The Moment She Left (26 page)

‘The sixty-four thousand dollar question,’ Rowzee muttered.

Andee was watching Gina. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You’ve gone quite pale.’

Dismissing it with a wave of her hand, Gina said, ‘A side effect of one of the drugs I have to take. I’m fine, honestly. So Rowzee, was Pamela OK about you staying here tonight?’

‘Actually, she said it was a lovely idea and that I should stay as long as I like. This immediately makes me suspicious, so I think I should go home right away.’

Since it was clearly a joke, Andee and Gina laughed and after deciding they’d like more tea they went downstairs to the kitchen. The subject stayed with Pamela and how, Gina insisted, Bill Simmonds had had a thing for her for years. Seizing the chance of help with her plans to further the romance, Rowzee started coming up with various strategies that were actually
more hilarious than feasible, while Gina and Andee’s suggestions only added more raucous merriment to the mix.

By the time the topic of conversation changed it was clear that Rowzee was starting to flag, so it was no surprise when she said she hoped no one would mind if she sat in a shady part of the garden for a quick forty winks. ‘It’s been quite an exhausting day,’ she confessed to Gina, ‘but I’ll spare you the details of my new family until later.’

‘New family?’ Gina echoed in amazement.

‘Later,’ Rowzee promised.

After settling her under a pergola on the patio Gina offered to show Andee to a guest room where she could freshen up, or lie down, or make calls, whatever she might need to do. ‘Or you can just drop off your things and we’ll carry on chatting,’ she added. ‘Everything’s possible.’

Having not heard back from Leo Johnson yet, Andee said, ‘If you don’t mind, there is a call I need to make. I’ll come to find you in about ten minutes?’

‘Perfect.’

Finding herself connecting to Leo Johnson’s voicemail, Andee tried her old detective inspector instead and got through straight away.

‘All we’ve been told so far,’ Gould informed her, ‘is that six months’ rent was paid up front on the Holland Park house, in cash, two months before Jessica disappeared. The agent didn’t meet Kim Yoder in person – she says it’s not rare for properties of that type to be rented sight unseen, usually by foreigners, or for the
transactions to take place over the phone or Internet. Don’t let’s get into the money-laundering issue here, that’s for the Met to deal with.’

‘Were no references taken up?’

‘My guess is they probably weren’t even asked for, but no word on that yet either.’

‘Does the place have any security cameras?’

‘Something else we’re waiting on an answer to. What I can tell you is that the agent didn’t come forward sooner because she and her company are big on safeguarding their clients’ confidentiality, so they took the decision that if the police didn’t come to them, they wouldn’t go to the police.’

Appalled, though not surprised, Andee said, ‘It never fails to amaze me how some people come here and seem to think it’s OK to operate outside the law just because they have money.’

‘Indeed. I can also tell you,’ Gould continued, ‘that the place was rented to a Peruvian couple after the six-month prepaid period ran out. They’re still there, and are being quite helpful apparently, but obviously it’s making it a nightmare for forensics.’

‘I can imagine. Anything else?’

‘Not right now.’

‘What about the money Blake received?’

‘All I can tell you about that is the parcel was sent from a post office in Dorchester. Someone locally is talking to the staff there to try to find out what they remember.’

‘Do you think it’s connected to Jessica in some way?’

‘I do, but in what way . . . Well, there you have me. Where are you?’

‘In Dartmouth, back tomorrow, but if you hear any more on either issue I’d appreciate a call.’

After ringing off Andee wandered back upstairs and found Gina in a spacious studio at the top of the house with a wide, low bed in one corner, a collection of easels and blank canvases, a large centre table and an entire wall full of garish landscapes.

‘No prizes for guessing this is where Anna does most of her work,’ Gina declared as Andee took in the bohemian surroundings. ‘She has another studio, above the gallery in town, which is generally rented out to visiting artists. Please excuse all the parcels over there. They’re about to head off to Anna’s dealer in the States. He’s in Dartmouth, Massachusetts, and does a roaring trade in works from here, it being the original so to speak. If you’re ever in that part of the world it’s worth dropping in if only to hear him talk about old Dartmouth’s fabulous history from the bloody crusades, to the Pilgrim Fathers’ brief stopover, to the part the naval base played in aiding the French Resistance during the Second World War. He’s a natural when it comes to bringing the past to life, has his listeners all rapt and no one ever questions how tall the tales might be, they just lap them up.’

