldn’t take it in. The Chancer I knew was a laugh, could be a little bit cruel verbally, but never in the way Edie described. Besides, I was still digesting the events of the morning.
“He was drunk.” She said it as if this were a mitigating factor.
I swallowed, thought of my sister, nodded as if I understood. What was strange, Edie didn’t slag him off. I would have run out of expletives by now. “Last time I saw Chancer, he—”
“When?” Edie bolted forward, salivating for news.
She doesn’t want to split up, I realised. No way. If someone hit me: THAT. WOULD. BE. IT. “I don’t remember exactly. Not long ago. At Zach’s.”
Her eyebrows drew together in concern. “How is he?”
Terrific question. Evasive, shifty and detached would make the perfect answer. “He’s dealing with it. Obviously, Nate, too, feels a terrible sense of loss.” In his very own special way, I thought cynically. “We all do.”
“Sorry,” she flashed an embarrassed smile. “I meant Tris.”
“Oh, um—” Confounded, I said, “Would you like another Americano?”
“Can’t. Makes me dizzy.”
I was feeling fairly dizzy myself. Had I stumbled through a time warp into soap opera land? She was so bloody self-obsessed, I could scream. Edie’s wet eyes stared at me, in anticipation.
“Chancer was his usual effervescent self.” Mean of me but it was, at least, the truth.
Dejected, Edie ran long fingers through her hair, twisting and turning, pulling and tugging, the very picture of a wronged woman. “No offence,” she said, but I think he always cared more about Zach than me.”
“That’s silly.”
“Is it? Zach came first, I suppose.”
“They’ve known each for a very long time and, as you know, Chancer always stood by Zach, which was really good of him. My brother has been through a lot, Edie.”
“And so have I.” She snivelled, stifling a dry sob.
I forced my best sympathetic smile. I had coffee breath and the beginnings of a headache. When couples split it was usually a fifty-fifty affair. I didn’t want to be dragged into this.
“Edie, I have to ask you.”
“Yes?”
“Who called time on the marriage?” I knew what Chancer told me, but I wanted to hear what Edie had to say.
She bit her lip. The tip of her nose glowed red. Equally weak and vulnerable, she reminded me of a newborn bunny.
“It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” she said, with a level look. “You have every right. Tris filed for a divorce.”
“Right,” I said, perplexed.
Her face twisted in sudden anger. “Said I was a needy bitch.”
Had Chancer stolen the epithet from my brother? ‘Needy Edie.’ It seemed unnecessarily cruel.
“Problem is,” she said, blowing her nose. “I’d take him back in a heartbeat. Despite everything, I love him, Molly.”
“Can’t you go to counselling, or something?”
I was stumbling around, out of my depth. I was also mindful of the clock ticking, the need to pick up my car, get home and cook a fabulous dinner for Rocco.
“That’s what Zach suggested.” Really? I didn’t think my brother would be that perceptive. “Mediation forms the initial part of proceedings,” Edie continued. “I thought it would help but Tris views it as a formality.”
“Surely, it’s not a done deal?” Although why she would want to stay with a man who thumped her escaped me, and that forced a big question: could Edie be lying?
“You really think so?” Her eyes swam with hope and gratitude. If I wasn’t careful, she’d latch on to me and never let go.
I made my excuses to leave. Edie scraped back her chair. “We’ll stay in touch, yeah?”
“Great,” I lied.
Walking back up through town and past the Guildhall, I wondered if Scarlet had fought to save her marriage to Nate.
Driving home, my mobile rang: Mum. Immediately, I thought of the previous evening.
“Hi,” I said warily. “I’m on the road.”
She caught her breath. “Hands free?”
“Yup.”
Her sigh of relief was audible. “Everything all right?”
Nothing was all right. I pushed the sun visor down.
“You still there?”
“I am.”
“Were you at ours last night?”
So I’d been spotted. Had to be my dad. He never missed a thing. “Briefly.”
“Why didn’t you come in?”
I was thinking how to lie and got the distinct impression that my mother was thinking how to tell the truth. “You had company. Who was it, incidentally?” I’d aimed for a breezy tone and missed it by a mile.
“The man I told you about.”
“Dad’s old colleague, Mallis?”
“He didn’t stay long.”
“Right.”
“You’d have been welcome.”
Impenetrable silence filled the car. I could hardly make out that my visit was fleeting if I expressed concern for what I’d witnessed.
“As long as you’re coping.” My mother tailed off clumsily.
I assured her I was. When I said goodbye, I knew that enquiring about the state of my health wasn’t the reason she’d called.
I was in strange waters and it frightened me.
Chapter 44
“You have to go.”
“I don’t do funerals.”
“Neither do I but I’m not going to miss our sister’s. For God’s sake, Zach.”
I was trying to prepare a fancy salad with couscous and glazed chicken, well outside my range of culinary expertise. At this rate we’d be eating at midnight.
“I suppose I could hang around outside.”
“Skulking in the graveyard isn’t going to cut it. Think of Mum and Dad’s feelings.” So little dinged on Zach’s emotional database, I doubted anything I said would persuade him.
“Churches creep me out. Couldn’t I just come to the wake?”
I gave a cross sigh. Zach hadn’t suddenly decided not to attend the funeral. He never intended to go. Just the mention of family gathering, and he was off. “And get pissed? I don’t think so. Look, I have to go. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
Fortunately, Rocco turned up later than expected. “Got caught up in a meeting.” He set a bottle of red down on the kitchen table. It had a distinguished-looking label and a silver medal award from a proper wine club.
