I Let You Go (27 page)

Eve’s smile faded pretty quickly when she saw me.

‘Ian,’ she said flatly. ‘What a surprise.’

‘Long time, no see,’ I said. She never had had the balls to tell me outright what she thought of me. ‘You’re letting all the warmth out,’ I said, stepping forward on to the black-and-white tiles of the hall. Eve had no choice but to step aside, and I let my arm brush against her breasts as I passed her and made my way into the sitting room. She scurried after me, trying to show me she was still mistress of her own house. It was pathetic.

I sat in Jeff’s chair, knowing she would hate it, and Eve sat opposite. I could see her fighting with herself, wanting to ask me what I was doing there.

‘Jeff not here?’ I asked. I caught a flash of something in Eve’s eyes. She was frightened of me, I realised, and the thought was peculiarly arousing. Not for the first time I wondered what Lady Eve would be like in bed; if she would be as buttoned-up as you.

‘He’s taken the children into town.’

She shifted in her chair and I let the silence hang between us until she couldn’t bear it any longer.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I was just passing,’ I said, looking around the big sitting room. She’s had it redecorated since we were last there – you’d like it. They’ve gone for those bland, chalky colours you wanted in our kitchen. ‘It’s been a long time, Eve.’

Eve gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement, but didn’t reply.

‘I’m looking for Jennifer,’ I said.

‘What do you mean? Don’t tell me she finally left you?’ She spat the words with more passion than I had ever seen her muster.

I let the dig pass. ‘We split up.’

‘Is she okay? Where is she living?’

She has the gall to be worried about you. After everything she said. Hypocritical bitch.

‘You mean she didn’t come running to you?’

‘I don’t know where she is.’

‘Oh really?’ I said, not believing her for a second. ‘But you two were so close – you must have some idea.’ A muscle began to twitch in the corner of my eye, and I rubbed it to make it stop.

‘We haven’t spoken in five years, Ian.’ She stood up. ‘I think you should go now.’

‘Are you telling me you haven’t heard from her in all that time?’ I stretched out my legs and leaned back in my chair. I would decide when to leave.

‘No,’ Eve said. I saw her eyes flick briefly to the mantelpiece. ‘Now I’d like you to go.’

The fireplace was a characterless affair, with a polished gas fire and fake coals. On top of the white-painted surround were a handful of cards and invitations, propped up either side of a carriage clock.

I knew at once what she hadn’t meant me to see. You should have thought a little more carefully, Jennifer, before sending something so obvious. There it was, incongruous amongst the gilt-edged invitations: a photograph of a beach taken from the top of a cliff. On the sand were letters spelling out
Lady Eve
.

I stood up, allowing Eve to usher me towards the front door. I bent down and kissed her cheek, feeling her recoil from me and fighting the urge to slam her against the wall for lying to me.

She opened the door and I made a play of looking for my keys. ‘I must have put them down,’ I said. ‘I won’t be a second.’

I left her in the hall and went back to the sitting room. I picked up the postcard and turned it over, but didn’t find the address I had hoped to see, only some saccharine message to Eve in your familiar untidy writing. You used to write notes to me; leave them under my pillow and in my briefcase. Why did you stop? A muscle tightened in my throat. I studied the photo. Where were you? The tension I felt threatened to burst out of me, and I ripped the card in half and then in half again, and again, feeling instantly better. I pushed the pieces behind the carriage clock just as Eve came into the room.

‘Found them,’ I said, patting my pocket.

She looked around the room, doubtless expecting to see something out of place. Let her look, I thought. Let her find it.

‘A pleasure to see you again, Eve,’ I said. ‘I’ll be sure to drop in next time I’m in Oxford.’ I walked back towards the front door.

Eve opened her mouth but no words came, so I spoke for her:

‘I’ll look forward to it.’

I began looking online as soon as I got home. There was something obviously British about those high cliffs, reaching around the beach on three sides, and about the grey sky with its ominous clouds. I searched for ‘UK beaches’ and began scrolling through images. Again and again I clicked on to the next page, but all I found were holiday guide photos of sandy beaches filled with laughing children. I changed my search to ‘UK beaches with cliffs’ and continued scrolling. I will find you, Jennifer. Wherever you’ve gone to, I’ll find you.