‘Are they tall?’

‘Actually not as far as I know, although I’m sure he adds a little embellishment here and there. I’ll have to get these off to him tomorrow, or they won’t arrive in time for his next presentation.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Thanks, but they’re mostly already sealed up and addressed. Jonno, Anna’s assistant, will come and help
me carry them to the gallery in the morning ready for the courier.’

Minutes later, while Gina went back down to the kitchen to fetch lemonade, Andee returned to the sitting room and was idly browsing the coffee-table books when she came to a sudden stop. The shock of what she was seeing was making it difficult to think straight; too much was happening at once, and not seeming to make any sense. Picking up the small, battered paperback, she turned it over, opened it up and even, in a distracted way, started to read.

‘Ah ha, you’ve unearthed my guilty pleasure,’ Gina laughed as she came into the room.

‘Seriously?’ Andee asked, turning to look at her.

‘Not really, but it can be quite calming in its way. It belonged to my great-grandmother.’

‘Was she Amish?’

‘Oh yes, until she met my great-grandfather and decided to leave the Church. Such a scandal, especially for the time. She wrote about it, how hard it was being shunned by her family and the rest of the community; it’s what happens to everyone who turns their back on that life, even now. Can you imagine, even her own mother wouldn’t see or speak to her again, or her father, and they’d been very close. It would have broken her heart if she hadn’t loved her husband so much. Of course, if it weren’t for loving him so much she’d never have left.’

‘Do you still have what she wrote?’

‘My mother does, in Pennsylvania. She’s keeping it for Lydia. Meanwhile, I get the prayer book.’

Setting it back on the table, Andee took the glass of lemonade Gina was offering and followed her out to the balcony, barely registering the sounds of gulls shrieking overhead while a steam train hooted merrily across the water. She needed to think this through, go over it carefully, because too many thoughts were coming at her at once, scenarios that hardly seemed likely, connections refusing to be made, but whether by her, or by implausibility, she had no idea.

‘Everything OK?’ Gina asked curiously.

Andee’s eyes went to hers. ‘Yes, of course,’ she smiled. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ Thinking fast, she said, ‘I’ve been wanting to ask how you really are? Of course you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but Charles tells me there’s been no return of the cancer . . .’

Touching the wooden balustrade, Gina said, ‘I’m doing great, thanks. But being minus one breast and an entire womb, and going through an early menopause wasn’t much fun. Actually, it’s why Charles and I aren’t as close as we used to be, I’m sure of it. Until my diagnosis we always had a very healthy sex life, but once the treatment was over . . . To be honest, I find intimacy quite painful and as my libido is about as active as a dead fish, there’s nothing to drive me.’

‘You’ve sought help, obviously?’

‘Believe me, I’ve tried everything.’ She sighed sadly. ‘So we rub along, still loving one another, and enjoying each other’s company as long as we’re not together for too long, but there’s no physical bond between us now. And do you know, what’s surprised me the most
since it happened to me, is how many other couples are hiding the same thing. It’s the great untalked-about horror that some menopausal women face, and could very well be the reason why so many older men go off and find themselves younger models.’

‘But not Charles?’

Gina’s eyes drifted across the estuary as she shook her head. ‘None that he’s ever admitted to.’

‘But you suspect there is someone?’

‘Was. Past tense. I don’t think she’s around any more, but losing her, giving her up, whatever happened, has affected him deeply.’

‘Do you have any idea who she was?’

Gina nodded. ‘Yes, I know. He’s told me in ways he’s not even aware of. I guess you could say I tricked it out of him, and now I wish I hadn’t because it’s put me in the same sort of hell.’

Confused, Andee waited for her to expand, but all she said was, ‘Marriages. They’re never what they seem from the outside, are they? They’re so full of secrets and guilt and lies, all mixed up with love and loyalty and God only knows what else.’ Turning to Andee, she said, ‘Have you spent much time with Charles since he went back to the Hall?’

Andee shook her head. ‘Not really. I can tell he’s stressed, though. There’s obviously something on his mind.’

Gina nodded. ‘Did he mention anything to you about being blackmailed?’

‘As a matter of fact he did, but he said it was happening to a friend of his.’