“Would you mind opening it?”
“Not at all, but first—” He wrapped his arms around me, tilted my chin and kissed me long and softly on the lips. “Better.” He smiled warmly. We stayed like that for a little bit, which was lovely. All the tetchy feelings I’d harboured care of Edie and Zach vanished. He drew away. “Where’s the corkscrew?”
I pointed to a drawer, watched as he deftly uncorked the wine and poured out two glasses. He handed me mine and we chinked and sipped. It tasted glorious, at least as good as some of the stuff Dad served up. Dad, I thought, my mood clouding. I hadn’t heard from him since our last frosty exchange. I began to tell Rocco about my morning.
“Shall we eat first?” He seemed to want to extend the moment, to engage in something uncomplicated that didn’t require answers that inevitably led to more questions. It frustrated the hell out of me. I’d made a vital discovery. It felt like a disservice to Scarlet to put food before justice.
We talked about books he’d read – I wasn’t much of a reader – and films, which, for me, was safer ground. It turned out that Rocco was a blues fan, which wasn’t really my thing. I was more of a Florence and the Machine and Adele kind of gal, although Scarlet and me had been crazy about Dido in her heyday.
“That was great,” Rocco said, leaning back. We’d moved through to the sitting room and the sofa. “Seriously good.” He took a long swallow of wine, looked around the room. Feet firmly planted apart. Friendly. Open. Expansive. I didn’t care for the way he took control, occupied the space and set the pace. “You can tell you’re in the antiques business.”
“Makes it sound grander than it is. Posh up-cycling is closer to the truth.”
“You do yourself down. Why is that?”
The hairs along my arms collectively stood erect. I took a gigantic swig and almost missed my mouth. I quickly wiped a dribble of wine from my chin. “Habit,” I said.
He viewed me with such focused concentration I dropped my gaze, keen to escape. Rocco would make a damn fine interrogator.
“What did you want to tell me?”
I wasn’t sure I did anymore.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He rested his hand lightly on my thigh, waited a beat.
Oldest trick in the book: no pressure, no sweat, open your mouth. The gleam in his eyes gave him away. He wanted to know all right. “Heather Bowen was leant on.”
“By whom?”
“The police.”
“Seriously?”
I told him what she told me.
“That’s pretty bloody awful. Poor woman.”
I agreed, although I suspected that Heather Bowen, a strong individual, would be all right in the end. She’d recover and build a new life. The same could not be said for the rest of us.
“Not sure how to say this,” Rocco said, “but is it remotely possible that your dad had a hand in it? I mean I could understand him wanting your sister to come out of this with dignity and her reputation intact.”
A lick of fear, like flame, scorched my skin. I had to admit that the thought had crossed my mind, not that I cared to openly admit it.
“Rocco,” I said sternly, “it’s not his way to influence an investigation. His integrity wouldn’t allow it. Besides, even if he wanted to, he no longer has that type of leverage.” I can’t fix everything, woman.
“Yes, I see,” he said, although he didn’t particularly sound as if he did. “Do you have access to Scarlet’s stuff? You might find answers there.”
“Already done,” I said crisply.
“Seems you’ve looked at all the angles.” He flicked an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m not really helping. This is all way above my head.” Reaching across, he placed a hand on my arm, his touch solid, dependable and reassuring, only I wasn’t entirely reassured.
*
“Here,” Rocco said, “Let me.”
Eyes fixed on mine
; he unbuttoned my shirt, slipped it off slowly, his lips gliding along my shoulders up my neck, kissing the side of my mouth, my face, my lips, reverently. He talked so low it was almost a whisper. Every move measured. Tender. Every touch weighed. Light. Intense. I felt shy, like this was the first time between us, the first time ever.
Afterwards, we lay in the dark, arms circling each other, the moment so perfect, I wept. For this. For me. For Scarlet. And he let me.
With stars twinkling through the Velux window above our heads, I drifted off; fell into the deepest sleep I’d known since Scarlet’s death. I don’t know how long I’d been out for the count. When I woke, bright moonlight shone like a spotlight, illuminating the room. I reached out for Rocco, fingers grasping empty space. My hand dropped to the sheet and pillow, both cold as ice.
Puzzled, I slipped out of bed, crossed the landing and looked out of the front bedroom window to the gravelled parking space. Rocco’s Mini was still there.
Dragging on a robe, I checked the bathroom then went downstairs, through the sitting room and the kitchen. The back door ajar, a sliver of light crept in and onto the kitchen floor.
I slipped outside, tried to focus. The night was warm and sticky, bearing down, moonlight encircling the garden in a passionate embrace. I strained my eyes to see, pulse racing, primed for something unholy to strike from the shadows.
“Rocco,” I called. From down the path, he emerged, naked apart from his boxers. “What are you doing?” What the fuck?
“Getting some air.”
“Without clothes on?”
“I’m decent. Nobody can see me.”
I inclined my head, looked up at the houses on either side. Mercifully, windows open, curtains closed. “Half the town’s population can see you.”
“Lucky them.” He flashed a grin, slid his arm around my waist and gave it a squeeze. “You coming in, or what?”
Chapter 45
Back to his ridiculously sunny self, the eccentricity of the night before forgotten, Rocco left for work, no more said about his nocturnal adventure.
He stooped over the bed, took my face in his hands, kissed me. “Have a good day.”
Her Sister's Secret Page 16
