‘Disaster!’
‘Sorry?’
‘Disaster!’ repeated Caroline.
‘Hang on,’ said Grant, ‘what’s all this about?’
‘This could be totally disastrous.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Danny has a gun, and, for all I know, Suzie may have access to one, too. She certainly had one in Cape Town, and her father used to keep one over here.’
‘So?’
‘So I’d say there’s a reasonable chance that one or other might use a gun in Cornwall.’
Grant considered this for a moment and decided that Caroline might be right, however far-fetched the idea might appear. ‘So what do we do?
‘When did they leave?’
‘Yesterday afternoon at around three. They should be there by now.’
‘Actually Suzie phoned last night to thank me for setting things up with you. She told me about their trip to Cornwall and said they were meeting Ivan at his cottage in Mevagissey tomorrow at midday. I gather they were staying over in Somerset on the way, at the Castle Hotel in Taunton. Danny is driving an electric car, giving it a road test to decide whether it’s something he wants to deal in, and the Castle has a battery-recharge facility. So we’d better get down there.’
‘Where?’
‘To Cornwall, you dunce.’ Caroline was really fired up. Grant had not wanted to hear any of this. He had moved on, discovered what he needed to know. He had high hopes of meeting Brigit later that day and moving back into the family home. He really didn’t need or want any further distractions.
‘Look, Caroline, Suzie and Danny have their own reasons for pursuing matters. I don’t any more. I’m satisfied with the truth of what happened.’
‘Grant,’ – her voice sounded urgent – ‘they’re going into the lion’s den, and they may be armed. This could be catastrophic. We have to get down there as well.’
He considered her words for a while. He really wanted out, to resurrect his marriage with Brigit and to have his life back with her and the girls as a united happy family. He never asked himself why Caroline felt so strongly that both of them needed to get down to Cornwall.
‘OK,’ he said after a pause, ‘let’s drive down, but that’s the end. There’s a fork in the road ahead, and I intend to let it go, leave it all behind.’
‘Yeah, yeah. OK,’ replied Caroline. ‘Where can I meet you? I’m sure Stuart will let me take the Porsche.’
‘Let’s meet at Fleet Motorway Services on the M3 at ten tomorrow. Then we can avoid the M4 and M5 by taking the A303, picking up A30 near Exeter. Do you mind driving on from Fleet?’
‘No, of course not. That’s brilliant, darling.’
‘When Suzie was on the phone to you, did she say anything about our discussion yesterday?’
‘No, what was it about?’
‘I’ll tell all before we get there.’
‘I can’t wait.’
Suzie and Danny had stopped at the elegant Castle Hotel in Taunton and enjoyed a fine dinner accompanied by two bottles of Mâcon. He had surprised her with his relaxed manner and his enjoyment of the elegant surroundings, even though he had been taken aback by her booking a double room in the sumptuous Garden Suite.
During dinner he couldn’t resist raising the subject of the double bed.
‘What of it?’ said Suzie, shrugging dismissively.
‘Well, you know. You’re married to Frank.’
‘And I would much rather be married to you, but as that isn’t possible I’ll just have to content myself with a cuddle tonight.’ Suzie embellished the word ‘cuddle’ with air-quotes, fingers flapping by her ears.
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit improper?’ Danny asked, ignoring Suzie’s diversion.
‘Danny boy, you were – and are – the love of my life. It’s not my fault or yours that …’
‘Yeah, OK, right, whatever. We’ll have that cuddle, but you won’t convert me …’
He was sure he heard a sigh followed by ‘If only …’ but in truth they were both a little intoxicated.
Relaxing in their room after dinner, they found a television channel featuring a Nina Simone concert – she was performing ‘To Love Somebody’. Suzie stared unnervingly at Danny as Nina ripped into the chorus: ‘You don’t know what it’s like, baby. You don’t know what it’s like to love somebody.’ For the first time there was a palpable tension between them. Danny now also knew the role reversal was complete. Gone was his tough-boy-on-a-mission persona; he knew Suzie had taken control, much to his discomfort.
They arrived in Cornwall around eleven the following morning and checked into a B&B in Veryan. Their meeting with Ivan, at noon at his Mevagissey cottage, was already confirmed.