Not contradicting that, Gina said, ‘I’m guessing he’s asked you to try to find out who it is. The blackmailer, I mean, not the friend.’

‘Yes, he has.’

‘And you said?’

‘That until I know what it’s about there’s nothing I can do.’ After a pause she added, ‘Do you know what it’s about?’

For a long time it seemed as though Gina wouldn’t answer as she gazed out to sea, watching erratic sparks of sunlight on the waves, until eventually she said, ‘I don’t know everything, but what I do know . . .’

Andee waited.

‘I wish I didn’t.’

It was around lunchtime the following day when Rowzee arrived home to find Pamela in the kitchen, clearly in tears, and being comforted by . . .
Bill Simmonds
?

‘What on earth is it?’ Rowzee cried, rushing straight to Pamela’s side. ‘What’s happened?’

Woefully, Pamela said, ‘You’re not going to believe this, but Bill’s just offered me a job.’

Stunned, Rowzee turned to Bill. What kind of a job could make Pamela cry and Bill look so pleased with himself?

‘He’s asked me to go and run his caravan park over at Paradise Cove,’ Pamela explained, dabbing her eyes.

Rowzee blinked. ‘You have a caravan park?’ she exclaimed in amazement. ‘How marvellous. I had no idea.’

‘I just closed the deal,’ he smiled. ‘It’s next door to my nursery.’

‘I didn’t know about it either, until he told me,’ Pamela said, blowing her nose.

‘Well, a bloke can’t go round telling girls all his secrets now, can he?’ Bill retorted. ‘Or he’ll lose all his mystery and what’s the use of a bloke without mystery?’

At that, Pamela’s eyes sparkled. ‘Or a mower,’ she added, making herself giggle.

Deciding she rather liked the way this was going, Rowzee said, ‘So when do you start this new job?’

‘As soon as she wishes,’ Bill replied. ‘The old manager’s still running the show, but he’ll be happy to hand over as soon as Pammy’s ready.’

Pammy!

Rowzee looked at her sister, who seemed about to speak when she burst into tears again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she wailed as Rowzee folded her into a tender embrace. ‘I’m feeling very emotional today. So much seems to be happening and I don’t understand why I’m upset when I’m thrilled by the offer, really. I haven’t had a job in so long, and to think someone would trust me . . .’

‘Of course someone would trust you,’ Rowzee cried with feeling. ‘You’re a very good manager.’

‘I used to be, but I will be again,’ she promised Bill. ‘It’ll be a really good start for the new me.’

Frowning, Rowzee was about to ask when Bill said, ‘I keep telling her, I didn’t mind the old her, not one bit.’

Doing her best to keep up, Rowzee blinked as Pamela suddenly got up.

‘I have presents for you,’ Pamela declared, going to collect an armful of carrier bags and bringing them back to Rowzee. ‘It’s the kind of things you like,
scented candles, expensive bubble bath, a lovely silk scarf, a cashmere sweater . . . You’ll see when you open them.’

Becoming more bemused by the second, Rowzee looked at the bags and back at her sister. ‘It’s not my birthday,’ she pointed out unnecessarily.

‘I know that. It’s not the girls’ birthdays either, but I’ve got things for them too,’ and to Rowzee’s astonishment she started to cry again.

‘There, there,’ Bill soothed, fondly patting her back. ‘It’ll be all right, you just wait and see.’

Rowzee wanted to sit down, or wake up, or go out and come in again. She couldn’t make out what was going on, and was afraid to ask in case her own inadequacies were causing the confusion.

‘I haven’t cried this much since I was a child,’ Pamela confessed. ‘Or not that I can remember.’

‘It’s good to get it all out,’ Bill gently informed her. ‘You know what the therapist said, no holding back.’

Therapist? Pamela was seeing a therapist?
Did Rowzee know this and had forgotten? In the end she had to ask.

‘I didn’t tell you,’ Pamela replied, ‘because I wanted to be sure it would work. I think it has, in a way, but it’s making me a bit of an emotional wreck. Actually, it’s your fault,’ she told Bill. ‘You shouldn’t be nice to me.’

‘It won’t happen again,’ he promised.

Ordinarily Rowzee would have laughed at that, but she was so perplexed that she wasn’t even sure she was hearing right. ‘You’ve been going to therapy?’ she asked Pamela.