And then I will come for you.

Bethan strides towards me, a knitted hat pulled low over her hair. She begins speaking when she’s still some distance from me. It’s a clever trick: I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I can’t walk away when she’s talking to me. I stand and wait for her to reach me.

We’ve been walking across the fields, Beau and I, steering clear of the clifftops and the rolling sea. I’m too frightened to go near the sea again, although it’s not the water I am scared of but my own mind. I can feel myself going mad, and no matter how much I walk I can’t escape it.

‘I thought it was you, up here.’

The caravan park is barely visible from here: I can only have been a speck on the hillside. Bethan’s smile is still open and warm, as though nothing has changed since the last time we spoke, but she must know I’m on police bail. The whole village knows.

‘I was going for a walk,’ she says. ‘Do you want to come?’

‘You never go for walks.’

Bethan’s mouth twitches slightly. ‘Well then, that’s how much I wanted to see you, isn’t it?’

We fall into step together, Beau racing ahead in an endless search for rabbits. The day is crisp and clear, and our breath mists in front of us as we walk. It’s almost noon, but the ground is still hard from this morning’s frost, and spring feels a long way away. I have taken to scoring out the days on the calendar; the day I answer bail marked with a big black cross. I have ten days left. I know from the leaflet I was handed in custody that I might have to wait some time for my trial, but that I am unlikely to see another summer here in Penfach. I wonder how many I will miss.

‘I suppose you’ve heard,’ I say, unable to bear the silence any longer.

‘Hard not to, in Penfach.’ Bethan’s breath is laboured, and I slow my pace a little. ‘Not that I take much notice of gossip,’ she continues. ‘I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, but I get the distinct impression you’ve been avoiding me.’

I don’t deny it.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Instinctively I say no, but then realise that I do. I take a breath.

‘I killed a boy. His name was Jacob.’

I hear a tiny sound from Bethan – a breath, perhaps, or a shake of the head – but she says nothing. I catch a glimpse of the sea as we draw closer to the cliffs.

‘It was dark and it had been raining. I didn’t see him until it was too late.’

Bethan lets out a long breath. ‘It was an accident.’

It’s not a question, and I am touched by her loyalty.

‘Yes.’

‘That’s not all, is it?’

The Penfach gossip mill is impressive.

‘No, that’s not all.’

We reach the clifftop, and we turn left and begin walking towards the bay. I can hardly bring myself to speak.

‘I didn’t stop. I drove away and I left him there on the road, with his mother.’ I can’t look at Bethan, and she doesn’t speak for several minutes. When she does, it’s straight to the point.

‘Why?’

It is the hardest question to answer, but here, at least, I can tell the truth. ‘Because I was frightened.’

I finally steal a look at Bethan, but can’t read her expression. She looks out to sea and I stop and stand beside her.

‘Do you hate me for what I’ve done?’

She gives a sad smile. ‘Jenna, you’ve done something terrible, and you’ll pay for it every day for the rest of your life. I think that’s punishment enough, don’t you?’

‘They won’t serve me in the shop.’ I feel petty, complaining about my groceries worries, but the humiliation hurt me more than I like to admit.

Bethan shrugs. ‘They’re a funny lot. They don’t like incomers, and if they find an excuse to rally against them, well…’

‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Ignore them. Do your shopping out of town and hold your head up high. What’s happened is between you and the court, and it’s no one else’s business.’

I give her a grateful smile. Bethan’s practicality is very grounding.

‘I had to take one of the cats to the vet’s yesterday,’ she says casually, as though changing the subject.

‘You spoke to Patrick?’

Bethan stops walking and turns to face me. ‘He doesn’t know what to say to you.’

‘He seemed to manage fine last time I saw him.’ I recall the coldness in his voice, and the lack of emotion in his eyes as he left.

‘He’s a man, Jenna, they’re simple creatures. Talk to him. Talk to him the way you’ve talked to me. Tell him how frightened you were. He’ll understand how much you regret what you did.’

I think of how close Patrick and Bethan were when they were growing up, and for a brief moment I wonder if Bethan could be right: might there still be a chance for me with Patrick? But she didn’t see the way he looked at me.

‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s over.’