Meanwhile Grant and Caroline were about three hours behind, having met up at Fleet. They had discussed whether to ring the other two to advise them of their imminent arrival, calculating they should arrive about an hour after Suzie’s and Danny’s appointment with Ivan. Grant knew where the cottage was, up a cobbled street facing the harbour. Mevagissey had been the smuggling capital of Cornwall so it seemed appropriate that Ivan, dodgy as he was, should choose to live there.
As Grant drove along, he thought of Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘The Smugglers Song’, and some of the lines kept coming back into his head.
‘If you wake at midnight,
And hear horses’ feet,
Watch the wall my darling,
While the gentlemen go by.’
Grant couldn’t recall the exact words and refrained from sharing the poem with Caroline. He turned his thoughts to the problems of parking, as there was little chance of leaving the car anywhere near the cottage. This didn’t worry him unduly, as he knew there was a car park on the left just before arriving in Mevagissey – and that was no more than ten minutes’ walk from the cottage. The dwelling was up a little road to the left. A large black iron anchor was to be found outside number 83, a convenient cue to turn left again and approach Ivan’s house, number 85, via a small square. The house was off the beaten track and out of sight of the harbour. He and Caroline had agreed that if she provided the vehicle and drove them down there, he would book and pay for their accommodation, and he knew exactly where that would be: a B&B near St Austell.
Caroline was driving Grant in her husband Stuart’s Porsche, faster than she had ever driven in her life, skilfully slowing down for the speed cameras and hitting the accelerator pedal where there was none. ‘Wheels on Fire’, which Grant thought theirs probably were, blasted them on their way as they sped past Stonehenge. They remained silent, deep in thought, until they approached Exeter. Earlier in the journey Grant had revealed what had taken place at Suzie’s aunt’s flat. Strangely, Caroline absorbed it all in almost total silence, giving only the odd grunt here and there to indicate that she was listening. It wasn’t until they were close to Bolventor, crossing Bodmin Moor, that Grant reopened the conversation.
‘How d’you know Danny has a gun?’
‘Suzie told me some years ago. He keeps it for protection in his desk in his office at the car dealership. I gather there was once a nasty incident.’
‘And what on earth makes you think that she might be carrying one?’
‘Well, she told me that she and Frank have a firearm at their home in South Africa. Despite living in a gated community with razor wire surrounding the garden, they reckon it isn’t sufficiently secure. I’ve an idea she keeps one in England as well. I seem to remember her saying something about inheriting her dad’s Colt 45 after he died and leaving it in the UK. Didn’t you go to their house in Cape Town?’
‘No, we met on the harbour front for lunch and then walked round some gardens.’
‘Kirstenbosch?’
‘Yes, that was it. Anyway, why do you think she or Danny might use a gun on Youlen or Mullings?’
‘Think of the lengths the two of them went to put you off.’
‘They certainly worked up quite a hoax.’
‘They were determined to stop you.’
‘Did you know?’
‘No, I didn’t, but I’ve pieced it all together now, and I know nobody goes to such lengths without having something pretty terrible to hide.’
‘Well, it seems to me’, Grant slipped into legal-summary mode, ‘that Danny’s sole concern was to protect his mother while Suzie seems fixated on preserving her late father’s so-called good name and legacy.’
‘That’s about the size of it. From Danny’s point of view, there’s a lot to keep quiet about to protect his mother, not least the attempted murder of Paul.’
‘Did you know Danny was gay?’
‘I knew it was why the wedding was cancelled. Suzie phoned me the weekend before to tell me it was all off, as I was going to be a bridesmaid. We always remained in touch. And I have my own reasons for staying close to her.’
‘How sad for all concerned,’ Grant reflected. ‘So what’s the big deal with Richard Hughes-Webb’s legacy?’
‘Well, Suzie always adored her father. She saw him as a god. She thought he could stop the rain and bring the sun out into the sky. She even followed him into the medical profession. More significantly, she felt that he never got the credit he deserved for his research into heart disease.’
‘Well, I’d say she followed her mother by becoming a nurse.’
‘Yes but it was her father she adored. Apparently there were reasons why Suzie couldn’t train to be a doctor, despite doing very well in her A-levels. I’m sorry, Grant, I know this is a difficult subject for you, but Suzie really thought her father was Jesus Christ Almighty.’ Caroline spat this out with a trace of venom.
‘So did he,’ replied Grant with more than a little bitterness. ‘But he’s been dead for years, thank God – and what real damage can be done now?’
‘Well, quite a lot actually. He was far too casual with the worm eggs, and he was indirectly responsible for Tom’s stroke.’
‘Yes, but he didn’t have any involvement in Hector’s drowning, and that seems to be the remaining issue now.’
‘Didn’t he?’ Caroline stared ahead at the road as she pronounced this.
‘What! I mean, did he?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know, Grant. All I know is they – Suzie and Danny – are going to great lengths to stop Trevor Mullings from talking, and I keep thinking there may yet be some revelation of great significance that, if it were to become known, could have devastating consequences.’
‘Well, let’s think what that could be. Say that Mullings reveals, in confession, that over forty years ago he helped get a man blind drunk and encouraged him to go for a late-night swim, taking messages in bottles, promising an encounter with a mermaid, and the following day the man is found washed up naked and dead on the beach. He relates that he was on an earner from a bent London businessman who told him that if he played his cards right and did as he was told he’d be cut in on a significant amount of dosh along with his mate Ivan Youlen. While this is all probably true and rather distasteful, Richard Hughes-Webb doesn’t seem to have been involved in any way.’
‘No,’ admitted Caroline, ‘but Suzie is obsessed with stopping Mullings from saying anything. Why else has she been so quick to organize the trip to Cornwall, talking about arranging an accident? This is the woman who was the catalyst for Alison Galvin trying to poison her husband. She is ruthless, Grant, really ruthless.’ Her voice now took on a harder edge, causing him to glance across at her as she drove even faster.
‘I thought you were friends. You were going to be her bridesmaid.’
‘We were. I mean, to an extent we still are, but we are very different. Also, as I said, I have my own reasons for wanting to stay close to Mrs Suzanne – née Hughes-Webb – Barber.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Grant commented absent-mindedly.
‘No, I mean, I need to be involved. There is real danger now. You and I now know the extent of the subterfuge, all the shenanigans about the tapes, and you know about the DVDs, the theft at Heathrow that didn’t happen and the way she delayed you because she needed to meet Danny prior to your arriving at her aunt’s flat.’
‘Agreed.’
‘I’m afraid she’ll stop at nothing now.’
‘But it’s the Galvins who have the most to fear.’
‘Is it? Who arranged for the poison, and where did it come from?’
‘I still think, Caro, that if Danny’s mother wasn’t still alive he wouldn’t be so uptight about all this. I now think his hostile behaviour towards me over the past few weeks was designed to protect his mother.’
‘I agree, but don’t underestimate Suzie’s influence over him. She adores him, but she wants to control him. I think she’s still a bit obsessive about him, even now – in fact, particularly now.’
‘Well, you would know, but ultimately it’s all played out on a platonic level, and that must frustrate her. But, whatever, how are we going to handle the situation? They don’t even know we’re in Cornwall heading towards them.’
‘OK, I’ve been thinking about this. Let’s say they both have guns …’ She left the foreboding words hanging in the air.
‘Let’s say they are walking into a trap,’ suggested Grant mischievously, ‘and when they get to Ivan’s cottage they are ambushed by him, Trevor Mullings or even conceivably Ken Holford.’
‘What?’ said Caroline, stepping on the gas again as the Porsche ate up the A30. ‘That’s a bit unlikely, isn’t it? Didn’t he die years ago?’
‘There is no evidence, no evidence at all, no cause of death revealed or final resting place identified. We only have Youlen’s word that he is dead at all, although a local in a pub did refer to Holford in the past tense …’
‘I think we can assume he won’t be there. But as for the other two, I reckon we should text Suzie now to say we are on our way and we fear they’re walking into a trap.’
‘Let’s not. I know where they’re going, and if anything untoward happens we’ll only be forty minutes behind them.’ He checked his watch; it was now twelve-twenty, so the meeting should have started. Besides, it quite appealed to him to let the two of them have some aggravation; he had been on the receiving end of enough of it from them.
Caroline smiled in a way that revealed empathy mixed with affection, but she also seemed happy not to text Suzie. Grant found this somewhat disconcerting, ominous rather than comforting; he enjoyed neither her acquiescence nor her defiant grin, which lingered rather too long.