We’ve reached the bay. A couple are walking their dog down by the sea, but it is otherwise deserted. The tide is coming in, licking at the sand as it creeps up the beach, and a gull stands in the middle of the beach, pecking at a crab shell. I’m about to say goodbye to Bethan when I catch sight of something on the sand, close to the incoming tide. I screw up my eyes and look again, but the surf blurs the surface of the sand and I can’t read what it says. Another wave and it’s gone completely, but I’m certain I saw something, just certain of it. I’m suddenly cold, and I pull my coat closer to me. I hear a noise on the path behind us and I whirl round, but there is nothing there. My eyes scan the coastal path, the clifftops, down on the beach again. Is Ian there, somewhere? Is he watching me?

Bethan looks at me, alarmed. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

I look at her, but I don’t see her. I see the writing: writing I’m not sure if I saw on the beach or in my head. The white clouds seem to swirl around me, blood roaring in my ears till I can hardly make out the sound of the sea.

‘Jennifer,’ I say softly.

‘Jennifer?’ Bethan asks. She looks down at the beach, where the sea washes over smooth sand. ‘Who’s Jennifer?’

I try to swallow but the moisture sticks in my throat.

‘I am. I’m Jennifer.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ray said. He sat on the edge of Kate’s desk and handed her a piece of paper.

Kate put it on the desk, but didn’t look at it. ‘Charge decision from the CPS?’

Ray nodded. ‘There’s no evidence to support the theory that Jenna’s hiding something, and we can’t delay things any more. She’s due to answer bail this afternoon and we’ll be charging her.’ He caught sight of Kate’s face. ‘You did a good job. You looked beyond the evidence, and that’s exactly what a good detective does. But a good detective also knows when to stop.’

He stood up and squeezed her shoulder gently, before leaving her to read through the CPS decision. It was frustrating, but that was the risk you took when you followed your instincts – they weren’t always reliable.

At two o’clock the front desk rang to say Jenna had arrived. Ray booked her into custody and directed her to the metal bench by the wall, while he prepared the charge sheet. Her hair was swept back into a ponytail, exposing high cheekbones and pale, clear skin.

Ray took the printed charges from the custody sergeant and walked across to the bench. ‘You are charged under Section 1 of the Road Traffic Act 1988 with causing death by dangerous driving of Jacob Jordan, on the twenty-sixth of November 2012. You are further charged under section 170(2) of the Road Traffic Act 1988, with failing to stop and report an accident. Do you have anything to say?’ Ray watched her intently for any sign of fear, of shock, but she closed her eyes and shook her head.

‘Nothing.’

‘I am remanding you in custody, to appear before Bristol Magistrates’ Court tomorrow morning.’

The waiting gaoler stepped forward, but Ray intervened.

‘I’ll take her.’ He held Jenna’s arm lightly above the elbow, and walked her into the female wing. The sound of their rubber soles provoked a cacophony of requests as they made their way down the cell block.

‘Can I go out for a fag?’

‘Is my brief here yet?’

‘Can you get me another blanket?’

Ray ignored them, knowing better than to interfere in the custody sergeant’s domain, and the voices settled into disgruntled grumbles. He stopped outside number 7.

‘Shoes off, please.’

Jenna untied her laces and used the toe of each foot to ease her boots over her heel. She put them down outside the door, where a sprinkling of sand fell from them on to the glossy grey floor. She looked at Ray, who nodded towards the empty cell, and then walked inside and sat on the blue plastic mattress.

Ray leaned against the door frame.

What aren’t you telling us, Jenna?’

She turned her head sharply to face him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Why did you drive away?’

Jenna didn’t answer. She pushed her hair away from her face and he saw again that awful scar across the palm of her hand. A burn, perhaps. Or some sort of industrial accident.

‘How did that happen?’ he asked, pointing at her injury.

She looked away, avoiding the question. ‘What will happen to me in court?’

Ray sighed. He wouldn’t get any more out of Jenna Gray, that much was clear. ‘Tomorrow’s just the initial hearing,’ he said. ‘You’ll be asked to enter a plea and the case will be sent to Crown Court.’

‘And then?’

‘You’ll be sentenced.’

‘Will I go to prison?’ Jenna said, lifting her eyes to look at Ray.